18. Cole
Cole
Hot water rained down on me, soaking my hair and soothing my stiff muscles. The extra workouts on top of my regimen at the rink were pushing my body to the limit, but damn if it didn’t come with perks.
Namely, getting to watch Bridget bend over in those skintight leggings that clung to the rounded swell of her ass.
Fuck, I was hard just thinking about it the way they would overflow my large palms.
I knew it was wrong to think of her in a sexual capacity. She came to me for help, seeking safety, and here I was picturing what it would be like to sink my cock into her again after all these years. Would it feel as incredible as I remembered?
Reaching down, I stroked my stiff shaft. I told myself it was only a few pumps—just enough to relieve the ache, and then I would finish getting clean and get out—but once I started, I couldn’t stop.
My skin was still slick with body wash, allowing my hand to move fluidly, my grip tight enough to cause a bite of pain.
Head falling back, I relaxed into the sensation as mental flashes of intimate moments with Bridget from the past played out behind my closed eyelids.
Thick, creamy thighs that rippled every time I thrust into her.
A halo of dark hair around her head, tangled from thrashing against the pillows.
Full tits with puckered pink nipples that made her scream in ecstasy when I sucked on them.
Arousal clinging to my lips and chin as she came all over my face.
High-pitched cries, begging me to never stop.
“Never,” I grunted, fisting my length faster.
My toes curled, my balls tightening in warning. It had been far too long since I touched myself, and pleasure clawed at me from all sides, demanding I let go and succumb to the release I so desperately sought.
Slamming one hand against the tiled wall, I pulled brutally on my dick with the other.
The pressure grew overwhelming until suddenly, the dam burst, and an orgasm hit me with the force of a freight train.
A roar of completion tore up my throat, echoing throughout the space, and jets of cum spilled from my tip, only to be quickly washed down the drain.
Completely spent, I rested my head on my forearm, panting through the aftershocks still buzzing beneath my skin.
Damn, I’d needed that more than I realized.
After a quick rinse, I turned off the faucet, stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a towel. I was running it over my head to dry my hair when I heard what sounded like a knock on the door to my bedroom.
Then came a cry of, “Cole!” and all the tension that had fled my body after masturbating was back in full force.
Panicked, I tripped over my own damn feet in my rush to get to Bridget, crashing into the doorframe that separated my ensuite from my walk-through closet.
My shoulder took the brunt of the impact, and I cursed under my breath.
Ignoring the burst of pain, I righted myself and barely managed to knot the towel around my waist before flinging the door wide open.
Bridget was right there on the other side, and while my brain was still coming back online—the blood in my body slowly moving north with my cock now deflated—it looked as if she were on the verge of tears.
“Bridget?” I inwardly groaned at the husky quality of my voice.
Bright green eyes lifted and instantly widened, the pupils blowing out as she scanned my naked torso.
There wasn’t much time to revel in the fact that she was checking me out, because it wasn’t long before she sucked in a sharp breath, and I realized she’d honed in on the black ink along my sternum.
The tattoo was an exact replica of the pendant from my half of the pair of friendship necklaces I’d given to her on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday.
“Cole,” Bridget breathed, lifting her fingertips to trace the half-heart shape. “When did you get this done?”
Swallowing thickly, I replied, “The day after we broke up.”
She pulled in a shuddering breath, and those tears I wasn’t sure were there before now clung to her lashes.
Blinking up at me, she confessed, “That’s why I came here.”
My brows drew down. “What?”
“I was digging for the cash I had hidden, with no clue where I was headed. All I knew was that I needed to get out. The necklace you gave me was at the bottom of the shoebox, and it felt like a sign. So I ran as fast as I could to the library where I used to volunteer, broke in after-hours—though, technically, I did have a key—and called a cab using their landline. When he asked me, ‘Where to?’ I told him your address. And now here I am.”
“Here you are,” I repeated in awe.
God, it scared the living hell out of me to think of where she might’ve ended up if her younger self hadn’t kept that symbol of my undying love.
At the end of the day, it didn’t matter, because regardless of the circumstances, she did find her way back to me.
Her touch fell away, and instantly, I mourned the loss of it.
Shifting on her feet, Bridget said, “I came to see if maybe you wanted to have dinner with me?”
Not sure why she was asking, I replied, “Sure, seeing as we have dinner together every night.”
A blush colored her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
Okay . . .
“Care to spell it out for me?” I prompted.
She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I, uh, was thinking more along the lines of a date.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. Holy shit, this was huge!
Play it cool, man. If you act too excited, you’ll scare her away.
I hummed, pretending to mull it over. “Mmm. A date?”
Bridget began to backtrack, her steps carrying her away from me. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s okay. It was a stupid idea—”
“Wait!” I called out before she could disappear into her bedroom.
She froze, her hand gripping the doorknob.
“I’d love to have dinner with you, Bridget.”
Her big green eyes sparkled. “You would?”
A smile stretched across my face. “Yeah. How’s tomorrow sound? Pick you up at seven?”
Blinking at me, she shook her head. “I don’t think you understand. I can’t go out.”
“I know.” It was impossible to forget the resources her ex had access to that made her terrified to leave the house.
Confusion flickered across her features. “Then what—”
“Even if we stay here, I want to treat this like a real date—get dressed up, eat dinner from a restaurant. While you were the one to ask me out, I’m more than happy to take care of all the details.
