“I can’t believe you’re making me paint a damn daisy,” Cole says as he leans into me, his warm scent and proximity overwhelming me, and making me feel insanely close to him, oddly content. Over the last couple days, we’ve developed an ease with each other. I’m not sure how it is for him, or if he’s ever felt this way with anyone before, but for me, it’s a completely foreign feel, and one I probably shouldn’t like so much.
People all begin to file into the bar, and as drinks are served, the noise level rises. Guys and girls alike make their way to their seats, and many glances are cast our way. Whispers reach my ears as people shuffle by. From their hushed words, it’s clear everyone is trying to figure out if they’re looking at the real Cocky Cole Cannon—The Playmaker—or someone who just happens to looks like him. Although I can’t imagine another man ever coming close to Cole’s kind of good looks.
Cole is either oblivious or ignoring the stares as he shoots off a text and shoves his phone back into his pocket. Me, well, I just smile politely and try to give nothing away. Cole deserves his privacy, and honestly, I kind of like having him all to myself tonight.
“Stop complaining already. It could be worse,” I say when he kicks his legs out and slides down in his chair.
“How?” He picks up his brushes to examine them, looking at them like they’re foreign objects. I can only imagine they are. The only thing I’ve ever seen in his hands is a hockey stick for as far back as I can remember. There were times I’d take the shortcut home and secretly watch Cole practice his shots at the old skateboard park. He’d be there well into the night, unaware of his audience of one. I might have hated him, but I always admired his dedication to the sport.
I cock my head. “You could be sitting at home alone in the dark.”
He nods in agreement. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. That shit was getting old fast.”
“So you’re going to stop complaining and have some fun then? Or are you going to sit there and sulk like a baby?”
“You and that mouth,” he grumbles under his breath, as his gaze races over my lips like he’s considering all the ways to stop me from talking. “And I don’t sulk.”
“Actually, you should be thanking me. Your doc said to relax and I’m making that happen,” I say. “Do you know the effort I went through to book this for us?” I add, feigning exasperation.
His slow, sexy grin materializes. “Oh, don’t worry, I plan to thank you over and over again later tonight. Ropes and bedposts might even be involved.”
Heat crawls up my neck at his dirty words, and my mind takes that moment to visualize me tied to his bed. Lust spears me and I gulp, and judging from his widening grin, my needy reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. But anything involving bedposts and ropes will have to wait until he’s better. Nothing strenuous during his concussion.
Then again, when he’s better, he’ll be back on the ice and our secret affair will be over.
I swallow down my disappointment and say, “You know we can’t—”
My words fall off when I hear a gasp, and I glance up to see some cute, big-breasted blonde staring at me wide-eyed, like she can’t believe Cocky Cole is with me and not her—and not so quietly talking about tying me to his bed.
“Excuse me,” she says to me, then turns her attention to Cole. My insides tighten as she dismisses me, treating me like I’m not even important. But she’s the kind of girl Cole normally goes for, and she likely knows it.
He angles his head her way, and I lean back in my seat, fully expecting him to charm the panties off her, literally. Maybe he’ll even take her home, have sex with her in his bed, while I’m in the next room. Cole and I are not a couple, and truthfully, he can have sex with whoever he wants, and it really shouldn’t bother me so damn much.
“Hey,” he says to the girl, and with my throat tightening, I turn my attention to the front of the bar and pretend to examine the picture of the daisy on canvas, all the while working to ignore Cole as he does his Playmaker thing.
“Are you Cole Cannon?” the girl asks, her high-pitched voice reminding me of a yappy Chihuahua. Yap, yap, yap. Really, her voice is fine. I just don’t appreciate her approaching when Cole is trying to have some relaxation time—among other reasons I probably shouldn’t examine so hard.
“Yeah, I’m Cole,” he says, and shifts backward so I’m in full view. “And this is Nina Callaghan.” He puts his arm over the back of my chair—a possessive move that takes me by surprise—and shifts closer to me. “She thought it would be fun for me to paint a daisy on our date night.”
