Chapter 14
“Are you sure? It’s possible she told him before she was killed.”
Cole led her out of the room to wait in the parking lot as the sirens grew louder. She tried to shut out the noise, the buzzing aftermath in her own head, and focus on the man’s voice in her ear.
Another spike of fear hit her, and Cole’s matter-of-fact tone did nothing to calm her down. “He told me he didn’t want to hurt me,” she said, her voice rising in concert with her racing heartbeat. “Who says that while he’s choking you? What kind of sick—”
Cole put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. Focus, and try to remember every detail of what happened, no matter how small.”
She shut her eyes, but all she could see was a ski mask, a big, powerfully muscled bo, the glint of a knife.
Focus.
“I ripped his shirt,” she said, wiggling her fingers as she remembered. “Maybe there will be fibers.”
“Be sure to tell the officers that when they arrive, along with everything else you know.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a meaningful look. “Everything.”
The next two hours passed in a blur as Megan and Cole were loaded into an ambulance and taken to the ER for treatment. Megan was relieved that Cole’s wound was considered minor, even if it was six inches long and needed twenty-five stitches.
They each gave their statements to the police, and this time Megan followed his advice, even to the point of sharing her theory that Stephanie’s and Bianca’s murders could somehow be connected to her brother’s case. She ignored the look the cop shot at the nurse checking her oxygen levels, the one that said “crackpot.”
Her brother was set to die in five days. Today she’d nearly died herself. It wasn’t like she had much to lose.
After he gave his statement, Cole planted himself on her gurney. Relief washed through her at the sight of him and she inched closer.
“How’s your neck?” he said, brushing her hair aside to get a better look at the bruising.
She didn’t have a chance to reply before Agent Tasso burst through the exam room doors, trailed by a grim-faced Detective Petersen.
“I should have kept you locked up after your little stunt the other night,” Tasso snapped. Megan felt herself shrink under his glare and reflexively shifted closer to Cole. “As it is, I can nail you for interfering in an investigation.”
“Hey,” Cole snapped, “why don’t you lay off her?”
Tasso turned his glare on Cole. “I suggest you shut up, Williams. You’re on thin ice as it is.”
Megan spoke before Cole could open his mouth and get himself into more trouble. “I didn’t interfere with anything! I just wanted to ask some questions.”
“I told you to stay away from my investigation. It was part of the deal your boyfriend and that shark of his cooked up to drop the charges.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Megan said quickly, cursing herself for caring what Cole thought. Stupid, especially under the circumstances, but it was suddenly vitally important to her that Cole know that Nate was not her boyfriend. “I’m just trying to find out information about my brother’s case.”
“Which seems to have somehow led you directly into my case.”
Maybe it was the trauma of the day or the aftermath of the terror-induced adrenaline rush, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Not my fault I seem to be able to find information before you guys.”
“Se’s got a point,” Cole said.
A vein bulged in Tasso’s forehead, and he pressed his lips into a tight line. “Petersen, follow up with Ms. Flynn. Williams, come with me.”
She felt Cole stiffen beside her, his resentment at being ordered around coming off him in waves.
“I’ll be fine,” she said softly.
He got up from the gurney. “Don’t even think about leaving without me.”
The warmth curling in her belly at Cole’s protective attitude fled as she turned to meet Petersen’s frosty glare.
“Why do you have to mess with him?” she said as she flipped open her notebook.
“I’m not,” Megan said, not even trying to pretend she didn’t understand.
“You dragged him into this, and if it goes any further, he’s going to lose his badge.”
Megan held up her hands in defense. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble for him.”
“Bullshit. You were in his office the day after the murder. Next thing I know he’s pulling case files for the other Slasher victims, and you’re breaking into the latest victim’s house before her name’s gone public.”
Guilt twisted in her stomach. “I’m just trying to help my brother,” she said.
“And ruining another man who cares about you in the process. He could have been killed today. Do you even care?”
The knife in her gut twisted deeper. “Of course I care! I didn’t know Cole was going to follow me, and I never wanted to see him get hurt—”
“Well he did, and now he’s getting his ass reamed because of it. He’ll be lucky to have a badge at the end of this. Or maybe that’s your angle. You’re pissed at Cole because he arrested your brother, and now you get to have your revenge by ruining his career?”
“No!” Did Cole think that? The idea twisted her stomach into a knot, her guilt compounded by the fact that it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t occurred to her.
