Chapter 3
“You had sex.”
I looked up from the intake form I was filling out—Luna, a boxer mix with a missing eye and the sweetest disposition—to find Eli standing in the doorway of my office with his arms crossed and the expression of someone who’d just solved a murder.
“I did not have sex.”
“You’re glowing.”
“I’m sweaty. There’s a difference.”
“Autumn Marie Winters, I have known you for decades. I can tell the difference between ‘I just wrestled a Saint Bernard into a bath’ sweaty and ‘I got thoroughly dicked down’ glowing.”
“First, gross. Second, I didn’t sleep with him.”
“But you wanted to.”
Heat crept up my neck. “That’s none of your business.”
“HA!” Eli pointed at me like I’d just confessed to murder. “You wanted to. Oh my God. Tell me everything. Spare no details. I want a full report with timestamps and diagrams.”
“Get your own boyfriend and stop living through my love life.”
“I’m between boyfriends. This is all the entertainment I have.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Do you know how many guys on the apps have ‘gym, brunch, travel’ as their entire personality? It’s an epidemic. Your romantic chaos is way more interesting.”
“There’s nothing to tell. We had dinner. We talked. He kissed me goodnight. He walked me to my car.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“Liar.”
He wasn’t wrong. The kiss had been the thing romance novels tried to capture and failed because words couldn’t describe the way Cole’s mouth felt on mine, the way his body had pressed me against that wall, the way I’d felt desired for the first time in years.
“It was good,” I admitted.
“Good like ‘pleasant peck’ good or good like ‘I need to change my underwear’ good?”
“ELI.”
“What? I’m invested in your happiness. Also, your sex life. Mostly your sex life.”
I threw a pen at him. He dodged, cackling.
“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice going softer. “You like him.”
“I barely know him.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I sighed, setting down the intake form. Luna, the boxer mix, watched me with her one good eye, patient and calm despite whatever hell she’d been through before arriving here.
“Yeah,” I said. “I like him. Which is terrifying.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s leaving. He’s twenty-four, and I’m too old and too broken for someone like him.”
Eli sat on the edge of my desk, his expression fierce. “You’re thirty-four, not ancient. And broken? Autumn, you’re not broken. You survived a shitty marriage, built this place from nothing, and you save lives every single day. That’s not broken. That’s strong as hell.”
My throat tightened. “I don’t feel strong.”
“Nobody feels strong when they’re falling for someone. That’s the point. You’re vulnerable. It’s scary, but that’s okay.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Since when did you become wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You just never listen.” He stood, stretching. “Now. When are you seeing him again?”
“Tonight, maybe. After his show.”
“Are you going to the show?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“You should. Bring Brynn and Jess. Make it a thing.”
“Brynn’s working late on a case.”
“Then bring Jess. Or go alone. Be mysterious and hot.”
I snorted. “I don’t do mysterious.”
“You could learn.” He headed for the door, paused. “Autumn? Don’t sabotage this before it starts. You deserve good things. Even if they scare you.”
He left before I could respond.
Luna whined softly. I knelt beside her kennel, scratching behind her ears.
“Men are complicated,” I told her.
She licked my hand in agreement.
I didn’t go to the show.
I wanted to. I’d even gotten as far as changing clothes and putting on makeup before the panic set in.
What if I went, and he ignored me? What if I went, and he acknowledged me and everyone figured out we were…
whatever we were? What if seeing him perform made me want him more, and I was already barely holding it together?
I stayed home. Watched an episode of Hell’s Kitchen. Tried not to check my phone every thirty seconds.
My phone buzzed at 10:47 PM.
Cole: Show just ended. Where are you?
Autumn: Home.
Cole: You didn’t come.
Autumn: Didn’t want to be a distraction.
Cole: You’re always a distraction. That’s the point. Can I come over?
I stared at the text. My apartment was a disaster. I hadn’t vacuumed for a week. Dishes filled the sink. My bra was hanging on the bathroom doorknob.
Autumn: It’s almost 11.
Cole: So?
Autumn: Don’t you have to be somewhere?
Cole: Yeah. With you. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.
My heart did something stupid. I didn’t think I wanted him to be a gentleman. Eli’s words ran through my mind. You deserve good things. Even if they scare you.
Autumn: Okay.
Cole: Okay? Send me your address. I’ll be there soon.
I did. Then I flew around the apartment like a tornado, shoving dishes into the dishwasher, throwing the bra into a hamper, lighting a candle that smelled like “autumn leaves” and hoping it lived up to its name.
Twenty minutes later, a knock.
I opened the door.
Cole stood there in jeans and a t-shirt that said “STONE” across the chest, his hair damp like he’d just showered.
“Hi.” He flashed a coy smile.
“Hi.”
“You look beautiful.”
I was wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that said, “I WORK SO MY DOG CAN HAVE A BETTER LIFE.” But the way he looked at me made me believe him.
“Come in.”
He stepped inside and pulled me into his arms.
The kiss differed from the one last night. Hungrier. More certain. He walked me backward until my back hit the wall. Apparently, walls were becoming our theme. He kissed me as if he’d been thinking about it all day.
I had been thinking about it all day.
“Missed you,” he murmured against my mouth.
“You saw me last night.”
“Felt like forever.”
His hands slid under my sweatshirt, warm against my skin, and I gasped. He took a step back. “I should stop.”
