Dotted Line

by Elise Faber

  I frowned.

  What does that mean?

  A few seconds passed before,

  You two have been circling each other for years. I’m hoping you at least finally jumped his bones.

  My jaw dropped open.

  What the fuck, Dev?

  His message appeared in my inbox.

  You have one life. Cole is a good guy and into you. Live. It.

  Then,

  I’ll get a hold of IT and have a new phone on your desk Monday morning.

  I was staring dumbly at the cell when the doctor came back in and crossed over to me. “Olivia?” he asked. “I’m Pete. Heard you hurt your foot.”

  “I’m fi—”

  Cole growled, and I bit back the word almost subconsciously, my mind more focused on what Devon had said. He knew I was into Cole. He’d known? For how long? Fuck.

  “It’s cut,” I said. “Though I’m not sure on what exactly,” I said, shaking my head to clear it. “I think maybe I just stepped wrong on a rock. It’s small, but I reopened it this afternoon when I—”

  My cheeks flushed red, and I bit back the words.

  Pete glanced at up me, one brow lifting, but he didn’t comment, just reached for my foot and began unwinding the seventeen miles of gauze Cole had wrapped around it.

  “I cleaned it out the best we could, but I didn’t like how deep—”

  I stopped listening and hissed out a breath when Pete pressed on both sides of the cut. Fuck that hurt. “Looks like you cleaned it well, but you’re right, it is pretty deep. Could use some stitches or glue. Olivia, do you have a preference?”

  “Minimal needles,” I said. “Not a fan.”

  “Glue, it is,” Pete replied and began pulling supplies out of his kit. “Cole, can you grab a few towels?” Cole nodded and left, but Pete kept talking, the monologue relaxing me. “You keep sipping that wine and lounging there,” he said, eyes sparkling. “I’ll irrigate this one more time to make sure it’s clean and free of foreign objects. Then”—he slipped a blue plastic and paper sheet under my foot—“we’ll glue you up and you’ll be on your way.”

  “Easy as that?” I asked.

  “Easy as that,” he said. “I might even beat you finishing that wine.”

  I laughed.

  “I’ll give you some antibiotics. Start them tonight and make sure to finish the full course.” He froze and waited for me to nod. “You up to date on your tetanus shot?” He paused a second, and I nodded again. “Good.”

  By then, Cole was back with the towels and Pete poured a cold solution over my foot, prodding for a few painful moments before drying everything and then gluing the cut closed. He hadn’t been kidding about finishing before my wine glass was empty because a few minutes later, I was glued and bandaged and handed a packet of antibiotics—and a few pain pills in case I needed them the following day. Then Pete packed up, giving me the order to stay off my foot for a few days.

  “And no Louboutins,” Cole muttered.

  Pete snorted but nodded. “No heels either.”

  I rolled my eyes as I downed the rest of my wine, not arguing because the idea of shoving my sore foot into a cramped heel definitely did not appeal. I thanked Pete as he and Cole walked to the door then returned my attention to my inbox.

  There was one last message from Dev.

  Don’t be an idiot like I was. Ignore the instinct to run, and leap into the arms of someone who’ll catch you. And trust me, Cole’s got good hands.

  I watched the man in question shake hands with Pete, thanking him and closing and locking the door before picking up the trash and dirty towels and disappearing down the hall.

  Capable. Smart.

  Kind.

  Cole.

  I wanted to take Dev’s advice.

  I just needed to find the strength.

  Twelve

  Cole

  I had a problem.

  And she was sleeping in the seat next to me.

  We’d had a fight before we left, her arguing with me about the length of the drive again and how it would be an inconvenience to me. She’d wanted to call a driver to come and pick her up, before I’d just ignored her and began packing up my car and the house for an extended stay in the city.

  If I finally had a chance with Olivia Rogers, no fucking way was I going to be two hours away.

  I was in the city for the foreseeable future, and that was that.