Date night.
My heart leaps in my chest. We’d already established this wasn’t a date, and if he was going to pick up this girl, no way would he allude to the fact that we were together—like that.
Deep green eyes meet mine, and I don’t miss the spark as his gaze moves over my face. “Isn’t that right, Nina?”
“Yeah,” I say, my brain working to catch up. Cole isn’t flirting with the blonde.
Cole isn’t flirting with the blonde
Instead, he’s pretending we’re a couple and gazing at me like he can’t wait to get me back in his bed. A flutter moves through me, settling deep between my legs.
He looks back at the girl as she leans into him, putting her cleavage right out there, inches from his face. Blatant much? Cripes, why doesn’t she just offer him up a spoon?
“I’m Becca, by the way, and I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing tonight.” She flashes him a come-hither smile, and I wait for him to take the bait. She laughs, a breathy little sound that grates on my last nerve. She waves her hand around the busy bar. “If I were on a date with you, we certainly wouldn’t be here.”
Bitch! Seriously, right in front of me, she’s putting that out there. I’m not one for confrontation or sparring—unless it’s with Cole, or flipping off impatient guys in their fancy cars—but no way am I going to let this girl treat me with such little respect.
I open my mouth, but Cole’s hand closing over mine stops me.
“The thing is, Becca, I’m recovering from a concussion, so right here is exactly where I need to be. Thank God Nina knows exactly how to take care of me. I’d be a wreck without her.”
The girl’s gaze flickers to me for a second. “Ah, okay…”
“Good luck with your daisy,” Cole says, and shifts his focus back to his canvas.
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He wasn’t rude to the girl, but he certainly didn’t turn on The Playmaker, either.
No, what he did, the way he pulled me to him, made me feel important, well, that was like…really sweet.
God, when did I start using Cole and sweet in the same sentence?
“You’d better close your mouth, Nina. Or you’re going to eat that fly buzzing around your head.”
I whack the fly away and shut my mouth. “We’re not on a date,” I say for lack of anything else.
“I know,” he says, and I wait for him to say more, but instead he examines his brushes again.
“Cole,” I say, wanting to ask what that was all about. Why did he say we were on a date and give up a night with a hot blonde?
Because he’d rather be with me?
I shake my head. Dammit, while I like the thought of that—and I wish I didn’t—I probably shouldn’t read too much into this. Maybe he’s just following doctor’s orders and trying to take it easy so he can get back on the ice. Everyone knows hockey is the most important thing in the world to him, and he’d let nothing and no one stand in the way of his career. I can’t blame him for that. I’d never seen anyone put the work into the sport the way he had. He deserves to be on the ice for the playoffs, which is why I brought him here tonight to paint. It’s always helped me clear my head, and I’m hoping it does the same for him.
“So you’ve done this before?” he redirects. “This Paint Nite?”
“Yeah, with Jess.”
“What did you paint?”
“It was a sunset, actually.” I exhale a slow breath, and think back to the times I climbed Mt. Rainier when I was younger. “I loved watching the sun set from the mountain,” I say quietly, and the wistfulness in my voice takes me by surprise. I shake my head to snap out of it.
“I didn’t know that.”
When I lift my gaze and find him looking directly at me, those green eyes intense, not a hint of teasing or playfulness about him, something inside me melts. His mouth dips, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me.
I wait, and when the kiss doesn’t come, I swallow against the tightness in my throat and say, “Remember when we’d all go to Mount Rainier? One of my favorite thing to do was watch the sun set.”
Cole nods. “You know, for two people who didn’t like each other, we used to do a lot of things together.”
I grin and point to the canvas. “We still are doing things together.”
“Yeah, lots of things,” he says, a hint of humor in his eyes. But it disappears when he asks, “When was the last time you hiked?”