After she’d leaked information about their relationship to the press and Cole had been forced to recuse himself from Sean’s case, Cole had told reporters who questioned his objectivity, “My job is the most important thing to me. I would never let a casual romantic relationship interfere with my work as a detective.”
When she’d read that quote, Megan felt like her chest had been cut open. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t entertained fantasies of ruining the career that meant so much more to him than she did. But she wasn’t vindictive enough to carry them out.
Now she might really cost him his job without even trying. “I never meant for Cole to get in trouble. I didn’t think he’d get so… involved.”
In fact, he’d surprised her at every turn. She’d never really expected him to pull the case files when she asked, not when he’d so easily turned his back on her before. But he had. And now he was tailing her. Not to mess with her investigation, but to keep her safe.
For three years she’d lived with the hurt, convinced herself Cole had abandoned her when she needed him. Now she had to consider the idea that maybe there was more going on with him than she’d known. And if nothing else, he was getting a damn good start on making it up to her.
Detective Petersen’s derisive sniff pulled Megan out of her musings over her feelings for Cole, which were getting more complicated by the hour. “It says here you didn’t get any information from this woman, who you presume is Bianca’s roommate, Stephanie?”
Megan gave Petersen a brief recap of their meeting in the bathroom of Club One. “She said she didn’t know Bianca, but I got the sense she was lying. I also saw her a few minutes later in the VIP room. It was weird—she led some guy through the back of the VIP room, down a hall to another area that’s protected by a security system.”
Petersen’s blue eyes flickered with interest as she wrote something down. “But you didn’t see her or anyone else slip the card into your purse?”
“No.”
“What can you tell me about your attacker? You said he knows you?”
Cold sweat bloomed on Megan’s skin, and her heart started thudding at the memory of rough hands grabbing her, hard fingers squeezing her throat. “He called me by name. But I didn’t see his face. He was wearing a ski mask.”
“Try to remember everything you can. How tall he was, the sound of his voice.”
Megan shook her head, her brain muddled as it tried to put all the pieces together, but it was like her mind wanted to block it all out. She closed her eyes, forced herself to put herself back in that room, feel him jerking her back against his body. “He was big. Muscular and tall.” She made herself block out the terror to focus on how tall he was compared to her. “His chin was on top of my head. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, like a dress shirt. Black. I tore one of the sleeves.” Her fingers shook as she remembered struggling, clawing at his arm to pull it away, the harsh rending sound of the cloth.
“That’s when Cole came in,” Megan continued. “They struggled and I saw the knife.” Her voice hitched at the memory of seeing the gleaming steel arc toward Cole’s body. “I thought he was going to kill Cole, but Cole jumped out of the way.” Still, she’d never forget that split second as the killer’s knife plunged for Cole, his gloved hand clenched around the hilt, the muscles of his forearm tense as he went in for the kill….
His arm.
“He had a tattoo,” Megan blurted out. “I saw part of it, on his right biceps. Dark ink. I couldn’t see the design.”
She jerked back as the truth thudded home, so obvious even her thick brain could comprehend it. “It was Jack Brooks,” she said, feelike an idiot that it had taken her this long to connect the dots. “The security guy at Club One,” she clarified at Petersen’s quizzical look.
Megan gave Petersen a rundown of her brief acquaintance with the shadowy former Special Forces guy, emphasizing his repeated warnings for her to steer clear of the club. “He could easily be the Slasher. He works at the club—he had access to the victims. Find out where he was the night Evangeline Gordon died. You never know—”
Petersen cut her off. “How about you let us handle the investigation for a change? I’m sure we’ll make a lot more progress without you stumbling around getting potential witnesses killed.”
Guilt slammed her as she thought of Stephanie’s body splayed like a broken doll on the floor. If Megan hadn’t been snooping around… She looked up as the door to the exam room was pushed open. Cole stood in the doorway, his face pulled into grim lines. “You about done in here?”
Petersen nodded and flipped her notebook closed. “We’ll follow up with Brooks,” she assured Megan. “And we’ll let you know if we need any more information. I’ll call a squad car to take you home.”
“I’ve got her,” Cole said, his tone brooking no argument.
