5. Carrie
FIVE
CARRIE
I felt drunk, even though I’d nursed my drinks and eaten enough to know I wasn’t. It was the touch of Cole’s hands over my hips that did it while I pressed my key card against the door reader. The brush of his lips against my neck. The heat of his body as he guided me inside the room.
“Oh, look,” I said. “My stuff. It’s safe.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied with a grin as he spun me around and walked me backward into the room. I’d succeeded in unbuttoning his shirt halfway down his chest between the elevator and the room, and I returned to the task as his lips carved a hot path down the pulse throbbing in my neck.
His fingers brushed the edge of my dress at the back, teasing the crisscrossed straps as he slid his hand down and back up again. Calluses on his palm caught against the silky fabric, and a desperate urge to feel that roughness against my skin swept through me. When he kissed me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into the feeling of his body against mine.
This was reckless. I couldn’t stop. I was dizzy with the scent of his skin, high with the need for more. The comedown would flatten me. I didn’t care.
“I think we might be making a mistake,” I mumbled against his lips.
“Probably,” he agreed, hands sliding down to cup my ass. A groan rumbled through his chest as his lips found mine again.
My head spun. It was the feel of him all around me and of his coarse chest hair beneath my fingertips. It was the way my hands smoothed over the carved, warm, hard lines of his shoulders as I pushed his shirt out of the way to trace the shape of him. It was the taste of his skin on my tongue when I kissed his neck, and the way his hand slid up my spine to dig into my hair.
I’d never been kissed like this before, in a way that was all-consuming and overwhelming. I’d never had my mind go so still while my body rioted. Need had never felt so insistent, so urgent. I thought I’d die if I didn’t feel him inside me to heal that insistent, throbbing ache of emptiness in the core of me.
With one hand tugging at the hair I’d so carefully fixed and pinned at the back of my head after my jaunt outside to the parking lot, Cole used his free hand to find the fastening of my dress’s straps at the base of my spine. He tugged one of them, and the knot came free. The fabric loosened from my torso, and it only took the barest of urging from his fingertips to get my dress to slide down to my hips.
That’s when the backs of my knees hit the bed and I realized we’d moved deeper into the room. Cole’s warm hands wrapped around my waist, and he leaned back to get a better look at me.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasped. When his palm slid from my waist up to my chest, I closed my eyes at the possessive touch he used to shape the breasts I’d always worried were too small. “Look at you,” he said, and his thumb brushed my sensitive nipple. “Rosy and pink and perfect.”
It felt so good to touch and be touched like this—like nothing else in the world existed except exploring each other’s bodies. Like the universe had conspired to bring us together right now, just like this. How could it be a mistake when it felt so good?
Cole’s thumb brushed over my nipple once more, and a shiver of delight went through me. He must have been utterly focused on my reactions, because he immediately did it again. A moment later, he had my spine arched over his arm and my breast in his mouth. I gasped at the feel of his tongue against my pebbled nipple, my fingers digging into his thick, dark hair.
His answering moan sent pleasure tightening between my thighs. He plumped my breast and sucked it into his mouth, scraping his teeth over my sensitized flesh. I panted, clinging to him like a life raft in a storm. He held me with the same desperation.
Moving to the other breast, Cole let out a hot breath and said, “So fucking perfect,” before licking at my neglected nipple with a groan. Pure, white-hot lust forked through me, lighting all my nerve endings on fire. Derek had never paid any attention to my chest. My breasts had been too small to bother with, and I’d been too embarrassed to ask for what I wanted .
As soon as my ex entered my thoughts, a thin thread of rationality wove its way through my lust-addled mind. I didn’t want to stop this—I wasn’t sure I could stop this—but I didn’t want it to turn into a train wreck, either. Sex had always meant more than just an itch being scratched to me, but this was on another level. It was more intense than dalliances I’d had in the past, before Derek. I needed to make sure at least a part of me was protected from the aftermath.
“Cole,” I gasped.
