Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  I listen to the lyrics as we slowly move around the endless expanse of the boardwalk.

  ♪I've got you under my skin. ♪I've got you deep in the heart of me. ♪So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me. ♪I've got you under my skin.

  I feel tears prick my eyes. Where did I find this beautiful man? And how will I ever let him go? “Can I tell you a secret?” I ask as we move together in complete harmony.

  “Baby, you can tell me anything.” He flashes a cheeky grin and a small flutter takes my heart.

  “I wanted to dance with you tonight. I’ve been thinking about it all day,” I admit, turning my head to rest on his chest.

  “I know.” He leans down and kisses the top of my head.

  “What do you mean? You couldn’t possibly.”

  “I didn’t know-know. I just . . . know. It’s my life’s mission to make you happy every minute of every day.”

  I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “You do make me happy.”

  For minutes, I just sway with him, savoring every second and locking it into my memory so that I can pull these moments from my mind when Cole is no longer there with me. I suddenly feel eyes on me. “Everyone is looking at us,” I tell him.

  “Not us. You.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He laughs. “Don’t you see? You’re the brightest thing on this boardwalk. You’re beautiful.”

  “You have that effect on people, Cole. There’s something about you that brings out the best in people. You’re so easy to love.”

  He leans down and kisses me. Deeply. Passionately. Hungrily. We break apart, leaving my heart beating wildly and my palms all sweaty. “Ready?” he asks.

  I nod and he steps away from me and my body instantly misses his warmth.

  He grabs a hold of my hand and doesn’t let go until I’m seated safely in my car. He swings around to the driver’s side, makes a few adjustments, and we head directly to Rush Dessert Bar just a few miles away.

  Day is turning to night as we approach Cookman Avenue in Asbury Park.

  There’s a line of people waiting to be seated at Rush when we arrive. There’s a beautiful young blonde hostess greeting everyone. She takes one look at Cole and waves him over. They’ve obviously met before. He escorts me through the crowd and gives the hostess a hug. “Vicky, this is my girlfriend, Kensington. I think Evan and Jette are expecting us.”

  “They are,” she smiles at Cole. She turns her gaze to me and I can feel her eyes bore into me, examining me from head to toe. I brush her off and follow closely behind Cole. Evan and Juliette are seated at the far corner of the bar. There are two empty seats beside them. Lo and behold, Derek is behind the bar, smiling broadly as we approach.

  Friendly and familiar hugs are exchanged and seats are shuffled so the boys can talk to each other without talking around Juliette and me.

  Derek comes over and places two napkins on the bar. “Hey, kids. Long time, no see.” He offers a handshake across the bar to Cole. “Great game last week. Gonna do that again?”

  He’s talking about Cole’s over the fence homerun. “Doubt it. I got lucky. That’s all.”

  “Bullshit,” Evan answers Cole. Turning to Derek, he adds, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. The season’s only half over. He’s got plenty more homeruns to deliver.”

  Cole grabs my hand and brings it up to his lips. “This is my good luck charm. As long as she’s around, I just might surprise a few people.”

  Fuck. Why did he have to say that?

  Derek begins taking drink orders. Cole orders a beer and I can’t think straight. I ask Derek what he recommends.

  “Well, that depends on whether or not your ordering food tonight. We have a great pairing menu I could show you.”

  “Oh, she’s having the orange creamsicle cheesecake,” Juliette explains.

  “Well then, I guess that means you’ll be having a Lime Rickey,” Derek answers. “There’s plenty of sweet in the cheesecake, and the Lime Rickey balances it perfectly.”

  Cole glances at the dessert menu and orders Cake and a Shake. It’s a three-layer chocolate cake paired with a malted milk shake. I saw what he ate for dinner. How does he have room for all of that?

  Juliette excuses herself and scurries back to get our desserts plated personally. I sit back and enjoy listening to these two men talk about friends, family, and their shared love for sports. The Lime Rickey Derek’s made for me is simple, delicious, and refreshing.

