2. Cole
TWO
Cole
I can't stop staring at her legs. Long, bare, and draped over a lounger like they were made to catch moonlight.
She’s in a barely-there silk robe, staring at me like I’m a complete idiot. Which doesn’t make sense. This is supposed to be my place.
I glance around, trying to get my bearings. It’s the same stone terrace, same steps from the beach I walked down earlier to clear my head. Everything looks right.
Except for the furniture. And her.
She doesn’t move from her seat. Instead, she watches me like I’m a glitch in her very expensive view.
“I’m sorry, I guess I got turned around,” I say, not quite sure if I sound confused or amused. Because, to be completely honest, I'm both.
She doesn’t blink and tilts her head slightly as her robe slides off one bare shoulder.
“Well, at least you’re polite. I'll let it slide this once.”
Her tone’s still dry, but something flickers behind her eyes. She keeps her eyes on me like I might be worth the interruption, if I play it right .
And that’s when it hits me. I’m not the one caught staring anymore. I’m the one trespassing. And I desperately don’t want to leave. I wonder if it would seem like a bad pick-up line if I asked if I could join her for a glass of wine.
Since I only bought the house a few months ago, and this is my first night here, it’s no surprise I mistook my neighbor’s for my own.They are all very similar.
I find my voice and my train of thought as she raises her eyebrows at me, using her eyes to indicate I can leave the way that I came.
It’s so cute that I smile.
“I appreciate your graciousness, neighbor. I realize now that's mine.” I point to the slightly larger house next to hers. “That one’s mine.”
Her gaze shifts, clocking the property next door. “Ahh. That makes sense. You're the fancy pants who bought the house a few months ago?”
She steps forward, extending a hand. “I’m Samantha. I work at Good Samaritan. You were there today, right?”
I take her hand. It’s warm, smaller than I expected. Her grip is confident and sexy as hell.
An electrical current shoots through me the moment we touch. Her breath catches, just a fraction, but I don’t miss it. Her hand lingers. So does mine.
She’s the one to pull back slowly. It's controlled and pensive, like she’s still deciding whether I’m dangerous or interesting.
“Cole,” I say. “And you’re the nurse who?—”
Her brow lifts.
“Doctor,” she corrects, tone dry but not sharp. “But you were close.”
Shit .
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” I say, embarrassed that I assumed she wasn't a doctor.
She draws herself up to her full height. “I am a surgical resident, two years out from completing my residency and becoming a general surgeon. But nurse works, too.”
Her tone isn’t haughty or cold, but she does seem offended.
“My apologies, Samantha. I mean, Dr.—”
“Sam is fine,” she interrupts me, taking two steps away from me.
“Sam. You seem like you know your way around the OR, and I’m sure the surgeon I met, Doctor…” I pause, trying to remember her name, but our meeting was so brief, the name escapes me.
“Grimaldi.”
“Yes. I’m sure she's happy you caught the issue before things went sideways.”
She snorts and then schools her face into something less comical. “Oh yes. She was oh so grateful to have a resident stop surgery while the board was there to view her during a routine operation.”
Oversized egos aren’t exclusive to surgeons. I’ve seen my fair share of them in real estate, too. At least most of them were too busy flexing stock portfolios to hold a scalpel.
“What were you and the board looking for?” she asks, casual but not disinterested.
“Routine tour,” I say, borrowing her word. It earns me a half-smile, and damn, she’s even prettier in the moonlight. Hair loose, eyes sharp. I’m ten for ten interested.
“Hmm. Cole, you said, right?”
I nod.
“Well, Cole,” she says, tilting her wine glass. “May I offer you one? Neighborly protocol and all. ”
She half-turns like she might grab another, but her eyes flick back to mine, waiting for a reply.
I grin and stuff my hands in my pockets. I should say no. I definitely shouldn’t stay. But I want to.
“That would be the polite thing to do, after all. Since I bit your head off when you stopped by to introduce yourself. No pressure, though.”
I grin. “One hell of an introduction. Sorry, again, about interrupting your night.”
“You’re lucky I wasn’t still in scrubs.”
She's right about that.
I laugh under my breath, nod toward her glass. “I really should let you get back to your wine.”
I don’t move. Neither does she.
Her gaze holds mine, something softer flickering there. “I’d rather not drink alone, if I’m being honest. Stay, if you want.”
“Just for a minute,” I say. “I’m good on the wine, but thanks. I’d love to get to know my new neighbor.”
She tips her head, one brow arched. “Alright, let’s get to know each other, then."
