“Cole,” she panted, asking for that untouchable, unbelievable place that only orgasm could deliver.
“Easy, baby,” he murmured, brushing two fingers across her cleft before penetrating her, curving his fingers just right.
Holly arched into the feel of it, cried out when his lips and fingers worked together, worked her into a place of pure oblivion. There was no inhibition, no holding back the soft moans that floated heedlessly from her lips.
Tension tightened her stomach, her hips, the wave of pleasure rushing at her, release quivering around his fingers, into his mouth.
Any other time, with any other man, she’d have turned away, tried to hide her pleasure. But not with Cole. It didn’t matter that he was watching her, that he seemed to see straight to her soul. Not anymore. He made her crazy and she liked it. Maybe, she even loved it. Maybe she loved him.Chapter EightSeveral hours after the flipping, life-changing conversation he’d had with Holly in his kitchen, Cole was still shaking, scared in his boots as they exited the sheriff’s office, his arm protectively wrapped around her shoulders. But this was the best damned scared he’d ever felt in his life. A raw, share-everything-you-are, good and bad, as in total emotional and physical disclosure. It was flipping terrifying. And exhilarating. He didn’t care if he’d known Holly two weeks or twenty years, she was the “one” for him. He knew it down to the very core of his existence.
An icy gravel mixture crunched beneath Cole’s feet as they stopped next to Holly’s sensible rental car, and he pulled her into his arms. She’d told him she’d bought a BMW to celebrate her first, big, courtroom victory. He wanted to celebrate her next victory with her, and judging from what he’d read in the pages of her book, she was headed toward another one.
Holly slid her arms under his coat, her soft, warm body pressed close. Her cute, pointed chin tilted upward, her cheeks glowing rosy red from the wind. “Sounds like the sheriff is going to take care of Jacob’s little problem.”
Turned out the other kid had a petty theft and family violence record that made the sheriff none too happy about having him in town. He didn’t plan to allow him to stay. “I hope he gets on it before Jacob does it for him.”
Holly settled her hand over his heart. “Jacob has that cast. That should be a deterrent.”
Cole sniffed at that. “You’ve been around Jacob enough to know he’s not detoured by much.”
Reluctantly, she agreed. “That is true.”
“Did Sheriff Jack answer all of your questions for the book?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “Exactly what I needed to finish up this chapter that I’m working on.” She shifted the conversation, casting him a shy look. “I know I said I couldn’t come out tonight because my sister’s arriving, but can I change my mind? Come out late, after everyone’s in bed?”
Was she kidding? “Hell yes, you can change your mind,” he said as strands of her long, blond hair fluttered out from beneath her woven pink hat and tickled his chin. He slid his hand around her waist, brushing the curve of her hip. “You clearly don’t get it yet, Holly, but you will. You will. As far as I’m concerned, you belong in my bed. Tonight. Every night.”
She blushed, her lashes fluttering. “Cole.”
He slid a finger under her chin, leveled her in a steady gaze. “In case you didn’t catch on,” he said, “we had lunch in one of the most popular restaurants in the town and turned plenty of heads. I picked that place for a reason—to tell everyone, including you, especially you, this is the real deal.” He held his breath, not sure what to expect from her or how she would respond. “You’re it for me, baby. You’re mine. I don’t plan on letting you go.”
She bit her lip in a shy moment before turning to seductive play. “I like this possessive-caveman Cole Wiley. It makes me hot.” She pushed to her toes and nipped his lip. “Make sure you bring him to bed tonight.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. His hands caressed up her rib cage, and brushed the swell of her lush breasts. “He’ll be ready, willing, and waiting.” He patted her ass and reluctantly released her, yanking open her car door. “I better run before I miss my meeting.”
Her hands settled on the top of the door before she climbed inside. “Call me after you finish your survey. I want to talk to you about Christmas.”
His brows dipped. Was this the part where she shut him out? “What about it?”
“About us . . .” she hesitated, those pink cheeks smudged pinker, the adorable shyness returning. He loved the way she could be sexy, hot, and aggressive one minute, and prim and proper the next. “I was thinking,” she said, trying again. “Well. You know. Us together, for Christmas. Our families, maybe. If you think we might?”