“Before the accident.” I crinkle my nose. “I don’t think I could make it very far now. I’d likely end up in traction.”
A long pause, and then, “That’s too bad, Nina.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’ve learned to live with my limitations.”
He frowns like it’s not okay. “Cason always wanted to take you with us.”
I give a very unladylike snort. “And you hated that, didn’t you?”
“I never said that.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, you didn’t have to. All the times you threatened to toss me over the cliff pretty much told me how you felt about your best friend’s kid sister tagging along and getting in the way of you picking up girls.”
“Jesus, I was a prick.”
“Total nightmare.”
“Seriously though, Cason loved when you came, and you never slowed us down. You were always so fit and up for anything. You were different from other girls.”
“I know that.” That’s me, different, overlooked, underestimated.
“Not in a bad way,” he says, and I find him looking at me like he can read my thoughts. “Seriously, Nina, Cason liked it, and I kind of…”
His voice falls off, so I pick up the conversation. “Doubtful. I was the one who always asked to go along. Mom and Dad probably forced him to take me. I can’t imagine he ever wanted me around. There isn’t a teenage boy in all of the world who wants their sister on their heels.”
“Cason did.”
My head lifts at the seriousness in his voice. I stare at him for a moment, take in the narrowing of his eyes, the tenderness flickering there. It only makes me want him even more. My gaze rakes over his face, and I can’t help but think he’s lying, but everything about his expression, his body language, indicates he’s telling the truth.
Cason wanted me around?
I take a deep breath, and it almost hurts to breathe. I miss my brother so freaking much. Miss the closeness we used to have. As loneliness invades my soul, tears pound behind my eyes. Maybe I should reach out to him.
Do not cry, Nina.
“Welcome to Paint Nite,” our instructor says, and the speaker behind us gives a high-pitch squeal that nearly deafens us. We all cringe, and the instructor quickly makes an adjustment. “Better?” he asks as he twists the mouthpiece on his headset.
“Better,” a few people call out.
“Okay, let’s take a look at your brushes and I’ll explain how we’re going to use them, while Danni comes around and fills your paper plates with paint.”
We all pick up our brushes, and the instructor goes over everything. Soon enough, we all fall into a rhythm and begin painting our flowers. It’s cathartic, really. A daisy might not have been Cole’s first—or even millionth—choice, but he’s doing a fine job and seems quite happy and content beside me. If I’m not mistaken, he even has a hint of a smile on his place.
“Hey, Cannon, I thought that was you,” a male voice says, pulling our focus.
We both glance up and I try to place the handsome blond who probably spends hours, and too much gel, to get his hair to fall into a hot messy look that the girls probably go crazy for. Still, no one comes close to Cole in the looks department, at least not to me.
“Scott,” Cole says. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Blind date,” Scott says, and cringes as he gestures with a nod to the girl behind him.
“Not working out?”
“Nope.” Scott’s gaze leaves Cole and slides to mine. He looks me over, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little Nina Callaghan,” he says.
“You know me?” I ask, then narrow my eyes and search my memory bank. That’s when it hits me. He used to play hockey with my brother and Cole in high school. From the snarl on Cole’s face, I’m guessing they weren’t really friends.
Scott scoffs. “Hell yeah. How could I ever forget Crazy Callaghan’s sexy little sister?” I sit up straighter, sure I’d heard him wrong. “Fuck,” he says as he scrubs his face and winces. “Bastard gave me a black eye just for looking at you.”
“He what?” I ask, incredulous.
Cason gave Scott a black eye?
Scott’s gaze goes from me, to Cole, back to me again. “Are you two—”
“We’re friends,” I say quickly, so quickly, Cole’s head swings around and his eyes flash to mine.
What? Is he surprised that I actually called him my friend, considering all the ‘issues’ we’re working through? But seriously, we’re nothing more, and I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a puck bunny who sleeps with anyone wielding a…stick. More importantly, I don’t want Cole to think of me that way. I don’t want to examine why. All I know is, I hate the idea of him thinking I’m one of those girls who stalks all the players—and sleeps with them.
