CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Cole
Lori opens the door and sucks in air. “Cole.”
I shackle her waist and walk her backward into the tiny bathroom, and behind the door to press her against the wall. My hands go to the surface on either side of her head and with good reason. If I keep touching her, I will yank her dress up and fuck her, which is not an option. Not only do I not have a condom, fucking does nothing but funnel anger that I’m still going to feel when it’s over.
“Is that what you think of me?” I demand. “That I’m a criminal taking down good police officers who got in my way?”
“No. God, no. And damn it,” she presses her hand to her face a moment, “I’ve had too much tequila to make my case, and it sucks.” Her hands settle on my chest. “You really matter to me, Cole. So much, so fast that it’s terrifying.”
“I see that.”
“You see that?” she demands. “What do you see? Don’t answer. I told you I was going to screw this up. My father seemed perfect, but he wasn’t. He gambled. He took risks. I can’t let you be perfect in my mind, even though I know you deserve to start there and earn any negative. I’m trying to fix that. I know how I have to fix that and—I need you. I wouldn’t probably say that without the tequila, but it doesn’t make it less true. I don’t want you to mistake that for me needing your money, though. It’s not your money. It’s you. It’s—I swore I wouldn’t, but I do and I’m rambling and I can’t seem to stop. Can you please say something now?”
I cup her face “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”
“Which part? The ‘I’m sorry’ or the—”
“You need me. Say it again.”
“I do,” she whispers. “And you’re even more of an asshole because you made that happen. I said I wouldn’t let you. I vowed—”
“Say the words,” I order roughly.
“I need you. I do. I need you and—”
My mouth closes down on hers, and my God, I have never wanted a kiss, or a woman, like I do this one. I tangle my fingers into her hair, I breathe her in, I inhale that scent of flowers, and it all comes together in a hot mix of adrenaline and lust. I cup her backside and lift her. And hell yeah, her legs wrap around my waist. I start walking but I don’t stop kissing her, maneuvering us out of the bathroom and down the hall until we’re in the bedroom. I tear my mouth from hers and kick the door shut, halfway to the bed when reality hits again.
No fucking condom.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I walk a path of moonlight streaming through the curtains, and lay Lori on the bed, but I don’t dare go down on top of her. I catch my weight on my hands and I intend to stay that way, to stand up before I forget our limitation, but she whispers, “Kiss me again already,” and who the fuck am I to deny her the kiss that I want as much as she does?
My mouth closes down on hers, and some part of me decides that I’m getting her on the pill. I’m taking her to a damn doctor. I need to be able to fuck her when I want to fuck her. Hell, I need so many damn things with this woman. And when her hands slip under my shirt, her soft palms touching my skin, I damn sure need more of her hands on my body to the point that it requires a herculean effort to pull back and press my forehead to hers. “We don’t have a condom. We have to—”
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I’m on the pill. It’s been a few weeks or maybe longer. A month.”
Those words hit me like a wrecking ball. I press my hands to the bed and raise up to look at her. “You’re on the pill.” It comes out as pure accusation, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yes,” she says. “I am. We’re safe.”
“For who? Because we damn sure know it wasn’t me.”
Her eyes turn from lust to anger in three seconds flat. “Get off me.”
“Was it Lance?”
“Get off me or I swear I will yell until they come and get you off of me.”
“Go ahead. Yell. Tell me. Because I damn sure want to know who had you, when I couldn’t fuck anyone else no matter who offered themselves up to me. Not a fucking one, Lori.”
“There was no one and you’re not just an asshole. You’re a bastard.” Her eyes start to tear up. “Get off.” The way she whispers it this time, the way her voice quakes, does the job. What the hell am I doing holding her down? What the hell is this woman doing to me?
I push off the bed and she scrambles to her feet and turns on me. “You,” she says. “I did it for you.”
“We hadn’t found each other again back then.”
“Yeah well, after that night, a month passed, and I didn’t start my period.”
Bullshit, I think. “We used a condom,” I say.
“They fail, and I didn’t start my period.”
I shackled her waist and walk her backward until she’s pressed to the wall. “What are you telling me?”
“I went through the hell of thinking that I was pregnant while trying to take care of my mother.”
“Thought or you were?”
“No, I did not abort your baby, Cole. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Fuck, Lori, that’s not what I meant.”
“I guess we’re just full of misunderstandings today,” she bites out. “I wasn’t pregnant. The doctor said it was stress and put me on the pill, but I thought I was pregnant. I thought I was and I didn’t know how to find you.”
“You left. Not me. I didn’t want you to leave.”
“I know that very well, but that’s not the point.”
She’s right. It’s not. “The point is,” I say for her, because it’s true. “I’m an asshole.”
“Right now. Yes. Yes, you really are.”
I cup her face and I’m honest with her in a way I have never been honest with anyone but myself. “I’m sorry. I overreacted to this. I overreacted to Lance at the party. I don’t overreact.”
“Maybe that makes me bad for you, like poison that—”
“No,” I say. “That’s not it. I just don’t want to be out here on this ledge alone, feeling what I’m feeling.”
Her hands come down on my wrist. “You’re not alone,” she says. “In fact, I’m the one holding on to you so I don’t fall over the edge while everything you do pushes me a little closer. We were both wrong tonight, but it hasn’t changed anything. I still want to be on the ledge with you.”
I cup her face and kiss her, and just that easily I’m back to drinking her in, needing her, wanting her in this deep, cutting way that says I would bleed for this woman. I don’t tell her that I will bleed for her. I don’t tell her that I will cross lines to protect her. I wouldn’t do it for anyone else. I haven’t done it for anyone else but her. For her I would do just about anything.
I drag her dress down and unhook her bra. I have this deep need for control right now that I force myself to contain to a reasonable level of demand. I drag my fingers over her nipples, my gaze following, and with a dip of my head, my tongue comes next. Her moan says the tongue wins for most appreciated. I use my teeth, a gentle scrape of her nipple, followed by a lave of my tongue, and her fingers slicing into my hair say my teeth drive her wild. I suckle her nipple and drag the bra straps over her shoulders, down her arms. She grabs my shirt and tries to yank it open, buttons and all. It doesn’t budge.
We both laugh, and she blushes a pretty, sexy pink. “In my tequila-laden mind that went differently.”
“Like the tequila made you call me an asshole downstairs?” I tease.
“The tequila kept me from saying it sooner.”
“Is that right?” I unbutton a couple of buttons and pull my shirt over my head. Before it ever hits the ground, she’s wrapped her arms around me, and pressed those gloriously naked breasts against me, skin to skin.
That’s all it takes to ignite a frenzied rush of kissing, touching, all over each other. I manage to unzip the rest of her dress, and I turn her to the door, pressing her hands to the wall. I skim it down her hips and now I have my answer. She’s wearing black lace panties. I wind my fingers in the tiny black lace straps at her hips and pull them down.
My arm wraps her lower body and I lift her, scoop away her dress and panties, and when I set her down, I stand, giving her a gentle but definitely present smack on the backside. She yelps and I pull her against me, her back to my chest, my hands cupping her breasts, lips near her ear. “That’s for making me suffer downstairs, wondering if you were sitting next to Savage wearing no fucking panties.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she whispers, inside a half moan, as I tug roughly on her nipples.
“But you wanted me to wonder, didn’t you?”
“I wanted you to do something other than sit there and scowl at me.”
I turn around and press her against the wall. “You want me to do more?” I challenge.
“Yes, Cole. More.”
“Don’t even think about coming without me or I will spank you right here, with them down there. I should spank you for teasing me with your panties.”
I lower myself to my knees with one goal in mind: Making her come.