25. Aurora #2
I shoot him a glare, but the words turn my stomach, because when I stormed out of my parents’ house, the only person I wanted to see was him. Not for sex or a distraction. Just… him.
Cole is starting to become a constant presence in my life, and I don’t like what that might mean. He’s not just the guy I sleep with. Not just the guy who gets under my skin or takes up too much room in my head. He’s becoming the person I want to be around for no reason at all.
And that feels dangerous.
“I could’ve gone anywhere else,” I say, lifting my chin a little because suddenly I feel like I need to prove that. To him. To myself.
He holds my gaze while the TV murmurs in the background, and all I can hear is my own pulse pounding, every part of me suddenly too aware of how close he is.
“Glad you didn’t,” he says, his fingers lifting to brush against my jaw, tilting my chin up with a touch so careful it knocks the breath right out of me. I go still. I’m not even sure I remember how to move.
He leans in until his forehead is almost touching mine, his breath warm against my cheek, and when his mouth grazes the side of my neck, a shiver runs straight down my spine.
My eyes slip shut when his thumb slides under the hem of my sweater, his fingers brushing lightly over my skin. It’s so different from how we usually are that it throws me for a second. He isn’t grabbing at me or rushing. This feels slower, softer.
I open my eyes when the room gets too quiet and find him watching me. His gaze drops to my mouth, and the look in his eyes makes my head spin a little. I wonder if he’s thinking about what it would feel like if we actually kissed, just like I am.
God, I never should’ve made that stupid rule. I really thought that if he didn’t kiss me, I could sleep with him and somehow stop it from turning into more.
So much for that, because here I am, wanting him to break the exact rule I made in the first place.
My stomach tightens when his fingers trickle down my stomach. The hair on my arms sticks up when he settles on the button of my jeans, his eyes flicking to mine, giving me time to stop this if I want to.
I don’t.
Not even a little.
He pops open the button, drags the zipper down, and I kick off my boots without taking my eyes off him. When he tugs my jeans down my legs, I lift my hips to help, then strip my sweater off.
I’m down to my underwear, and he’s standing right in front of me, shirtless and so annoyingly good-looking. Ink sprawls over hard muscle, and the gray sweats hanging low on his hips do absolutely nothing to hide how hard he is.
His gaze moves over me slowly, almost like he’s seeing every part of me and committing it to memory.
“Come here.” His hands slide to my ass, and then I’m off the couch.
My arms go around his neck and my legs lock around his waist as he lifts me. My fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck, and the breath that leaves him hits against my throat and sends heat rushing through me.
He carries me to his bed and lowers me onto the mattress, planting one hand beside my head, the other gripping my hip as his body settles over mine.
My eyes drift down the tattoos across his chest, dropping to his stomach, catching on the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of those gray sweatpants.
He lifts just enough to shove his sweats and boxers down, freeing his cock. I slide the straps of my bra down my arms before letting it fall, and the way his eyes drop to my chest makes heat sizzle low in my belly.
A rough breath leaves him. “Fuck, Aurora.”
His mouth drops to my chest, closing around my nipple, and a gasp slips out of me when he catches it with his teeth.
“Cole—” My voice catches on his name when he presses his lips against my skin, making his way down my body while his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties and drag them down my legs.
He leaves soft kisses on my hip, over the tattoo, making his way to the inside of my thighs. I let out a moan when he spreads my thighs wider with both hands and lowers his head.
“Oh god.” My head falls back into the pillow, my fingers twisting helplessly in the sheets as his tongue drags through me.
He groans against me, his tongue flicking at my clit, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure that has my legs trembling.
“I could live here,” he growls against me, the vibration of his words sending another jolt through my body. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”
His words nearly finish me on their own, the pleasure winding so tight I’m right on the edge—
And then he pulls away.
A wrecked sound rips out of me when I feel him lifting from between my thighs. “No,” I cry out. “No. Don’t stop.”
I glance up and find him at the edge of the bed, stroking his cock, breathing hard, his dark eyes pinned to mine. “I’m close,” he grits out, giving himself another stroke. “Need to be inside you.”
He leans over, reaches into the nightstand, tears open a condom with his teeth, and rolls it on before settling back between my legs.
I brace myself for him to flip me over and fuck me from behind like always. Instead, he lifts my leg higher against his hip and just… looks at me, his eyes drifting over my face.