Scott nods. “Cool, can I give you a call sometimes? Now that you’re all grown up, and Callaghan isn’t threatening every guy who looks at you, maybe we can hook up.”
Hook up?
As in get together for sex. Damn, maybe he really does think I’m a bunny. My stomach clenches at that, but the truth is, isn’t that what I’m doing with Cole? Hooking up for sex?
“I…” I begin, but I’m not really sure what to say. I’m used to guys overlooking me, not asking if I want to hook up, and truthfully, I don’t like the way this guy is gawking at me. Sure, I’m hooking up with Cole, but he looks at me with appreciation, not like I’m some piece of skin, his for the scoring.
Hateful images of Kenny Foster, and the way he treated me like I was nothing but his plaything—not to mention my date with the bartender—come back to haunt me, and I shiver.
Cole moves closer to me, as if picking up on my unease. “She’s already seeing someone,” Cole says, the muscles along his jaw rippling as he clenches his teeth.
“Shit, missed my chance,” Scott says. “If anything changes, you can get my number from Cole.”
“Yeah,” Cole says, and refocuses on his daisy. Scott saunters back to his table, and I look at my canvas, but from my peripheral vision, I can still see the scowl on Cole’s face. “Did you want to date that guy?” he asks, his voice devoid of emotion, but his shoulders are pulled tight, his back poker straight.
“No.”
He relaxes a bit, his steely expression softening. “Good, because he’s a grade-A douche bag.”
“I kind of got that.”
“That’s way worse than an expert asshole.”
I laugh. “I guess that’s why you told him I was seeing someone.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. You’re a nice girl, Nina.” A pause, a shrug of his shoulders, and then, “I mean, you can go out with whoever you want.” He gives me a concerned look. “I just don’t like him. But if you want—”
“I don’t.” He gives a tight nod, and I look at his canvas. “You’re doing a good job,” I say, wanting to lighten his mood.
His eyes go wide and when he pretends shock, I’m happy to see the old Cole back. “Was that a compliment?” he asks, disbelief in his tone as he looks down at his feet, like he’s searching the ground for something.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if hell froze over.”
I cock my head and plant my brush-free hand on my hip. “I’m sure I must have complimented you before, at least once. Maybe even twice.”
“Nope, don’t think so, and there were so, so many times I think I deserved it.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You’re such a—”
“Dick.”
“Yeah, that’s one of the nicer words I’ve called you.”
“Are you going to use that word tonight, Nina?” He wags playful brows at me, and my insides flutter, like a silly schoolgirl with a crush. “Are you going to tell me about all the nasty names you used to call me when I’m buried inside you.”
I pucker my lips as warmth creeps through my skin at thoughts of being in his bed tonight. “It will take hours, and we don’t have all night.”
“No, but we do have another week or so.” He points to his head. “Depending.” He goes oddly quit for a second, and the playfulness is gone from his face, something I can’t quite identify moving into its place when he says, “About that. Just us these next couple weeks, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you to be with anyone else.”
Seriously? He’s asking me for a commitment?
“And you?” I ask in return. “Do these rules apply to The Playmaker?”
“I don’t want to be with anyone else either, Nina.”
A thrill rushes through me, but I do my best to play it off as casual. “I don’t have time for anyone else this week, Cole. Cooking for you and learning the game is going to eat away at the week fast.”
“Okay,” is all he says as he goes back to his flower.
We paint in silence for a little longer, and I lean back to take in our artwork.
“Not bad for your first attempt,” I say. “I think that will look nice in your place.”
He arches a brow and gives me a look that suggests I’m insane. “You think I’m hanging this in my place?”
“Of course you are.”
“I just about lost my man card coming here to paint a damn flower, Nina. Do you want me to cash it in completely?”
