32. Legal Troubles In Cozy Paradise #4
"Willa," he says, and my name sounds like a prayer.
"I'm here," I whisper. "I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere."
Something breaks in his expression—all that careful control crumbling like a dam giving way. His hand slides into my hair and then his mouth is on mine, desperate and hungry and tasting of redemption sought in the dark.
This kiss is nothing like the playful ones I've shared with Mavi.
This is drowning and breathing at the same time.
It's years of guilt and pain and loneliness pouring out, seeking solace in connection.
His lips move against mine like he's trying to memorize the shape of being saved, and I kiss him back just as fiercely, trying to show him he already is.
My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer. He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and the swing rocks with our movement. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him, tasting coffee and desperation and Cole—essentially, perfectly Cole.
He pulls me into his lap without breaking the kiss, my nightgown riding up as I straddle his thighs. His hands span my waist, holding me like I might evaporate if he loosens his grip. I nip at his lower lip and he makes a sound that's half growl, half plea, his hips rocking up slightly.
"Wanted this," he gasps between kisses. "Wanted you. Felt so guilty for wanting?—"
"No guilt," I manage, trailing kisses along his jaw. "Never guilt. Not for this."
His hands slide up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through thin fabric. I arch into the touch, shameless in my need, and?—
Luna's cry pierces the night, sharp and demanding.
We freeze, both breathing hard, bodies humming with interrupted desire. Cole's hands tighten on my waist briefly before he starts to lift me off his lap.
"I should?—"
"I got her!" Mavi's voice calls from inside. "Little star and I are going for a walk. Someone's got energy to burn."
We hear footsteps, the front door opening. Mavi appears with Luna bundled against his chest in her carrier, her cries already softening to hiccups. He takes in our position—me still in Cole's lap, both of us thoroughly disheveled—and his grin is wicked.
"Don't mind us," he says, adjusting Luna's blanket. "Just taking the princess to count stars. We'll be gone at least an hour. Maybe two." He winks. "House is all yours."
He's down the porch steps before either of us can respond, Luna's babbles fading as he heads toward the pasture. The night swallows them, leaving Cole and me alone with the sound of crickets and our own harsh breathing.
"He did that on purpose," I say, not moving from Cole's lap.
"Definitely." Cole's hands slide up my back, pulling me flush against him. "Question is, do we take the gift he's giving us?"
I answer by kissing him again, slower this time but no less intense. When we finally break apart, both of us are trembling.
"Inside?" he asks, voice rough with want.
"Inside," I agree, climbing off his lap on unsteady legs.
He stands, takes my hand, and leads me toward the door. Toward privacy. Toward whatever comes next in this second chance we're both so desperate to get right.
The swing continues its gentle rhythm behind us, marking time in the darkness, holding the secret of confessions and first kisses and the promise of more.
Cole's hand in mine feels like a lifeline as he leads me through the darkened house, our footsteps quick but quiet on the old wooden floors.
The air between us crackles with intention, with promises made by kisses on the porch swing. My nightgown whispers against my thighs with each step, and I'm hyperaware of every sensation—the warmth of his palm, the way his thumb strokes across my knuckles, the controlled tension in his shoulders.
We barely make it to my bedroom door before he's pressing me against the wall beside it, his mouth finding mine with renewed hunger.
This kiss is different from the desperate one outside—deeper, more certain, like he's made a decision and plans to follow through.
His hands frame my face, holding me like something precious while his body cages mine against the wall.
"Been wanting this," he murmurs against my lips, trailing kisses along my jaw. "Watching you build a life here, seeing you with Luna, the way you take care of us?—"
"You take care of me too," I interrupt, my hands sliding under his shirt to find warm skin and hard muscle. "All of you do."
He makes a rough sound, catching my wrists and pinning them above my head with one large hand.
The dominance of it should frighten me after Blake, but this is Cole—Cole who saved me, who built me a nest, who just bared his deepest wound on the porch.
I trust him with my body the same way I trusted him with my life.
"Let me," he says, using his free hand to trace the collar of my nightgown. "Let me take care of you properly."
I nod, words beyond me as he releases my wrists to lift me, carrying me the last few steps into my room.
The fairy lights are still on, casting everything in that warm golden glow.
He sets me down beside the bed, stepping back just enough to look at me, and the reverence in his expression makes my throat tight.
"You're so beautiful," he says, hands moving to the hem of my nightgown. "May I?"
"Please," I breathe, lifting my arms so he can pull the fabric over my head.
I'm bare underneath except for simple cotton panties, nothing special, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like a goddess.
His hands ghost over my skin, barely touching, mapping the geography of scars and softness.
When he brushes the faint marks on my wrists from the handcuffs, his jaw tightens.
