“Trust me. The offer still stands.”
Cole pushes my hair away from my face, tucks it behind my ears, and bends until I can feel his breath tickle the sensitive skin just below my earlobe. When his tongue flicks out, I shiver and arch my back off the bed.
Suddenly, there is too much fabric between us. I want to feel his hot skin against mine. I tug the bottom of his shirt and he seems to understand my silent signal because like me, he sits up in the dark and pulls his shirt above his head. Then he’s back, kissing my lips and rubbing his hands over the scratchy fabric of my jeans. He moves to my breasts, paying careful attention to them with his mouth and I grip his solid muscles, gasping for air like I can’t get enough oxygen. He picks up my hair from my neck and lets it fall forward over my shoulder.
Murmuring things that I can’t understand, Cole moves above me. He holds his weight on his arms and he looks at me like… well, like he’s not sure that I’m real. And, honestly, inside this moment I’m not sure that I am real. Slowly, he lifts my open palm to his mouth and kisses it. I smile, shiver, and wrap my arm around his shoulder to draw him down to me.
“You don’t just taste good… You smell good too. Like sunlight,” he whispers huskily against my neck, his free hand running over the swell of my hip to my thigh.
I groan, weave my fingers into the strands of his hair, and press my head back into the pillow. “I didn’t know sunlight had a smell,” I manage.
He laughs and my stomach tightens at the sound. “Neither did I. But that was before I met you.”
“Ahhh,” I murmur as skilled fingers graze up my leg to cup the inside of my thigh.
“Perfect,” he says. And then he’s at my feet, pulling my shoes off, sliding my jeans off my legs, trailing a line of soft kisses across my waist.
One finger. Two fingers. When his whole hand slips under my panties, I can’t help the needy sound that escapes from my mouth. My hands rake down the length of his muscular back to the rise of his butt. Then I’m fumbling with his pants, earnestly pushing them down over his hips with the soles of my feet, grabbing at his bare skin.
God. He’s unbelievable. Clothes don’t do his body justice and I wish that I could see him clearly right now, but then I think of the scar on my body and my pale skin and I’m glad for the dark.
“Aimee.” He clasps my face between his fingers and pulls me to his mouth. His tongue is hot, sliding into the crease of my lips. He skims my stomach with his hand and gently tugs my right nipple between his thumb and his finger.
“Oh my God.” I roll my head to the side and bite down my bottom lip.
Cole’s hand moves to my other breast and I think I might combust before we get to the main event. His mouth roams down my throat and the rough stubble around his jaw burns my skin but I don’t want him to stop. Ever.
“Don’t stop,” I say out loud.
Cole chuckles, pushes away and reaches to the floor beside the bed for his pants. I hear the tear of the condom wrapper and I close my eyes in anticipation.
“Aimee… you’re shaking,” he says quietly, his mouth back at my ear.
“Not in a bad way,” I whisper, guiding his hips so that our bodies are aligned. I am trembling, but it’s not from fear. It’s the opposite.
“Damn,” he moans into my neck. “You already feel so good. I…”
The weight of him is pressing into every part of me and I am so stirred and lightheaded that I think if it were possible to levitate, that’s what I would be doing right now.
I reach down with my hands. Cole sucks in a sharp breath and then he’s entering me, filling me from the inside out. I close my eyes and grip the bed sheets. There’s just so much to feel that I can’t—
“Aimee.” Cole’s soft voice snaps me out of my head. In the dark, he kisses my eyelids one at a time, then he pulls back and his eyes search mine. “Are you with me?”
I can barely lift my voice to a whisper. “I’m with you.”
Cole
I’ve never been a cuddler.
I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy and as soon as the condom’s off, I’m usually out the door. I know that makes me sound like a jackass but it’s the truth. Cuddling after sex is messy and hot and fucking uncomfortable. Who needs to put up with that shit? Not me.
Until now.
Apparently I’m becoming a cuddler because here I am, wrapped up in an Aimee Spencer blanket, and I swear that it will take a fucking natural disaster to get me out of this bed. Shit. Even then I’ll need some serious persuading.
I love this girl’s body. She’s slim with narrow hips and limbs that just keep going. Her tits are only a handful but that’s okay because I don’t need any more than that. Everything about her is warm and tight and even with her here—right underneath me—I can’t seem to stop fantasizing about her in every different position. I’ve just left her and it’s like I can’t wait to go back. That’s never happened to me before.