I laugh. “No, I like your man card.” That brings a smile to his face. “I just think something personal will be nice in your house. It’s not like I’m asking you to hang it in the man cave you’ve yet to show me.”
“We didn’t have a chance today,” he says as he makes a long stroke for the stem, the green paint easily gliding across the canvas. He has a nice, even stroke with steady hands. Probably from hockey, or maybe even sex. “We won’t have a chance tonight, either.”
“Why not?”
He leans into me and puts his mouth near my ear. “Because I’ve been sitting here with a boner all night.”
“Cole,” I say, and whack him.
He laughs. “Come on, Nina. You can’t dress like that in front of me and expect me not to get hard.”
“What are you talking about?” I look at my T-shirt and jeans.
“Do you have any idea how your ass looks in those jeans?”
“They’re just jeans, Cole,” I say, but secretly like the way I get to him, the way he makes me feel special. “And I thought you were a boob man.”
“I’m every kind of man when it comes to you, and as soon as we get home, all these clothes are coming off. Now hurry up and finish your damn daisy so we can go.”
Feeling giddy and juvenile for reasons I can’t even understand, I take my paintbrush from the water, dab it on my paper towel and flick it at him. Paint splatters his face and his mouth drops open.
Oops! I really didn’t think there was any paint left on the brush.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he says, his eyes darkening, but I think it’s from lust and not anger.
“Red looks good on you,” I say, and stifle a laugh as I look at the speckles.
“You know what looks good on you?” he asks, and loads his brush with blue.
“Don’t you dare,” I say, unable to hold my laugh back any longer.
He flicks paint at me, and it gets all over my face and in my hair. At least he spared my clothes.
“Cole!” I squeal, and all eyes turn to me. “You’re going to pay for that,” I say under my breath, but I love this side of him. He’s not being The Playmaker. He’s just being playful.
“You think you’re not going to pay, too?” He grabs a piece of paper towel and wipes his face, but all he manages to do is smudge the paint. “You’re the one who started it, like usual.”
“Lies…all lies. You’re the one who was always bothering me and picking fights. It was like it was your favorite pastime. Or your job.”
His grin is cocky and arrogant. “It was. That’s the job of the older brother’s best friend, you know.”
I huff out an exaggerated breath. “We really do have a lot of anger issues to work through.”
“Can’t wait.”
“You’re going to need a shower first,” I say.
“You too.” He captures my wrist, runs his thumb over my flesh and the room closes in on me. Heat flashes through me, crawls up my neck, and I have no doubt my cheeks are flaming pink.
“Since you got me dirty, you’re going to be responsible for getting me clean.”
“Oh, and what about me?” I shoot back.
“Don’t worry, I plan to lather you up, too.” He leans into me, puts his mouth to my ear. “Every single inch of you,” he says, his hot breath sending ripples of delight down my spine. “Now finish up so we can get the hell out of here.”
The hunger in his eyes prompts me into action, and I increase my brush strokes, because yeah, I want to get home and get in the shower with him.
Less than twenty minutes later, we stand and have our picture taken with our paintings so they can upload them to the website. I think about my brother seeing the two of us together, not that I think he checks out the Paint Nite website. Still, what would he think if he knew that Cole and I were secretly seeing each other—for sex only, of course? I never really dated in high school, and he didn’t seem to care one way or another, so I can’t imagine he’d think this was too much of a big deal. On the other hand, I’m his sister and this is his best friend, so he might not like the idea of us together at all.
Then again, Scott had said Cason decked him for looking at me the wrong way. Could that be true? Probably, considering Cole thinks the guy’s a douche bag.
My hair is still a sticky mess as we walk to the car and drive back to Cole’s place. I park and we make our way inside. Cole sets the locks and hurries me up the stairs to his big master bathroom.
“I can’t believe you got paint in my hair,” I say as he turns the water on and adjusts the spray.