He hummed against my skin.
“I’m not— Whatever happens here—” I closed my eyes as his teeth tugged at my nipple, then he soothed the hurt with his tongue. I wondered if I’d orgasm before he even had the chance to take my clothes off.
“Tell me,” he said, straightening. With one arm around my waist and the other running over my skin from my breast up to the side of my neck, I felt completely consumed by him. Trapped and protected and exactly where I wanted to be.
“I’m not ready for anything other than sex,” I said, my voice raw. “I don’t want to lead you on…”
His eyes flicked between mine. I didn’t know him well enough to read the emotion hidden in their depths. “Just this moment,” he said. “This doesn’t have to be anything more than that.” With his hand curled around the side of my neck, he let his thumb fall down across the front of my throat. He stroked me softly, eyes flicking between mine.
I nodded. “Okay. Good,” I said, even though something akin to disappointment settled over my skin like a fine mist. But how could I want more, when I’d just left a long-term relationship the day before? When I didn’t know this man at all? When I knew, down to my marrow, that whatever happened in this room would change me?
I wasn’t the kind of person who made rash decisions. Or at least, I’d never been the kind of person who did before.
This was different. This was the kind of chemistry that ignited and burned entire cities to the ground. It couldn’t be denied—and I didn’t want to deny it. I wanted to feel his hands on my skin. I wanted to kiss him and touch him and free myself of whatever shackles my ex had left behind. I wanted one encounter where I could forget about what I was supposed to do , and just be .
Pulling Cole’s shirt out from where it was still tucked in his pants, I pressed my lips to his chest. The touch of his palms down my sides sent desire spiraling through my core, and I shimmied to help him push my dress over the widest part of my hips. Silky peach fabric puddled at my feet, and then Cole’s fingers skimmed up my curves as he let out a low groan.
“You” he rasped, “were made to drive men insane.”
I pulled away to glance at his face. The reverence I saw there, the raw need, sent any regret or hesitation fleeing from my mind. This man wanted me in a way I’d never experienced before. His touch was gentle yet unyieldingly possessive, as if he was using his hands to memorize the shape of me.
It would only be once. It could only be once. I wasn’t ready for anything more, and I had the feeling that any time I spent in this man’s presence would put me at risk of total ruin. He was too magnetic. I wanted him too much. If this were anything more than a feverish, desire-fueled one-night stand, I’d fall for him.
I was weak, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew myself well enough to realize that Cole was exactly the worst kind of rebound after coming to my senses and leaving Derek. He was unbearably attractive. He had a hidden core that I suspected was kind and loyal. He was closed off and overbearing. I could already feel myself wanting to unpick the laces that tied him together so I could get at the real him.
That’s what had gotten me into trouble with my ex. I’d wanted to see the best in him. I wanted to be that special someone that really knew him, the real him, the version of himself he’d kept hidden in a broken box. I’d wanted to fix him—and by the time I figured out it was an impossible task, it’d felt like it was too late to walk away.
So I knew that I had a weakness for selfish men who seemed like they were better than they were. I’d only spent an hour with Cole, but I could spot the pattern from a mile away.
He’d never love me the way I wanted to be loved. He wouldn’t burn down the world for me. After today, he probably wouldn’t think of me again.
But if this was the only encounter I allowed myself to have with him, then I could limit the fallout. It was rare to feel this connection with someone, to have my body react so strongly without my mind reeling me back in. It was rare to feel so close to orgasm before even being touched below the belt.
Just one little fling—that’s all this was. It would clear my mind. It would feel so good.
I met Cole’s gaze, and I saw nothing but darkness and sin in the depths of his eyes. My thighs trembled, already slick with need. Gently but inexorably, he pushed me onto the mattress behind me and curled his body over mine.
I lost myself in his kiss. Cradling his hips between my bent knees, I stroked his tongue with mine and let my hands explore the hard, broad planes of his back and chest. When he kneeled on the floor at the edge of the bed, my heart began to thump. He stripped his shirt off completely, letting the black fabric fall to the ground next to my dress, and I sighed at the sight of him framed by my thighs.
