Chapter 7 #2
“I don’t have time to talk. I have windows to paint.
” She threw a hand out, motioning to the one she’d been working on, and her breasts jiggled again, firing all sorts of dirty images through his head.
Piper naked, sitting on top of him, her full breasts swaying as she bounced on his cock. He tore his gaze from her chest.
She stared back, daggers shooting from her eyes. And for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, could barely remember what they’d been talking about to begin with.
Piper turned away from him, glancing across the road right as an older woman carrying a stack of cleaning supplies and dragging a vacuum cleaner behind her came out of the muffler shop there.
God, Cole remembered her from before he went to the police academy.
She’d been cleaning offices along Axle Alley for years.
Before he could move to help her, Piper was jogging across the street, grabbing the vacuum, and loading her stuff into her car. She smiled at the woman, touched her arm while she talked to her. His fucking gut twisted into a knot.
That was Piper in a nutshell. She’d always been one to help. So damn sweet.
He watched her wave good-bye then stride back toward him, her beautiful smile morphing to a scowl when her blue eyes locked on his. Shit. The urge to pull her into his arms near overwhelmed him.
“Right,” she said when she reached his side, not missing a beat, not acknowledging the kind thing she’d just done.
She never did. To Piper it was no big deal.
Going out of her way for others was just part of who she was.
“It seems we’re done here. I’ll try to keep my music down from now on.
I forgot how much older than me you are.
We don’t want you getting cranky from lack of sleep. ”
Jesus. “I’m twenty-nine, Piper, only five years older than you.”
She smirked. “Huh, seems like more.” She turned and picked up the paintbrush she’d dropped, plucking off the grass stuck to it. “Are we finished?”
He did not want to walk away; he wanted to grab her around the waist and take her inside, into her room with all its ruffles and girly shit, and fuck her on her bright pink duvet, kiss that sexy mouth, spread her soft thighs and sink deep inside her.
He wanted to make her his. Tell her how she was the only woman he wanted, would ever want.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’re finished.”
“Wonderful.” She climbed back onto her chair and, he noted, made no move to turn down the music, not that that had been the problem in the first place.
No, Piper was his problem, plain and simple.
Reluctantly he turned away, left her where she was, delectable ass on display for anyone who drove past to see, and walked back to his apartment.
Once inside, he tried to think of something else, anything else.
Tried to get her out of his head, but it was impossible.
He couldn’t forget the way she looked, the way she’d felt against him.
Images real and imagined filled his head, and his cock continued to throb so hard he fucking ached for her.
Pissed with himself but unable to stop, he went to the window, eyes locking on the pure temptation that was Piper West. Sweet, caring, and sexy as all hell.
He should be there with her. If things were different, if he could turn back the clock—he’d be Piper’s man.
He’d be there helping her paint the goddamn windows, and afterward, he’d carry her inside and wash her off, fuck her in their shower, make love to her in their bed.
Jesus. He’d lost his goddamn mind.
Growling, he gripped his erection through his jeans, squeezing to relieve the pain. It didn’t work, of course, not by a long shot.
Undoing the button, he yanked down the fly and released his engorged cock. Taking it in hand, he gripped the bench with the other so his legs didn’t buckle underneath him and tugged on his erection, hard, almost brutally.
He didn’t look away from Piper as he fucked his fist hard enough to force all the oxygen from his lungs.
Relentless pulls of his aching cock while he watched her paint her windows, ass swaying as she sang to her music.
And the whole time he imagined her mouth on his, the taste of her on his tongue.
How it would feel to have her hand, her mouth, her body gripping him.
The way she’d sound when she was close. Would her voice be soft and breathy or demanding and urgent?
When he sank deeper would she claw at his back, or would she wrap herself around him and hold him tight?
Would she beg for it harder, faster, deeper, before she shattered around him, tightening mercilessly around his cock?
“Ahhh…shit.”
He was a sick son of a bitch. Getting off watching a woman who could never be his, like a fucking Peeping Tom, but he couldn’t stop.
His cock had never been so hard, the ache never so all-consuming.
His balls drew up tight to his body, and he bucked into his fist. Reaching out, he grabbed one of the towels he’d left stacked on the kitchen table and came into it with a shout.
Long wrenching pulls that didn’t end until he was desperate for breath and could barely stay on his feet.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard, definitely not since before his accident. Only Piper did this to him.
But coming into a towel in your kitchen while spying on your best friend’s younger sister, that was a new low even for him.
All he felt now was hollow—and alone.
He yanked up his jeans and stumbled back several steps so he could rest his ass against the back of the couch. The disgust with himself over what he’d done hit hard, twisted in his stomach.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Moving here was a huge mistake.
Nothing good could come from him living next to her. It would only fuel his obsession for Piper. Because that’s what it was. He felt like he was hanging by his fingertips and was this close to letting go. It scared the shit out of him.
But what could he do? He was stuck. He owed Deke, and now that he realized how isolated she was here on the weekends and after work, he couldn’t leave her, even if he wanted to.
He also couldn’t have her. He had to ignore the flashes of heat he saw in her eyes when she looked at him.
A man like him didn’t deserve happiness.
How could he allow himself to be happy when Kate and Davey suffered every day because of what he’d done?
Kate had lost the love of her life. Their son had lost his father.
No, he didn’t deserve happiness.