Disappointment jabbed at Holly. Was he leaving Haven right when she was thinking of returning? Not that she really thought she would return. In fact, most likely she would not. But still. She wanted to know. “What will you do now?”
“What I intended in the first place,” he commented. “We’re already working on that. We bought a house a few miles away to convert to a bed-and-breakfast. With all three of us focused on making it a success, we hope it will be one of several ventures in the future. Three brothers, three operations—that’s the goal. But, of course, only after we master success with the first one.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she said sincerely. “And daring. Leaving behind an established business.”
“Like leaving a law career to write novels?” he inquired.
Her stomach twisted a little at that comparison. “Yes. Exactly. I just made the big leap recently, and apparently I have performance anxiety.” She laughed, but not with humor. “It’s scared me into writer’s block.”
His brows dipped. “If you were successful enough to write full-time, why be nervous now?”
It was a question that she’d explored over the past few days and had come to a conclusion, one she was surprisingly comfortable sharing with Cole. “It’s all I have now. The only source of income. I can’t fail. . . .” The vulnerability of starting that sentence and finishing it with the reality of her situation, twisted her in knots.
Cole pushed off the hearth then, and Holly’s heart raced as he moved closer. Cole knelt beside her, the coffee table and his body enclosing her against the couch. He reached out and brushed hair from her eyes, the barely there touch charging her with awareness.
“You won’t fail, Holly.” His expression filled with tenderness rather than lust, desire rather than demand. “You won’t. In fact, I won’t let you. How long are you here for?”
“A month.”
“How many pages a day do you have to write to get the book done?”
“Including time off for the holiday, twenty good pages.”
“How many have you written today?”
“Ten.”
“Were they good?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think they were.” Which was a miracle in and of itself.
He leaned closer, dipping his head, his breath a warm rush of tantalizing promise. She could almost taste his kiss, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. “You need ten more pages,” he repeated.
“Good pages,” she whispered, thinking more about his mouth than about the keyboard begging for her fingers.
His lips brushed hers and she shivered. “I want you, Holly,” he confessed, a moment before his tongue caressed past her teeth and drew her into a spellbinding kiss. She melted into the connection like warm chocolate near a hot flame. It was a long, sensuous kiss, a kiss of passion, a kiss of promise.
When he pulled back, Holly wanted to hold him, to tell him to keep going. But he framed her face with his big hands, held the control with that gentle touch, as he might hold a key.
“Ten more until I can do that again,” he murmured. “Ten pages until I strip every inch of your clothing off and feel you next to me. That’s torture, Holly.” He kissed her forehead. “So get to work before I explode into flames.” And then he was gone, pushing to his feet and leaving her feeling cold. The kind of cold no fire could warm. Only he could. Only Cole.
Holly watched as he settled those long, powerful legs behind his desk, and she drew a deep breath, her nostrils still alive with the fresh male scent of him. He flipped the desk light on and glanced her way. Their eyes connected, and they shared a smile. And then Holly went to work. Ready to finish those ten pages, to reach her career goals. Cole was right. She would not fail. Failure was not an option.
Holly had been punishing herself for not reaching page count, depriving herself of any form of pleasure, and it had paralyzed her. There was a lesson in all of this, no matter what happened with Cole. And thanks to Cole, she realized now that success and pleasure were best served in combination. She’d start with her part, the success, the page count. Then, move on to the part with him—the pleasure.
HOURS AFTER INITIATING THEIR WORK challenge, Cole sat back in his chair and watched Holly diligently typing, deep in concentration. The faces she made, smiling or frowning, were adorable, as if she were living out the scenes on her pages.
He wondered at how a trip to grab coffee and stretch his legs had turned into Holly being here with him. He didn’t invite women to his home, and he told himself he’d done so with Holly because she came with no strings attached; she wasn’t in town to stay. Come the end of the holiday season, she would be gone. He didn’t want or need the complications of a small-town romance, especially not when he was in the middle of a major life change in starting a new business.
