10. Cole
cole
. . .
I've spent thirteen years trying to forget the taste of Mabel Maxwell's lips, and now I'm drowning in them again.
The truck cab is filled with the scent of her—expensive perfume mixed with something that's just her—as she straddles me in the driver's seat.
My hands are everywhere at once, relearning curves I've dreamed about since I was eighteen.
Her dress—that damn blue dress that's been torturing me all night—is hiked up around her thighs, revealing a stretch of skin that's driving me insane.
"Cole," she breathes against my mouth, and my name has never sounded so good. Her fingers are in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.
Ten minutes ago, I parked on the side of some back road between the wedding venue and my place.
I don't even remember pulling over. One minute, we were driving, Mabel's hand on my thigh creeping higher with each mile, and the next, I was yanking the wheel, gravel crunching under tires as I brought us to a stop.
"I thought we were going to talk," she says, but her hips roll against mine in a way that makes it clear talking is the last thing on her mind.
"Is that what we're calling this now?" I manage to get out, my voice rough as I slide my hands up her thighs.
She laughs, the sound hitting me right in the chest. "I've forgotten how much of a smartass you are."
"And I've forgotten nothing about you," I tell her, which is the god's honest truth. Thirteen years, a career built from the ground up, and more first dates than I care to count, and none of them erased a single detail of Mabel Maxwell.
When she grinds down against me again, I nearly lose it like a teenager. My hands find her hips, stilling her. "Wait."
Her eyes, those killer blue eyes, narrow. "Seriously? Now you want to stop?"
I shake my head, fighting for control. "Not stop. Just..." I glance around the cramped cab of my truck, at the steering wheel digging into her back, at the gearshift probably bruising her leg. "Not here. Not like this."
"Since when are you picky about location?" Her eyebrow arches, reminding me of all the places we christened back in high school—the back of this very truck, the boathouse at her parent's lake house, the equipment shed behind the football field.
"Since I've spent thirteen years thinking about getting my hands on you again." I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, swollen from my kisses. "I need room to have my way with you properly, counselor. And as much as I love this truck, it's not going to cut it."
A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck. "Your place is still ten minutes away."
"Then it'll be the longest ten minutes of my life." I lean forward, nipping at her ear. "But I promise it'll be worth the wait."
She shivers against me, and I can feel her heartbeat racing where her chest presses against mine. "I've never known you to make promises you can't keep, Bennett."
"And I don't plan to start now."
Getting her back into the passenger seat requires more willpower than I've ever had to summon. Her hair is mussed from my hands, her lips swollen, and that dress is still hiked up in a way that makes focusing on the road nearly impossible. I start the engine with unsteady hands.
"Eyes on the road, Cole," she teases, but then her fingers land on my thigh again, tracing idle patterns that inch higher with each sweep.
"You're not making this easy." I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white.
"I never have, have I?" There's something vulnerable in her voice beneath the playfulness, a reminder of all the complications between us, all the years and choices that led us away from each other.
But right now, with Cedar Bay's familiar roads stretching before us and Mabel's touch burning through my jeans, the past doesn't seem to matter. Only the present. Only her.
I take a turn faster than I should, and she laughs—that full-throated laugh I've missed so damn much. "Still drive like you've got something to prove?"
"Only when I've got somewhere important to be." I catch her eye, and the heat there nearly makes me drive off the road again.
My house comes into view—nothing fancy, just a renovated craftsman on three acres outside town.
I built the wraparound porch myself and installed the picture windows that overlook the bay.
It's more home than a house, and as I pull into the gravel driveway, I suddenly see it through her eyes—wonder if she's comparing it to her sleek Portland condo and if she's regretting leaving the reception with the hometown contractor.
But when I kill the engine, she's already unbuckling her seatbelt, eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that burns away any doubt.
"Are you coming inside, or are we just going to sit in your driveway all night?" she asks, one hand already on the door handle.
I'm around to her side before she can open it, pulling the door wide. "Impatient, counselor?"
"Thirteen years," she reminds me, taking my offered hand and stepping down from the truck. "That's a lot of lost time to make up for."
The porch light casts her in gold as I fumble with my keys, her body pressed against my back, her lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear that she somehow still remembers. The key finally slides home, and we stumble through the doorway together, her laugh vibrating against my neck.
Inside, I barely have time to kick the door closed before she's on me again, those clever fingers working at my tie and my shirt buttons. But this time, I'm the one who slows things down, catching her wrists gently.
"My turn," I murmur, backing her against the wall of my entryway.
Mabel's mouth crashes into mine the second we're through the door, and I barely manage to kick it shut behind us. Her body is a furnace against mine, all curves and urgency, making my head spin faster than any whiskey ever could.