"Hi, I'm Cole Houston," I say, offering my hand.
"You already said that."
"I just thought it best to start with a clean slate."
She smiles and nods her head as she takes a sip of wine.
"So, you’re on the board at my hospital, you own a beach house you’ve never stepped foot in, and you accidentally wandered onto my deck. What else should I know about you, Cole?”
“Well, I live in New York, most of the time. I bought the house as an investment. I'm in real estate, so call it an occupational hazard. I’m only in town for a few days, so I’ll need to learn the layout around here fast. Wouldn’t want to accidentally stumble onto any more private patios.”
She gives me a look, her nose scrunching like she’s trying not to smile.
“I’ve lived here for over a year, and the only person I’ve ever seen near that house is your housekeeper.
And lately, a few contractors. Do you keep expensive houses on the beach all over the country just to employ the locals? ”
“A year?” I step in closer. Just enough to test the air between us. She doesn’t move except to shiver slightly.
I reach out, slowly, and run my hand down the length of her arm. Her skin is warm beneath the cool slide of silk. It’s soothing under my palm. Still, she doesn’t pull away.
"Yep, pretty much."
“I like your taste in houses.”
I glance back toward the house, then at her, and let it land.
She laughs, low and unbothered. “Looks like we have similar tastes.”
She pokes a finger into my chest, and it's like a jolt of electricity emanates from her point of contact.
“And don’t think I’m wooed that you’re a fancy real estate developer or because you’re a board member at the hospital where I work. I don’t impress easily.”
“Oh? Men in suits aren’t your thing?” I say, my voice growing husky as her finger starts to trail down my torso. Her breathing changes into shallow bursts.
She looks up at me through thick lashes. There’s heat in her eyes now, no doubt about it. “Maybe they are.”
She shrugs, and the robe slips down her arms, dropping to the floor in a pool of silk.
My breath catches, but I don’t move. Not yet. Holy shit, this is happening.
The silk camisole and matching shorts left behind cling to her. The fabric is sheer in the moonlight. Her top barely masks the tight peaks of her nipples.
I reach for her slowly, putting my hands on her waist. I let them settle there for a moment, waiting for silent permission before sliding upward, dragging the thin material with them.
“Then let me impress you,” I murmur.
“I’d love for you to show me if they’re my thing after all,” she whispers, brushing her lips against mine. They’re soft and testing.
I don’t move at first, letting her take the lead. The kiss is soft at first, more question than answer, testing me. Heat builds fast between us, but I keep myself still. Barely.
Until her arms slide around my neck.
Then I sink in, deepening the kiss, my mouth opening against hers. She responds instantly, hungry now. Her lips part for me, and the second our tongues meet, something in me slips.
I slide my hands up her body, fingers skimming the silk until they find the curve of her breasts. My thumbs brush over her hard nipples beneath the fabric, and she gasps against my mouth.
She starts to move against me, her hips shifting. There’s no way she doesn’t feel how hard I am now, pressed against her. She presses closer, like she wants to make damn sure I know she feels it too.
I’m just about to kiss my way down her neck when her hand drops between us.
And then she touches me. It’s bold and confident, with no hesitation at all.
I stiffen as arousal takes over, then relax when she takes my hand and places it just under the hem of her short shorts. I push it up, feeling the bare skin of her round ass.
She’s not wearing any panties. Fuck .
I break the kiss, dragging my mouth across her jaw and down her neck as my hand shifts lower. My fingers slide along the curve of her ass, then dip forward and find her wet.
The way she gasps when I touch her there nearly undoes me.
She unbuttons my pants, slipping her hand inside with no hesitation, grabbing my cock. My breath catches as I trail my fingers up her stomach, then hook them into the waistband of her shorts and push them down. They slide to the floor, joining her robe.
Her skin prickles under my touch. Goosebumps rise everywhere I graze.
“You feel so good,” I murmur against her skin, groaning when she starts to stroke. “Once we get started…?”
Her breath catches. “We’ll finish,” she whispers. “Don't you worry about that.”
She shifts against me, her hips arching into my hand. “Just this once. Because it must mean something that you ended up here tonight. Let's call it a sign.”
Then her voice breaks into a moan. “Oh my God, yes. Right there.”
I find the spot that makes her hips jerk and her breath catch.
“Yeah. Mmm, right there,” she murmurs again.
I want to push her to the edge. No hesitation, no second thoughts.
I catch her wrist, stilling her hand on my cock, not to stop her, just to slow things down, to control it. I want to make it last.