  Derek notices me sitting here quietly and suggests I go to the back in the kitchen and say hello to Reese. It sounds like a good idea. Besides, I can help Juliette carry our desserts back out when she’s done.

  I hear Juliette talking to Reese as I approach the kitchen. “When is he going to do it?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is he asked his mother to express mail him his grandmother’s ring. I imagine he’s going to do it soon. He’s really in love. It’s great to see him so happy.”

  I lean against the wall and listen. I know I shouldn’t and it’s incredibly bad manners, but I just can’t help it.

  “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

  “She’d be a fool not to. He’s completely crazy about her and he’d make a great husband.”

  “But don’t you think she’s a little . . . unstable? I mean, look at all the drama.”

  “I’m the last one to call out someone else’s drama. And so are you, missy!”

  They both laugh.

  I can’t move. Are they talking about me? It sure does sound like me. And they don’t even know about half the drama. No, I tell myself. They could be talking about anyone. It could be one of the waitresses, the hostess, hell – it could literally be anyone.

  Get a grip.

  I step into the kitchen and clear my throat to make myself noticed. They both seem startled to see me. Of course they do, I just snuck into their kitchen. Customers don’t generally do that sort of thing.

  “Can I give you a hand?” I offer.

  Reese looks up and smiles. “Hey there, Kenny. I’d come over there and give you a hug, but I’ve got raw chicken all over my hands.”

  “No worries, Reese. It smells great, whatever you’re making.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles and goes back to work.

  Juliette waves me over, “Here, these are done. Take them out to the boys if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind at all.” I smile warmly and take the two plates she offers. They are identical plates with extra thick slices of chocolate cake and a glass of malted milk with striped paper straws and crushed malted milk balls sprinkled on top.

  As soon as I step through the door, I hear them giggle like schoolgirls.

  Damn.

  The restaurant is packed tonight. Between the music and the conversations, it’s quite loud. I have no idea what the boys are talking about when I arrive with their food, but the moment they see me, they immediately stop talking. They each reach out and take the plates from me. “Oh, thank you, Kenny. This looks great.”

  Juliette follows behind with my plate of cheesecake and a small plate for herself of churros with dipping sauce and a dollop of a creamy, smooth ice cream.

  All four of us dig into our respective desserts. Of course, Cole doesn’t hesitate to take an occasional swipe from my meal. Not that I mind. I couldn’t possibly finish the entire plate after the huge meal he stuffed me with for dinner.

  Cole holds tight to his fork with one hand and me with the other. While he eats and chats, his free hand is either resting on my thigh, holding my hand, or caressing my shoulder.

  Each time he moves, I adjust my position, too, making sure to maintain that constant contact that we both seem to need tonight.

  “So Juliette, have you ever heard of the Sinatra House on the boardwalk?” I ask.

  “Of course I have. Gosh, they’ve been playing that music since before I was born. I thought I heard Mr. Smith passed away a few years ago. Ar
e they still playing music?”

  “They are,” I tell her between bites. “Cole told me that it’s a family tradition. The original owner is gone now, but his family returns every summer to keep the music playing. Isn’t it great?”

  “It is,” she agrees. “I love that old music. It’s timeless.”

  “And romantic,” I add.

  Juliette and I chat about all sorts of silly things and it turns out she’s a big fan of the Brat Pack. I didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone under the age of fifty who shared my obsession with Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez. She invites us back to their home to watch The Breakfast Club.

  Cole leans in and answers for me. “Sorry, can’t let that happen. We’re going straight home when we leave here. I have big plans for tonight that don’t involve popcorn. Or an audience. I’ll call and we’ll have you over to our place real soon.”

  The bite of cake I have in my mouth suddenly becomes very hard to chew. I wish I could spit the food into my napkin so I can breathe, but I won’t be rude. We . . . real soon . . . our place . . . Holy crap.

  I’m in a freaking daze thinking about us and our place. He’s making big plans. He has no idea that I am, too.