Leaning on my elbows with my feet propped on the edge of the bed, I watched him watch me. I was utterly exposed, but I felt powerful. His palms slid under my thighs as he fit his shoulders between my knees, pressing them wider.
“Cole—”
“Don’t tell me I can’t eat your pussy, Carrie,” he interrupted, eyes flicking up to mine. “Don’t say that to me right now.”
“I…”
His gaze broke from mine and settled between my legs. With his hands wrapped around my hips, he stroked me softly and pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh. I fell back on the bed and curled an arm over my face, chest shuddering with every inhalation.
His lips moved closer to my center, and I began to wonder if one night would be enough. My body was untethered from the earth, wound so tight that I wondered if I’d come as soon as his lips touched my clit. As if he could sense my desperation, Cole slowed down. He kissed up one inner thigh, then the other. He used his thumbs to massage the crease between my thighs and core, inching ever closer to the slick heart of me. He had me trembling and whimpering, and I still hadn’t really been touched.
“You’re glistening,” he said as he used his thumbs to spread me wide. “So wet for me.”
Panting, I climbed back up to my elbows to watch him. My cheeks burned, but I loved the way he looked at me. It wasn’t embarrassment, exactly. It was the feeling of being completely exposed before this beautiful man, and seeing the reverence written on his face.
His thumb dipped to where my arousal had gathered at my opening, and I had to close my eyes. He slid the digit up to my bud, and his touch was too gentle and too intense all at once. I bucked as soon as he touched the bundle of nerves, and Cole rumbled his approval.
Yes—this had been a mistake. It would never just be one night for me. Whatever happened next would be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t be able to forget how good it felt to be the center of this man’s world, even for a moment.
He brought his lips to my core, and I forgot to be worried about the future. My existence narrowed to his lips on my flesh, his fingers spreading me open, the rasp of his stubble against my sensitive skin. I arched into the pleasure he delivered, panting his name as my fingers burrowed their way into his hair.
Better than the touch of his tongue, though, was the way he moaned at the taste of me. The clench of his hands against my skin, like he had to hold himself back. Like he was about to lose control.
I did that to him. I made him groan with pleasure as his tongue found my opening and dipped inside. I made him rock gently, as if his hips couldn’t help but simulate what he wanted to do next. This powerful, complicated man had been brought to desperation by me .
An orgasm swept through me, bright and hot, tightening muscles that hadn’t felt use in months. Distantly, as my consciousness floated a few feet above my body, I heard Cole’s growl of approval and felt the last few gentle touches of his tongue against my sensitive bud.
He lifted his head. I opened my eyes. Unspoken words hung between us for a long moment, both of us panting and reeling from what had just happened. My world had been shattered and reshaped. I wanted all of him.
Even dizzy as I was, I knew I couldn’t say that out loud. Instead, I went with the understatement of the millennium: “That was nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Very nice,” I amended.
His eyes were alight. “You’re a hard woman to please.”
“Maybe you should do it again so I can reassess.”
His grin was pure wickedness. “I’ll eat you out all night if you let me. Haven’t tasted anything that good in a long time.”
My heart skipped a whole handful of beats, then bucked and galloped as it restarted. Instead of responding, I sat up, wrapped my hand around the back of Cole’s neck, and tugged him toward me until our lips crashed together. I tasted myself on his mouth. It was illicit and thrilling, especially when his hands slid to my hips and tugged me so I sat on the very edge of the bed, knees pushed wide by the bulk of his body.
Reaching between us, I worked his belt loose. He stroked the skin of my outer thighs as he watched me undress him, the touch reminding me how much I loved the feel of his palms on my body. Then he stood to allow me to push his pants to the ground.
His cock was thick and heavy as I wrapped my palm around it. I’d brought the tip to my lips before I even had a chance to hesitate. The only encouragement I needed was the tortured groan that slipped through his lips as I opened my mouth and tasted him.
