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I just want Cole, and nothing else.
He adjusts my position slightly so my warmth is perfectly aligned with his hardness before he wraps his arms around me, pinning me in place. He sucks my lip harder, furiously, drawing a ragged breath that makes it clear I’m not the only one losing my head.
“Fucking hell, Eliza,” he growls, tearing his face off mine. “Sweetheart, can we talk upstairs in my room? I have a goddamned lot to say.”
Oh, and he shows me how much, pushing his hard erection against my thigh.
My nails sink into his back on trembling fingers.
“Uh-huh,” I whisper. “Okay.”
He lifts me out of the pool and sets me on the side before coming out, dripping wet and glorious, splashed with sunset shadows. He grabs a huge fluffy white robe from a lawn chair.
“Come here, Eliza.”
My legs are jelly, but I manage to stand and walk over. He takes his sweet time wrapping the robe around me like I’m delicate and breakable before he finds a towel and starts drying himself off.
It’s awesomely terrible watching how he drags the fabric across valleys of taut muscle, abs you could eat off of, and that insane bulge that’s barely held back by a thin scrap of cloth.
He never takes his eyes off mine, like he’s aware of what he does to me.
This man is built like he was made to eat, drink, and breathe raw eroticism.
I laugh for no reason—blame it on the jitters.
“Don’t you need the robe? I feel bad since you brought it.”
“That dress is see-through now. If we pass anyone, they’re not getting a peek. My eyes only, woman. That’s the new rule.”
Dead.
He just killed me.
But his chest is completely bare and hard and magnificent. I press my hand to it, trying to stay grounded.
“Um, thanks?” I whisper.
He doesn’t say you’re welcome. He just stamps a hungry, yet gentle kiss on my lips, scooping me up in his arms in my cotton cloud and tossing me over his shoulder.
“What if we actually do pass someone?” I whisper in his ear.
“I’ll pay them to pretend they didn’t see shit,” he rasps.
I’m trying not to shake.
This man is so impossible not to adore.
Thankfully, we’re alone as we walk through the house. There’s another staircase at the back leading to a new area I haven’t seen before.
He carries me the whole way, right across the threshold to this old-world room of dark wood that smells like an island forest. There’s a silky curtain hanging around the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, something right out of the last century, and he rips it aside before laying me down.
Oh, God.
My chest rises and falls, each breath more intoxicating than the last when he’s so close, and all I can smell is him.
It’s cooler and darker here. Between the air conditioning, the ceiling fan, and my still wet clothes, my teeth chatter.
“Stay. I’ll get you warmed up as soon as that dress comes off. Guess I didn’t think that through very well.” He kisses my forehead and then drifts down to my lips.
Like anything could ever be wrong with what’s happening.
He pulls me up gently, unties my robe, peels it off, and throws it on the floor.
Except it was dry.
Now, I’m even colder—but not for long.
His wolfish gaze slides down my body for what feels like a full minute, burning me from head to toe. When he reaches out, I’m grateful for the coolness left by the pool.
He latches on to wet fabric and tugs my dress over my head, making quick work of my panties and bra a second later.
Too much.
Too hot.
I’m...I’m going to flipping faint.
My skin crawls with goosebumps as I rock back, falling on the bed, suddenly realizing I’ve never been this naked and vulnerable.
And this man devours me eyes first, his lip curled back in something like awe.
“Cole...” I whisper, licking my lips.
“Don’t,” he snaps off.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t fucking move, beautiful. Just give me a minute.”
Even with my blood warming to three hundred degrees, I do.
I sit there silently, trying not to go to pieces, while this man drinks me in with his gaze.
His hand drops down his massive thigh, his fingers gliding over the outline of his barely contained cock.
Staring, he pushes his waistband down, shoving his swimsuit to his knees.
I can’t bring myself to look at what he’s packing.
“Cole—”
“Eliza, quiet. Let me have my moment,” he growls. “Go on. Look at me.”
My eyelids flutter shut and I take a deep, slow breath before I open them again and—
Whoa.
Is the man part horse?
I haven’t seen that many penises in my life and they’ve never done much for me over other parts and attitude, but holy dick.
He’s girthy. That’s the only word that makes sense—the only way to describe the length and thickness and lust pulsing in his hand.
Even in his own massive palm, his fingers barely close around it, his swollen head peeking out as he strokes his cock achingly slow.
