Chapter 11
The enticing scent of brewing coffee pulled Emma away from her dream, and she sat up abruptly. How could she be smelling coffee when she hadn’t gotten up to make it? The sound of her shower running reminded her that Cole was there, and she groaned.
I missed waking up with him. That would have been nice.
She poured herself a mug of coffee, combing through the wild waves of her hair that had been wet when she’d fallen asleep. Still in her bathrobe, she glanced at her watch to see how much time she had to get ready.
“I can’t believe it’s 8:30,” she said as Cole made his way to the coffeepot. He wore dark shorts and a gray t-shirt, and a puzzled expression crossed her face when she smelled his familiar woodsy cologne and spicy aftershave.
“How did you manage to smell like a man after showering in there?” she asked. “All my stuff smells like fruit or coconuts.”
“I had stuff in my gym bag,” he said. “I’m going to the gym to work off all the pie I ate yesterday. I’ll head out in case Layla comes to the door, but let me know when you get the news, okay?” He kissed the top of her head and Emma reached around his waist, squeezing him tightly.
“Thanks for staying,” she said.
“I wanted to. Good thoughts, okay?”
She nodded as he left, hoping Layla wasn’t running early.
***
Cole smiled politely at the brunette who was eyeing him as he passed mile three on the treadmill. He was pushing himself with a hard pace, his mind elsewhere.
Emma’s fragile expression when they parted reminded him how vulnerable she’d always seemed when she was younger. He liked that she needed comfort and reassurance, and that she let him provide it.
He’d never spent a night with a woman and not slept with her. Emma’s sweet, clean smell had drifted toward him as he’d worked late the night before while she slept next to him. Her bathrobe hung slightly open in front, giving him a view of the curves of her breasts. Though his body had been aware of the sexy woman at his side, he’d found himself stroking a curl at the end of her long, damp hair rather than thinking of all the things he fantasized about doing with her.
When he’d powered down the computer and settled in next to her, Cole was surprised by the warm, serene feeling he had. Her scent and heat and even the light sound of her breathing made him realize what he’d been missing every night he’d fallen asleep anywhere other than next to her.
Waking up next to her was just as good. The bright morning sunlight that streamed in from the apartment’s long, high windows had illuminated the painting in the nook next to Emma’s bed, and even better, lit up her face in a way that made him want to wake her up with a kiss.
But knowing what was on her mind, he’d brewed coffee and hit the shower instead, thinking while he lathered his body about how well they would both fit in her shower.
The brunette moved to the treadmill next to him, and Cole pushed his ear buds into his ears to prevent a conversation. She was the sort of woman he normally would have enjoyed picking up, but instead he kept checking the time on his phone as he ran. It was 10:20, and Emma’s Mom’s appointment was at 9:50.
He thought of his own mother, and how strained their relationship had gotten. Should he have cut her more slack over all these years, told himself she was doing her best? He’d wanted to at times, but the resentment just wound its way through him like an invasive vine.
The ring of his phone cut into the music, and he jumped to the sides of the treadmill as he answered, panting.
“Em?”
“Cole.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and his chest seized with worry. “It’s okay. She’s okay. It was good news.”
He could hear her smiling through the tears, and he exhaled loudly with relief.
“That’s great, baby. I’m so glad to hear it. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m good. I’m drained, but I feel so much better now. I want to cook you dinner tonight to thank you, are you free?”
“Of course I am. That sounds great.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at 6?”
“I’ll see you then. Spend the day relaxing, Em.”
“I will. See you tonight.”
Cole smiled as he hung up, reaching for the water bottle he’d left on the ground. His smile widened when he saw he was alone on the row of treadmills. Apparently the brunette had left.
***
Emma went through the steps of the familiar recipe in her head as the almonds crunched beneath her rolling pin. She swiped a sip of the white wine she’d be using and wrapped an apron around her waist.
“You need me to do anything?” Cole asked, walking into the kitchen.
“You can make the beurre blanc,” she said as she dipped salmon filets into the chopped almonds.
“I love it when you talk French, baby. I’m assuming you said something dirty.”
“I said ‘butter sauce’.” Emma laughed. “But I can say something else if you’d like.”
“Oh, I’d like.”
“Je veux que vous après le diner,” she said. “But for now, make me some butter sauce, sous chef.”