This act was never something I’d enjoyed with my ex—at least not in the later years of our relationship. It had felt like a chore. Like something that was expected of me.
But now, with Cole gathering my messy, half-undone hair in his palm while I wrapped both hands around his shaft and took him deeper in my mouth, it felt right. I wanted to hear his breaths turn jagged and rough as I worked him with lips and tongue and hands. I wanted to feel the soft tug and release of his hand clenching at the back of my head. It wasn’t degrading to feel like I could bring this man to his knees with a few bobs of my head, especially when he said my name in that tortured, urgent voice.
“Touch yourself,” Cole grated, and I pulled back to meet his gaze. Both my hands worked his cock as I looked up at him, then back at the focus of my attention. “Carrie,” he said, interrupting. “Touch yourself while you suck me off.”
My hand was between my legs before I could think to stop myself. Pleasure spun through me as all the inhibitions I’d lugged around for years fell away. For right now, for this moment, nothing mattered other than squeezing every little drop of bliss from the moment, because I knew that eventually it would end.
“You are so perfect,” he said, thumb stroking my jaw as I took him deep into my mouth. “Where did you come from?” His fingers stroked my throat as a harsh sigh blew through his lips. “God, I wish we had more time. The things I want to do to you…”
His voice sounded distant, as if he were talking to himself. It didn’t help my state of mind to hear my own thoughts reflected right back at me.
With more time, I’d lose myself in him. I’d open myself to him in every possible way. I’d do anything he wanted me to.
When Cole finally pulled away, I fell back onto my elbows and tried to catch my breath. Wiping the corner of my lips, I watched him watch me. I knew his irises were dark brown, but right now his eyes looked fully black.
“On the bed,” he commanded, nodding to the pillows. “Spread those legs for me, sweetheart.”
“Nice to see the bossy side of you wasn’t an act earlier,” I quipped—and did exactly what he said. I pulled out the few pins that were still tangled in my hair and fell back onto the plush pillows, then brought my knees up and after only a moment’s hesitation, I spread them slightly.
What was the use of being bashful when we would never see each other again? I wanted to be bad. I wanted to wring out every possible moment of pleasure. I wanted him to look at me like I was the only woman in the world. Wanted him to call me perfect and good and beautiful over and over again, because it felt so good to believe him.
Was it an artificial ego boost that I was indulging because I’d just been through a bad breakup and a terrifying morning? Probably.
But this connection was real, even if it only lasted until we went our separate ways. I was tired of overthinking my life, tired of trying to fit myself into what other people wanted.
Right now, I wanted the full weight and attention and focus of one man. He watched me with those dark eyes, his chest heaving with deep breaths, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body.
“Wider,” he told me, and who was I to resist? I let my knees fall open. All it took was for him to lick his lips and exhale in quiet, satisfied triumph for lust to wrap me in a tight fist.
Cole dug through his pants pocket and pulled out a condom from his wallet. The mattress dipped as he kneeled onto it, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth.
“You still want this?” he asked, rolling the condom on his shaft. His gaze lingered between my legs before moving up my body and to my face.
As his palm slid from my knee to my hip, I nodded. “Yes.”
“You want my cock?”
I arched a brow. “What, you want me to say it?”
That devilish smile curled his lips, and I think I fell a little bit in love with him right then and there. “That’s exactly what I want. I want you”—his hand slipped between my legs and he pushed a finger inside me without hesitation—“to tell me just how badly you want me to fuck you right now.”
I rolled my eyes, even though his words excited me and my body tried to buck into the delicious intrusion of his touch. Somehow, the tension that had thrummed between us in the parking lot had turned into a game. He liked it when I talked back—and I liked it when he did what he wanted with me. It was a push and pull that stoked the heat between us to a fever pitch.
