18. Riley
After Cole picksme up from the community center, the following week is a special kind of hell.
At this point, we’re both aware of this thing burning between us—it’s gotten too powerful to deny, and we have each separately admitted that we feel it.
But neither of us will do anything about it.
I’m definitely not allowed to do anything about it. Cole is my boss. It’s a good job, and if nothing else, I owe it to Archie to keep things professional.
And it is professional between us. But still, Cole isn’t as closed off as he was initially.
When he comes home from work, he talks to me. About Archie, but also about other things. About my education. About his firm. About my interest in painting, and the cyclically-changing suite of paintings that grace my easel.
I find myself looking forward to our conversations, which have an easy, relaxing flow to them, despite the ever-present tension. Most nights, once Archie has gone to bed, we will sit together in the kitchen or the den. He sips whiskey, and while I don’t trust myself enough to drink in front of him, I feel comfortable enough to draw, scratching out doodles on pieces of scrap paper.
Cole is a serious, stoic man who rarely smiles, but he’s still quite capable of making me laugh. He has a dry, deadpan sense of humor that I find charming.
Every once in a while, I even manage to make him laugh, which always fills me with a sense of accomplishment. Getting Cole to laugh is every bit as satisfying as acing an exam in school, and twice as challenging.
After we head upstairs each night, he disappears into his room and I into mine. More often than not, I find myself frustrated, wanting.
I try to sate the desire by touching myself to thoughts of him. I let my fingers run through my own folds, gentle and then faster, as I desperately chase the temporary wave of release that might take the edge off. I fall asleep that way, and wake up more frustrated than ever.
Once, I even attempt to get myself off with the detachable shower head, trying to imagine that the vibration and pressure is coming from his strong fingers.
The weekend comes around again. I only get every other weekend off, so technically, if Cole needs me to watch Archie, I’m on the clock. In the past, he’s usually given me most of the time for myself, save for a couple hours here and there where I watch Archie while he gets extra work done.
I go downstairs on Saturday morning at my usual time. I didn’t make plans for today, just in case Cole needs me for something. Sure enough, as I enter the kitchen, he looks up expectantly.
“Good morning,” he says.
I nod. “Same to you.”
Archie is already sitting at the counter, and I feel a little flash of embarrassment that the boy is awake earlier than me. He’s also visibly bursting with excitement, a wide grin dimpling his cheeks.
“I got invited to a party!” he says proudly, puffing out his chest.
“Oh, yeah?” I glance at Cole for confirmation.
Cole nods, almost smiling. “A birthday party for one of his classmates,” he says. “This afternoon.”
“Oh. Well, since I’m on the clock today, I’ll definitely take him,” I offer. “Where is it?”
“It’s at an amusement park,” Cole tells me, leaning against the counter and sipping his cup of coffee. Black and unsweetened, just the way he always takes it. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
He pauses for a moment, swirling the remains of the coffee in his mug. Then he adds, “I was planning on going myself. We can go together.”
That surprises me, though I try not to let it show on my face. Secretly, though, I’m pleased. An outing just like the petting zoo last weekend, where the three of us get the chance to enjoy our day together… with any luck, it will be just as pleasant.
* * *
Rather than call his driver,Cole takes us to Coney Island in his own car. It’s almost funny to see the sleek luxury model parked alongside all of the regular sedans and minivans in the parking lot.
The party group is assembled by the entrance to the park. Archie skips happily, swinging from my arm as we approach; I let go of his hand, and he runs forward to greet his friend, the birthday boy, a small child with cropped black curls.
Around the children are their parents. I recognize some of them from the concert at Archie’s pre-K, and from the petting zoo, though a few are new faces. None of them look particularly pleased to see us. Some of the moms have pinched expressions, like they just stepped in something foul.
Most of the displeased, judgmental expressions are directed my way, and I know exactly what they’re thinking: that I’m overstepping my place. That I’m acting like more than just a nanny.
I stare at the ground, avoiding their stares. I want to pretend that it doesn’t bother me, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in my chest.
