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CHAPTER20
JANEY
“You’re good to drive yourself?”Cole confirms, though I’ve said as much the three previous times he’s asked.
It’s cute. He came over this morning with coffee, muffins, and reassurances that Chance’s wedding will be nothing like Paisley’s. I have no doubt that’s true, but Cole seems concerned I’m going to bail on him like Paisley’s drama has contaminated weddings forever for me. Little does he know, I’m excited about today. Another wedding with him, with his family? I can’t wait.
He’s leaned back on my kitchen counter, one ankle crossed over the other, arms crossed over his chest, and a worried frown on his lips.
I step in front of him, pressing my body against his and placing a kiss to his lips, hoping to turn that frown upside down. “I’m a big girl. I can go to a wedding by myself. You have things to do with Chance before the ceremony, and that’s totally fine. I’ll meet you at the reception.”
In answer, he wraps his arms around me, hauling me up to my tippy toes to claim my mouth in a kiss full of promises. We haven’t had sex again since reconnecting, and I’m tempted to leap onto him like a spider monkey, wrap my legs around him, and impale myself with the hardness I can feel behind his zipper. I’m ready, so ready, even thinking he was going to strip me down by my front door after our pizza date when we talked things through. But he didn’t then, and he doesn’t now, making no move to take us any further than where we are and what we’re doing, which is admittedly great.
He kisses the stuffing out of me as his hands trace over my curves, cupping and squeezing and branding me with his touch to the point it feels like he’s exploring my soul.
I’m hopeful, moaning at the feel of him sandwiched between us, and though I’ve had a grip on his shirt, I release it to slide my hands under the fabric. When I touch his skin, rediscovering his tight abs, Cole groans. So, I touch him more, running my short nails up to his chest and down to the trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.
He shudders beneath my touch. I, Janey Williams, make this man, Cole Harrington, quiver with only my hands. I feel powerful, I feel sexy, I feel... horny! I start to undo the button at his waist, ready to take what I want.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Wait... stop... stop.”
I freeze in shock. “What?” I whisper, hoping I heard him wrong. Maybe he’s talking to himself? Telling his dick to wait and trying to stop himself from coming too soon? I certainly can’t judge a man for talking to himself, given my personal verbal habits.
He wraps his hand over mine, not removing it but holding me still with my palm pressed over the thick ridge in his jeans. “Not yet. I want to take my time with you, not fuck you and then rush out.”
That’s sweet and all, but...
“Quickie?” I ask hopefully and feel him jump behind my hand. At least one part of Cole is very on board with the idea.
“I’m not a quickie guy,” he says, tilting my chin up with a finger. “Not with you, Janey.”
I want to pout, but that he feels like there’s something special between us makes my heart sing too.
“Tonight? Can you wait?” he murmurs against my ear, nuzzling the sensitive flesh there with his nose and then nipping my earlobe with his teeth. “If you can’t, I’ll take care of you and leave with your taste on my tongue and fingers. Do you need that?”
I hear what he’s promising. It’s not sex. He’ll give me pleasure, probably leaving me sticky and blissfully exhausted from orgasms, but not let himself come. He doesn’t have time, not if he wants to get to his brother when he’s supposed to, and he needs to do that. It’s important for them to see the efforts he makes for them.
I want to say yes. Touching myself to thoughts of Cole over the last few days is nothing compared to the way Cole works my body. But selfishness isn’t who I am.
“If you can wait, I can wait,” I answer, trying to convince myself to believe my own words. But I can hear the quaver in my voice as I do so.
Cole smiles, his thumb tracing my puffy lower lip. “Now who’s grumpy?” he teases, but he sounds as disappointed by waiting as I am. He kisses me again, but this time it’s gentle and soft, not to build the heat we’re both trying to tamp down. It’s an apology and a promise. A to-be-continued.
His phone dings with an alarm, interrupting even our small kisses, and I know I made the right decision. He has to go, but he takes the time to press his forehead to mine. “Text me when you get there?”
I smile. “I’ll be fine. I can handle...” I stop when he gives me a pointed look and joke, “Or you could put an AirTag on me if you’d rather?”
“Don’t tempt me, woman.”
Okay, so that should probably be worrisome. Samantha the Therapist would counsel me to run for the hills from the stalkery guy. So why does Cole’s obsessive nature feel romantic to me? I’m probably unwell, and it’s likely from my childhood trauma, but whatever it is, I don’t care when he looks at me like I’m his whole world.
And it’s not like I haven’t already considered that he’s going to leave for a job and I won’t know where he is and had my own freak-out about it.
“I’ll text you,” I vow.
* * *
Cole