  Once everyone finishes eating, Juliette and I grab the plates and walk them back into the kitchen. I’m scraping a plate into the garbage can when she asks me, “Are you okay?”

  I blink a few times, wrapping my thoughts around her words. “Yeah, why?”

  “You just got real quiet. I was wondering if it’s because of what Cole said?”

  I smile. “Juliette, he called it our place . . .” I take a deep breath.

  She smiles back at me and whispers, “I know. I heard. Feels good to be in love, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, of course. But Cole shouldn’t say things like that. It’s not our place, it’s his. I have a house not far from yours.”

  “Listen, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the McGuire boys, it’s that they put on a brave act, but deep down inside, they’re hopeless romantics. He wants to share his life with you. It’s that simple. Don’t overthink it, Kenny.”

  I force an uneasy smile that I’m hoping she won’t detect. “I’ll try.”

  We rejoin the boys back at the bar and I try to act as casually as I can. As much as I want to fantasize about it, in reality Cole and I probably won’t have a future together. The last thing I want to do is get his hopes up.

  Share his home with me? Nothing would make me happier.

  I need to think about something else . . . but what? I start to count backward from one hundred in my mind, hoping that will help. But visions of waking up in Cole’s arms every morning breaks right through my number counting.

  Letting Cole drive certainly has its advantages. I get to admire his beautiful face the entire ride home. If we had taken Ugly Betty, I would be able to curl up beside him as he drives. But then again, we wouldn’t have had our romantic boardwalk dance if we had.

  Cole holds tightly to my hand as he drives us home; our arms resting on the center console. “I really like driving this car,” he comments. “It handles great.”

  “You look like you enjoy driving this car.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about it. It really is great. You deserve it.”

  He turns onto Ocean Avenue and we approach his guest parking lot. Just as before, there are no spots available, so we’re forced to find a spot on the street. Luckily, he finds someone pulling out on the very first block, just a few feet from his front door.

  Cole wraps his long arm around me as we walk the short distance to his place. For one second I let my eyes glance up to check for danger; that’s when I notice the stranger with the camera pointed right at us.

  We walk right up to his door in complete silence. Cole has no idea what just happened. Of course, it could be something innocent, like a vacationer taking pictures or a baseball fan stealing a snapshot. But I doubt it.

  Cole turns on the light and all I can imagine is the number of people outside on the boardwalk staring up at the window and watching the shadows moving inside. “Cole, can you close the curtains?” I ask. “There’s a lot of people out there tonight.”

  “Sure thing, babe. Can I make you a drink?”

  “Okay, sounds good.” I brush away my fears and anxieties and move ahead with tonight’s plan. “I’m going to get changed. Be right back.”

  I hurry down the hallway. After taking a thorough moment to freshen up in the bathroom, I close his bedroom door, grab my overnight bag, and change my clothes.

  I can do this, I think to myself as I slip on the thigh-high stockings six-inch stilettos. Once I am complete, I make my approach down the dark hallway, stopping just where the light meets the darkness.

  Cole looks up and gasps.

  “You like?” I ask, turning slightly for him to get a new view of the alluring red undergarments I am barely wearing.

  He springs out of the chair like someone set him on fire and crosses the distance between us in three strides. I comb his hair back with my fingers and softly bite his earlobe in my teeth. “Want to go violate me on a kitchen table?” I whisper in his ear before pulling his lips to mine.

  CHAPTER 34

  TILTING MY HEAD UP TO MEET HIS, COLE TAKES MY TONGUE IN HIS MOUTH, claiming me. He strokes the back of my head, letting his fingers tangle in my hair in a way that sends immediate goose bumps across my skin.

  I let myself melt into him and taste the sweetness on his hot lips. My stomach tightens as he slides a hand down the front of my throat and chest before finally allowing his smooth fingers to graze my nipple with delicate desire. I feel a familiar ache between my thighs, and the slippery anticipatory wetness as my muscles clench inside me. I clutch his neck, curling his messy hair around my fingers as he traces soft kisses down my skin to my collarbone.