He grins. “I was aiming for your shirt so you’d have to take it off. One way or another, I was getting you out of these clothes,” he says and step up to me. His knuckles brush my sides and he tugs my T-shirt free.
Completely comfortable in my skin around him, despite my barely there curves and breasts, I lift my arms so he can remove my shirt with ease. He tosses it to the floor and steps back. Green eyes flash with raw hunger.
And right there—that look on his face is the reason I have no inhibitions around him. No man has ever looked at me like that before.
“Out of those jeans, now,” he finally says.
I pop the button and turn from him, showcasing my ass as I slowly, teasingly slide my pants down my legs. Wow, when did I ever become so bold? Sure, I write about things like this, but never practiced the moves in real life—except for that time that jerk reenacted the scene from my story. But Cole is not that jerk, and I like the way he looks at me, like a man who hasn’t had a meal in a long time, and I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I kick my pants away and turn, standing before him in my bra and panties.
“Jesus fuck, you are sexy,” he mumbles, and brushes his hand over his chin. The scruff on his chin makes a soft chafing noise, and I shiver. How will that feel, abrading my skin? Damned if I can’t wait to find out.
I point to him. “You’re overdressed.”
He makes quick work of his clothes, dropping a condom onto the counter before he steps into the huge shower. I look at all the jets and the rain-shower nozzle above us.
“We really do have a water theme going, don’t we?” he says, his voice rough, raspy as he steps up behind me, his hard cock pressing into the small of my back. I gasp a little, and wiggle my ass.
“Stop poking the bear, Nina, or I’ll never get this paint off you.”
I secretly smile, and Cole grabs his shampoo. He pours a generous amount into his palm and starts washing my hair. I reach up to help, not used to anyone taking care of me, and he swats my hands away.
“I’ve got this,” he says. “I’m the one who did this to you.”
I relax under his touch and just enjoy the feel of his hands on me. He finishes washing my hair and positions me under the rain-shower nozzle. It falls gently over my body and washes away the shampoo. I’m about to do his hair when he lathers his hands and runs them over my body. He spends a few extra seconds on my nipples, and they grow hard from his ministrations.
“I don’t remember you getting any paint there,” I say.
“You never can be sure. I’m just exercising caution.”
“It’s good to exercise caution,” I moan and arch into him, blatantly letting him know how much I like what he’s doing. His soft chuckle curls around me.
“I wonder where else I should check,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through me as he turns me around, until my back is pressed against his chest.
I widen my legs, giving him full access to my body. “Everywhere.”
His breathing becomes harsher against my neck, and his cock throbs against my back. I wiggle to make him crazy and he gives a breathy groan, his fingers trekking downward in a slow-ass seduction that’s making me insane.
“Are you thinking here?” he asks as he parts my folds. He lightly runs his fingers around my clit, torturing me with things to come, and I moan.
I wiggle some more, desperate for him to touch me already. “Yes, definitely there.”
He urges me forward with his knees, and when I reach the back of the shower stall, he takes both of my hands and presses them against the grey tile. “Keep your hands there,” he growls.
“Cole…” With my ass to him, I’m spread wide open, his for the taking. Never in my life have I felt so exposed. I’m not sure I could do this with someone else but with him, and I love it.
He pushes my wet hair from my shoulders and runs calloused fingers down my back, until he reaches my ass.
“This ass,” he says, and kneads my cheeks like dough. “I’ve wanted to squeeze it all night.”
“Oh, God…”
“God? Is that one of the names you used to call me, Pretty BallerNina?” he asks, the horrible nickname pushing all my buttons. But I’m beginning to believe he likes teasing the hell out of me, because he likes it when I shoot my mouth off.
“Not even close.”
“Then tell me. When I pissed you off, what did you call me?”
“Mainly an ass.”
“I like ass,” he says, and cups my cheeks harder. “Tell me what else you called me. When you and Jess stayed up late at night whispering, what were all the nasty things you said about me?”
