CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Ginger
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ginger
W ell, in the spirit of keeping things platonic so we don’t ruin our friendship, on a scale of one to ten—with one being a responsible adult and ten being a total fucking slut for Cole Ashby—I’m sitting at about a one hundred and one.
On the other hand, I’ve had four (or maybe five?) of the best orgasms I’ve ever had in my life in the last twelve hours. Which means I’m giving myself a little leeway as I head to the kitchen to make some coffee in one of Cole’s black t-shirts and my bare feet.
“Alexa, play I Got Railed into Next Week by a Hot Sheriff Last Night,” I call out, happier than I’ve been in a long time. Of course, Alexa doesn’t know that playlist so I settle for the local country station.
Ten minutes later, the coffee is brewing and I’m singing along to the radio while slicing fruit. I look up when I hear Cole pad down the hall, still wet from the shower. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and it hangs low on his narrow hips. His wide shoulders flex as he moves, and those arms … those arms are enough to make me wet all on their own. He’s freshly shaven and there are still tiny droplets of water clinging to his smooth chest. He’s easily the most attractive man I’ll ever sleep with. Hell, he might just have ruined me for all other men going forward.
“You’re staring,” Cole says, his bicep flexing as he runs a hand through his thick hair. He moves past me, smelling like the very things sin and dreams are made of, and grabs a mug from the cupboard. “What are you thinking about?”
He pours himself a steaming mug of coffee.
I smile up at him. “I’m wishing this was our date. You, me and a towel. Or, no towel would be even better.”
He takes a sip, then sets the mug down, moving toward me. When he reaches me, he wraps his big hands around my waist and hikes me up onto the counter. I yelp when my pantie-clad bottom hits the marble.
“You’re all clean and I’m not,” I say in a mock-whine as he tips my head back, licking a trail up the side of my neck.
“Best friends don’t care about that shit, Ginger,” he murmurs into the space below my ear. I laugh as he continues, “And now I can’t stop thinking about just how dirty you are, and I’m trying to figure out why the fuck that makes me want you more.” He pulls my earlobe into his mouth and bites down. “Just thinking about filling you up with my cum again and again …”
I suck in a breath and grind against his body. A loud knock at the front door makes us both jump. My heart drops. On the other side of the glass, staring right at us, arms folded over her chest and wearing a smile that says I’m totally busted, is none other than my mother.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” I say, sliding off the counter and holding a finger up, hoping by some miracle she didn’t actually see what we were doing just now.
“The sun reflects off the glass. That’s a thing, right?” I ask Cole as I make a beeline across the living room.
“Uh … yeah.” Cole says, a smile playing on his lips.
My mother doesn’t wait for me to open the door, and instead just makes her way in like she owns the place.
“Hello, bella ,” she singsongs. “At least I know now why you don’t answer your phone. Pffft, working my ass. ”
She moves across the kitchen to pour herself a coffee.
“Goddammit, Mother. Can you give us one second?” I huff, heading up to my room to find some pants.
“Help yourself,” I hear Cole say in an easy tone.
Once I reach my room, I yank my pants on and smooth my hair before running breathlessly back to the kitchen. Cole stands in the middle of the room, still in his towel, and sips his coffee as my mother sips hers.
“So, your father was going to come with me, but at the last minute he got called into a phone meeting. Luckily for you …” she says, “because this is not what I expected to see when I came to visit you and that little petunia this morning.”
“Shit. I forgot you were coming to do the flowers with us.” I turn to Cole. “We talked last week, I didn’t know Mabel was sleeping at Jo’s then. I didn’t know … anything.”
“Apparently not,” my mother says, looking at Cole a little too appreciatively. Although I can’t say I blame her.
He holds a plate out to her with a smirk. “Fruit, Camilla? We were just about to eat.”
She takes it from him, popping a strawberry into her mouth smugly. “I bet you were.”
“Mother,” I say, tucking my face in my hands in horror.
Cole laughs before turning to go. “You two catch up. I’m clearly not dressed for company.”
When he’s safely out of earshot, my mother looks at me, folds her arms and raises her eyebrows. “So, what is this I’m walking into?”
“Nothing. We’re just … friends,” I stammer out.
“Oh no you don’t. This is Cole. Who, unless you’ve forgotten, you’ve been talking about since you were sixteen. And baby, there is nothing friendly here. My eyes don’t deceive me. You were practically, as you kids say, dry-humping when I knocked on the door.”
She grins as I recoil in embarrassment. “Mother!” I shriek.
“One more second and you would’ve needed his towel, no?”
“Oh my God,” I mutter.
“I’m just playing with you, darling. I’m thrilled. Cole is a lovely man. So. It’s settled.”
“What’s settled?” Cole asks, coming down the hall looking like a GQ model in perfectly fitted black shorts and a grey t-shirt that hugs him everywhere I want to.
“You will come for dinner this week. Bring little Mabel too. The more the merrier!” My mom grins before continuing. “And since we clearly have to reschedule our gardening for a day when the proposed student is actually here—and there’s no teacher-parent interview happening.”
I look at Cole pleadingly, desperate for him to make up an excuse as to why we can’t attend dinner. But he doesn’t. Instead, he gives my mother an award-winning smile and says, “We’d love to.”
I give him a haughty look behind my mother’s back.
Traitor. Best friends, my ass.