  But now we were approaching said city, and I needed to make a choice. Wake her up to get her address—which I hadn’t gotten before sleep had taken her under because she’d been brooding and silent next to me and I’d been trying to find my enjoyment in her irritating the shit out of me—or take her back to my place.

  I knew the right thing to do.

  It didn’t align with what I wanted to do.

  I always did the right thing, but in this moment, I wanted to do the wrong thing. I wanted Olivia in my space, wanted more time with her, didn’t want her to put the walls back up and to have to bust my way through them again.

  Not so soon.

  Just a little more time.

  I took the exit for my building, stopping and going more often than I liked because it was Saturday night in San Francisco, and everyone had decided they needed to be out and about.

  About eighteen red lights and two hundred jay-walking pedestrians later, I turned into my parking garage and parked in my spot.

  When I turned off my truck, I expected her to wake up, to demand I take her home. But she didn’t move, her breathing slow and steady. I reached behind my seat and grabbed my pack then popped my door and hit the pavement.

  Still no movement.

  If I hadn’t just heard her breathing, I would have worried my driving had killed her.

  I slung my bag over my shoulder, made sure her antibiotics and pain pills were still in the side pocket then rounded the hood and carefully opened her door. I unclicked her seat belt, scooped her up into my arms, expecting this to be the moment that she woke.

  Instead, she snuggled into my chest and murmured, “Cole.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  She’d said my name.

  Yes, it was egotistical and so stereotypically male, but I couldn’t deny that hearing her murmur my name in her soft and sleepy voice was a shot to the gut. A good one for sure, but it still took my breath away.

  “I’m here, honey.”

  And she settled.

  Another gut punch.

  Another loss of breath.

  When she was unconscious, she trusted me. It was just all of the rest of the time she didn’t. I could work with that. I snorted softly, knowing that I’d work with whatever she gave me.

  But still . . . layers. This woman had so many of them I knew I’d never get bored.

  I closed the passenger’s side door, locked up, then carried her to the keypad, inputting my code and pushing my way into the elevators. A swipe of my key fob allowed me to get to the seventeenth floor, which in this case, was also the top floor.

  Yes, I drove an old truck.

  Yes, I had property in the hills north of the city.

  No, that didn’t mean I lived in a hovel.

  My priorities were location and view, and both the ranch and my condo had them. Ocean on the ranch if I rode Bucky far enough, or if I craned my neck at just the right angle at the condo. Isolation in the hills. Central to everything when I was in the city.

  The elevator dinged, and I carried Olivia down the hall.

  There were three condos on this floor, and mine was the one in the corner. Lots of glass, lots of unobstructed views of the city, that little sliver of ocean, and maybe on a rare day, if it was clear enough and I found just right the angle to peer through the surrounding buildings, I could catch a glimpse of one arch of the Golden Gate.

  But aside from the view, it was merely functional. Couch, television, bed, some basics in the pantry, some clothes in the closet. It wasn’t home so much as a place to stay.

 
I had the feeling it would be more than just a place to stay from now on.

  Turning the key in the lock with Olivia in my arms wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but I managed without dropping either. Then we were inside, the door was closed behind us, and everything in me settled.

  More time. I had it for the moment.

  I yanked the covers back and set her on my bed, deciding that I liked her there.

  Smiling, I dropped my bag to the floor, unbuttoned my jeans and stepped out of them along with my shoes, then climbed into bed with her. A flick of my wrist brought the blankets up and over us, and then I reached for her, tugging her flush against my chest.

  Yeah, I liked her there.

  In fact, I decided I was going to keep her there.

  Done. Easiest decision of my life.

  I woke when it was still dark outside to empty arms and a cold bed.

  That I didn’t like.

  Sitting up, I glanced around my condo, glad it was mostly open space and we hadn’t closed the curtains. The city lights shone in, and I spotted her almost immediately. She had a blanket wrapped around her as she stared out the window, one knee cocked, both feet on the floor.