But I don’t want to trigger you by taking charge, so if it makes you more comfortable to plan the evening out, I’ll cede control to you. ”
Her plush lips parted on an exhale. “You would do that? For me?”
Didn’t she get it yet?
“Bridget, I would do anything to make you feel safe and supported.”
Because I love you.
“Okay. Tomorrow night at seven,” she agreed.
“See you then, beautiful.” I tossed her a wink as we both retreated into our bedrooms.
Closing my door, I leaned against it, replaying the conversation we’d just had over again in my mind.
Could this be it? The start of our second chance?
Only time would tell, but I knew one thing for certain.
Tomorrow, I was going to pull out all the stops for our first “official” date.
Flowers in hand, I knocked on Bridget’s bedroom door at seven sharp.
She must’ve been eagerly awaiting my arrival because it swung open without delay, revealing the love of my life on the other side.
With my breath caught in my lungs, all I could do was stare at the stunning creature standing opposite me. Bridget was always beautiful to me, but wearing an emerald wrap dress that accented her hourglass figure, her hair and makeup done, she was downright gorgeous.
“You look—” Huffing out a laugh, I shook my head. “I don’t have the words to describe it.”
Toying with the knotted belt at her waist, she swept her gaze over me from head to toe. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”
“These are for you.” I brought the bouquet I held forward.
Bridget’s eyes lit up as she accepted the roses, bringing them to her nose and inhaling their fragrance. “Flowers? Wow, you really went all out.”
She had no idea that was only the tip of the iceberg.
“Shall we?” I gestured toward the stairs at the end of the hallway.
Smiling, she nodded, latching the door behind her.
We walked, side by side, down the steps, and I guided her through the sliding glass door to the patio.
When she took in the sight before her, she stopped short, my name falling from her lips on a stunned exhale. “Cole.”
A surge of pride rushed through me at her reaction.
I’d spent all day transforming the pool deck into a makeshift French bistro.
There was a wrought iron table set for two with a bottle of pinot noir sitting uncorked, ready to be poured.
Space heaters were strategically placed to ward off the November chill.
Dozens of candles floated atop the water’s surface in the background, giving off a romantic air.
And to cap it off, my little helper Maisie had spent all day crafting an Eiffel Tower from cardboard, wrapping the replica of the City of Love’s most iconic structure with strands of twinkling lights.
Leaning over to speak in her ear, I said, “Called ahead and got us the best table.”
Bridget’s musical laughter floated toward the stars. “I can see that.”
Striding to the table, I pulled out a chair for her. “Madam.”
Heels clacking on the stone surface, she moved toward me and took the seat I offered. “Thank you,” she murmured over her shoulder as I pushed her in.
I gently eased the bouquet of roses from her arms, unwrapping the cellophane to keep the flowers bundled, and placed them into a crystal vase in the middle of the table. Earlier, I’d cut the stems to the perfect height so that we could see each other above the blooms.
“Wine?” I asked, holding the bottle label first for her inspection.
She dipped her chin. “Yes, please.”
Filling first her glass, then mine, I sank onto the empty chair and lifted my wine for a toast.
“To first dates.”
Bridget arched an eyebrow. “Not sure this qualifies as a first date with our history.”
“We’ve done a lot of things in the past”—she blushed at the implication that we shared carnal knowledge of each other—“but as far as I can recall, we never went on an official date.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she conceded.
“I’m a little older and wiser now, and in a position where I can give you what you’ve always deserved as a first date.” Though I hated that nothing had changed when it came to hiding that we were together.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. One date doesn’t equal a relationship.
Eyes fixed on the table where she fiddled with the flatware, Bridget said softly, “I didn’t need fancy dates. All I ever wanted was you.”
I’m here now. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be yours forever.
With my wine still suspended in the air above the table, I amended my toast. “How about to new beginnings, then?”
Her gaze lifted, the hint of a smile tugging on one corner of her lips. “I’ll drink to that.”
A soft clink sounded as Bridget touched the edge of her glass to mine, then she brought it to her mouth and took a sip.
“Mmm.” She let out a near pornographic moan that had my dick twitching behind my fly. “That is the best red wine I’ve ever tasted.” There was a self-deprecating laugh. “Though, to be fair, my palate is used to ten-dollar bottles from the grocery store.”
I savored a taste for myself. “I’m pleased you like it. The winery that produces it in Napa is one of my favorites.”
She reached for the bottle, examining the label. “Songbird Estate.” Tracing the emblem, she asked, “What kind of bird is this?”
“A lark. The owner named the property after his wife.”
“That’s terribly romantic,” she mused on a wistful sigh.
“It is,” I agreed, rising once more to remove the silver cloche covering her plate and setting it to the side.
Bridget eyed the coq au vin with appreciation. “Oh, this looks and smells amazing.”
“The French restaurant downtown is so authentic that if I close my eyes while eating, I can imagine I’m in Paris.”
She took a bite, her eyes drifting shut as she chewed, savoring the flavor. After another sip of wine, she asked, “Have you been to Paris?”
Swallowing, I nodded. “I have. Of all places I’ve traveled—the rest of Europe included—it’s my favorite city.”
“Maybe someday I’ll make it there.”
The sadness in her voice betrayed that she didn’t believe that dream would ever become a reality.
If I could, I’d take her tomorrow. But real life—my busy schedule, her psycho ex lurking somewhere out there—made that impossible. For now, at least.
I prayed I was allowed to keep her long enough to give her the world.