10. Chapter 10 A Kiss That Breaks the Rules
COLE
She doesn't tell me to leave.
Instead, she leans in. Hesitant at first, like she's testing whether I'll pull back. Then hungry, like she's been waiting for permission.
I don't give her time to second-guess it.
I take her mouth like I've been starving for it.
Because I have. Since the moment she climbed down that ladder with flour on her cheek and fire in her eyes, I've been fighting this pull.
Fighting the way my hands itch to touch her.
Fighting the way every smile she throws at me lands like a hook in my chest.
Not fighting anymore.
Her lips part under mine, soft and sweet, and I groan low in my throat. My hand finds her hip, fingers spreading wide over the curve there, and she shivers against my mouth. The sound goes straight through me.
She fists my shirt like she needs something solid to hold onto. Like I'm the only thing keeping her upright.
Good. Because she's the only thing keeping me sane right now.
I tilt her head back, deepening the kiss, tasting coffee and sugar and something that's just her. She melts into me, all those curves pressing against my chest, and my brain shorts out. All I can think is more. More of this. More of her.
Her hands slide up my chest, nails scraping lightly over my collarbone, and I bite back a curse.
"Cole," she breathes against my lips.
That's it. Just my name. But the way she says it, breathy and wrecked, makes me want to hear it a hundred more times. In every possible way.
I walk her backward until her shoulders hit the wall of my hallway. She doesn't complain. Just arches into me, one leg hitching slightly like she's trying to get closer. My hand slides from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her flush against me.
She makes this little noise in the back of her throat. Half whimper, half plea.
I'm gone.
My mouth moves to her jaw, her throat, the spot just below her ear that makes her shiver. She smells like vanilla and espresso, and I want to drown in it. I want to map every inch of her skin with my hands, my mouth, until I know exactly what makes her tremble.
Her fingers tug at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up, and reality slams into me.
Willa's face flashes in my mind.
Be nice. She's been through enough.
I freeze. My forehead drops to Suzanne's shoulder, and I'm breathing hard, trying to wrestle back some semblance of control.
Willa trusts me. She asked me to protect Suzanne, not take advantage of her when she's vulnerable and scared. And I swore to myself I'd keep my distance. That I'd be the guy who runs toward danger, not the guy who becomes it.
But Suzanne's hands are still fisted in my shirt, and her pulse hammers against my neck, and walking away from her feels like ripping off my own skin.
"Cole." Her voice is softer now. Uncertain.
I lift my head, force myself to meet her eyes. They're dark and glossy, lips kiss-swollen, and she looks at me like I'm the answer to something she hasn't figured out how to ask yet.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Once. Twice.
I don't have to look to know what it is. Another unknown number. Another threat. Another reminder that someone out there wants to hurt her, and I'm standing here thinking about how good she tastes.
"I can't." My voice comes out rough. Wrecked.
Her face falls. Just for a second, before she catches it and plasters on that bright, fake smile I'm starting to hate.
"Right. Yeah. Of course." She steps back, smoothing down her shirt like she can erase what just happened. "You've got work tomorrow. Early shift. I shouldn't have…"
"Don't." I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pretend you don't want this."
Her breath hitches. "I'm not pretending."
"Then don't smile like you're fine when you're not."
She closes her eyes. Leans into my palm like it's the only thing keeping her steady.
"I don't know how to do this," she whispers. "I don't know how to let someone... I don't know how to not be scared."
My chest tightens. "You don't have to figure it out tonight."
"What if I want to?"
"Suzanne."
"What if I'm tired of being careful?" Her eyes open, locking on mine. "What if I'm tired of running and hiding and pretending I'm okay when I'm not?"
I stroke my thumb over her cheek again. Slow. Gentle. Giving her time to pull away if she wants.
She doesn't.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her. "You hear me? I'm not him. I'm not going to hurt you and walk away."
"You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
Her laugh is shaky. Disbelieving. But there's hope in it too, buried under all that fear she's been carrying.
I lean in and press a soft kiss to her forehead. Then her temple. The corner of her mouth.
"You should get some sleep." I press a kiss to her skin. "Guest room's down the hall. Second door on the right."
"What about you?"
"I'll be on the couch."
"Cole…"
"I'll see you in the morning." I step back, hands dropping to my sides, because if I keep touching her, I'm not going to be able to stop. "Promise."
She nods. Bites her lip. Looks at me like she's memorizing my face.
Then she whispers, "I'm tired of being scared."
And pulls me back to her.
Her mouth finds mine again, and this kiss is different. Slower. Deeper. Like she's pouring everything she can't say into it.
My hands slide to her waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin where her shirt has ridden up. She whimpers into my mouth, and I swallow the sound.
