“So good,” she whimpers.
I angle my body for deeper thrusts, and press my thumb to her clit, applying more pressure.
“Cole,” she says, and then continues to call out my name, over and over again. Fuck, I love hearing it on her lips.
“You like that?” I ask, as every ounce of blood in my body rushes to the swollen shaft buried deep inside my sweet Nina.
“Yes, please…” she says, and I pump faster, maddening little thrusts that send us both to the edge and leave us hovering. Knowing it’s time to fall over, I pour everything into fucking her, and I’m rewarded when her muscles squeeze around my cock,
Her mo
uth opens but no words form, and when I see her desire, it’s all I can do to hang on. Her hot cum sears my cock, but it’s the gentle kiss she presses to my lips that sends me freefalling without a net.
“Nina,” I murmur, and bury my face in her neck. She rocks with me, her sexy moans stroking my dick harder as I let go. She gasps slightly as my cock pulses with each hard release.
“I feel you.” She runs her hands over me, the connection unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. “You feel so good.”
I still high inside her and breathe hard against her throat. Her hands move over me, her touch and exploration a little slower, a little softer. “Mmm,” she moans as she palms my muscles.
In no hurry to move, I remain inside her. The frightening thing is, I normally pull out and get out. Tonight though, I’m far too content to stay right where I am.
Needing to lighten things, I say, “Like what you feel?”
“Cole,” she says breathlessly, as I reluctantly slide out of her. Settling beside her, I look at her face, see no humor. No, what I see is warmth, a woman sated, my best friend’s sister, who has gotten under my skin for a long-ass time now.
“Nina.” I pull her to me, and our lips meet. We kiss deeply, the exchange sweet and intense—mind-blowing.
When we finally break apart, I push her hair from her forehead and look her over. As a million thoughts attack me at once, something inside me comes unhinged, the latch released from a gate, and I draw in a quick breath. Truthfully, I don’t remember kissing, or hate fucking, ever feeling so intimate before.
Jesus Christ, I was living a perfectly content life, one where I could keep my shit shut down, on lockdown behind a barricade where it belonged. But being with Nina is different, goddamn perfect, and that’s a big fucking problem for me.
7
Nina
Call it hate fucking, or call it desire mixed with rage. Heck, call it whatever you want. But never, not once in my life, have I felt so desired or wanted by anyone. The way Cole fought for his restraint so he could see to my needs first, well, that seriously told me how much he wanted me, hungered for me. Most guys barely spare me a glance, are always overlooking me, but last night, I had all of Cole’s attention, and I liked it, a lot. Too much, probably.
As a ridiculous thrill goes through me, I reach across the bed—and when I find it empty, I knife up, a chill going up my spine as every insecurity I’ve ever had comes crashing over me.
Why would he just up and leave in the middle of the night? Had he gotten what he wanted and walked away? Cripes just seconds ago I was living in bliss, now I’m second-guessing everything. And that’s crazy, because this is Cole, and even though he’d just given me the best sex of my life, I can’t forget that this is still just sex. Heck, he had a stack of condoms in his drawer. He’s good at this sex stuff, has a harem of women falling all over him, probably because he’s a master at pleasure and is working with some top-notch equipment.
So even though he’d put my needs first, it doesn’t really mean anything. And truthfully, I don’t want more. This is just about scratching an itch, and if he wants to sneak out under the cover of darkness, leaving me in his bed alone, then I shouldn’t have a problem with that.
Then why do I?
Goddammit, Nina, get it together. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you fall for this guy.
I think about calling Jess to come pick me up before I get myself into trouble here, but a noise in the adjoining bathroom gains my attention. I slip from the bed, grab the shirt Cole had been wearing earlier and tug it on. I breathe in his scent as I tiptoe across the floor. The sound comes again, and this time I recognize it. Cole is sick.
My heart races, panic welling up inside me.
“Cole,” I say as I try the door and find it open, guilt niggling at me for thinking the worst of him. But he’d teased and tormented me for so many years, it was a logical jump.
“Don’t come in. I’m sick,” he says on a groan.
I don’t normally like anyone around me when I’m sick either, but he has a concussion and needs my help. I slowly open the door, and when I see him on the floor, completely bereft and alone, my throat tightens. He’s dressed only in his boxers, and has a thin sheen of sweat on his body as he rests his head on the toilet bowl, looking spent and completely worn out. How long had he been in here?
“You should have woken me,” I say, and scramble to his side.