“I can barely cook a hot dog, Em.”
“There are only three ingredients. You’ll be fine.”
As she heated oil to pan-sear the fish, Emma considered how much she liked having Cole in her kitchen. Actually, anywhere in her apartment was good. She’d always figured having a man around constantly would make her feel cramped, but he didn’t.
“My parents want me to come with them to cut down a Christmas tree tomorrow,” he said as he worked on the sauce. “I wish you could come, too.”
“So do I.”
“My Mom would be happy to know we’re seeing each other. She’s always liked you.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. She admired you for going to Paris for school. She was accepted at a school in England but she didn’t go because she didn’t want to leave my Dad even though they weren’t married yet. I think she regrets it. She calls you the dark horse.”
“Me?” Emma raised her brows in surprise.
“She actually said last night that she thinks you’re prettier than Layla. I think the idea of you and me has hatched in her head. Probably because I talk about you so much.”
“That’s … unexpected, and really nice,” Emma said. “I may have to make her some almond encrusted salmon. Or some coq au vin! I make amazing coq au vin.”
“Did you just say you want my coq?” Cole asked with a grin.
“I didn’t, but I do.”
“Whoa. This bear sauce is gonna have a little something extra if you’re not careful, Em.”
“It’s beurre, Cole.” She laughed as he adjusted himself in his jeans, surprised she could have such an effect on him.
She focused on the meal, making sure everything came together at the same time. When she sat down across from Cole, Emma felt a catch in her chest at the domestic feeling of sitting down to a dinner they had cooked together. He looked really good sitting at her flea-market farmhouse table.
“I’m not just saying this, Em, I think this may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Cole said as he sampled the salmon. “It’s great. And the asparagus … I love the way you cooked it.”
“Thank you.”
Cole poured wine into their glasses, holding his up.
“A toast to your Mom,” he said, his blue eyes radiating warmth.
“To Mom,” Emma echoed, raising her own glass. “Thanks for being here last night.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”
Her inner cynic was searching for something to be critical of, some reason this was going to fail, but it was coming up empty.
As they washed the dishes after dinner, Emma’s body drew unconsciously closer to Cole’s. She liked being close enough to pick up his cedar scent and feel the heat of his body.
“I have a request,” he said as they stacked the last of the dishes in the cabinet. “Do you have any blank canvases?”
“Always.”
“Will you make me a painting?”
“Of course. What would you like?” Emma asked, touched by his request.
“Whatever moves you.”
“I’ll start something tomorrow.”
“No, tonight. Right now.” His voice was warm and firm, and Emma’s libido protested loudly. She had other plans for the night.
“But … it takes a long time to do a painting,” she said. “And I thought…”
“Get your stuff ready.”
His smooth, commanding tone made Emma eager to comply, and she went to her closet to retrieve a large, blank canvas.
“What colors?” she called as she searched, grabbing some paints when she saw them.
“You decide.”
When Emma turned back to the large, open room of her apartment, the lights had been dimmed and soft, sensual music played. She wondered if Cole was going to watch her paint, forcing her to work with desire burning between her legs.
The thought aroused her, and she made quick work of mixing her paints. With Cole, everything felt sweetly sensual, with a hint of something more than she’d ever experienced. She’d never been turned on by painting.
He waited next to her easel, wearing only his jeans, and Emma couldn’t look away, even as she sat her paints on a nearby table. She wanted to reach out and trace her fingers along his lines, beneath the waistband of the jeans that hung casually low.
“Take your shirt off,” he said softly. His gaze was hot with desire, and Emma couldn’t pull her t-shirt over her head fast enough. Cole’s eyes moved over her lacy black bra, and she clung to her paintbrush, trembling with anticipation. He approached and reached for the button of her jeans, and a jolt of longing shot straight between her thighs when his fingers grazed her stomach as he unfastened them and slid them down.
As he sat down on the metal vintage bench that Emma painted from, she felt her eyes widen. He reached an arm out and lowered her in front of him, so she was seated between his legs, her back against his powerful chest. She felt his hardness behind her, making her gasp as she wondered if she would be able to think about anything else.
“Paint for me, baby,” he said in a low, sexy tone, and Emma responded immediately. She dipped her brush in the paint, dotting the canvas with a bright spring green shade. Cole’s hands grazed her shoulders and neck, the sensation touching every nerve in her body.