A park official comes to escort the party group through the front gates, and once we’re in, the nerves that seized me settle a little bit. The kids go running off in all directions, leaving the parents with more pressing things to fuss over than my standing with Cole.
The party chaperones manage to get the children together again, telling them firmly that we are going to move through the park together as a group to make sure no one gets lost. It’s up to the birthday boy where we’re going first.
The child deliberates for a long moment before declaring that he wants to play carnival games, and the whole group moves in a herd toward the striped, multicolored tents.
The kids crowd around to watch as the birthday boy plays the ring toss. A watchful group of parents encircles them, making sure that they stick together.
Cole and I keep an eye on Archie as he takes his turn playing the game. We groan with him in commiserate disappointment when all five of his plastic rings bounce off of the bottles, but his head doesn’t stay down for long—another kid is about to give it a try, and he hurries back to watch.
After a little while, I feel a gentle touch on my upper arm.
I turn in surprise to face Cole. There’s a mischievous glint in his eye. He smirks at me and jerks his head to the side.
“We could probably slip away for a moment,” he says quietly. “I saw a few other parents head off to get food—they just got back, and they’re keeping an eye on Archie and the others. Do you want to take a ride on the Ferris wheel?”
I glance in the direction he indicated, and sure enough, a candy-colored Ferris wheel looms over us, lights flashing as it turns. I look back at Archie, who is engrossed in the ring toss game, and around at the other parents, keeping a careful eye on all of the children.
“Sure,” I decide. “Why not?”
I follow Cole away from the cluster of parents and kids. Around us, the air is thick with the smell of funnel cake and hot pretzels. Kids rush past us, yelling in delight, and couples wander after them with hands linked.
The line for the Ferris wheel is short, and it takes only a few minutes for Cole and me to reach the front. The ride attendant pauses the wheel so that we can climb into our car. Cole pauses outside of the entrance, gesturing.
“After you,” he says.
I climb into the Ferris wheel car and take my seat. Cole sits beside me, and the ride operator starts the wheel turning again. The ground begins to fall away from us as we cruise upward toward the sky. The lights and tent-tops of the carnival area look distant from up here.
I let out an involuntary, breathy laugh. I’m nervous, and not just because of the height. It just occurred to me that any of the moms paying attention will have noticed that I disappeared with Cole; how must that look to them?
“Something wrong?” Cole raises an eyebrow at me.
“No,” I assure him. I hesitate for a moment, then add impulsively, “Just thinking about how this must look.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been getting some looks from the other parents,” I admit, wanting him to be aware of it—if this is going to be a problem, I want him to have some warning. “They probably think I’m sleeping with you.”
I can feel his gaze on me. “Their opinion doesn’t matter to me,” he says. “Does it matter to you?”
I shake my head, realizing suddenly that it doesn’t. I worried mostly about how this would reflect on him, but aside from a mild annoyance, the opinions of these women couldn’t be less important.
“And besides,” he adds, sitting back and looking out over the amusement park. “You’re not, are you?”
Something in his tone makes me fidget in my seat. The air suddenly feels ten degrees hotter.
His voice is low when he speaks again. “You’re not sleeping with me. I’ve imagined it, a thousand different ways, but I’ve never fucked you.”
I draw a breath, closing my legs. My heart pounds in my temples. I swallow and whisper, “I’ve imagined it too.”
His gaze slides back to me, his eyes blazing with heat. “What kinds of things do you imagine?”
His hands on my wrists, his thumb against my hip as he pounds into me. His voice in my ear, his breath hot on my neck—
A shudder goes down my spine.
“I probably shouldn’t say,” I tell him, trying to brush off his question. I’m being good. I’m not crossing that line, even though I really, really want to.
There’s a jolt as the Ferris wheel stops. I glance around, realizing that we’re at the top; the cars to either side of ours are slightly lower.
“You know,” says Cole, his gaze innocently fixed on the horizon, “one of my fantasies is being stuck with you at the top of a Ferris wheel, and making you come with my fingers.”
