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Even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone is watching, and even though Neil shone little light on the matter, a part of me doesn’t want to hide. I cock my head to the side just as I get an idea.
“Let’s go inside,” Coen reasonably suggests.
“No, let’s stay out here,” I counter. “I will not hide.”
“What are you up to?” Coen asks, getting up from the ground and wiping his back of gravel.
Holding out my hand, I wait for him to take it. Not answering his question with words, I pull him along until my back meets the wall.
“Mia, what the hell?” Coen hisses.
“Let me give you this,” I say in a breathy voice.
Coen eyes me suspiciously. “I don’t need this. You’re all I need,” he says and runs a hand through his unruly hair.
His words make me shiver, and I slowly lick my bottom lip. “Maybe we both need it,” I amend. “You always let me take what I want, and you give me what I need, expecting nothing in return. Ever. Even though this might not be a craving for you, you love it. You love the thrill of possibly getting caught, and I really want to share it with you.”
Although I already know why Coen is holding back, I don’t want to let some nameless shadow ruin this. Instead, I want nothing more than to give us both more positive associations with our public adventures.
Earlier tonight, at Dolce, he pulled away and watched over all of us. The last time we did anything remotely sexual outside the comfort of their—our—house was at Mark’s wake. Before that, in the classroom, where I asked him to come on me, I know he still feels bad for that. Before that was Thanksgiving, which led me to break up with him.
“I think we need it,” I repeat. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I meet his gaze, allowing him to see my vulnerability. “I need it with you.”
Coen studies my face for so long that I start second-guessing this idea. Even though our voices are nothing more than a whisper, I’m still very aware that the neighbors only have to open a window to hear us if we get carried away.
“But what about—”
I place a finger on his lips to silence him. “No, I’m not letting anyone dictate what I can or can’t do. Never again. I want this, and I want it with you. That’s all there is to it.” Taking a deep breath, I force myself to forge on. “If someone is following me, they’ll do so regardless of whether we have sex inside or outside. Please, Coen, don’t let whoever it is take this from us.” I know I’m begging, but I’m okay with it. This—us—is worth begging for.
“If you’re sure, then okay,” Coen agrees in a tone that doesn’t show as much keenness as his heated gaze.
Then he moves closer, palming my face as his lips seek mine. Unlike our previous kisses, this one is unhurried and sensual. I can feel each movement of his lips and tongue all the way down to my toes, and it makes me feel like electricity is humming all around me—making my hairs rise and each nerve-ending on my body awaken.
Lifting the jacket tenting on me, Coen’s hands find my hips again. He moves closer, so I’m caged between him and the wall. Feeling impatient, I open his jacket and move my hands under his long-sleeved tee so I can feel his hot and taut skin beneath my palms.
“Coen,” I sigh his name without asking for anything but him.
“Yes, touch me.” Coen rids me of Alec’s jacket, and I feel my skin pebble as I stand in front of him in nothing more than the dress I wore in the basement.
Pulling back, my eyes seek out Coen’s, and I feel as though my heart is in my throat as I say, “I know you won’t let me see you until you can see me, but I don’t think I’m ready. But I still want… I mean… I’d like to—” Unable to verbalize my need to see and feel his length in my hand, I cut myself off.
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable about. Please don’t feel ashamed, babe. You’ll let me see once you’re ready.” A genuine smile spreads across his lips, making my heart swell.
For some reason, this is the moment I understand why Coen is the only one I haven’t allowed to look upon me. He’s still holding back from me, making it impossible for me to be completely open with him. To bare myself and let him see me at my most vulnerable.
Since this isn’t a tit for tat thing, I don’t tell him about my revelation. I know that if I do, he’ll tell me what I want to know—but it would ruin the moment. I want Coen to tell me about his past because he wants to. Not feeling like he has to.
As Coen reclaims my lips and our tongues intertwine, I quickly undo his pants and reach for him. I can’t hold back a moan when my hand closes around his throbbing shaft. “You always feel so perfect in my hand.”
“My turn!” He exclaims as he hoists my dress up so it’s resting on my hips. Pushing my underwear to the side, he reveals my pussy.
I suck in a hissed breath as the cold air grazes my heated skin, but I keep my eyes trained on Coen’s. It’s not because I don’t trust him, because I do. I trust him with my life, sanity, and, more importantly—my heart. But even so, I crave the knowledge that he isn’t peeking before I’m ready.
Shaking my head, I try to banish the thoughts that I know are offending to who he is. Coen isn’t worthy of me second-guessing him. He’s proved that time and time again.
Moving a single finger between my folds, Coen groans, “You’re so wet for me already.” I move my hips to get him to push further into me, and I moan low in my throat when he adds a second finger and pushes in further. “Fuck, you’re practically gushing for me.”
“You’re so hard for me,” I purr as I move my hand up and down his long, thick cock. Swiping my thumb across his slit, I spread his pre-cum along the rest of him. “Mhmm, Coen!” Even though I try to keep my voice down, it’s almost impossible when he curls the two fingers inside my wet heat.