  That was the part I really didn’t like.

  One of those feet should be elevated, not to mention that her ass should be in my bed. I threw back the blankets and got up, closing the space between us and scooping her into my arms.

  “Cole—”

  I didn’t say anything, just carried her back to bed.

  “Cole!” she exclaimed when I plunked us into it and yanked the covers up again.

  “What part of resting that foot don’t you understand?” I growled.

  She squirmed against my hold. “I wasn’t putting any weight on it.”

  “And how’d you get to the window?” I asked—okay, snapped. “You have levitating skills I’m unaware of?”

  She shoved hard against my chest. “I’ve seen you in all varieties of unflattering, Cole McTavish. So, don’t you take an attitude with me. I don’t like assholes, and I sure as shit don’t fuck them.”

  I was irritated beyond belief, pissed that she’d risk reinjuring her foot after Pete had patched her up just that afternoon.

  And I was turned on.

  Hard as a fucking rock, because if I loved anything in the world, it was fighting with Olivia.

  I knew the exact moment she felt my erection because she froze, bright red fingernail poking into my chest, breath hitching, and eyes going navy. Her hips canted forward, brushing against my cock and making my own breathing short-circuit.

  “This is a bad idea,” she murmured.

  My lips ghosted over hers. “I think we’ve already discovered it’s probably the best idea.”

  “Things between us might get messy.”

  “Life is messy.”

  Eyes widening, mouth parting. “That’s what Dev said.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “Then I owe him a beer.”

  “Cocky bastard,” she muttered, her sass making a reappearance. “I’m not a sure thing.”

  “Honey, you’ve got one thigh thrown over my hips and are grinding your pussy against my dick. If that’s not a sure thing, then I don’t know what is.”

  Her growl of outrage was loud, but she didn’t lift her leg or back up.

  So, I kept talking.

  “And if we’re talking about sure things, I think we both know where I fall,” I murmured, nipping at her earlobe. “I want you, honey, and I’m not going to pretend differently.”

  Another movement of her hips that was destined to drive me slowly insane. “You’re still cocky.”

  “And you’re still beautiful.”

  Lips curving. “Charming man.” Her teeth found the sensitive spot just beneath my jaw and bit down hard enough to sting. “Annoying man.” Her tongue soothed the spot. “Dangerous man.”

  “Says the woman with her teeth in my skin.”

  She laughed, full and outright then lay back onto the mattress, tossing her arms above her head. “Okay, Cole. You win. Do your worst.”

  The cascade of heat down my spine was intense, scorching me from the inside out, cock hardening further, pulse picking up, my breathing doing the same. I went stock-still, but only for a heartbeat because then I got my shit together and moved.

  Sweats—hers—off. Shirt—ours—following suit.

  Mouth slamming down, hands tracing over the fucking exquisite piece of artwork I’d just unveiled. Beautiful, alabaster skin, rosy nipples pebbled against the sudden rush of air, a narrow strip of hair hiding glistening folds. I almost didn’t know where to start.

  Olivia smirked up at me, not trying to cover herself. Instead, her arms stretched higher, putting her breasts on display as she grasped onto my headboard.

  “Hint,” she said. “This is where I want my men to stop eye-fucking me and start actually fucking me.”

  I snorted, ignoring that she’d used the word men, and stroked a finger between her breasts. “We men are visual creatures, honey.” She shivered as my finger drifted over her belly button, thighs parting when it slid through the strip of hair. “But if you want me to touch”—I dipped it lower, coaxing just the tip through her wetness—“I think I’ll start . . .”

  She spread her thighs wider now, pelvis tilting, trying to get my finger lower.

  I let it move down, flicked it over her clit the same moment that I sucked one of those rosy nubs into my mouth. Olivia screamed, hands coming off the headboard to latch onto my hair, hips thrusting up, hot and damp surrounding my finger.

  “Cole,” she groaned.

