Chapter 5
Cole
"I 'm not little, Cole." Miranda arches a brow at my nickname for her.
"Well, these aren't," I say, massaging her breasts.
She sighs, stretching like a cat as I run my hands over her perfect curves. I lean forward, planting kisses up her stomach, before I pull out. Removing the condom, I tie it off, looking to Miranda to see if I can throw it in the kitchen garbage.
"Yeah, go ahead. I'll need to take it out in a minute, anyway."
I nod, tossing it in the trash, and return to Miranda, who hasn't moved except to place one arm over her eyes. She looks thoroughly fucked. Her hair is messy, her fair skin dotted with pink splotches that match the funky highlights in her hair. I'm already wondering if I can go for round three in a few minutes.
She bats me as I kiss up her thighs. "No, you sexy energizer bunny. Oh god. You're like the after picture for erectile dysfunction medication." She giggles as I pull her to a sitting position and help her off the table.
"Let me take you to dinner."
Miranda startles. "Dinner? Oh, shit!" Her head swivels toward the clock and she runs around looking for her underwear. "Cole, I have to go." She looks a little frantic, searching for the rest of her clothes scattered around the kitchen.
"Okay, I can go with you."
"No." She looks at me quizzically. "He doesn't—" She stops abruptly, shaking her head. "No. Thank you."
I narrow my eyes. "Are you running out on me again, little ghost?"
"What?" She sighs, looking irritated by the nickname, before her eyes soften. "Look, Cole. I should not have left that way, back at school. But I had to get home. I needed to take care of my brother." She hazards a glance at me out of the corner of her eye.
I watch her intently. "Jeremy."
She turns toward me, surprised. "How did you—"
I shrug, knowing she’ll somehow have a problem with this next bit of news I'm about to reveal. "I'm his teacher."
"Oh, fabulous." Miranda rolls her eyes, muttering about fucking teachers and something else about finding a chastity belt online.
"Miranda," I start as I follow her out the kitchen door into the main part of the shop. "My sister is a single mother. I understand the pressure you’re under." She glances at me. "But you’re incredible, and I’m not okay with you running out on me again. You happen to run the best coffee shop in town." I pause, pulling my brand new gift card out of my pocket and displaying it so she can't mistake the logo. "And I happen to be the proud recipient of a gift card to your wonderful establishment courtesy of my new boss and the gods of fate. You can do your best to push me away. But I'm not going anywhere."
I turn back into the kitchen, giving her a minute while I take the trash out to the dumpster in the side alley. After replacing the bag in the bin, I find a bottle labeled Sanitizer and clean every surface we touched. I don't want Miranda associating tonight with more work, if I can help it. After washing my hands, I look at the clock and decide ten minutes will have to be enough time.
Miranda is standing on the other side of the counter, her purse and keys in hand. She takes a deep breath. "Cole, you are incredibly sexy, and that was, um, well, everything I imagined."
I grin at her. "So, you've imagined it, too, huh?"
Miranda bites her lip to suppress her smile and shrugs. "Maybe once or twice." She rolls her eyes again as I beam at her. "But—and this but is the biggest but in the history of buts . One big enough for Sir Mix-a-Lot to love—I am not sleeping with Jeremy's teacher."
"Too late, Miranda." I attempt to say it in a teasing tone, but it comes out as a growl.
" Again . I'm not sleeping with Jeremy's teacher again ." She puts her hands on her hips, glaring at me. "Cole, you have to understand. I don't have time for dating. Between the shop and Jeremy, I don't have time for anything . I haven't touched a paintbrush in years. Every night, I close up the shop, Jeremy works on homework while I manage to put some sandwiches together for dinner, and I go to bed early with my feet killing me so I can wake up and do it all over again. And I will. Because he deserves anything I can do to make his childhood better. But"—she holds her finger in the air as if to stop me from speaking—"hot fuck boys are low on my priority list. Even if you make my toes curl."
I stalk toward her, my gaze flitting between her eyes and perfect, full lips. I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from violating her crystal clear but total bullshit line.
Miranda pulls one of the counter stools out in front of her like she needs a physical barrier between us. "Cole, we can be friends. But nothing else."
"Sexy friends?"
"No!" But she smiles despite herself. Her smile drops, and she says quietly, "No. Just friends."
I consider her. "And this is entirely because of your responsibility to your brother?"
Miranda hesitates. "Yes. No. I don't know."
I cock my head.
She sighs and continues, "I don't do random hook-ups. I'm a relationship girl, and you are..." Scanning me up and down, her eyes linger on my arm muscles. I think she whispers, "Delicious," before she begrudgingly spits out, "Every woman's fantasy."
Instead of feeling smug or pleased, I raise an eyebrow. "But not your fantasy?"
"I didn't say that," she admits.
I smile and reach for her.
Miranda takes a giant step back, pulling another chair between us and raising her hand to stop me. When I freeze, she crosses her arms and repeats, "Just friends."
I pause, hoping desperately she’ll destroy her boundaries as she eyes me with feigned annoyance in an attempt to cover the unmistakable lust in her eyes. The corner of my lip lifts as I assess her freshly fucked hair, remembering the moan she let loose moments ago. I subtly adjust the bulge growing again in my pants.
In all my fantasies about Miranda Collins, I always picture her hair the way it looked the last night we were together. Two braids, one on each side, so long they hung down past her nipples. Those braids starred in my shower fantasies almost every single morning, yet this hair will be what I think about tonight.
I lean over the chair, and she closes her eyes, pulled toward me despite everything she said, like she also feels the magnetic connection between us. My lips are a hairsbreadth from hers when I realize she called me a fuck boy. I pull back abruptly.
Is that what she thinks of me?
Out for a one-night stand? She's the one who ghosted me after our night together in college.
Shit. And I show up, barely talking to her before we fuck against the counter.
Shit, shit, double-fucking shit!
I lean in again and place a chaste kiss on her cheek, encouraged to see a flicker of disappointment before resolution washes over her features. She takes another step back from me.
Putting my hands in my pockets, I also step back. I need her to listen. "I'm not interested in a friends situation with you, with or without benefits, Miranda."
She begins to protest, but I cut her off. "If you think I'm letting you walk away from me, you’re out of your mind. I just moved here, and I hit the jackpot when it comes to my new job. But I’ll tell you right now"—I move the chair out of my way and pull her to me, running my finger down her cheek—"If you run, I will follow you to the ends of the earth until I make you mine." Then I kiss her hard.
As I pull back, her eyes flutter open, and she gazes at me, her lips swollen, her eyes molten with lust.
I lean in again and whisper, "See you tomorrow, little ghost."
The last thing I see out of the corner of my eye as I open the front door is Miranda biting her plump lip. The door chimes behind me, and I stop myself from running back inside and agreeing to have her on any terms she deems acceptable, anything to be near her again.
Instead, I square my shoulders and force myself to stroll past the windows of the coffee shop at a leisurely pace. I reach into my pocket to rub the silky fabric of her panties that she won’t be getting back. She can go commando after pretending she can give me up so easily.
Once I clear the corner, I sprint for my car. I have a date with my shower.