I swallow hard, because there’s something soft in his eyes I don’t know what to do with. It’s too much and not enough. Too close. Too careful. Too unlike us.
My hand lifts before I can stop it, my fingers settling at the base of his skull He leans into it, his eyes fluttering, and his thumb brushes my cheek so gently it makes my heart ache.
And then his phone rings.
“Fuck,” he groans, his jaw tightening as he looks at the phone lighting up on his nightstand. One second his cock is pressed against me, and the next he’s stepping back and pulling his sweatpants back on, leaving me flushed and aching and cold.
I push up onto my elbows. “Wait—where are you going?”
“I have to take this,” he says, still looking at the screen as if whoever’s calling matters more than what we were just doing.
“Are you serious?” I spit out. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t even look at me when he says it. He just grabs his phone and starts walking away. He pauses when he reaches the bathroom door and glances back over his shoulder, his eyes moving over me where I’m sprawled across his bed, naked and exposed, humiliation crawling over my skin.
“Don’t touch yourself,” he says. “I want you to come on my cock.”
I open my mouth, ready to ask who the hell is calling, what could possibly be important enough to make him pull away from me now, with me naked on his bed and waiting for him, but he’s already disappearing into the bathroom before I can get a word out, the door closing behind him.
I drop back onto the bed, my heart pounding, my skin still burning, and my pussy aching with need. I strain to hear something—anything—that might tell me who’s on the other side of that door, but all I hear is the muffled sound of his voice through the bathroom wall.
If I didn’t know him as well as I do—if I hadn’t spent the last few months sleeping with him, learning the way he moves, the way he thinks—I’d think he had a girlfriend. It would explain a lot. Why we only see each other late at night, why he just pulled away from me to answer someone else’s call.
Except Cole doesn’t do girlfriends. He hooks up with girls until he gets bored, and then he’s done.
He’ll get bored of me too, eventually.
That thought’s been creeping around in the back of my head for weeks now. Every time we end up in bed, some part of me wonders if this is the last time before he finally gets bored and moves on.
But this girl—whoever’s on the other end of that call—must be special if he’s willing to leave me like this just to talk to her in private.
And I hate how my stomach churns at the thought.
My hand drifts over my stomach, and even that makes me flinch, my body lighting up.
God, I need him to come back. Need his hands on me again before I lose my mind.
I slide my hand lower, toward the ache that’s been driving me out of my mind, and when my fingers touch my clit, I let out a breathy sound.
Don’t touch yourself.
Cole’s voice cuts through my head so clearly it stops me cold, my hand hovering there as if he’s the one who grabbed my wrist.
I hate that my body listens to him.
I drop my hands to my sides with a groan and press my thighs together, but that only makes the ache worse.
“Screw this.”
I roll onto my stomach, and when I lower my hips, my clit rubs against the mattress and a bolt of pleasure shoots through me.
“Yes,” I whine, my breath hitching as I grind into the bed.
I do it again and again, but it’s not enough. I need more. Desperately.
With a frustrated groan, I reach out, grab his pillow, fold it in half to make it firmer, drag it between my legs, and as soon as my clit rubs against it, a helpless moan tears free.
I rock my hips, my body trembling as pleasure rushes through me. A rough moan is dragged out of me, and I pin my bottom lip between my teeth as I feel my orgasm climbing higher and higher and—
“Holy fuck.”
My heart nearly stops when I hear his voice.
I glance over my shoulder and swallow hard. Cole’s standing by the bathroom door, his eyes fixed on me where I’m grinding against his pillow.
He steps away from the door and the mattress dips behind me as he climbs onto the bed, his knees settling on either side of mine, his cock pressing into my ass.
“I told you not to touch yourself,” his teeth scraping my skin as he grabs my ass and squeezes hard.
“I didn’t,” I pant. “My hands were on the bed.”
He groans, flips me onto my back, yanks the pillow out from between my legs, and throws it aside.
“So grinding your wet little pussy on my pillow doesn’t count?”
I smirk up at him. “Didn’t use my hands. And you were busy, so…”
His fingers close around my chin and tip my face up, his eyes burning into me. He leans closer and I think he’s finally going to kiss me. I want him to. Want it so bad it hurts.
But he doesn’t.