Chapter Fifteen
“Cole, shut up.”
She was right. He needed to shut up. He shouldn’t have told her he was falling for her. Saying it out loud just made it real, and making it real made it impossible to think about letting her go.
He knew he was wired differently than most people. He was too serious, and he often confused his feelings with fact. But his feelings for Kenzie weren’t fleeting; this wasn’t some temporary focus. She was affecting him. He was changing.
From the moment he’d seen her naked in the bathroom, he’d been lost. She’d felt too good. She’d tasted too good. Everything about her had made him crazy, until his only goal had become her pleasure.
And then she’d cried, and told him she felt everything, and it had slayed him.
He was falling for her hard. And there was no turning back.
“Kenzie.”
She launched herself onto his lap, throwing him against the back of the armless chair. Her heel hit the tray, making a clatter behind them. It didn’t faze her. She grasped his face in hers and crushed her lips against his in a series of wild, frantic kisses.
His blood turned to fire. Instantly, he was with her. Matching her intensity, pulling her closer. His thoughts silenced, the way they only did with her.
She kissed his jaw and his ear, touching his neck in a way that made his vision compress. He fumbled with her robe, dragging the plush fabric off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Her body was full and perfect; her nipples rosy, tight against her smooth, dark skin. Reaching beneath her thighs, he heaved her up, aligning her chest with his face, then licked, and bit, and took.
He took in a way that should have been selfish.
He needed like a man dying of thirst.
She cried out in surprise, the sound striking through him. He’d been hard all night, ever since he’d seen her after the shower, but now the throbbing in his cock echoed through his body, pounded in his chest and his temples.
Sucking on one nipple, he reached for her robe. The tie had made a knot when he’d pulled it open, and in a surge of frustration, he leaned back to loosen it.
She was trying to unbutton his shirt, but her hands were shaking. He looked up at her eyes, finding them dark and round. She was just as insane as he was.
Giving up on the knot, he jerked the entire robe up over her head, and finally, she was bare again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, reveling in her little groan as she still struggled with the buttons of his shirt. She was perfect. Full in all the right places. Real, and soft, and important. So important it shook him to the core.
“Off, off, off,” she chanted. He helped her, and together, they finally accomplished the task. His shirt fell to the floor somewhere beside the chair, and when their chests collided he felt as if all the air in the room had begun to sizzle and crackle with electricity.
She felt so good. Her breasts dragging up his chest, skin on skin. Her hips, rocking against his. She knew what she wanted, and he wanted to give it to her. His grip slid down her back, anchoring at her waist, squeezing. She bounced on his lap, making his thoughts splinter into a thousand shards.
He’d meant to draw this out. To make every moment they had left together last. But now that they were here, he couldn’t tell her no. With startling clarity, it occurred to him that this might be it. All he had with her.
He would not waste it.
Lifting her, he moved to one of the lounges, laying her on her back. She held him close, gripping his neck, and when he slid a hand between them, touching her hip, and then her belly, and sliding between her legs, she arched up on her heels.
“Cole.” Her voice was pleading.
She was wet. Slippery. He pulled back because he had to see. Her thighs shone with it, her bronze skin glossy. The sight of her desire had him gaping. Kneeling between her thighs, he touched her, feeling his way over her wet slit, pushing inside, watching her jump and writhe.
Too late he remembered what she’d said before. You make me feel everything.
He knew exactly what she meant.
“Is this okay?” he asked, voice rough. He could slow down. He could stop if she wanted.
She nodded frantically. Reached for his hand, pushed him deeper. Her broken cry made his vision waver. His forehead pressed to hers, and he closed his eyes, feeling her—the wet, hot way she clenched around his finger. He wanted her to come again, but couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d feel around his cock. How her knees would press against his hips. How her gasps would fill his ear.
“I want to come with you inside,” she managed.
He didn’t stop the movement of his hand, now covered with her desire. The smell of it was sharp in the air, leaving him unhinged.
“First you,” he said.
He couldn’t tell her he wasn’t sure he could make her come any other way. That he wasn’t really all that great at this. That he might not last long enough to try anyway.
She was experienced. She’d been married once, and even though he didn’t want to think about that, he couldn’t help it. This was a woman who knew what she liked, and what she wanted, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Cole, I’m close.”