That didn’t stop Petersen from trying. “You sure you want to do that, Cole?” she said, straightening to her full height and squaring off against him. “She’s caused you nothing but trouble,” Petersen said as though Megan wasn’t sitting two feet away. “If you give a shit about your job, you need to stay the hell away—”
“Whoever did this knows her,” Cole bit out. “And unless you can guarantee her twenty-four hour protection until he’s caught, she’ll be with me.”
Megan felt herself shrink under Cole’s stare, feeling vulnerable and all but naked in the flimsy hospital gown. “You don’t have to give me a ride home, Cole. I’ve caused you enough problems. If you just give me a minute to get dressed, I can go home with another officer.”
“I’ll give you five minutes,” Cole said, and walked out.
Megan slid reluctantly into the passenger seat of his Jeep, which one of the patrol officers had been nice enough to drive to the hospital.
She could feel the tension emanating from him. Cole was closed up in that silent, self-contained way he had that didn’t invite conversation. But she had to try. “What happened with Tasso?”
“I don’t really feel like talking about it.”
Though his tone wasn’t harsh, Megan felt the sting of his brush-off. Leaving him to his brooding, she curled up against the passenger door. She tried to tell herself that she was only doing what was necessary. She wanted to save Sean; she didn’t have any time for guilt. But today she’d seen up close the kind of collateral damage she was causing. And for the first time in three years, she wasn’t in this alone. Now Cole was getting hurt too.
A month ago she might have been spiteful and told herself losing his badge was nothing less than what Cole deserved. But after the last week… nothing was so black-and-white any more. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.”
Cole held up a silencing hand. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I made my bed when I decided to give you confidential information.”
“And I want you to know how much I appreciate that,” Megan said. “I know I haven’t exactly been generous with my gratitude—”
“Can we just drop it for now?” Cole said wearily. “I don’t really feel like dwelling on the fact that I’m pissing away a fifteen-year career.”
Megan slumped in her seat as they turned down her block. He parked in front of her driveway and led the way up the stairs to her flat. When she went to unlock the door, he took the key from her hand. He opened the door slowly, and Megan jumped back when a gun seemed to appear out of thin air into his hand.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He raised a finger to his lips and hit her with a glare. “He knows you. He most likely knows where you live. I’m not taking any chances.” He motioned for her to wait while he did a sweep of the apartment, then beckoned her inside.
“Um, okay, I guess that means you can go now.” Megan wrapped her arms around herself and forced back a shudder. Despite the tension between them, she didn’t exactly relish spending a night alone.
“Are you kidding me?” Cole looked at her like she’d just lost about forty IQ points. “You’re not staying here.” He moved down the hall to her room. Without asking, he rummaged through her closet until he found a small duffel bag. He tossed it on the bed. “Pack enough to hold you for at least a few days. You’re coming home with me.”
They drove to his house in silence so thick it was like a physical presence between them in the car. She’d tried to convince him to take her to a hotel, reminding him how it would look to Lieutenant Chin and the rest of the review board if they knew she spent the night at his house, but he completely bulldozed over her protests. Short of making a break for it and trying to elude him, Megan didn’t see that she had much choice.
And really, after what had happened, she knew she wouldn’t feel safe alone, even in a hotel with the dead bolt thrown. Knowing Cole stood between her and the psycho who had tried to kill her made her feel secure in a way that she hadn’t in a very long time. She warned herself to be careful with Cole—she’d made the mistake of reading too much into his actions before and got burned for it.
But tonight, she wanted to lean into him and let him chase all her demons away.
Cole turned down his street in his development and drove past a row of nearly identical houses. He pulled into his garage, grabbed her bag, and walked into the house without a word. She followed and watched as he tossed her bag onto the couch="imas place hadn’t changed at all in the nearly three years since she’d seen it. The same plain coffee table and leather sofa. He’d upsized his flat-screen TV, but there was still no art on the plain, off-white walls.
The place was devoid of personality, without so much as a book or stray DVD to hint at the interests of the man who lived here. On the handful of occasions she’d been over here while they were dating, she’d entertained stupid fantasies of how she might enliven the décor when she moved in with him.
She shoved away the tug of sadness that she’d never had the opportunity. That his house had remained as boring and sterile as it had been the last time she saw it. Like his life had gotten just as stuck as hers.
And there’s obviously not any woman coming around to put her feminine touch on things.
Not that she cared, she told herself firmly as she walked into Cole’s living room. Still, it was hard to forget what had happened the last time they were alone together.