“I said you were a cocky bastard.”
“Cocky. Hmmm.” He presses his lips to my neck and says, “Yeah, that sounds about right.” His lips glide over my wet skin, and my stomach flutters. Jesus, he sure knows just how to touch me. “Did you ever call me a prick, Pretty Nina?”
He slides his hand around my waist and tugs, lifting my ass to him. His cock slips between my legs, and I cradle him with my thighs. Passion-drunk, I shift, move, anything to get him inside me, but he holds back, clearly wanting to play with me longer.
Bastard.
“Tell me,” he says. “It’s good to work out the anger.”
“Of course I did. I hated you. You were a total prick.”
“You weren’t the nicest girl around, either, you know”
“I know,” I say, and think about all the times I gave him the death glare. I’m pretty sure I flipped him off a few times, too. But I can’t think about that right now.
Jesus, touch me already. Put your fingers inside me
“When you called me that, were you thinking about my prick?” He pauses, and when he inches back and breaks the contact, I nearly cry at the loss.
I glance at him over my shoulder, about to beg, but my mouth hangs open when he takes his big cock into his hands. He strokes it with long, swift caresses that burn through me, taking my temperature from simmer to inferno. As heat and desire bombard me, my knees wobble. Who knew I’d like that so much?
“Like what you see?” he asks, his lips quirking at the corner.
No sense in lying, so I whisper, “Yes.”
Green eyes sweep over my body, linger on my spread legs. He slides a hand between my thighs, coming so close to my sex. “Yeah, me too. So, when you were calling me a prick, were you thinking about how good mine might feel sliding inside you?”
He strokes himself harder and I gulp, because yeah, I was thinking those things. But I can’t admit that. I just can’t.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll know as soon as I put my finger inside you,” he says, his voice full of determination and conviction. “I bet I’ll find you all wet and clenching as you remember those days.” When I go quiet, he says, “Don’t forget, we don’t like each other, so it’s fair game to say whatever we want to each other.”
At that quick reminder that this is some messed-up game we’re playing, I suck in a fueling breath and say, “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Would you touch yourself when you slid between the sheets, Pretty Nina? Play with this hot little pussy while you thought about me filling it?”
OMFG. His dirty mouth is doing the most delicious things to me, and I swear the second he touches me, I’m going to come all over him. I begin to pant. Seriously. I’m panting. Like a goddamn St. Bernard left in a hot car, in Death Valley.
“Yes,” I manage to get out through gasps as my body quivers, aches to join with his.
“Yeah, thought so.” A sound catches in his throat, a half laugh, half moan. “Do you have any idea how much abuse my cock suffered because of you? Fuck, girl. I can’t even count up the amount of nights I fucked my palms until they were raw.”
My heart nearly stops at that revelation.
I twist, trying to see him, to gauge his seriousness. Is this a part of the game, or did he really masturbate at night, thinking of me? That can’t be right. It just can’t be. We loathed each other. Right?
While my brain is functioning enough to know it’s a lie, all part of this hate-fucking game, my goddamn heart isn’t getting the message. It wants to believe Cole lusted after me.
I shift again, trying to face him, but he puts his hand on my neck and holds me in place.
“Now I get to do all the dirty thing I’ve always wanted to do to you,” he says. “Stay put.” The shower door slides open, and I listen to the foil crinkle as he rips into the condom and sheathes himself. A second later he positions his cock at my entrance. His hands slide to my hips, grip them for leverage, as he powers forward and slides all the way inside me, filling me up until I’m moaning and grasping at the wet tiled wall.
“I was wrong,” he growls.
Wrong?
Oh, God, what was he wrong about? Having a secret affair with me?
He presses against me, caging me with his body. “Blue doesn’t look good on you. I do.”
He drives into me hard.