"Never again," he promises, pressing kisses to each mark. "No one hurts you again."
"Cole," I whisper, overwhelmed by the tenderness.
He strips his own shirt off, revealing the firefighter's build I've admired from afar—broad shoulders, defined chest, a tattoo over his heart I've never seen before. It's a phoenix rising from flames, detailed and beautiful, and I trace it with trembling fingers.
"Got it after I left the department," he explains, voice rough. "Reminder that sometimes things have to burn down to be reborn."
I lean forward, pressing my lips to the inked skin, feeling his sharp intake of breath.
His hands tangle in my hair, not forcing, just holding, as I map his chest with kisses.
Each scar tells a story—this one from a ceiling collapse, that one from flying glass, all of them evidence of a man who runs toward danger to save others.
"Bed," he manages when I nip at his collarbone. "Need you on the bed."
We tumble onto the nest together, the pillows and blankets they arranged with such care cradling our bodies. Cole hovers over me, weight on his elbows, and the look in his eyes makes me understand why people write poetry.
"Tell me if anything—if you need me to stop?—"
"I need you not to stop," I interrupt, pulling him down for another kiss. "I need you. Just you."
He groans into my mouth, his control fraying at the edges. But even as passion takes over, he's careful with me, each touch a question I answer with arches and sighs. When his mouth finds my breast, I see stars. When his hand slides between my thighs, I forget my own name.
"So wet," he murmurs against my skin, fingers exploring with devastating skill. "So perfect. All for me?"
"All for you," I gasp, hips rocking against his hand. "Cole, please?—"
He takes his time anyway, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me beg. By the time he finally removes the last barriers between us, I'm trembling with need so acute it borders on pain. He pauses at my entrance, forehead pressed to mine, and we breathe together in the fairy light glow.
"You saved me too," he whispers, echoing his words from the porch. "Let me show you how much."
When he slides inside, it's with a reverence that brings tears to my eyes.
We move together slowly at first, learning each other's rhythms, building something that's more than physical.
His hands worship every inch they can reach while his mouth speaks praise against my skin—how good I feel, how perfect we fit, how he's never letting go.
The desperation builds gradually, inevitable as sunrise.
Our movements become urgent, chasing something that feels bigger than pleasure.
When I fall apart in his arms, it's with his name on my lips and the taste of redemption on my tongue.
He follows me over, my name a broken prayer as he buries his face in my neck.
We lie tangled afterward, both of us shaking with the intensity of what just happened. Cole pulls a blanket over us, tucking me against his chest where I can hear his heart still racing. His arms band around me like he's afraid I'll disappear if he loosens his grip.
"That was..." I trail off, not finding words big enough.
"Yeah," he agrees, pressing a kiss to my hair. "It was."
We're quiet for a while, just breathing together, letting the reality settle. Outside, I hear Mavi's voice in the distance, probably pointing out constellations to Luna. The normal sounds of our unconventional family carrying on while Cole and I have shifted something fundamental between us.
"The pack's going to fight for you," Cole says suddenly, his voice rumbling through his chest where my ear is pressed. "Whatever it takes, whatever it costs. We're going to make sure Blake never touches you or this ranch again."
"I don't want you to bankrupt yourselves for me," I protest weakly.
"Too bad." His arms tighten. "You're ours now. Pack. Family. That means your fights are our fights. Your enemies are our enemies." He pauses, then adds more softly, "Your victories are our victories too."
I prop myself up on an elbow to look at him. His gray eyes are serious in the fairy light, all that earlier vulnerability transformed into determination.
"I've already lost too much to fire," he continues, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I won't lose you too. None of us will."
"You won't," I promise, catching his hand and pressing it to my cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. This is my home now. You're my home."
Something shifts in his expression, wonder mixing with the determination. "Say that again."
"You're my home," I repeat, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "All of you. This place. This life we're building. Home."
He pulls me down for a kiss that's gentle and fierce all at once, sealing the promise between us. When we break apart, I settle back against his chest, tracing idle patterns on his skin.
My fingers find the phoenix tattoo again, following the lines of wings spread in flight. Rising from ashes. Being reborn. It feels like a metaphor for all of us—burned by our pasts but building something new from the ruins.
"We should get dressed," Cole says eventually, though he makes no move to release me. "Mavi will be back with Luna soon."
"Five more minutes," I bargain, burrowing closer.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. "Five more minutes," he agrees, pulling the blanket higher.
But we both know it's a lie. Five minutes or five hours or five years—it'll never be enough. Not when we've finally found what we've been looking for all along.
Safety. Home. Second chances that actually stick.
And a love strong enough to fight dragons for, even when the dragon wears an expensive suit and files legal briefs instead of breathing fire.
Especially then.