He moved his hand faster, pressed the places she needed, that she’d shown him before. Perspiration dripped down his temples. His glasses were in the way, but he didn’t want to take them off. He had to see her.
“Cole, please.”
Please, she was saying, but she stopped his hand with hers.
“With you.” Her whimper did him in. He would deny her nothing.
While he braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, she undid his belt and his fly, and pulled his pants and his boxers down his thighs. He huffed out a breath as her hand wrapped around him, feeling the moisture already bead at the tip of his cock.
“I’m on the pill,” she said, but there was a hesitation in her tone.
“There’s . . .” He couldn’t think of the word. She began to stroke him. “Condoms. In the mini bar.”
“Well jeez, what are you waiting for?” She released him at once, then smacked him on the hip. With a short laugh, he rose, kicking out of his pants. He’d seen the box earlier—a black cardboard case, unmarked—and picked it up, unsure what it was. Now he ripped back the lid, tore off one of the plastic squares, and returned to the chaise.
“Hurry up,” she said, when he kneeled between her legs. He couldn’t help but look there again. At her wet thighs. At that hidden part of her body she was sharing with him.
He felt like a king. He felt unworthy of her.
He felt everything.
While she watched, he tore open the condom then unrolled it down his length. His chest was tight as a drum.
Candi flashed across his mind, an unwelcome memory. She’d come over so many times to fool around, only to stare above him at the ceiling and look bored. There’d been girls in college he’d been with who had seemed to like it, but after Candi, he wasn’t positive they hadn’t been faking. Women liked sex, he knew that. But maybe they just didn’t like it with him.
“How do you want me?” he asked.
Kenzie crooked a finger, beckoning him closer. When he came down over her, she wrapped her arms around his back, and pulled his hips down to hers. They both gasped as his cock brushed against her.
“I just want you,” she whispered.
It was like a punch to the heart.
Reaching between them, she grabbed the base of him, and guided the tip where she needed. She was breathing hard, and he was already shaking.
“Go in slowly.” She kissed his temple. “Then let me get used to it.”
He nodded, grateful for her direction, and pushed in one inch at a time. She wrapped around him like a fist, and it took everything not to give into instinct and pump into her again and again.
When he was all the way in, she touched his face, and his mouth, and his throat. Every muscle inside him was tight. She breathed in, shuddering, and met his gaze.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
Was she kidding? He nodded.
“Be slow at first,” she said. “Don’t go all the way in.”
He pulled out, then did as she said, a slow grind in and out, in and out, until he could see the sweat gleam between her breasts and feel her nails dig into his shoulders. Her thighs opened wider, drawing him in, and when he reached beneath her knee she told him it felt good. He felt good.
It was powerful in a way he’d never experienced. She watched him the whole time, and when he looked at himself, sliding into her body, he nearly lost it.
“Faster,” she gasped.
He went faster. Her noises grew louder. Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs. In. Out. In again. He longed for the friction but hated pulling away. Inside was where he belonged. Buried deep inside her body, his arms around her, her legs around him. But not yet.
In. Out.
In.
In.
With every shallow thrust her breasts shook, and he stared at them, transfixed.
“Cole,” she cried, and he knew that pitch now. Knew she was close. He was doing it. She wasn’t pretending. She wasn’t appeasing him. He was going to make her come.
Pleasure spiraled down his spine, bringing the ache in his cock to a blinding pulse. He refused to let go. Not until she was there.
In and out. Give her what she needs. In and out. He could barely hang on.
“Deeper now,” she gasped. Her nails scratched down his neck. It made him wild. He fucked her, the way he’d wanted to in his mind. He buried himself to the base again and again, the sound of skin slapping skin rising above the static in his ears. He never wanted to stop.
This was the difference between sex with someone, and sex with someone who mattered. It was consuming. It rocked him to the soul.
He felt her everywhere.
The cry broke from her throat, and he kissed her, swallowing it, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Her hips rose up to meet his, and it just made him go faster, and deeper, until he could see the spasms clench her belly and feel the way she tightened around his cock. That was all he could take. Pleasure burst from him in waves. Hit after hit. He’d never come so hard. He went rigid, wrung out, and then fell onto her, glasses smashed against her shoulder.
She was his match.
She was it for him.
He knew this the way he knew his own name. The way he knew the Earth turned and circled the sun.
