Holly reached out and touched his cheek. “Healing takes time.”
His chest expanded with the words, as if he was surprised she understood what he was feeling. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it, thanking her without words. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, curling her next to his body. And Holly knew that at least for this one night, she was his pillar.Chapter SevenThe room was cold, the fire long ago having died, but he was warm. Cole woke to a soft feminine scent. He blinked awake, light spraying through a nearby window. Soft hair tickled his nose as he looked down at Holly curled to his side.
He waited for that feeling that usually came at this point. The one that expanded in his chest and told him it was time to say good-bye. But it didn’t come. He shook himself inwardly, reached for that familiar comfortable feeling, but instead found something else, something beyond comfortable, something that bordered on fulfillment.
Holly shivered and snuggled closer to him, the stiff peaks of her nipples brushing his chest as she lifted her head and stared up at him with sleepy sky blue eyes.
“I’m once again reminded that I’m not in Texas anymore.” Her teeth chattered. “I’m cold.”
And he was hard, his dick as stiff as a steel rod, and this wasn’t a case of morning wood. This was about Holly. About wanting her almost to the point of need. About how she seemed to fit him in every way and understand him—see through his barriers to his struggle over the loss of his parents. Hell. She even seemed to “get” his brothers.
A growing sense of peace formed in him, and he rolled her over, slid on top of her. “I’ll keep you warm,” he vowed as he felt her body melding to his in all the right places, her arms wrapping around his neck.
“You better,” she said. “Because you can’t be inviting a Texas girl into your home and freezing her to death. It’s not right.”
Texas girl. She was leaving. He felt a surprising jolt of discomfort that he didn’t like. He kissed her, preferring the sweet taste of her instant desire, rather than thoughts of her departure. Deciding he’d get over whatever he was feeling for Holly, he’d make sure he did. He’d keep her close, get his fill of her. Work her out of his system. Fuck her until he could fuck no more. Starting now, he decided. Cole slipped his hand between her thighs, caressed the silky heat of her lips, and entered her.
He pressed to the deepest recesses of her body, and Holly sighed in that sweet, satisfied way that reached inside him and twisted him inside out. Unexpected possessiveness flared within him with the fierceness of a wildfire. He never wanted her to make that sound for another man. The realization drew him up short, and he buried his face in her neck. A memory of his father talking about his courtship of their mother replayed in his head: When all the female wonders of the world fade in her presence, you’ll know she’s the one. Cole had laughed at that, certain that the many varieties of women would always be far more appealing than one woman. But then, he had never met Holly.
***
NEARLY TEN O’CLOCK ON SATURDAY morning, more than a week after Holly had helped decorate Cole’s tree, Holly sat at Cole’s island counter, computer in front of her, wearing only his T-shirt. Only a few feet away, despite the ultra-macho facade he presented to the rest of the world, Cole made an adorably sexy effort to cook breakfast. No cereal and Pop-Tarts today, he’d said.
“Damn,” he mumbled, displeased with something happening inside the skillet that he was tending. He wore blue plaid pajama bottoms that hugged his nice, tight backside in all the right places. He cut her a look over his shoulder, the flex of muscle rippling beneath a white tee. “Sorry, babe, but your over-easy eggs just became scrambled.”
“Even better,” she promised, smiling to herself. She loved everything about this man, she realized in that moment. It was insane. Crazy insane. She’d never loved all the little particulars about a man. But that was before Cole. The way he moved, the way he smiled that one-dimple smile. The way he hummed as he shaved and sang Garth Brooks in the shower. She knew these things because they’d become inseparable, with a few exceptions. Holly would lunch with her parents, then spend a few hours at the cottage writing.
Later, she’d meet Cole at his place for dinner and more writing, with a delicious reward to follow. His creative sexual expertise was quite remarkable, and despite her silent daily vow that this night would be the night she’d return home, she never did.