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.