“You’re such a typical man,” I told him, trying to sound unbothered but not quite able to keep the trembling from my voice. He worked another finger inside me and curled them just so. His eyes were on me, watching for every movement of my body, every micro expression I tried to hide. I arched a brow. “You just want me to beg and stroke your ego.”
He hummed, looking almost bored while his hand worked between my legs and made tension curl deep in the pit of my stomach. “I just want you to tell me the truth, sweetheart.”
“Mm-hmm.”
A quick flash of a smile told me I’d understood the game, and he worked his fingers deeper inside me before retreating. This time, I wasn’t able to hold back the gasp, nor was I able to stop my back from arching as I tried to chase his touch.
“Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“I’m starting to regret ever meeting you, you know that?” I asked as my hips rolled against his hand. Pleasure shattered through me, heat and tightness clenching across my abdomen. I was so close. Breathless, I ground myself against his hand as he grunted his approval .
He pulled back so his touch was the barest brush of a fingertip against aching, wet flesh. “I think that’s a lie, Carrie. I think this moment right here is the best thing that could have happened to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you’d think that.”
“Best thing that’s happened to me,” he noted, almost too quiet for me to hear. His fingers moved to my clit, circling just close enough to tease but not to satisfy. The frustration must have shown on my face, because Cole flashed me another smile. Before I knew what I was doing, I was grinning back at him.
Sex hadn’t been this fun in years. Truthfully, I’d forgotten that it could be fun. I’d forgotten that I could feel comfortable with a man to the point where he could tease and taunt, and I could do it right back.
It didn’t matter that we’d just met. It wasn’t important that we’d already agreed that our relationship wouldn’t go beyond this moment. In this room, in the shadow of the fading sun streaming through the sheer curtains, with all my worldly possessions piled high near the far wall, all that mattered was the bright, intense connection of our bodies and beings—for however long it would last.
His fingers were still torturing me with their barely-there touches, but I wasn’t ready to give in. The tension between us felt too good to stop, so I said, “What are you going to do if I never tell you what you want to hear?”
Yelping as he tugged me down off the pillows, I gasped as my wrists were pinned above my head. The full weight of him bore down on me and pressed me into the mattress, our chests brushing as he brought his lips to mine. His cock was notched between my thighs. He slid himself against me as he kissed me, deep and thorough.
I moaned as his hips ground against mine. His stubble abraded my lips and jaw as our kisses became desperate. Unable to tug my wrists away from his grip, I arched into his touch and squeezed his hips between my thighs.
His shaft slid against the outside of me, so far from where I wanted it.
“Tell me what you want, Carrie,” he crooned in my ear.
“You’re the most irritating man I’ve ever met,” I panted back. I glared at him as he pulled away, bucking against his hold as pleasure tightened the knot in the pit of my stomach. Clenching on emptiness, I refused to give in.
“That’s not it,” he said conversationally. “All you’ve got to do is say four little words. Repeat after me: I want your cock.”
“Fuck you very much,” I said instead, then moaned as he ground himself against me more deeply. And yes, I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel the stretch of him, wanted to wrap my legs around him and feel him shudder as he groaned my name.
But it felt too good to go toe-to-toe with him, to stoke the flames between us that much higher.
Shifting to trap both wrists in one palm, Cole reached between my legs and drove a finger inside me. I whimpered, wanting more but too stubborn to say it. His thumb worked my clit while he worked another finger inside, and tears gathered at the corners of my eyes.
It felt so good. Too good. It felt like the end of me, trapped here by a man who already felt like too big a part of my life .
My orgasm was a slow, undeniable flush. I gasped out his name and felt rather than heard the rumble of his answering praise.
“Love the look on your face when you come,” he told me, hand working between my legs. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, sweetheart. Have you squeeze me just like you’re squeezing my fingers. Feel you flutter on my shaft like the perfect, good girl you are.”