But none of that explained why he felt so right sitting with her in front of the fireplace. Why the silence between them was comfortable rather than awkward. Why he could look at her for long spells of time without losing interest and it had nothing to do with the lust she’d stirred within him.
Lust that pulsed through his veins at rocket speed as she did a languid stretch before turning her attention on him. A barely there, shy smile tugged on her pretty pink mouth and told a silent story—in a mere two hours, she was done with her ten pages. And he was more than ready to offer her the reward.
As if confirming his observations, she pushed to her feet, her jeans cradling a lush ass the way, he vowed, his hips would be, sometime before this night was over. She crossed the room toward him, and he had no qualms about openly admiring the natural sway of her feminine curves as she sashayed toward him.
“All done, I take it?” he asked, leaning back in the leather desk chair, exploring the nuances of what made Holly, Holly—what made her so damn addictive.
“I am,” she confirmed, easing around the desk to perch beside him on the edge of the wooden surface. “But now that I’ve finished my ten pages, I have a confession to make.”
“Confession?” he inquired, his interest piqued.
“That’s right,” she said, sliding along the edge of the desk and scooting to sit directly in front of him.
Cole’s gaze slid over her legs and he contemplated the moment he would inch them apart and find his way inside her. “Tell me,” he urged, returning his attention to her face.
“I was afraid you’d be a distraction I couldn’t afford,” she admitted. “So when I went to The Tavern to meet you, I planned on one hot night, nothing more. No names. No tomorrows.”
“And now?”
“Your idea of work for reward has thus far proven to be far more motivational than it has been a distraction.” Her tone turned to teasing flirtation. “Of course, I have yet to find out if the reward is as good as the promise.”
Cole slid his chair closer, his hands settling on her knees. “I can assure you, Holly, that the reward will most definitely be worth the work.” His palms caressed a path up her legs, thumbs brushing her inner thighs to the fiery hot V of her body. She flushed and sucked in a tiny breath. Her responsiveness pleased him, and he’d barely gotten started. His hands tracked a path back to her knees. Slowly, he inched them apart.
“Are you ready for me?”
He reached down and tugged one of her boots off, setting her foot on his thigh. She had on pink polka-dot socks.
Holly laughed. “I didn’t plan on showing my socks to anyone today.”
Cole gave her a steamy look. “I can’t wait to see what other surprises you have for me.”
Cole discarded her other boot and set her foot on his thigh, his hands traveling down her calves as he pulled the socks off to reveal equally pink toenail polish. He smiled. She clearly liked pink. It fit her. A lovely, pink, passion flower yet to bloom. That was his job and he was going to enjoy every last minute of it.
“Anything else pink?” he questioned.
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she joked back.
&
nbsp; “Show me, Holly.”
Chapter Six
Show me, Holly.
Holly’s heart thundered in her ears as she replayed his words in her head. With any other man, she’d refuse to be completely naked and exposed, afraid of the vulnerability. But she trusted Cole, illogical as it might be since the man was a virtual stranger.
Nervous anticipation raged wildly within her, but not as severely as her desire for this man. She slid off the desk, bringing herself eye level with Cole’s rich brown stare—a connection that touched her inside and out. She didn’t remember ever looking into a man’s eyes and feeling the sensations Cole created inside her. She coveted this man—or at least her body did—yearned for him in a way that downright shook her to the core. His hands nestling beneath her sweater, resting on her bare skin, and warming her, offered incentive to move forward, to feel more of his touch.
Reaching to the hem of her top, she pulled it over her head and exposed her turquoise blue bra. The rawness of his male hunger sent a shiver of excitement through her that thundered to a powerful halt between her legs. The look on his face said he wanted her. Watching her undress turned him on.
Aroused, empowered by this knowledge, Holly unsnapped her jeans and slid the zipper down. Cole leaned back in his chair again, allowing her room to shimmy the denim over her hips. She left the panties on. They matched her bra.