After the last adrenaline-fueled hours, she was suddenly so drained she could barely keep on her feet. She sank into the leather armchair and felt like she could close her eyes and sleep for the next forty-eight hours.
Cole’s voice roused her. “I’ve set up the spare room as an office, so I don’t have a real guest room.” He rubbed his hand wearily against the back of his neck. “You take my bed and I’ll take the couch.”
Her? Sleep in his bed? His stuff, his sheets, his scent all around her. “Absolutely not. You’re almost a foot taller than me—you won’t even fit on the couch.”
“I’m not going to debate it, Megan.”
She pushed herself up from the chair. “I don’t want to put you out. I can stay at a hotel for a few days—”
“Right, and you’ll be out on your own trying to find the guy who attacked us today. You really think I’m going to let you out of my sight?”
She swallowed, wincing at the ache in her throat. “What else do you expect me to do? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs and wait for Sean’s execution date? I’m out of options, Cole.”
He shook his head. “If you decide to go off half-cocked over another barely there lead, I’m gonna be with you. And you’re staying here. No negotiation. And while you’re staying here, take the fucking bedroom.” He turned his back on her and went into the kitchen, where she could hear him rooting around the refrigerator like a bear in a garbage can.
She followed him, protesting. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine on my own.” After what happened today, she wasn’t sure about that at all, but she could feel herself starting to lean on Cole and it was feeling a little too good.
He whirled around on her, so fast she took a startled step back, stopping only when the ridge of the countertop dug into the small of her back.
Streaks of angry color stained his high cheekbones, and his eyes were molten with fury. “Goddamn it! After what happened today, could you just stop fucking arguing with every goddamn thing I say? You almost died today, Megan! And for what? A fucking note on a scrap of paper!”
She swallowed, wincing at the ache in her throat. He was pulled tight, every sinew coiled with tension, like he didn’t know whether to kiss her or shake her. She broke her stare, unable to look at him, knowing he was right. Knowing she had put her life and his career at risk for a barely solid lead.
The memory of her attacker’s fingers digging into her windpipe sent a shiver of fear down her spine. “I had to take that chance. Don’t you understand? Unless Sean changes his mind, he’ll be dead in five days. I have to do something, no matter how crazy or far-fetched it seems.”
He moved closer, so close she could feel the heat of his thigh muscles against her hips, and planted his palms on the counter on either side of her hips. “You could have died.”
Her pulse throbbed in her throat at the feel of his hot breath on her cheek. She dropped her gaze from his face and struggled to get her traitorous body back under control. “I think that would make your life easier, wouldn’t it? Get me out of your hair once and for all.” Her weak attempt at lightening the mood backfired. Now he was even angrier, his dark eyes practically spitting fire.
“Don’t even fucking joke about that!”
Before she had time to react, his mouth was on hers, hungry, desperate as his lips crushed hers. God he felt good, strong and powerful. Heat exploded in her veins, and just like that, she melted into a puddle at the first touch. Helplessly, she parted her lips to drink him in, suck his tongue into her mouth, tangle it with hers.
His kiss immediately gentled, and he pulled away, cradling her face in his hands as he whispered again, “Don’t even fucking joke about that.” Soft, nipping kisses rained on her mouth and cheeks. “Do you have any idea how it felt to walk in that room and see you…” His voice broke, and a shudder rippled through him. “I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life, thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up in time.”
He kissed her again. “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. It kills me that he touched you, that you were hurt. So don’t ask me to leave you alone, not when I’d cut my own arm off if it kept you from getting hurt.”
Before she could absorb what that implied, Cole leaned closer, pressing her into the counter. Unable to stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his waist, then jerked away when he let out a hiss of pain.
Megan jerked back to reality. She wasn’t the only one who had gotten hurt today. This was so crazy; they were both riding high, their resistance pummeled by adrenaline and fear. She couldn’t give in. “This is a really bad idea.”
In the past, he would have played the good guy and backed off at the first sign of resistance. Hell, more often than not, he’d been the one to stop them in their tracks. How many times had he pulled away, telling her that he didn’t want to move too fast, that he didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for?
Until she was so ready she could barely see straight, only to have reality come crashing down all around her.
But Cole didn’t budge. “Actually, I think this is the best idea I’ve had in a really long time.” His big hands cupped her face, holding her still as he took her mouth.
