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But why does my heart have a say in any of these decisions? All Cole decisions should strictly be held between my brain and my vagina. Logic and lust.
No other L-words need apply.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SUMMER
He got me to bite him.
The second I arrived at Cole’s house last night, he started in on his promise. Demanding hands stripped off my clothes and lay me across his bed. He tongued his way down my body, then licked me until I whimpered and begged. But my pleas didn’t get him to stop his delicious torture, so I cursed him.
Then I shoved him off me, straddled him, and sank my teeth into his pec a second before sinking down onto his hard cock.
Currently, Cole drives with one hand on the wheel. The other rubs his chest in the exact spot I left a mark. Something like a smile hides at the corner of his mouth.
Any other day I’d be all smug satisfaction. But I can’t concentrate when all I can do is stare.
He’s wearing a sweater.
Only, sweater is too tame of a word.
Some people might call what he’s wearing an ugly sweater.
But I think it’s gorgeous.
Cole has forgone his normal black attire, opting for a knitted creation worn by only the biggest fans of Frosty the Snowman. The background is an icy blue, bringing beautiful emphasis to his eyes, but taking up the entire front of the sweater is a happy, top-hat-wearing, carrot-nose-sporting snowman.
My brain can’t handle how adorable this sex-on-a-stick man looks in his seasonal wear.
“You’re quiet,” Cole murmurs. Flicking my eyes to the dashboard clock, I realize we’ve been driving for ten minutes without me saying anything.
“Your sweater.” The first words I’m able to manage.
Cole’s face stays blank, and he gives a little shrug. “Yeah?”
“How…when…where…” I can’t settle on a single question, not sure what I want to know first.
“My grandma bought it for me. She’ll be at dinner.” Cole’s mouth is tight at the corners, and I can’t figure out why.
Does he think I’ll make fun of him?
Does he love his sweater and worry I’ll judge him for it?
I lay my hand on his thigh, giving a quick squeeze. “I. Love. It.Loveit. You look amazing.”
There’s a hint of a smile twitching over his lips, which I count as a success. “Youlook amazing.” His hand rests on top of mine, giving me a squeeze back.
The compliment warms my cheeks. I’ve never had a holiday dinner at a guy’s house before, so I wasn’t sure how to approach it. While I’m not as on-theme as Cole, I did opt for a dark green dress and a set of sparkly red flats I refer to as my Dorothy shoes. I’m my own little Christmas tree.
Five minutes later, we pull into the driveway of a small house. Cole puts his truck in park, then jogs around the hood to help me down. I don’t need help, but I like the feel of his strong fingers tangling with mine.
Before I can take a step toward the front door, Cole pulls me into his chest, tilting my chin up so he can capture my mouth in a not-family-friendly kiss. He moves his lips over mine, hot touch searing my skin.
After momentarily giving into my knee-jerk reaction to melt against him, I shove at his chest. Cole stumbles back a step, his stare fixated on my mouth, eyes unfocused.
“Rude!” Working hard to calm my panting breath, I smooth my hands over my dress to make sure there are no wrinkles.
“Summer—”