“No pink,” she said, running her hands over the top of her bra, trying to forget reserve and simply act out her fantasies.
Powerful sensuality poured from his eyes as he leaned forward again and reached for her—positioning her between his legs, his hands shackling her hips.
“Take it off,” he urged, his voice low, husky, his expression drawn with lust and desire. “Take it all off.”
He clearly didn’t care about pink or blue at this point. Gone was the laughter of moments before, replaced by something darker, richly passionate. And it both aroused and frightened her. This was the part where she feared she couldn’t keep up, where she wouldn’t know what to do. Or she’d look stupid doing it. But she wanted more of this darker Cole. Much more. She decided she would grant his wish, yield to his demand, as one might jump off a cliff into a body of crystal clear water. To get to the destination, there could be no slow, thoughtful tumble over the edge.
Holly unhooked her bra, tossing it aside, freeing her breasts. Cole’s instant, ravishing inspection pebbled her nipples into tight balls. It was all she could do to stop herself from reaching up and touching them, to ease the throb of need. But she hesitated, suddenly back on the edge of that cliff again, her instinctive reserve something she couldn’t seem to let go of.
But Cole didn’t give the reserve time to take root. His hands settled on her hips, positioning her as she was before, between his strong thighs. His tongue quickly lapped at one sensitive nipple. Holly moaned with the sudden, unexpected pleasure, her hands sliding into his hair as he repeated the act on the other nipple.
He pressed her hands back to her breasts, melding the soft flesh with both of their hands. Then he spread her fingers, teased her nipples with his fingers and hers, before lowering his head. With her fingers still framing the stiff peaks, he licked and teased. It was an erotic sharing of her pleasure that had her dripping wet, her core clenching with desire, with unfulfilled need.
She reached for his shirt and tugged, shoving it up the wall of his muscular chest. He yanked it over his head and tossed it aside. His mouth lowered, slanting over hers in a hungry kiss.
Her fingers curled in the soft, dark hair of his chest, traveling along the solid muscle. She wanted to know what the rest of him was like. What they would feel like, skin against skin.
“I need you inside me,” she whispered hoarsely.
He pulled back for a flash of a moment, stared at her, searched her face. Then, with a low growl, Cole reached for the silk at her hips and dragged it down. Her hands settled on his powerful shoulders, steadying herself, as she kicked the panties aside. A moment later he lifted her back onto the desk, where he spread her legs and put one on each arm of his chair. Her hands settled against the wood behind her, thrusting her breasts high in the air. She was naked, on display—he was still partially clothed. She wanted him naked, wanted him on top of her, inside her. But his warm palms branded her thighs, easing upward as they had before she’d undressed, and she forgot everything but the moment.
Urgency built within her as he caressed a path higher and higher, until finally, she was rewarded with the sweet bliss of his thumb gently stroking her nub. Pleasure jolted her, her lashes heavy as his fingers stroked a path along the slick, wet folds of her core. Two long fingers slid inside her and stroked the inner wall of her body in just the right spot. Her core clenched with each stroke of his fingers, each flick of her clit. With expert hands, he had her on the edge already. She was pumping against his palm, his fingers—lost, so very lost. She was sprawled out naked on top of the desk and didn’t care. Her hips thrust against the expert manipulation of his hands. She could feel the edge of release curling inside her, almost taste the moment it would snap. She just needed one more stroke of those fingers in that exact spot. One more, one more. One . . . She shook with release, tumbled over, and jerked with the intensity. His fingers stroked her to completion, softer with each passing second. But she could still feel that deep thrum of need.
His hands scooped her back, pulled her to a sitting position. She knew when his mouth closed down on hers with a hard hunger that he’d sacrificed his pleasure for hers. Her palm curved around the hard bulge of his cock pressing against his jeans.
Breathlessly, she said, “This is what I want. You. You inside me. I can barely think I want that so badly.”