She’d had a taste of this Cole a few days ago. The one who didn’t try to fight the lust no matter how they might kick themselves later. Relentless. Determined.
He pulled her hair to the side and sucked her earlobe into his mouth, a touch that sent a jolt of heat to her core. She made a last grasp for sanity. “This is so stupid, after everything.” She bit her lip on a moan as his big palm squeezed her breast through her shirt. “You know this can’t go anywhere.”
“I’m so fucking tired,” he muttered as his tongue traced her bruised throat, “of thinking about what happened before and what’s going to happen after.” He pulled his head up and stared at her as his hands undid the top button of her blouse. Then another.
God, why does he make me so weak?
“All I know is that I want you, Megan. I’ve wanted you every day for nearly three years. I buried it, and I could keep you out of my mind most days. But ever since I saw you again, it’s like this ache, eating away at me until I can’t think of anything but kissing you, touching you.” He gave her breast a squeeze that sent sparks singing through every nerve ending. “And being inside you,” he said, closing his eyes, his voice so deep and reverent it made her ache with need. “You have no idea how bad I want to be inside you.”
Her pulse throbbed between her legs. Oh yeah, she had a pretty good idea. And it was getting more difficult to resist by the second as he whispered hot, dirty things he wanted to do to her, all the ways he’d imagined having her.
So different from how he’d been before. Back when they’d dated, he’d been reserved. Careful not to reveal too much. Cautious of moving too fast. And when everything had gone to hell, he’d been quick to deny that what he’d felt for her was serious.
Now all the barriers were coming down as he told her in no uncertain terms what he wanted and how. “You almost died today.” His whisper was almost accusing. “You could have died, and I would never have been able to touch you again.” His fingers traced her cheeks; his lips nipped at hers like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop touching her, tasting her. “Just one night,” he pleaded. “Just one night where I don’t have to think about anything but how much I want you, how good I’m going to make you feel.”
He slid his hand between her legs, cupping her sex through her jeans. “You do want that, don’t you, Megan?” As though he couldn’t feel the heat and dampness of her sex through the fabric. One finger ran against the seam of her pants, pressing against her clit until it was all she could do to keep her legs from buckling under her.
God, yes. But a cliuld do was moan into his mouth as his finger circled her, teasing her through the suddenly constrictive fabric of her jeans.
This is so wrong. She tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons why nothing good could come of giving in.
Her protests evaporated like mist as he popped the button on her jeans and buzzed her zipper down. His hand slid into the waistband of her panties. Thick, callused fingers pressed against her, the firm pressure of his fingertips against her clit almost enough to make her come right then and there.
His breath hitched in his chest as he delved farther, until his fingertip teased her opening. “God, you’re so wet. Jesus, you do want me.”
If his tone had been at all smug, she would have shoved him away. Kneed him in the balls and locked herself in his bedroom all night. He sounded… wondrous… like he was the luckiest man in the world to have her want him.
His euphoria was infectious. Just one night, a reckless, needful voice urged her. After everything she’d been through, everything she’d sacrificed, didn’t she deserve this? One night of pleasure with the man who had haunted her dreams for the past three years? One night to finally know, after years of wondering, wanting, needing, how it would feel to be taken by this man who wanted her so much.
And who you want right back. She rocked her hips against his hand and shoved his shirt up his waist. He released her mouth as she yanked his shirt over his head, and she moaned a protest when he pulled his hand from her panties. Their fingers tangled as they both rushed to remove their own and each other’s clothing. The kitchen echoed with the sounds of panting breath, wet kisses, and pleasured moans.
Within seconds they were naked, the hot press of Cole’s skin against hers driving her crazy. The rough dusting of hair on his chest teased her nipples to painful hardness. Every nerve ending was on high alert, buzzing with arousal so acute it bordered on pain. Her hands and mouth were everywhere, reveling in every patch of hot, smooth skin, the salty taste of him on her tongue, his woods-and-musk scent wrapping around her.
His cock pressed against her belly, thick as a club and just as hard. She wrapped her hand around it, her mouth going a little dry as she measured his substantial length. Smiling against his mouth, she swallowed his shuddering groan.
She stroked him harder, loving the way he felt in her hand. Hot, velvety soft skin over marble hardness. Thick and pulsing with life. As she watched, mesmerized, a thick bead of precome welled to the surface. An answering rush of moisture pulsed between her legs.