"Need you," she pants against my lips, her fingers already tugging at my shirt. "Now, Cole."
I've imagined this moment for weeks—hell, months—but the reality of Mabel Roberts in my foyer, desperate for me, eclipses every fantasy. Her cardigan drops to the floor, followed quickly by my work shirt. My hands cup her face, thumbs brushing her flushed cheeks.
"Bedroom's that way," I manage between kisses, nodding toward the hallway. She smiles against my mouth, that wicked smile that's been driving me crazy since she first walked into Cedar Bay Construction looking for Fox.
We stumble down the hall, a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing. Her bra is lace—deep purple—and I groan when it joins the trail of discarded items marking our path. By the time we reach my bedroom, she's down to just her panties, and I'm still fighting with my belt.
"Let me," she whispers, replacing my fumbling fingers with her own. The belt buckle gives way under her touch, and she sinks to her knees, looking up at me with those blue eyes that see straight through me.
I thread my fingers through her dark hair as she tugs my jeans down. "Mabel, sweetheart, you don't have to?—"
"I want to," she cuts me off, pressing a kiss to my hip bone. "But later. Right now, I need you on that bed."
I don't need to be told twice. I step out of my jeans, lifting her back to her feet and walking her backward until her knees hit the mattress. She falls with a soft laugh that turns into a gasp when I hook my fingers into the hem of her panties and push them down her legs.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur, taking in every inch of her naked body spread across my sheets. "Been dreaming about this."
I start at her ankles, pressing kisses up her calves and her thighs, lingering at the junction where her legs meet. Her scent is intoxicating, and when I finally taste her, she arches off the bed with a cry that makes me harder than I've ever been.
"Cole," she gasps, her hands fisting in my hair as I work her with my tongue, circling and sucking until her thighs begin to tremble against my shoulders. "Oh god, don't stop."
I have no intention of stopping. I slide one finger inside Mabel, then two, curling them forward as I focus my mouth on her clit. Her breathing grows ragged, punctuated by little whimpers that tell me she's close.
"That's it, sweetheart," I encourage against her heated flesh. "Let go for me."
When she comes, it's with my name on her lips, her body clenching around my fingers, back bowed like a perfect arch. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs.
"Inside me," she demands once she catches her breath, reaching for me. "Need to feel you."
Something shifts in her eyes at that confession—something tender and raw. She cradles my face in her hands. "I love you, Cole. I’ve missed you so much."
My heart hammers against my ribs as I align our bodies, pushing slowly into her heat. "I love you too, Mabel. So damn much."
The first thrust steals both our breaths.
Mabel's legs coil around my waist like tendrils, pulling me closer, urging me to delve deeper, and I oblige, establishing a rhythm that leaves us breathless and panting.
Her fingernails rake across my back, and I press my face into her neck, overwhelmed by the sensation of finally being inside her.
"Missed this," she whispers against my ear, her voice breaking on a moan as I dive deeper. "Missed you so much it hurt."
The confession undoes something in my chest. I pull back to look at Mabel, memorizing the flush across her cheeks and the way her lips part with each breath. "Never again," I promise, my voice rough. "I'm not letting you go again."
Her answer is lost in a gasp as I shift the angle, hitting that spot that makes her see stars.
Her inner walls flutter around me, drawing me deeper, and I have to grit my teeth to maintain control.
Thirteen years of wanting her, dreaming of her, and now she's here beneath me, saying my name like a prayer.
"Faster," she pleads, her hips rising to meet mine. "Please, Cole."
I give her what she needs, what we both need, my hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. The headboard knocks against the wall with each thrust, and I can feel her building toward another climax, her body tightening around me like a vice.
I'm not going to last long—not with the way she feels, the way she looks beneath me with her hair spread across my pillow and her lips swollen from my kisses. I reach between us, circling her clit with my thumb.
"Come with me," I urge, feeling my control slipping. "One more time, sweetheart."
Her words cut off in a cry as she shatters beneath me, her orgasm triggering my own. I bury myself deep, her name torn from my throat as I empty myself inside her, thirteen years of longing pouring out in waves.
We collapse together, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. I roll us to our sides, keeping Mabel close, not ready to break the connection between us. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest as our heartbeats slowly return to normal.
"So," she says eventually, a smile in her voice. "Was it worth the wait?"
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Every damn minute."
“I agree,” she sighs with a giggle."
"Stay," I murmur against her temple, not just meaning tonight. "Stay with me."
Her answer is a soft kiss pressed to my chest, right over my thundering heart. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away."