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“Christ,” she breathed against his neck after the aftershocks of her orgasm finally faded. Leaning back, her vision focusing on him little by little, she noticed his clenched jaw, his furrowed brow, his closed eyes.
“Cole, I’m good,” she told him, kissing the furrow smooth. “I’m so good. It’s your turn now—”
Before she knew what was up or down, she was on her back, with Cole looming above her. Slipping a hand under her knee, he bent her leg up and slid into her again, so slowly she had to bite her cheek against the acutely sensitive agony of it.
He bent to kiss her, his tongue caressing hers while his hips found that same honey-slow rhythm that made her eyelids sink. But when he broke the kiss, she forced her eyes open, fighting the current of sensation tugging her under, making herself pay attention, making herself focus on the band of golden caramel orbiting his pupils, not letting herself miss the way he stared at her, like he was paying attention too.
His breathing changed first, his exhales catching in soft, delicious grunts. Then his jaw clenched, his forehead creasing again as his chin dipped toward his chest. When she slid her hands down his hips, over his ass, when he changed his angle and she moaned, it snapped whatever leash he’d been keeping on himself. Hoisting her leg higher, he snapped his hips, moving faster, harder, driving into her so deeply she had to reach back and push against her headboard so Joe Strummer wouldn’t get banged off the wall.
There had been thoughts in her head at one point, about her mom, Ian, the man on top of her and what it meant that he was here. Too many thoughts, all of them too loud, but she had no idea where they’d gone. Right now, she was blank, empty, only one thing filling her. Him.
Or maybe there was something else there too, an ache swirling low in her core, tingling, glowing like embers in a fire, making her eyes close, her toes curl more tightly with every thrust—
The groan vibrating through him yanked her back from the second-orgasm ledge as he tensed, jerked, and then collapsed into her arms. While his cock pulsed inside her—and even that felt phenomenal—she stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell just happened, or almost just happened.
“Mira,” he whispered between her breasts while her thoughts spiraled. “That was amazing.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, patting his back weakly, her head spinning, heart pounding. Maybe it was a fluke, a lucky few thrusts, a one-off response to the emotions of the moment, a weird menopausal hormone spike. It wasn’t that Cole touched her the way she liked to be touched, kissed her the way she wanted to be kissed, worked her over exactly the way she needed with his perfectly hard, perfectly round, perfectly thick, “Beef sleeve!”
“What?”
“Oh…my…god,” she said as laughter stole her breath. “I think I just got the joke.”
His head raised. “What joke?”
“When I asked you about the sleeve of beef. You said it was really, really funny. Because you knew—”
“I’d hoped,” he corrected. “I only hoped I’d be giving you my—”
“Meat?”
They were both laughing now, and it was fine. Everything was fine. She was fine. He was fine. The sex had been…fine. And when these three weeks were over, when he had to leave her again, she would be fine then too. She had no other choice.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
COLE
Swipinghis sunglasses up off her floor, he hooked them into his shirt collar before picking up her bell. Dinging it back and forth, he asked, “Do you want my help hanging this back up?”
Propping her elbows on the counter, she cupped her face in her hands and shook her head. “I got it.”
He sauntered toward her, and when she reached for him, grabbing his shirt in both hands, he said, “This feels familiar,” smirking for the split second she gave him before her lips met his.
“What the what?”
Wheeling around, Cole met the measured, unimpressed stare of the lanky teenage boy with big curly hair who’d just walked through the door.
“No bell,” Mira muttered behind him, then louder, “Ian, this is Cole—”
“Sanderson,” Ian said. When the kid’s eyes narrowed, he looked so much like Mira, Cole couldn’t help but smile, which only made Ian squint harder. “You’re back in town.”
Feeling more than a little like he was the teenager trying to win the approval of a parent in this situation, Cole held out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, man. Your mom tells me you can really play.”
Ian’s handshake, Cole thought, could use some work. “I’m okay, I guess.”
“Cool, cool.”
Ian responded with a microscopic shrug.