“Please, don’t stop?” I grabbed his face, making him look at me. “I’ll tell you if I want to stop, but right now… I want you to touch me.”
Something blazed in his eyes. “Where?”
“Everywhere.”
He groaned, his head dropping onto my shoulder. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Dramatic.”
“I’m a musician. We’re naturally dramatic.” He kissed my neck, sucked on my earlobe, then whispered into my ear, “also, I’ve been thinking about touching you since the moment I first saw you. So if I seem a little intense, that’s why.”
“I can handle intense.”
“Promise?”
“Scout’s honor.”
He pulled back, grinning. “You weren’t a Scout either, were you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“I like rule-breakers.”
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak. His hands mapped my body—my waist, my hips, higher, thumbs brushing over my breasts.
I arched into the touch, desperate for more.
“Bedroom?” he asked.
“End of the hall.”
He swept me up like some kind of romance novel hero, and I yelped.
“I can walk!”
“I know, but this is more fun.”
He carried me down the hall, kicked open my bedroom door, and deposited me on the bed with surprising gentleness.
Then he stood there, backlit by the hallway light, and stared at me.
“What?” I whispered.
“Just… taking a minute. You’re so damn pretty.”
“I’m wearing dog-themed sleepwear.”
“And you’re pulling it off.” He tugged his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, and my brain short-circuited.
He was built like someone who’d grown up doing actual work… broad shoulders, defined arms, a stomach that suggested he’d met a gym once or twice but wasn’t obsessed. A tattoo curved over his left ribs, script I couldn’t quite read in the dim light.
“See something you like?” he asked, his voice teasing.
“I… yeah. Yes. Obviously.”
He crawled onto the bed, caging me in with his arms. “Good. Because I’m about to see a lot more of you, and I want you to know I’m going to appreciate every single inch.”
“That’s very… oh.”
He’d pushed up my sweatshirt, his mouth on my stomach, kissing a trail from my navel to my chest.
“You okay?” he murmured against my skin.
“Uh-huh.”
“Use your words, beautiful.”
“I’m good. Really good.”
He pulled my sweatshirt over my head, his eyes darkening when he saw the sports bra.
“This is incredibly hot.”
“It’s a sports bra.”
“It’s you.” He traced the edge with one finger. “Can I?”
“Please.”
He peeled it off, and for a moment I wanted to cover myself.
My breasts weren’t what they used to be.
Gravity and time had opinions. The stretch marks from my pregnancy—brief as it was—still lined my skin like faint silver rivers.
The extra weight I carried settled in places I wished it wouldn’t, but before my mind could spiral further, I saw his face.
Cole looked at me as if I were art.
“Perfection,” he whispered.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” He cupped one breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. “Don’t argue with me. I’ll just have to prove it.”
His mouth closed over my nipple, and I stopped thinking.
His tongue was doing things that should be illegal. I arched off the bed, my hands fisting in his hair, and he hummed in approval.
“You like that.” Not a question.
“Yes.”
He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention, while his hand slid down my stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of my yoga pants.
“Can I?”
“God, yes.”
He hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulled them down along with my underwear, and dropped them on the floor.
Then he sat back and looked at me.
I was completely, vulnerably naked. And he was staring at me like I was a goddess.
“You’re staring,” I said.
His hand traced down my thigh. “I’m memorizing. Every curve. Every mark. Every perfect imperfection.”
“That’s a line.”
He leaned down, kissed my hip bone. “It’s the truth. You’re gorgeous, Autumn. And I’m going to spend to prove it to you.” He kissed lower, his breath hot against my inner thigh.
“That’s… oh God.”
His mouth found me. Warm. Wet. Skilled in a way that suggested he’d done this before and paid attention to what worked. He licked up my center, and I nearly came off the bed.
“Sensitive and so wet.” He sounded pleased.
“It’s been…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. His tongue had found my clit, and my brain forgot how language worked.
He took his time. Explored. Learned what made me gasp, what made me writhe, what made me grab his hair and hold him there while I begged for more.
“Cole.” My voice cracked. “I’m—I’m close.”
“Good.” He slid two fingers inside me, curling them just right. “Let me feel it.”
The orgasm slammed into me like a freight train. I cried out, my body arching, every muscle tightening and releasing in waves that left me shaking.
Cole didn’t stop. He worked me through it, drawing it out until I was oversensitive and squirming.
“Too much.” I gasped.
He pulled back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with want. “You taste like heaven.”
“That’s—you can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He kissed my inner thigh, then my hip, working his way back up my body. “And I plan to say a lot more things that make you blush.”
He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his tongue.
I pushed him onto his back.
His eyes widened. Darkened with want.
“Autumn.”
“My turn.” My hands went to his belt.
He grabbed my wrists. Gently. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” I looked at him, this beautiful man who’d just given me an orgasm that rewired my brain. “I want to.”
I unbuckled his belt. The metal clinked in the quiet room.
Cole’s breathing changed. Faster. Shallower.
I popped the button on his jeans.
Lowered the zipper.
He lifted his hips so I could pull them down, and he stopped breathing entirely when I hooked my fingers in his boxer briefs.
“Autumn.” My name came out rough. Desperate. “You’re killing me.”
“Good.”
I pulled his boxer briefs down.
And forgot how to think.