My breath catches in my throat.
He continues, his voice low, dirty, filthy. “I’d get close to you, like this…” He slides to the side, closing the space between us so that his arm brushes mine. “And I’d slide a hand up your skirt to touch you.”
Sure enough, his hand moves up my thigh, his fingers soft and electric against my skin as he teases me.
“If you don’t want this,” he murmurs, managing to make even that sound hot as hell, “tell me to stop now. Because I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
I open my mouth, aware of what he’s asking me—aware that, if I want to preserve the professional boundaries we’ve both tried so hard to maintain, I probably should tell him to stop. I probably should draw a line in the sand, bear with the awkwardness, and put an end to this.
But I can’t.
I can’t tell him that I don’t want it. It wouldn’t be true. It could never be true.
So I say nothing. A hard look comes over his face, and his hand moves up higher. A finger dips inside my panties, and a quiet groan escapes him.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs, his voice strained as if driven to desperation. “Is this for me?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my heart hammering against my ribs as I squirm a little on the seat. “It is.”
“Jesus,” he rasps. “So fucking wet, just from hearing me talk about what I’d do to you. You’re killing me.”
I whimper as his exploration becomes more focused, his fingers slipping through my folds easily and finding my clit. I want to be subtle—I can’t imagine how mortifying it would be if someone heard me moan—but his touch feels so good, every bit as good as I imagined it would.
And the thought of other people hearing me? Well, I have to admit that that turns me on even more. Wondering whether the people ahead of us and behind hear me moan, whether they can start to guess what’s happening here.
As if he can read my mind, Cole whispers, “Look at you. Fuck, you look so good like this.”
“It feels…” My breath hitches. “It feels so good.”
“Yeah? Are you gonna come for me?”
I wouldn’t have thought it would be possible for me to be so close to the edge already, but I am. I’ve been holding back my attraction to this man for so long that now that he’s finally touching me, it’s like all the restrained arousal is finally flooding my veins.
“Yes,” I whimper. “Just… don’t stop.”
“Can’t.” His voice is clipped and hard, like he’s having as hard a time as I am keeping it together. “Won’t. I need to feel you fall apart on my fingers. Fuck, I need it. Goddamn. Look down, Riley. No one on the ground knows what’s happening up here. They don’t know what a dirty girl you are, do they?”
My throat works as I swallow, my clit throbbing hard. I’ve never had a guy talk to me this way, with such gravel in his voice. My body is reacting to his words as if they’re a second set of hands on my skin, turning me on just as much as his touch.
“You’re so wet,” he repeats in a rough voice, his index finger sliding past my entrance. I gasp at the sensation, my hips jerking, searching for more. “So wet for me. You needed this, didn’t you? Did you need it just as badly as I did? Christ, I’ve been going fucking crazy.”
I barely stifle a needy moan, unable to keep myself completely quiet any longer.
Cole shakes his head. His gaze is hard, his eyes locked on mine. “You need to stay quiet. Can you do that for me? I can’t make you come unless you promise to be quiet.”
“I can…” I bite back another noise, then nod. “I can be quiet. Please, Cole. Please.”
“Good girl.”
He adds a second finger, pumping both steadily in and out of me.
“You feel so good,” he grits out, his voice so low it’s hard to hear him. “Fuck.”
There’s a tremor through the car as the Ferris wheel begins to turn again. Cole doesn’t even hesitate for a moment. He continues to fuck me with his fingers, pushing me closer and closer. I can feel the pleasure building in my core.
Pleasure—and nerves. What if we get caught? When this thing gets closer to the ground, is someone going to see him with his fingers inside me?
If Cole shares the same uncertainty, he doesn’t show it. He sets a ruthless pace, his jaw set in determination. I look down and can see the outline of his hard-on through his pants.
“Come for me, Riley,” he demands. “I want to feel you soak my fingers. Let go, before we have to stop. Fucking come for me.”
He presses his fingers deeper as he speaks, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit. And that’s all it takes. I come hard, my legs clamping around his hand. I try to be subtle, my lips pressed together to keep myself from moaning, but I know he can tell from the shudder in my body, the way my walls clench on his fingers.
