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“So,” he teases. “This fantasy. Don’t tell me it stops at hand holding, Amelia.”
“He’d drape his arm on the back of my chair,” I say, somewhat defensively. “Touch the back of my neck.”
Cole gently releases my hand so he can trail his up my arm, casually draping his arm along the back of my chair. His thumb’s a whisper on the back of my neck, making me shiver. Then his fingers start massaging, finding knots I didn’t even know were there.
I can see how Cole gets all those women.
He’s only touching my neck, and I’m already drowning in pleasure. His fingers wander, winding through the hair just above my neck. He gives a gentle tug, and my head tilts back, my mouth opening on a gasp.
It’s a reminder that I might be giving the orders. But he’s the one who’s got me at his mercy.
“What next?” he asks.
Do I dare?
“If this is where the fantasy ends, sweet girl...”
“Your lips. My neck.”
He leans in, inhaling deeply, like he’s breathing me in. Then his lips are on my neck. It’s soft, delicious torture, and I raise a shaky hand to cover my mouth, muffling my moan.
Cole nips at my earlobe. “What next?”
“What next?”
“You pull your cock out and make me suck it.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears.
“I was seventeen!” I whisper defensively. “I didn’t know about foreplay.”
“Or public indecency laws, apparently,” Cole whispers. “How about we do this instead?” And then he’s kissing me, and he’s so good at it, I almost forget to breathe.
“Touch me,” Cole orders. Or maybe begs. His voice is rough in my ear.
I slide my hands up his chest, around his neck, in his hair.
The only thing separating us is the armrest between our seats. Cole shoves it up, out of the way, and pulls me half into his lap.
There’s one more part of him I’m desperate to touch, but I don’t have the guts. And soon I don’t have the concentration either. His fingers flirt with the edge of my sweater. Then those long, strong fingers are slipping under my sweater, caressing the swell of my breast.
“Do you like it like that?” Cole asks. Then his fingers find the stiff bud of my nipple and pinch, hard. “Or like that?”
“Yes,” I say. I want it all, the sweet pain, and the gentle torture. “Please, Cole. Please.”
The secondpleasetips him over some kind of edge. “Fuck. We need to leave. I need you naked.”
“Yes.”
“I need to taste you. Fuck you. Touch you.” He slips his free hand between my legs and cups me there. It’s hot and wrong and possessive, and I definitely regret wearing jeans. This time I’m the one sucking his neck, as he rubs me through my pants, and his stiff cock presses into my ass.
I can’t believe I can have six months of this, I think.
And then I remember we can’t. We can’t cross that line, or everything blows up in our faces.
Maybe Cole could. Maybe Cole could have sex with me once, and then go back to treating me like a friend.
But I can’t do that. I’m not built that way.
