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“No, I don’t,” he corrected on a growl. “Let me show you.”
Standin
g up, Cole withdrew a foil packet from the pocket of his jeans and sheathed himself. Tossing her a rueful grin, he said, “Wishful thinking, but I came prepared.”
Marisa licked dry lips. With Sal, it had always been plain-vanilla sex—on a bed, at night and over quickly. She was unprepared for Cole’s lustiness, though she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t like it.
In the next moment Cole flipped her on her stomach and grasped her legs, spreading them as he pulled her to the edge of the pillows. He leaned forward, bracing himself over her, and his erection probed her entrance.
“You are so hot and slick,” he breathed beside her ear. “So ready for me.”
She felt him slide into her without any resistance and cried out at his possession, while Cole gave a labored groan behind her. He thrust into her once, twice, three times, and she called his name.
He set up a rhythm for them, pumping into her. “Marisa.”
She could feel him tightening, and could tell he was close to finding his climax. She clamped down around him, and he cursed. Then they were both spiraling, the air filled with the sounds of their release.
She cried out as she crested on a wave of sensation so pure and beautiful—its power building for fifteen years—that tears stung her eyes.
After a moment, Cole slumped on top of her. Then he kissed her ear and rolled to his side, bringing her with him into the shelter of his body.
Marisa waited for her heart to slow down. Cole had given her one of the most spectacular experiences of her life. She was caught between joy at the wonder of it and embarrassment at her uninhibited response.
“Was that the game plan that you had filed away for fifteen years?” she asked.
He gave a helpless laugh. “Part of it.”
There was more? Still, she managed, “It was so much better than on a regular bed.”
He smiled against her hair. “I told you it would be better with a sexy construction guy.”
Nine
If Marisa had any doubt that she and Cole had grown up in very different circumstances, they were erased when she entered his parents’ house—a Mediterranean villa set amidst beautiful landscaping with a stone fountain at the center of a circular drive. She could almost believe she was in Tuscany, which she’d backpacked through one summer.
Still, she’d been nervous about this party ever since Camilla had issued her invite. She’d debated what to wear and had settled on a shirt and short skirt. Cole had driven to her apartment building, and she’d met him downstairs in the entry, not trusting the two of them in her condo alone even for a few minutes. Seeing him in a shirt and khakis, she’d been reassured that she’d at least dressed appropriately.
Thanks to Cole, her kitchen had gotten a wonderful facelift. After their romantic interlude, they had gotten on with the job of painting, and she’d discovered Cole knew much more about the intricacies of stripping old paint and dealing with molding than she did. Her kitchen looked great—and he’d worked magic on her, too.
Marisa followed Cole through gleaming rooms decorated with a bow to the Serenghettis’ Italian heritage to the back of the villa. When they reached his parents’ backyard, she took in the impressive outdoor kitchen, blue-stone patio under a striped awning and wrought-iron furniture. It was an unseasonably warm day in May, and the Serenghetti party was mostly an outdoor affair. People milled about, glasses in hand, and platters of food had been set out on most flat surfaces.
Marisa looked over at her construction guy. Though when she’d started thinking of Cole as hers, she couldn’t quite say. It was a telling slip that was dangerous. They’d had spectacular sex that had transported her from her comfort zone to an area where she was vulnerable, exposed and swamped with emotion and sensation. But still, she couldn’t—shouldn’t—attach too much importance to it. She had once in high school, and she’d fallen flat on her face. She also hoped it wasn’t obvious to everyone that they’d recently become lovers for the first—no, second—time.
Cole placed his hand at the small of her back, and Marisa glanced at him. He wasn’t trying to be subtle about their connection—though which of the two of them was a fraud was hard to tell. Weren’t they supposed to pretend to be a couple? It was getting so confusing...
Cole bent for a quick kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“There are more of you Serenghettis than I’ve ever seen in one place,” Marisa responded, wondering how many people had seen that peck on the lips.
Cole laughed. “Don’t worry, they don’t bite—” he bent to murmur in her ear “—unlike me.”
On her quick intake of breath, he straightened, his eyes gleaming.
Quelling the sudden hot-and-bothered feeling, Marisa scanned the crowd. She had known in high school that Cole had three younger siblings, but she hadn’t been friends with any of them. She’d heard a bit about Jordan over the years because his hockey career and endorsement deals had kept him in the public eye. And before they’d arrived at the party, Cole had mentioned that his sister, Mia, the youngest, was a designer based in New York, and his middle brother, Rick, traveled the world as a stuntman on movie sets.
“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you.”
Marisa bit her lip. “Uh...sure.”