“I want you so much. I don’t think I can go slow,” Cole said, and she could feel the tremor in his hands as he lifted her onto the countertop and stepped between her legs. He was shaking like a racehorse, his every muscle standing out in sharp relief as his body went taut with rapidly dwindling restraint.
Megan leaned back, bracing herself with one hand, the other still stroking his cock. “It’s okay,” she panted, so turned on she could barely see straight. “I don’t need slow. I need you.”
He groaned, hooked her leg over his hip and wrapped his hand around hers. She licked her lips in anticipation as he rubbed the thick head against her, parting her lips, circling her clit as he bathed himself in her juice. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen, both their hands circled around his cock, guiding him up, down, around her slippery flesh until they were both shaking with need.
But it was nothing compared to how he felt, squeezing inside, the broad head of his cock stretching her until she danced on the edge of pleasure and pain. His hips rocked forward, sinking him halfway, and he paused at her sharp gasp.
“I’m sorry, baby. You’re just so tight, and you feel so good.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his face a mask of agonized pleasure. But he held himself there, perfectly still as he waited for her to adjust around him.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
He bent his head and closed his mouth over her nipple, the hot suction making her jerk against him, taking him a little deeper. He didn’t move his hips as his lips, tongue, and teeth teased her agonizingly sensitive nipples, sucking, licking, biting, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
She rocked her hips, moaning his name as every thrust took him a little deeper.
“That’s it, Megan,” he breathed. “Show me how you want it. Show me what you need.”
Her inner muscles tightened around him, greedy for him as she rocked harder. Finally, finally, he was buried to the hilt, filling her up, deeper than anyone had ever been before.
He pulled almost all the way out and squeezed slowly back in, one heart-stopping inch at a time. He pulled his mouth from her breasts and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes cast down, his face tight with concentration as he watched his cock sink into her. Over and over, so slow and so deep, until she felt like she was going to burst out of her skin.
She needed more. She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair and tugged his mouth back up to hers. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and slid her other hand down to grip the hard muscle of his butt, urging him harder, faster.
She leaned back on the counter, bracing herself against his thrusts as she wrapped her legs tighter around him. The lust coiled inside her like a spring, tighter and tighter until she was moaning and shaking with the need for release. “Oh God, Cole,” she moaned, needing something, needing him. His thick cock sank into her, his hands roughly gripping her hips as he held her still to take him and take him and take him.
He stared down at her, his face tight with need as he slid his hand between them and pressed his thumb against her clit. Tight circles, firm brushes up and down in time with the heavy thrust and drag of his cock.
Sharp sounds she didn’t even recognize as hers erupted from her throat as he drove her higher. Then she was shaking, shuddering, coming around him, so hard she could feel her inner muscles squeezing and releasing him. The ripples of her orgasm radiated out from her core in waves, sizzling through her limbs and making even the soles of her feet tingle.
Cole wasn’t far behind. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek as he threw his head back. An agonized groan tore from his chest, and then he was holding himself deep, jerking and spurting inside her.
Cole’s heart hadn’t stopped thundering against his ribs, his breath barely slowed, before he felt her stiffen against him. The last ripples of her orgasm had barely faded and already the gears of her brain were churning so hard he could practically hear them as regret tried to worm its way in and ruin the afterglow.
Not if he could help it. He looked down at her troubled green eyes staring at him, her cheeks flushed, her mouth swollen and red from his kisses, her hair a wild tangle spilling over her shoulders. She looked exactly like what she was, a blazingly hot woman who had just been fucked within an inch of her life. No way was he going to let her slide into a spiral of self-recrimination. Not until he really gave her something to feel guilty about.
“Cole,” she warned as he leaned down to kiss her. She tried to turn her face aside at the last second, but his hand on her jaw held her in place.
She was still at first, her lips closed as he probed at them with his tongue. “Don’t,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. “Don’t pull away from me. Stay here with me.” He kissed her again, and this time she softened, her lips parting to let him in. He swept his tongue inside, savoring her heat, her taste. “Be with me tonight.”
She surrendered with a sigh and gave herself over to his kiss. His cock surged inside her as he felt her melt against him, her arms wrapping around his back, her legs looping around his hips. She gave a little squeal when he cupped his hands over her ass and lifted her off the counter. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Taking you to my bed,” he replied, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice. His bed. If life had worked out in his favor, he would have taken her there three goddamn years ago and she never would have left. The thought squeezed his heart like a fist, and he shoved it away. No use whining over the way life should have turned out. He had her tonight, and he was going to make the goddamn most of it.