"Suzanne," I rasp against her lips. "If we do this…"
"I know." She cups my face, her thumb brushing over my jaw. "I know what I'm doing, Cole. I want this. I want you."
Smokey's tail thumps against the floor from where he's sprawled near the couch, watching us like this is the most entertaining thing he's seen all week.
I glance at him. Back at Suzanne. At the way, she's looking at me like I'm something worth having.
And I make a choice.
I slide my arms under her thighs and lift her. She gasps, legs wrapping around my waist instinctively, and I carry her down the hall toward my bedroom.
Not the guest room.
Mine.
"Cole," she breathes, but there's no protest in it. Just need.
I kick the door shut behind us, and the click of the latch feels like crossing a line I can't uncross.
Good.
Because I don't want to go back.
I set her down on the edge of my bed, and she looks up at me with those wide eyes, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast. I step between her knees, framing her face with my hands.
"Last chance," I tell her. "You want me to stop, you say the word."
She shakes her head. "Don't stop."
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. My hands slide down her sides, feeling the dip of her waist, the line of her spine. She tugs at my shirt, and I pull back just long enough to yank it over my head.
Her eyes go wide, trailing over my chest, my shoulders, the scars I've collected over the years.
"You're staring," I tell her.
"You're worth staring at."
I huff a laugh and kiss her again. I've stopped trying to resist.
Her hands explore my chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle, and I groan into her mouth.
I ease her back onto the bed, following her down, caging her in with my arms. She arches up into me, and I can feel every inch of her pressed against me.
My mouth moves to her throat, her collarbone, the hollow at the base of her neck. Her fingers tighten in my hair. I take my time kissing and tasting, learning what makes her shiver.
I slide my hand under the hem of her shirt, palm flat against her ribs, and pause. Giving her time to tell me no.
She doesn't.
Instead, she sits up just enough to pull her shirt over her head, tossing it aside. And then she's there in front of me, warm and bare, and I forget how to breathe.
"Beautiful," I rasp, and her cheeks flush.
"Cole…"
I kiss her slowly, lowering her back down, my hand sliding up her side to cup her breast through the lace of her bra. She moans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my core.
I go slow, kissing every inch of exposed skin. Running my hands over her waist, her hips, the curve of her thigh. She's trembling under me, quiet cries escaping her lips, and I want to memorize every sound.
My hand slides between her legs, over the denim of her jeans, and she bucks up into my touch.
"Cole," she gasps. "Please."
I pop the button of her jeans, lower the zipper slowly, while watching her face the whole time. Her eyes are dark, her lips parted, and she nods when I hook my fingers into the waistband.
I slide them down her legs, tossing them aside, and then she's lying there in just her underwear, flushed, undone, and perfect.
I kiss her again, deep and slow, my hand sliding up her thigh. When my fingers brush over the lace between her legs, her hips jerk against my hand.
"Tell me what you want," I murmur against her lips.
"You," she breathes. "Just you."
I groan, pressing my palm against her, and she rocks into my hand. I can feel the heat of her through the lace, and it's driving me crazy.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down slowly, and she lifts her hips to help. And then there's nothing between us but air and want.
I kiss my way down her body, pausing to unhook her bra and toss it aside. My mouth finds her breast, tongue circling her nipple, and she arches up with a cry.
Her hips jerk against mine, fingers fisting in my hair. "Cole."
I move lower, kissing her stomach, her hip, the soft skin of her inner thigh. She's trembling now, her breathing ragged, and I look up at her.
"Still okay?"
"Yes," she whispers. "God, yes."
I settle between her legs, hands gripping her hips, and press a kiss to her center. She cries out, hips bucking, and I hold her steady.
I take my time. Tasting her. Learning what makes her shudder, what makes her moan. She's falling apart under my mouth, and I want to watch her shatter.
"Cole," she gasps, fingers tightening in my hair. "I can't."
"Let go." My hand tightens at her hip. "I've got you."
She does. She comes apart with my name on her lips, body arching, thighs trembling around my shoulders.
I kiss my way back up her body, gathering her close, and she's shaking in my arms.
"You okay?" I murmur against her temple.
She nods, breathless. "Better than okay."
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She reaches for the button of my jeans, but I catch her hand.
"Not tonight," I tell her.
She frowns. "But"...
"Tonight was about you." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "Feeling safe. Feeling good. That's all I need."
Her eyes go glossy, and she pulls me down into a kiss. Slow and sweet and full of something I'm not ready to name yet.
"Stay," she whispers against my lips.
"I'm not going anywhere."
I pull the blanket over us, and she curls into my side, head on my chest, hand over my heart. Smokey scratches at the door once, then gives up with a huff.
And for the first time in years, I let myself believe that maybe I deserve this.
Maybe I deserve her.