She lowered the brush, reveling in the feel of his fingers piling her long hair over one of her shoulders so he could brush his lips over the bare skin of her neck. He nipped at her earlobe and spread his hands across her thighs, moving them slowly down to her knees.
“Cole,” she murmured, her body unconsciously pressing back against his.
“You’re so beautiful, Em. I want to know what every last inch of you feels like.”
One of his hands slid down past her knee, skimming along her calf before he grasped her ankle. She tipped her head back, trying to regain herself and paint like he wanted her to.
She grabbed a new brush, making dark, bold strokes across the canvas that mirrored the intensity of her emotions. As Cole unfastened her bra and slid it off slowly, she pressed her lips together to withhold the expletives that threatened to spill out. Her senses were overloaded by the smell and feel of him.
When he pressed a hand to her cheek and turned her mouth to his, Emma moaned in anticipation of his kiss. His tongue entered her mouth just as his other hand cupped her exposed breast, and she kissed him back hungrily. It didn’t last as long as she wanted before Cole turned her back to the canvas, and she panted with desire as she painted.
The combination of her deepest joy, painting, with the erotic sensations of Cole teasing her body, made Emma sure she would come without him even getting close to the wetness between her thighs.
His hands slid across her stomach, up to her breasts, where he traced his fingers in circles around her nipples. Emma’s body was on fire as she painted, and she felt the groan that rose in Cole’s chest as she pushed her body back into his forcefully.
His fingers twined into the ends of her hair, pulling it back to allow him easy access to her neck, which he kissed with a hunger that made Emma ache for him to toss her onto the bed and finish this sweet, slow torture.
She realized it wouldn’t last much longer as his fingers slid past the seam of her panties. He would be shocked when he discovered how wet she was, but this had been a long time coming.
“Oh, fuck …” he said softly as his fingers slid into her. Emma had no idea what she was painting as she circled her hips against the pressure of his fingers.
“Cole,” she panted, breathless with desire. “Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t stop, baby. God, you feel amazing.”
He seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and as his fingers circled faster and harder, Emma cried out loudly from the force of the sensation building within her.
“Ah … Cole! Oh, God …”
His other arm encircled her waist, pulling her body back against his, and another loud, involuntary cry escaped Emma’s lips before her body fell slack. She was glad he was holding on to her, because she was sure she would slide off the bench if he let go. The paintbrush dropped through her fingers and landed near their feet on the floor.
Cole pressed his face into her hair, keeping her body close against him until her breathing returned to normal. She was searching for words when he lifted her out of the chair, still clutching his arms around her middle. The heat of his chest pressing against her back was so good that she was sorry when he sat her on the bed.
Emma fell back onto her quilt, arching her back in a stretch as she continued to come down from the orgasm that had racked her. Cole’s eyes roamed her body as he unbuttoned his jeans with one hand and fished in his pocket with the other.
His desire made Emma’s body light with arousal again, and her eagerness returned with full force as Cole’s jeans hit the floor, followed closely by his boxers. His sexy stare as he rolled a condom on made Emma’s insides liquefy with arousal.
“God, I want you, Emma,” he said softly as he moved toward her. His lips traced up her calf, to her thigh, and when he grazed them lightly across her stomach, she didn’t think she could take any more. She writhed beneath him, desperate to satisfy the desire on his face.
As soon as he entered her, their loud, mingled groans overtook the soft music that played, and Emma wrapped her body against Cole’s, the connection between them causing a heady sensation that overtook her arousal. She wasn’t thinking of her sister, or worrying about measuring up. Somehow she knew the intensity of the moment didn’t belong just to her, but to both of them.
Cole closed his eyes as his hips thrust against hers deeply, and Emma felt a hot sensation building again.
“Look at me,” she said, breathless. “Cole, I want to see you.”
“I can’t, baby. If I look at you, I’m gonna—”
“That’s what I want. Please.”
The moment he opened his eyes, she saw the struggle on his face as he tried to hold on, and it sent her into a deep climax that made her grind herself against him for release.
“Oh, God,” he said, his voice strained. “Fuck. Emma—”
She pulled his body against hers as he cried out loudly, overwhelmed when his eyes stayed locked on hers as his body shuddered with satisfaction. Having him see her, really see her in this most intimate way, had been worth all the years of waiting.