He took a few steps and her breath hitched as she squirmed against him.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, her legs and arms tightening around him. “You’re still…” She squirmed again.
“Hard,” he said, unable to suppress a grin as he rocked his hips against her for emphasis. “I’ve waited a long time, thinking about how good it would be to fuck you.”
She let out a little moan and clenched around him so tight his knees nearly buckled. He barely made it to the bedroom, his cock hardening with every step, and Megan’s answering moans and squirms tempting him to sink to the floor and take her again right there.
Fuck, he was thirty-six years old, well past the time that he could stay hard and go two rounds back-to-back. But bytime he’d made it the fifteen steps to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, he was primed and ready and afraid he was going to come in about ten seconds if he wasn’t careful.
He came down over her and ordered himself to take it slow. Easier said than done. Especially when she felt so unbelievably good. Soft and slick from her orgasm and his come, but still so tight around him it was like being squeezed in a wet fist. He wanted to explore, touch and taste and take in every detail of her, but he couldn’t make himself leave the hot clasp of her body.
He’d spent hours, days, years fantasizing about being with Megan, how it would feel to have her naked, under him, her body stretching around him as he went as deep as he could possibly go. No fantasy could do this justice, he thought as he buried his mouth against her neck and sucked a dewy patch of skin. Even the smell of her drove him crazy, flowery shampoo mixed with the tang of sweat and the sultry musk of sex.
She moaned and shifted underneath him, wrapping her arms and legs around him to hold him close. He propped himself up on his elbows and lifted his head to look at her. He held himself still, buried in her body, wrapped in her embrace.
He cupped her face in his hands, stroking the curve of her cheekbone with his thumb, feeling like his heart had lodged somewhere up around his throat.
This was all they could ever have, all they could ever be. The thought made something primitive inside of him take hold, an unfamiliar, territorial need to mark her, brand her so that no matter what happened, she would never forget what it was to be with him.
He bent and took her mouth like a starving man, drinking in her taste, reveling in the way her lips sucked greedily at his tongue. He rocked deeper, twisting his hips so she could feel him from every possible angle. He hooked her knee over his elbow and shifted his angle, knowing he had it right when she gave a little gasp and her muscles rippled around him. He stayed that way, buried to the hilt inside her, twisting his hips to rub her in all the right places inside and out.
Soon she was chanting his name and rolling her hips, her hands sliding up and down the sweat-slicked skin of his back. She was close, so close, whispering “please” with every stroke.
He could feel his own orgasm building, his balls pulling tight against his body, his thigh muscles clenching as the tingling started at the base of his spine.
One last roll and grind, and she came hard, stiffening in his arms as every muscle in her body clenched and released around him. He rode her through it, fighting for control as every pulse, every ripple of her tight heat around his cock threatened to hurl him over the edge.
He clenched his jaw to hold back his release until the last wave had receded. Only then did he give in, letting loose with a harsh groan as he shot inside her. Weak, spent, he collapsed, rolling to his side at the last minute to avoid crushing her with his weight.
He gathered her to him and struggled to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her next to him.
Jesus, who knew s could make you feel like your whole world had been blown off its axis? He’d never put too much emotional weight into sex, viewing it as a fun way to pass the time with a consenting partner. But work kept him too busy to ever get serious with anyone, and after too many failures, he’d learned to keep it light.
Then Megan came along, and he’d immediately realized he needed to be careful. That whether he liked it or not, sex with Megan would have serious emotional consequences. Idiot that he was, he’d convinced himself they’d all be on her part. He was the badass who would be able to fuck her and walk away, and by not sleeping with her, he was protecting her from his own inability to maintain a functional relationship.
Now, lying beside her, feeling her heartbeat slow against his, he realized how foolish he’d been, thinking she was the only one who would get the raw end of the deal.
Emotionally overwhelmed, Megan had given in to temptation tonight, but no matter what happened, she’d never allow herself to be with him. A hot ache settled in his chest, creeping its way up his throat until it threatened to choke him.
He tried to shove it away. He was a grown-up, and he’d accepted a long time ago that what he had with Megan was over. One night of hot sex was no excuse to get all bent out of shape. But as he stared into the darkness, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was going to wreck him when he had to let her go.