Kenzie.
She laughed tiredly, and he drunkenly shifted his weight against her side.
“We are so good at that,” she said.
He pulled her against him. Her knee came over his hip. Her fingers made circles on his chest.
“We are,” he mumbled into her hair.
He couldn’t let her go.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to.
“Kenzie?” he asked. But his thoughts were cut off as her hand drifted lower, and ran up the length of him.
He began to harden again.
“There are more chairs we need to conquer,” she murmured.
Never in his life had he heard anything that made so much sense.
• • •
“Step one is admitting you have a problem, Fight Club,” Carson called as he walked into Raw the next morning. He smirked and pushed his new, broken glasses up his nose. The arm on one side had snapped off last night when Kenzie was riding him on the couch. She’d been pulling his hair—which turned out to make him insane—and ended up pulling other things along with it. The pieces now were latched together by a paperclip he’d found in the hotel’s office.
“I have a problem,” he said, remembering the way he’d left her sleeping on his pillow. She’d taken the entire king-size bed, leaving him little more than a corner.
“Uh-huh.” Carson’s eyes narrowed as she approached him. “Looks like this one is a pretty good problem.” Her hair was back in a ponytail again today, and her giant, shiny earrings and jewel-studded belt reminded him precisely of where he was.
Las Vegas. Not exactly a place that had a winter light festival and a farmer’s market that shut down the town.
“How’s Max?” Cole asked, switching gears.
“Better. Thanks.” She looked toward the open windows at the front of the building where he’d parked the Camry against the curb. No one appeared to have followed him, but in case he’d missed something, he wanted to draw them here, away from the Paris hotel.
He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but they needed to keep on with the illusion that he was here for business. It wasn’t too much of a stretch. The designer was bringing in fabric swatches today for furniture and paint samples for the walls. The morning was packed with meetings.
Everything was coming together. It needed to look on-track, because tomorrow he was going back to the prison to see his father.
Absently, he reached for his phone, scrolling through the messages he’d yet to answer from the manager of Rare.
Nothing from Kenzie—she was probably still sleeping.
Nothing from Candi—thank God.
Nothing from Elaina, despite another call earlier today.
“We need to change the restaurant’s name,” he said.
Carson quirked a perfectly arched brow his direction.
“Raw doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. There’d be paperwork he’d have to change through the loan office for that, licenses he’d need to alter. The tax forms and business plan he’d created would have to reflect it as well.
Normally he jumped on those kinds of things. The details of business were his specialty—he actually liked putting them together. But even though this new direction was better, he found his enthusiasm flatlining.
This would be a great restaurant, and even if he did get the chance to work here, he’d enjoy it, but it would never be Kenzie’s home.
He thought of her plans for the new Flapjacks. The movie thing would be fun to work on. He’d already thought of two other coordinated meals on the drive this morning that he wanted to tell her about.
“What kind of name were you thinking?” she asked. “We’re meeting with the sign people later this week. There’s still time to change it from Raw.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Think about it, will you?”
“Sure, boss.” She typed something into her phone. “What about a chef? You have a shortlist yet?”
He did. It was so short it only had one name. Mackenzie Sharp.
“I’m working on it,” he said, taking a seat on one of the plastic lawn chairs Carson had brought in the day before. He opened his laptop, skipping through a few spreadsheets to email. It would be better if he could plow through some of Rare’s business before their first meeting.
“You know, Sean Connell might have some names.”
Cole was suddenly on edge. He had to remind himself that the old Irish man was a friend of Carson’s, and a good guy. She’d vouched for him.
“Yeah?”
“Sure.” Carson kept her eyes on her phone, probably sending her own emails. “He’s kind of got his finger on the pulse of the industry here, you know?”
Cole scratched his head. What harm could come from asking?
“You feel comfortable reaching out?”
She smiled. “Already done.”
He snorted, then went back to his emails.
• • •
The morning wound on, and right at noon a message from Kenzie finally came through.
How much longer?
He grinned. Not much. You ok?
I’ve been better.
He frowned.
Miss having Clark Kent between my thighs.
She’d just called him Superman. It was every geek’s wet dream, and he could feel his cock twitch in response.
Too bad I left my little pink friend back at the last hotel, she added.
The vibrator. It was in his car, in the bag he’d picked up when he’d checked out of the Aria on his way here this morning.