“Hey, Cole,” came a male voice from outside the front door, followed by knocking. “Open up, man.” Then another muffled male voice.
“Holy crap,” Cole said, grabbing his shirt and shoving it over Holly’s head. “That would be my brothers. Again.”
Holly scrambled to shove her arms into the sleeves, heart racing with panic. She crossed her arms in front of her body. “This can’t be happening.”
He laced his hands into her hair, brushed his lips over hers. “I’m sorry. I’ll get rid of them. Don’t run away like you did last time.”
She scoffed at that. “I didn’t run away. I—”
A fist beat on the door. “Cole, man. It’s cold. I’m going to use my key.”
“Wait, Jacob, damn it,” Cole yelled, staring back down at Holly. “Promise me you won’t bolt. I won’t let them inside. I promise. They mean well.”
“I understand what siblings can be like,” she said. “The joy . . . and the downright torture, which this is, by the way.” His eyes softened, lips lifting slightly a moment before he kissed her forehead. It was a sweet gesture, one that had that frightening, run-for-the-hills, can’t-get-enough-of-it relationship kind of feeling to it.
He turned toward the door, and Holly hugged herself, noting the stealthy male grace in his every step despite his quickened pace. It was beginning to look like she’d never find out what it was like to have that man fully to herself.
Cole grabbed his jacket and zipped the front before disappearing down the hall and then outside. The muffled conversation was loud enough for her to hear bits and pieces. Something about a Christmas tree. They’d brought him a tree!
Holly snagged her jeans and shoved her legs inside. Wiggled her hips to pull them on. The front door opened and shut, Cole appearing in the hallway alone.
She didn’t give him time to speak. “I heard,” she said. “They brought you a tree. I have to go. I’m hurrying.” She bent down to pick up her socks.
“They’re putting it in the garage,” he said, crossing the room.
Holly straightened as he reached her side. “No!” She pointed to the door. “Go get them. Tell them to bring it inside. I’m leaving.”
She bent down and grabbed her socks and sat down in the chair. Cole knelt beside her. “
Holly, I’m sorry about this. Abe ran into one of our mother’s close friends, and she talked a lot about Mom and how she would be worried about us. How she would roll over in her grave if she found out her boys hadn’t had a tree since she’d passed. So Abe rounded up Jacob and we now have a tree.”
Holly’s heart squeezed with that news and she touched his cheek. “I think the tree is a great thing,” she said. “And I wouldn’t dream of ruining that for you.” Even in her mode of panic, Holly could see this was part of Abe’s healing process.
“Then stay,” Cole insisted. “Help us decorate it. It needs a woman’s touch.”
Holly’s heart swelled. How had a wild night of fantasy sex turned into decorating a Christmas tree with his family? “I . . . I don’t know. I . . . What about your brothers?”
He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, peered at her with a plea in those chocolate brown eyes. “Stay, Holly. Help us decorate the tree, and then later”—he grinned—“I’ll wrap you up and put you under the tree.”
She laughed. “Wrap me in what?”
He wiggled an eyebrow. “Me.”
TWO HOURS LATER, LAUGHTER FOLLOWED Holly into Cole’s kitchen of shiny black-and-gray granite. Cole had gone for firewood while his brothers playfully argued over who deserved the honor of placing the topper on the tree. Smiling at the silliness of Cole’s brothers, she thought of her own siblings with longing. Another week, and Rachel, the middle sister, would be the first to arrive home. Rachel was now a big-time advertising executive in New York City, which felt worlds away from Texas. Holly couldn’t wait to give her a big hug and hear what was happening in her life.
Warmed by that thought, Holly filled her glass with ice and Coca-Cola and crossed to the door. But then she hesitated when she heard her name, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but finding it impossible not to.
“I like Holly,” Abe said. “Cole must, too, since he never brings his women home.”
Jacob snorted. “Holly’s going to go back to Houston. She’s safe. Not that Holly isn’t cool and all. I’m just saying. You know how Cole is.”