“Cole,” I cry out. He inches out, only to slam back in again, a loan moan in his throat as he seats himself high inside me. I try to breathe, try to think, to move, but I can’t do any of those things. No, all I can do is focus on the pleasure centered between my legs.
“You feel so fucking good,” he says, and begins to slide in and out, creating a rhythm that shuts down my brain. I move with him, my body on autopilot, taking, giving, wanting…needing.
Friction builds between my legs, and my sensitive nipples pucker even more as he pounds into me. He bends over me, his chest pressed against my back, and his fingers slide between my legs. The roughness of his palms against my skin brings on a hard quiver, but then I begin to tremble with need as he applies the perfect amount of pressure to my clit.
“Yes, just like that,” I cry out.
I angle my head and try to see him. I catch a glimpse of his face, his jaw clenched tight, a storm building inside him, and I must say, I love that look on him.
I push against him, wanting him deeper in my body, and the air leaves his lungs, spills over my neck and back. He flicks my clit, runs his fingers over it, and as much as I want this to continue, to make this last all night, I’m fighting a losing battle.
The pressure in my core amplifies, every nerve ending zapping, firing, sparking like I’d stuck my wet finger in a light socket, and I let out a whimpering cry as I let go, coming all over his cock. I close my eyes and focus on the points of pleasure as he stills high inside me. My sex grips him tight with each hard clench, and it brings on a round of hushed curses from behind me.
I try to suck in air as he lets go. “So good,” I whisper.
“So fucking good,” he says, and continues to fill me with his cum with each hard pulse. When he finishes, he puts his arms around me, and hugs me tight, his head resting against my shoulders, his heavy breaths on my neck.
Steam fills the shower, and once again I feel giddy. A sound catches in my throat, and there’s nothing I can do to stifle it, seeing as my hands are still pressed against the wall, exactly where Cole told me to keep them, and my body is too boneless to move an inch.
“Something funny?” he asks, his voice vibrating against my body and sending heat through me again. God, what is it about this man? I just had sex with him, and I want him again.
“No,” I say, and giggle some more. “Nothing funny.”
“You kind of laugh at the weirdest moments,” he says, but I hear the humor in his voice.
“I know.” I move against him, take pleasure in his cock still buried deep inside me.
He puts his mouth near my ear. “I need more,” he whispers, as he slides his cock out of me. “I’m not nearly done with you tonight.” He inches back, and I can’t see him, but I know he’s giving me a long inspection. “Stay just like this, Nina. Seeing you wide open, with your sweet ass in the air, is making me hard again.”
I glance at him over my shoulder, and his eyes are the darkest shade of green I’d ever seen. There is an intensity about him that kicks some small working brain cell into action.
I push off the wall, and my body collides with his.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his deep voice filling me with a new kind of need. “I told you to stay put.”
I turn to him, grab the soap and lather my hands. “Yes, I know, but you’re supposed to be taking it easy, and because of that, you no longer get to call the shots tonight—I do.”
“Call the shots, huh?”
“You like that,” I say. “Getting some hockey terms in there.”
He chuckles, but it turns to a heated groan when I run my soapy hands over his body and drag them lower, until I’m holding his cock.
“I believe your doctor said something about me doing all the work.”
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth and raw need shimmers through me. “He did, but you know me well enough to know that I don’t take without giving.”
“I do know that,” I say. Cole might be a lot of things, but he’s definitely a considerate lover, always making sure to take care of me. But now it’s my turn to take care of him.
“I was thinking you probably shouldn’t be exerting so much energy.”
“When I’m with you, I can’t help it. Plus, I thought this shower scene would be a great one for your hockey romance.”
“True, there is a lot I can pull from it once I figure out my plot, but I’m not going to be the girl to keep you from the ice. So there’s only one way I can help you with this little problem,” I rub his hard cock, which is anything but little, “and keep you from exerting too much energy, and winding up on the bathroom floor again.”
“How?”
“By tying you to the bedposts.”