He didn’t even have a second to prepare for the images that single text put in his head. Her on the bed, legs spread, touching herself. Her mouth open, her back arched.
We’ll have to remedy that, he typed.
There was a wait for her next message, enough time for him to rethink his bold response, and then she texted: Better hurry.
“Carson, I’ve got some stuff to do off site this afternoon.” He rose quickly, closing his laptop and stuffing it into the case.
“Sure thing,” she called from the kitchen. “Pick up a new pair of glasses while you’re out.”
“Not sure it’s worth it at this point,” he replied, heading for the door.
He could hear her laughter behind him.
As much as he wanted to go straight to Kenzie, he took a long detour around the city, always scanning behind him to make sure he hadn’t been followed. When he was sure the path was clear, he parked at the Venetian, a hotel near the Paris, and walked through the tunnels connecting the buildings past the front desk, the duffle bag over his shoulder.
He’d paid for another night this morning in cash, but that wasn’t leaving him much to pay off his father’s friend’s family.
He couldn’t think of that now.
Taking the elevators to his floor, he sped down the hall, using his key card to unlock the door. Inside, he found her standing in front of the TV, clutching her chest, wearing only his work shirt.
He could have picked up some clothes for her, but he liked this arrangement much better.
There was an odd stretching sensation throughout his body. Seeing her here, in person, like this, relieved the pressure he’d felt since he’d left this morning. At the same time a different pressure built, an almost desperate need to touch her, to shed his clothes and be inside her.
“Holy shit,” she said. “You scared me. I thought you were the maid. I was regretting the whole what-happens-in-Vegas attire.” She motioned to the half-unbuttoned shirt
He set the bag on the floor, locked the door behind him, and crossed the room in four long strides. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her lower back, bringing her close for a searing kiss. It was better than the last time, better than the first time. He knew how her mouth would feel and how she would taste, and he hungered for it.
She gripped his shirt, stumbling a little as he nipped her jaw.
“You teased me,” he growled into her neck.
“Not sorry,” she managed.
His teeth ran along her bare shoulder. As much as he’d wanted her yesterday, he wanted her twice as much now. The memory of her beneath him, above him, around him was making him insane. His hands slid under the shirt she wore, finding her slim waist.
Her breath hitched.
“If I’d have known that was going to work, I would have texted hours ago,” she managed.
“I want to watch you,” he said, bringing her higher. He could feel her through his pants. Hot enough to fry every synapse.
His hands went to work on the buttons, then pulled the shirt open. Her breasts spilled free, and he weighed them in his hands, thumbs rubbing over her nipples.
She arched when he pinched her, rough enough to make her groan quietly. Now that he knew some of the things she liked, he wanted to do them again, and learn more along the way. He took her earlobe between his teeth, bringing her to her toes, and when she pulled roughly at his shirt, two of the top buttons popped free.
“I brought something for you.” He left for only a moment, to get the vibrator he’d already removed from the plastic case. When she saw it her eyes went wide. A blush spread over her chest.
He backed her toward the bedroom, wanting to see her the way she’d been in his fantasy, and when she sat on the edge, he spread her knees, and knelt before her.
He pressed his lips to the already damp fabric, feeling that same electric charge shake through him. His tongue licked along the side of her pussy, right where the fabric met her skin. Up one side, down the other, until her thighs clenched around his shoulders. He pressed her knees open and turned his head, then bit at her lightly. She liked to feel him, a heavy touch, but not rough. The rush of being right there on the edge. She cried out, falling to her elbows.
“Scoot back.” He rose, one hand beneath her back to help her move to the top of the bed. The vibrator, a small pink bullet, was in his fist, and he thrust it into her hand.
“Show me what you like,” he said, his blood pounding harder.
He began to unbutton the rest of his shirt, starting below the place she’d ripped. She watched him, eyes wide. He’d never get enough of the way she looked at his body.
“Kenzie.”
She blinked, then turned on the vibrator. It made a soft buzzing noise.
“You don’t want to use it on me?”
He shook his head. Later. First he wanted to see what she could do.
“I’ve never done this before. In front of someone, I mean.” She giggled nervously.
“Good,” he said.
She grew quiet.
Her knees pressed together.
“Show me,” he said. “Legs wide so I can see.”