  God, I love that mouth.

  My hands tug his shirt up, searching for his sculpted chest and rigid core. He pulls away for a brief moment to remove his shirt, his impossibly blue eyes blazing into me.

  Holding his gaze, I watch as he drops his shirt onto the floor.

  “God, you’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough,” he whispers against my stomach, caressing me with wet lips. He reaches behind me to unclasp my lace bra and slide it off each shoulder delicately. “I mean, really beautiful.” His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass before he clenches my panties between his teeth and fingertips and slowly pulls them down. I stand posed: a naked, unyielding statue designed for his admiration. I want him to study me. To take in every inch of flesh, every imperfection as his eyes drink me in. I need him to remember this moment.

  He hugs me against him, cradling me as he lets me fall to my back against the plush cushions of the couch. He presses his weight against me, and I rake my fingers against his back and hard ass, willing him to take me. My only interruption is my own urgent searching for his belt and zipper.

  “Speaking of beautiful,” I say between labored breaths as he climbs off me to fully undress. I allow myself the pleasure of gazing boldly at this perfectly built specimen standing before me. His sinewy biceps extend from broad shoulders. And his rigid chest narrows toward his lean abdomen. As my eyes work their way down the definition of his abs, they focus on the hardness of his ready cock. Reaching up, I tug steadily at him, feeling his thickness grow between my fingers as they curl around him. He thrusts forcefully toward me, allowing a groan to vibrate against his throat before escaping his lips.

  I wrap my mouth around him and pull him deeper as my nails bore ardently into the stiff muscles of his ass. At this moment, towering over me with his hands twisting in my tousled hair, he possesses me completely. His moans are raw, raspy, and unfiltered until he reluctantly pulls away, pulsating on the verge of climax.

  Then he moves to kneel beside me, brushing his fingertips tenderly against my sensitive flesh. And my skin tingles in response. His every touch worships me with a reverence so honest. So generous. My hips
flex involuntarily toward him, silently willing him to give me what I crave.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asks, stroking my nipple with the perfect amount of pressure.

  I slide my tongue across my dry lips before answering. “I want to watch you put your fingers inside me.” My legs fall open as a quiet invitation, and his thumb enters me. He kneads my ass eagerly with his palm and fingers, pulling my pelvis up toward him while he presses his thumb forcefully against the inside of me. The pressure of his thumb pushing toward the back of me and his hand surging me upward is an indescribable combination.

  I writhe in response, my muscles straining from the pleasure. He parts my lips with his warm tongue and bites my own playfully. Then, tilting my head to the side, he nibbles at my ear and sucks hungrily at the top of my neck sending soft chills down my skin.

  He leans back. I watch his hand pressing against me before he pulls out and leaves me wanting for a passing moment. Slowly, he slides his fingers deep inside me, twisting and massaging my insides while his thumb now works expertly against my throbbing clit. He leans in to bite delicately at my nipples, elongating them with his teeth. “Please . . . oh, God . . . please, Cole. This feels incredible,” I managed to exhale between shaky breaths.

  “Hmm, I like it when you beg me.”

  I hear the wicked grin in his voice, and while my body is singing from his words, his tongue starts to slowly circle my clitoris.

  He swirls his tongue around and around, again and again, keeping up the torture. I’m losing all sense of self, every atom of my being concentrating hard on that small, potent powerhouse at the apex of my thighs. My legs go rigid and I hear his growling groan.

  He moves his finger in a wide circle, stretching me, pulling at me, his tongue mirroring his actions, around and around. I groan. It is too much . . . my body begs for relief, and I can no longer deny it.

  I moan as my body bows and convulses at the touch of his tongue. I lose all cogent thought as my orgasm seizes me, wringing my insides again and again. Holy fuck. My eyes flutter as bliss came to me. “Cole!” I cry out, the word ending abruptly in a gasp as my climax rolls through me, my inner muscles squeezing around his fingers as I jerk against them.