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Knowing that he’s been here before, outside, watching Klara and I walk to that club. Instead of feeling creeped out, I like it. I like that he was watching.
He kneels over me on the bed, and the heat of his breath covers me as he runs his tongue around my nipple ever so slowly.
“Turn the light off.” No one needs to see this, my pancake pajama nightmare.
“Fuck no.”
“I’m a mess, I look like an idiot,” I push his shoulders back.
He takes my chin between his thumb and fingers and makes me look at him. “You’re stunning. You’ve only gotten more beautiful over the years.”
I blush and swivel my eyes since he’s holding my face still. I’m suddenly self-conscious looking like this while he looks like, well… him.
“What?” He asks.
“You could have any woman you want,” I mumble, embarrassed to even say the words. I hate sounding like an insecure girl, but sometimes it’s hard not to be one. He hasn’t made that any easier over the years.
“Good. Because the one I want is you,” Cole pushes me back down onto the bed and scoots me up, so my head is on the pillows, and he’s hovering above me. His eyes are electric blue and won’t leave my face.
I force myself to look at him again. “We’re out of control, Cole. What are we doing?”
“You’re setting the pace, remember? You tell me,” he lowers his head and gently kisses my neck, grazes my collarbone, then starts kissing lower and lower down my chest.
His touches are feather light today, so different from how aggressive he usually is. I want to discuss what’s happening between us, but instead, I find my thoughts escaping me and my fingers in his hair.
He swirls his tongue around my belly button and kisses along the waistband of my pants, his fingers sliding them down one excruciating inch at a time and hips lips following.
“Fucking pancakes,” he says and then kisses my core through the flannel. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I laugh.
And also mean it. I’ve seen the girls he’s dated, the six-foot leggy pro tennis player with fiery red hair, for one. I highly doubt she wears button-up flannel pajamas.
She probably has a collection of leather and kinky vinyl shit, thousands of dollars of lacy La Perla. I’m making good money now, maybe I need to up my game. Tomorrow Klara and I can go lingerie shopping. She got fired and has nothing else to do besides study, anyway.
“Where’d you go?”
Cole’s staring up at me, and I realize I’ve zoned out.
“Sorry, guess I’m still tired,” I lie again.
I don’t like that I keep lying to him about the fears in my head, but I’m afraid to bring them up. I’m so scared that it will be the end of this.
“Go back to sleep then, baby,” he inches up and kisses my stomach and starts to move off me, but I push him back down.
“After,” I smile. I don’t care how sleep deprived I am, or what random thoughts run through my mind, I’m never turning down Cole’s mouth between my thighs.
I may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh,” I raise my hips and playfully shove his head back down where it belongs. This man’s tongue is addictive.
More feeling, less thinking.
“Vixen,” he lowers back down and kisses along my pelvis, sliding my pants down further.
“Stay the night with me?” I want to sleep next to him, stay wrapped up in him. He’s always gone in the morning on race weekends, all of his obligations getting him up at the crack of dawn.