When Cole dipped down and kissed away the tear that escaped the corner of my eye, another wave of pleasure smashed into me, stronger than the first. My voice was raw when I cried out his name, when I finally broke and said, “I need you—need your cock. Please?—”
He was inside me to the hilt in the next second. The pleasure of it was so intense I could do nothing but cling to him as I let myself get carried away by it. At some point, Cole let go of my wrists. I would find out later that I left long red scratch marks down his back, but in the moment it felt like pure survival.
I heard him praise me. Heard him tell me how good I felt, how much he loved watching me come, how long he’d waited to feel something as good as me. I heard the raw, frantic tenor of his voice as he said my name. But all I could do was ride the moment out and hope I survived the aftermath.
I did—barely. And then I survived the way he took me from behind up against the shower wall an hour later, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as we both tried to ignore the ticking clock above our heads telling us that this would be over soon. I relished the feel of his arms around me, the way he clutched my chest as he drove himself inside me, the warm spill of his orgasm against my inner thigh. He slid one arm down between my legs to feel the slickness of his release against my skin, and we stood trembling under the spray for long, silent moments.
When I turned and leaned my forearms against his shoulders, he nudged my nose with his and pressed a too-tender kiss to my lips.
Too tender because I knew what he was telling me without having to utter a word.
He was saying goodbye.
We washed, dried, and dressed. I gulped as he buttoned his cuffs, feeling the words on the tip of my tongue. All I had to do was ask him for his phone number. This didn’t have to be the last time we saw each other. It didn’t have to be the end.
Dark eyes met mine, and I was once again struck by the fact that I didn’t know this man—not really. I couldn’t read his expression the way I wanted to. I didn’t know if he was inviting me to open the door to something more or simply trying to gauge if it was the right time to make his escape.
He closed the distance between us, brushed a thumb over my cheek, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
And maybe that tender touch was a gift, because it terrified me more than the intensity of the sex or the delight of our chemistry. If I spent any amount of time with this man, I’d fall for him.
And when I fell, I’d break.
I knew it, because that’s what had happened with Derek. As I’d driven away from our shared apartment, I’d vowed that I would take some time to get to know myself. That I would grow and learn and only give myself to a man if I was sure I could stand on my own feet—and if I was sure I wouldn’t end up worse off for loving him.
I couldn’t be sure of that with Cole, and for once, I had to choose myself.
He pulled away from me, and this time I could see the softness in his gaze. I almost cracked. Almost asked to see him again, even though I knew it would be bad for me.
Almost—but not quite.
“Cole,” I said, maybe just to have his name on my tongue one last time.
“Carrie,” he answered.
I smiled sadly, and understanding filled his gaze.
“Take care of yourself,” he said.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Next time you attack someone, make sure they’re not carrying a weapon. I’d hate for you to get killed because I wasn’t there to save you.”
Clicking my tongue, I shoved him toward the door. “When I need to be saved, I’ll come running,” I promised.
His laugh was low and genuine, and he glanced at me one last time before pulling the door open. He parted his lips as if to say something, then gently shook his head, turned, and walked out of my hotel room—and out of my life.
The silence pressed against me until I heard the whirr of the elevator doors opening and closing, and I knew he was gone. Wrapped up in a fluffy white hotel robe, I glanced at the crumpled dress I’d managed to fling over a chair before our shower and wondered if it would be worse to skip the rest of the wedding, or go back downstairs looking as I did.
My purse buzzed, and I pulled out my phone to see a message from my cousin asking me where I’d gone. That was as good a sign as any, so I pulled my hair back into a slick bun, brushed on a bit of makeup so I’d look vaguely presentable, then slipped on my dress.
Before I even made it to the ballroom where the reception had devolved into a raucous party, I’d already decided that I wouldn’t tell anyone about what had just happened. It was my illicit little secret—a memory I’d keep locked away in my heart to remind me that life could be exciting and fun and thrilling, but that in the end, I could always choose myself.
I slapped a smile on my face, and with one last glance toward the lobby where I was sure I wouldn’t see Cole, I decided that that little interlude had been intense and fun, but it was over—and that was for the best.
As it turned out, I was wrong.
On both counts.