Chapter Five

Vienna

Cohen Bradley’s lips crashed against mine, eradicating all logic and flooding me with the relentless need to have him against me. On top of me.

And inside me.

I wanted him just as irrevocably as I had a decade before, and all it’d taken to melt away the years between us was one taste of him. One sweet, delicious taste.

My body craved him, and every muscle within me clenched in askance of him. Of more.

But ten years and a lifetime of being mild-mannered and soft-spoken made the words I longed to say get caught in my throat.

I wanted to beg him, plead with him to take me and consume me like only he could. Make everything else go away, so that only he and I remained. No barriers, no past, and no real life to get in the way.

Take me home, Cohen.

There was no denying what was between us now. What had always been there. Our attraction and passion for each other had never died, despite the anger and resentment I’d harbored for him all these years. If anything, I wanted him more than I ever remembered wanting him before.

Cohen was the same in a lot of ways—his mannerisms and straightforwardness and patience—but he was different, too. He’d grown up. And while eighteen-year-old Cohen was still inside him, the twenty-eight-year-old version was not only bigger and more muscular, having grown into his height and maintained his athletic build, he was also more confident and more comfortable in his skin. Not the cocky façade he’d sometimes portrayed in front of his hockey team buddies in high school, but a cool and collected self-assuredness that was intriguing.

And sexy as hell.

He knew he was attractive, and he knew I was attracted to him. The thought both scared and thrilled me.

I was putty in Cohen’s hands, and if I knew him at all—and I did—he knew that, too.

***

Cohen pulled his Ford Escape into the driveway of a well-kept bungalow on Aspen Street.

As I took in the landscaped yard and the brick exterior of the house, a small grin crept across my face. “You live in Agatha McConnell’s house.”

It wasn’t a question, and he obviously knew what I was getting at. “Bought it about five years ago when Aggie went to an assisted-living facility near Cortland.” His lips pursed, but humor was alight in his eyes. “Don’t even say it, Vi.”

I’d given up correcting him about my name. Besides, I was too amused about his house. “You live on Snob Hill,” I chuckled. “We used to make fun of this part of town, and you live here now!”

The north end of town boasted newer, more modern homes, and it had been dubbed Snob Hill long before Cohen and I had started using the term. It was just the nicer part of town, and the people who’d lived there weren’t any different than those who lived on other streets, but the nickname had been passed on through the years, inaccurate or not.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. “Just stay here while I grab the booster cables from my truck and check on Bailey.”

My mouth dropped. “Bailey? As in—”

“Bailey,” he nodded. “The old timer’s twelve now, but you’d never know it.”

“I’ve got to come and see him.”

I’d already unbuckled my seatbelt and was in front of the SUV before Cohen had his door closed.

It felt odd to be traipsing up this driveway knowing Cohen owned it. Heck, we’d trick-or-treated here all throughout our childhood, and I half-expected Aggie McConnell to meet us at the doorway.

But, up close, the house looked different. He’d obviously put a lot of time and effort into modernizing it, turning it from an elderly woman’s home into the property owned by a man almost sixty years younger.

“Wow, this place looks amazing, Cohen.” The laminate flooring and neutral paint colors were a vast contrast to the tangerine rugs and mint green walls I remembered. “You’ve put a lot of work into this place.”

“It’s home.” He shrugged, but I could see he was pleased that his efforts weren’t in vain. “Bailey!” he called, clapping his hands twice.

From the hallway, a loud thud sounded, followed by the emergence of one overweight Labrador retriever, his tail wagging excitedly.

“Hey, boy!” I was on my knees in an instant, and practically bowled over by the happiness that radiated from the dog.

“Looks like he might remember you,” Cohen said from behind me. “Either that, or he’s just trying to distract us from the fact that he was on the bed when he shouldn’t have been.”

I chuckled, scratching the dog behind the ears affectionately. “Still bending the rules, huh?” I lowered my voice, pretending to tell him a secret. “He might say you’re a bad boy, but I don’t believe him.”

Behind me, I heard Cohen scoff. “Come on, Bailey. Out you go.” He’d rounded the kitchen table and opened the patio door that led into the backyard, waiting.

The dog, still seeming to grin from ear to ear, bounded off toward the door and disappeared outside.

“You’re right. You’d never know he’s twelve.”

“I hope I can rock old age the way he does,” Cohen said with a smirk.

“When you’re twelve?” I grinned.

“In dog years, Vienna,” he laughed. “Bailey’s the equivalent of being over eighty.”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “It was a joke. Besides, I can’t imagine you being eighty.”

“No?” He leaned against the marble countertop, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Funny, I think there was a time when I couldn’t imagine us being almost thirty, either.”

“Oh, ouch.” I narrowed my eyes, feigning hurt. “You just played the thirty card. I think I’m going to have to go hang out with Bailey instead.”

Chuckling, I made to pass by him, but Cohen’s arm came out, stopping me. His fingers touched my forearm only lightly, but it may as well have been a death grip, the way it rooted me in place.

“Should we talk about what happened in the car?” His eyes were set on me, and his gaze was so intense I had to look away.

“What are my other options?” I could barely breathe out the words.

Cohen’s lips twitched slightly. “We can either talk about it, Vi,” he explained, letting his fingers snake around my arm to pull me gently toward him. “Or do something about it.”

“I…” Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know what to say. “Damn it,” I whispered.

“Stop doing that.” Cohen’s jaw clenched.

That made me look up from where his hand held my arm, into his darkened, broody eyes. “Doing what?”

His throat moved as he swallowed. “It’s the second time a curse word has come out of that pretty little mouth of yours. You’ve never swore a day in your life, Vi. And hearing those words on your lips…Fuck, it’s doing something to me.”

It was the first I’d felt anything remotely close to confidence in his presence since I’d reunited with him. Relief also flooded through me to know that he was standing on some kind of figurative precipice as well, fighting to rein in what little control he had left. Hearing him admit that I had that kind of power, to make him feel something just by speaking…

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” I whispered.

“Making up for lost time,” he answered in the same hoarse voice, pulling me closer to him.

My hands came up between us, palms pressing against the contours of his chest to keep my body from crashing into his. If it did, I’d lose myself. And there would be no going back.

“Cohen—”

“Are you seeing someone?” His expression didn’t change, but his muscles stilled beneath my fingers.

“What? No, I—”

“Good.” In an instance, he brought his mouth down to mine again, claiming me, and his arms enwrapped me, pressing me against him.

I was startled, and a gasp erupted from my throat, but it was lost somewhere between the sensation of his tongue invading my mouth, and the feel of his chiseled body melded with mine.

Cohen turned, backing me into the countertop, and I felt every twitching muscle and movement of his rock hard body, just as he’d intended.

“I want you, Vi.” His teeth grazed my jaw, nipping seductively down the side of my throat. “Every inch of your body.” He nipped. “Every thought in your mind.” And again. “I want you to be mine in every damn way possible.”

I gasped each time his teeth made contact, and when they grazed the edge of my collarbone, a strangled moan confirmed what I was too fearful to say.

I already am.