Her chest rose sharply with a breath. She exhaled through her teeth. He couldn’t stop looking at her. At the slope of her belly, and the fullness of her breasts. The shadowed divots above her collarbones and the straight hair falling over her shoulder. The curves of her thighs and the taper of her ankles.
She was all woman, and he ached for her.
He stood at the foot of the bed, and when she spread her legs she kept her gaze on his. It was acutely personal, and as she looked down he felt her anxiety like a fist around his own heart. Even when she was nervous she was powerful, but this vulnerability was new.
“You’re incredible,” he said, intent to steady her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you just like this.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
“I hated leaving this morning.”
Her eyes met his again. “I missed you when I woke up.”
His knees pressed against the foot of the bed. He reached for her ankles, stroking them with his thumbs. Positioning her legs wider.
Kneeling on the bed, he trailed his fingers up her calves, and down her inner thighs. His hands spread, thumbs massaging her wet skin. She stayed quiet, but he could see her bottom lip whiten beneath the pressure of her teeth.
“I love the way you look here. I love watching you come. I love the way it feels around me.”
She began to pant.
“I want you every way, Kenzie. And I want you to use me, however you need. Trust me, and I swear I won’t make you regret it.”
She stared at him, lips parted, and then nodded. “I touched myself earlier thinking about you.”
It felt like he’d just taken the goddamn world by storm.
“What was I doing?”
“Using your mouth on me. Your tongue.”
He nodded. He remembered the feel of her cunt on his lips.
“You . . .” She looked away. “You were behind me.”
“When I was inside you.” He felt raw. On edge.
“Yes.”
Her saying it made his cock throb painfully.
She brought the vibrator over her stomach, over the dark triangle of curls, between her legs. Immediately, she gasped, eyes widening. A hiss escaped through his teeth.
“Wider.” He spread her ankles farther apart.
She found her clit, circling the small device while her other hand gripped her breast. A blush spread across her thighs and up her chest. She was already close.
He rubbed her with his middle finger, pressing inside and then curling in the way that made her arch. Her thighs fell open. She pushed down onto his hand.
“You want it deep?” he asked.
She nodded frantically.
He pushed his finger in all the way, and when he pulled out his knuckles gleamed, wet and slick.
“You’re all over my hand,” he said. “I love how you feel.”
He added a finger, feeling her clench down on him. He twisted his hand, making her writhe. The vibrator brushed against his knuckles as he moved faster, more intently. His thumb pressed against her ass. She seemed to like it, and so he pushed deeper, and soon he was inside her there, too. She began to pant. Oh God, she said. Oh God oh God oh God.
He was a fucking king.
Deeper he pushed, his hand moving in a small circle. She shattered, coming hard and violently. Squeezing around his fingers.
The vibrator fell from her hand. He gripped his cock so he didn’t come in his pants.
She was fucking flawless.
Half-crazed, she rolled up, grabbing his belt.
“Now,” she said. “Now, Cole.”
He got rid of his belt. It fell to the floor. His pants after it. He was on his side when she bit his neck, and then his pec, and then cupped his balls in her hand.
“Oh fuck,” he said, bowing forward.
With her other hand she grabbed his glasses and threw them toward the nightstand.
“Wait,” he said. The room went fuzzy. She fell out of focus. “I want to see you.”
“No,” she said. “Just feel.”
“Kenzie.” His equilibrium was off. He was never without glasses. The last time he’d been this blind was when he’d been jumped outside her diner.
But in place of his sight his other senses grew stronger. The creak of the mattress and her rough gasps filled his ears. Her sweat-slicked skin slid beneath his hands. He could smell the soap on her neck and the shampoo in her hair. Awareness of all of it prickled down his spine.
Her grip came around the base of his cock, and she slid down, taking him into her mouth, licking and sucking. Groaning against him. Surrounding the head of his dick with her lips. It wasn’t like before on the couch in the suite. His thoughts didn’t interfere. There was only her. Only the sharp pleasure of her tongue and the pounding pulse in his body.
He gripped her hair and she moaned. Her nails scratched down his chest. Vague shapes filled the space above him. The ceiling, gray in the dim light. The long arms of the overhead fan.
She pulled back just as he was getting close, and he grunted at the lack of contact.
“I need you,” she said.
“You have me,” he told her.