“So fucking beautiful,” Cole murmurs. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so well.”
I look over at him, and he smiles fleetingly, darkly. His fingers withdraw from my pussy, and as he sits back in his seat, his tongue snakes over his knuckles, subtly savoring my taste.
Immediately, I’m turned on all over again. The sight of him licking his fingers is so hot I think I might combust, and I want him to keep going, to take me somewhere I can’t come back from.
But we don’t have time for that. We’re no longer hidden from view high up on the Ferris wheel, and less than three minutes later, the ride is over.
The Ferris wheel comes to a stop, and the ride attendant ushers us out of the car. Dazed, my legs shaking, I follow Cole as he strides confidently back to the group of parents. He has his head high and his shoulders relaxed, as if nothing even happened, but I can see the blaze of satisfaction in his expression.
“Did you ride the Ferris wheel?” one of the friendlier moms asks me as I approach. “You must not be an amusement park person, huh?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Your legs are pretty wobbly, and that’s the slowest ride there is.” She laughs. “Are you up for the carousel, or is that a little too much for you?”
I force a weak chuckle. “I think it must have been the height.”
The rest of the party passes in a dizzying blur. Cole and I follow Archie around as he excitedly lines up for different rides. He’s not tall enough for a lot of the bigger rides, but there’s enough for him to do that he doesn’t stay disappointed for long.
I stay on the ground when he goes on the kiddie rollercoaster, keeping up the charade that I’m afraid of heights, but I join him on the carousel.
All I can think about, the entire time, is Cole.
I’m hyperaware of him, of his proximity to me. My panties are soaked, so much so that I’m worried it’ll become noticeable to others. My entire body is humming with the aftereffects of my orgasm.
I came so hard on the Ferris wheel that my knees were weak, and yet, I’m desperate for more.
I can’t stop trying to catch Cole’s eye, hoping that he will look at me and I’ll see a flash of that hunger in his gaze. But he barely glances my way. All day, he acts like nothing happened at all.
Nobody knows what transpired on the Ferris wheel. Cole is calm, his demeanor normal; why would anyone suspect a thing?
For some reason, although I know that’s objectively a good thing, it still bothers me. Like part of me wishes they knew.
More importantly, I wish that we didn’t have to ignore this tension. My mind is racing, trying to decide what to do later on, after we get home.
On our way home, Archie chatters happily about the amusement park rides, telling us all about his favorites. Cole and I listen indulgently, asking him questions here and there. Away from the other parents, we’re still keeping up the charade.
Cole is good at pretending. So good, in fact, that I almost start to doubt myself. Maybe my sex dreams about him are starting to get too realistic; what if the entire thing, from the moment we stepped onto the Ferris wheel, was all in my head?
I help Cole make dinner for Archie. We dance around each other in the kitchen. He fries up burgers; I toss baby carrots in salt. We barely look at each other, each of us pouring our attention onto Archie instead.
As much as my thoughts are taken up by Cole, I’m still able to focus on Archie. I take the little boy upstairs after his dinner, getting him cleaned up and tucked into bed. He asks me for a story, and I indulge with a silly tale about his dinosaur going on a vacation.
Once Archie is asleep, I go straight to my room. I want nothing more than to go downstairs and find Cole, but I tell myself not to overstep. To be careful.
I pull out my phone, debating whether or not to text Olivia and get her take. I know exactly what she would say.
Go downstairs and find that man!
Following the advice that Olivia didn’t get the chance to give me, I swing my legs out of bed and start toward the door.
Then, halfway across the room, I freeze.
As much as I want to see him—I can’t.
After all, he might want to pretend that it never happened. That could be the reason why he’s been so buttoned-up, avoiding mention of what occurred. He might be regretting it. He might be—
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I creep toward it. When I open it, there he is.
Cole, his eyes full of the same heat from earlier. His muscles tensed, his expression focused.
Clearly, he doesn’t want to pretend.