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To even classify what Derek and the few boys I’d messed around with before did to me as the same thing feels like a gross insult.
He turns me inside out, crashing through my O, slapping my body against the bed like the churning Pacific plowing the black lava rock on the shores.
I’m shuddering—and I can’t flipping stop—even as I float down from the high with his tongue against mine.
He slows his strokes for a minute, giving me time, but the frenzied darkness in his eyes says he can’t wait long.
My hand traces his jaw, worshipping his stubble, and I know I don’t want him to.
“Cole, don’t hold back. I want you to come inside me,” I whisper, pushing my feet into the backs of his calves, spurring him on.
He doesn’t need much encouragement.
That glint in his eyes brightens like blue torches, and soon I’m shocked, plunging up and down on the mattress like a storm pummeling my body.
He could light me on fire with how fast he goes.
He could burn me down right now, and make me fall faster and harder and helplessly.
When he stabs down one more time, anchoring so deep, every chorded muscle flexed like a drawn bow, I’m gone.
My vision blurs and I taste the guttural thunder rising from his throat as lightning erupts inside me.
Cole Lancaster comes like a force of nature, all raging heat in my depths, pouring himself out so hard his head snaps back in rapture.
I just wonder if I’ll ever come back from this.
A shameless part of me already knows I don’t want to.
When it’s over, we lay there, twined together and slick with sweat in our own private world of pillows and spent hearts.
Oh, crap. Crap to the nth power.
That really just happened.
I just fucked my boss.
And I already want to do it again—but I need to wrap my head around this first.
Something I can’t do while he’s so near, distracting me with his scent and his rock-hard perfection and his storms for eyes that see right through me.
Everything about him mangles my senses.
“I should go,” I whisper, finding the will to stand on two sore legs and pulling the cover with me. I start scavenging my stuff from the floor—only to remember my clothes are still disgustingly wet.
He stands too—shamelessly comfortable in the nude—but with a body like that, why wouldn’t he be?
“You can’t put that dress back on. You’ll catch a damn cold walking to your room.” He picks up a large t-shirt lying on a chaise in the corner and throws it at me. “Here, give it back to me later.”
It’s crazy how hard it is to fight the instinct to raise his shirt to my nose and inhale.
He walks across the room, picking up a thick brown robe hanging from the back of his bathroom door. “You want a fresh robe?”
I smile. “Because that looks less suspicious than just wearing your shirt?”
Grumbling, he pokes his head into his living room of a walk-in closet, scanning around for anything else.
I pull his shirt over me and start for the door, but he grabs my waist and stops me.
“Man, you’re making it hard to leave.”
“Too bad,” he throws back, kissing my neck, running his tongue up my throat.
Giddy, I look up at him, playfully pushing him away.
His mouth darts against mine for good measure. “One more before you’re gone. If people wouldn’t talk, fuck, I’d keep you here for breakfast.”
God. How many times can he ruin me in one night?
I feel like champagne, shaken and fizzy and light. Ready to foam over the edge if I don’t get some space to start dissipating this crazy energy.
But then he says, “I promise this isn’t the end. In case you wondered.”
“No,” I lie, his eyes searching mine.
“Next time, I’ll take longer undressing you. Just didn’t want you freezing.”
“There’s going to be a next time?” I ask, steeling myself.
“Damn right,” he says with a grin, and then his face straightens. “Right?”
Oh, crap. Is Cole Lancaster nervous?
This time, I answer him with a kiss.
My tongue delves in his mouth, lingering, tracing his, wishing next time was right freaking now.
But I’m glad he urges me away gently, opening the door, his hand pressed to the small of my back as he shepherds me out of the room.
I step into another world made of rainbow emotions, wearing only his t-shirt and a bright confidence I’ve never felt before.
14
Coffee For Your Head (Cole)
I, Cole Lancaster, am a royal asshole.
I freely admit it.
I kissed Eliza and avoided her for days rather than talking about it like a normal human being.
Then, instead of admitting I lost my head and have no idea what it means, I dragged her into my bed.
I fucked her without shame or mercy or common sense—and I enjoyed every scalding second of it.
Now, there’s a whole hell of a lot more to talk about.