  I pulled harder, moving my tongue over the tip, loving the way it made her squirm, and cry out, more wet appearing between her thighs.

  “That’s right, honey,” I murmured, kissing my way to the other side. I shifted my hand, letting my thumb circle her clit and the rest of my fingers slip lower, circling her opening, sliding inside. I tried things until I’d discovered what she liked best—two fingers, pressing in and curling forward, slow and steady—then I stayed on target, not deviating, putting all of my focus to good use.

  And after years and years of playing a professional sport, I had focus.

  I could pick the top corner of the goal from the opposite end of the ice with an arena full of screaming fans, could shoot a slap shot through traffic to hit an open spot of the net. I could also definitely keep finger fucking my woman’s pussy while sucking on her glorious breasts, as she squirmed and moved and groaned her way to an orgasm.

  And I could do that with my eyes shut.

  Not that I was going to do that and miss one glorious second of the show.

  A sheen of sweat broke out between her breasts, her skin glistening in the lights of the city. Her head was thrown back on the pillows, shining black silk spread out on the white cotton. I sucked harder, curled my fingers faster, and watched with intense satisfaction as she crested the precipice and flew over the other side.

  Her moaning my name as she burst into flames was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

  At least for about thirty seconds.

  Because then she opened hazy eyes and smiled up at me.

  “Hi,” she said.

  My mouth quirked. “Hi, honey.”

  “I take it back.”

  I ran my hands up and down her torso, fingers brushing the undersides of her breasts, watching her nipples harden further and goose bumps break out on her skin. “Take what back?”

  “You can eye-fuck me all day so long as you attack me like that afterward.”

  I snorted then lost my battle and burst out laughing. “Fuck, honey.”

  That laughter lasted all of another thirty seconds.

  Because then she reached down and slipped her hand under the waistband of my underwear. Cool fingers encircling me, squeezing hard, pleasure bursting out from my center to shoot down my spine. I groaned, my own hips doing some thrusting of their own. Later, I’d swear I blacked out for a minute because one moment it wa
s just her hand on me, and the next, I was on my back and it was her sexy fucking mouth.

  She sucked me deep, taking me in until I bumped the back of her throat.

  And she took notes, too, found what I liked and then did it over and over again, driving me higher and higher and generally making me go insane.

  But then she twisted her hand, and I almost shot through the roof.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Insane was nothing compared to her palm and tongue and, fuck me, her teeth.

  She knew it, too, giving me a run for my money when it came to focus, taking me so close to the edge that I nearly toppled over. But fuck if I was going to come without being inside her. I grabbed her under her shoulders and yanked, bringing her up so her mouth was crushed against mine. Tongue shoving home, I flipped us, tucked her legs up and thrust home.

  “Cole! Fuck!”

  I froze, red hazing the edges of my vision, worried I’d hurt her. “Honey?”

  “Give a girl a warning, why don’t you?”

  Teasing, though her cheeks were flushed scarlet. I relaxed. “No,” I said and bent my head to suck one nipple into her mouth, “I don’t think I will.”

  She cried out, pussy clenching around me, wet gushing to coat my cock, and I lost the tendrils of control I’d been holding on to. They burned away like tissue paper, insubstantial and gone in an instant.

  I began moving, glad she was right there with me, hips matching mine, nails digging into my shoulders, groans echoing in my ear.

  It wasn’t slow and steady. It wasn’t gentle.

  It was raw and intense and fucking incredible.

  Then it was incendiary.

  Deep, hard, wet, sweat dripping down my brow, nails scouring down my spine hard enough to hurt. But even that was incredible, sending my pleasure skyrocketing and any rational thought out of my mind as I pounded into her.

  Olivia stiffened, keening moan filling the air, fingers digging in, legs locking tight.

  “Oh fuck,” she groaned. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Cole!”

  Her pussy clenched tight as she came, and thank God for that, because I was right there with her, desire burning a path down my spine as I exploded inside her.