Unwrapping Holly: (10 page)

And when he settled the pulsing thickness of his arousal between her legs, she held her breath as she waited to finally feel him inside her. He teased her, gliding his thick, hard length back and forth along the slick wet heat of the V of her body, stroking her with sensation but denying her the reward of release.

With a nip of his teeth on her lips, he pulled back to capture her in a fiery stare that implored her to look at him as he entered her. Only when he seemed confident he had her attention, did he slide that sinfully hard cock past her sensitive flesh. He hesitated a moment, taunting them both with what was to come, and then thrust hard. Holly gasped as he sunk deep, a kaleidoscope of sensations exploding in her body, followed by a sigh of satisfaction. A sigh he swallowed with a kiss, his lips slanting over hers with tenderness that turned to wild need. Soon they were in a frenzied rush of lovemaking—primal, red-hot. They moved together, faster, rougher, ravenous.

Cole grabbed one of her legs and pulled it over his shoulder. Holly quickly aided him, sliding the other one over his shoulder as well. He leaned forward and pinched her nipples; her womb spasmed around his cock. Passion ripped across his features as he grabbed her legs for leverage and, raising up on his knees, thrust into her with newfound force. Each thrust shot pleasure through her body, and the sight of his sweat-glistened body straining as he thrust that thick, hard cock inside her was complete bliss.

“Yes,” she murmured as the build of pressure began; she gave in to the need to shut her eyes as she arched into him. She wanted more of that spot, to tell him so.
More
. More. Did she dare say it? It was something she’d never done before, but she needed this so damned bad. She needed . . . “Yes. Yes. Harder. Harder, Cole.”

He groaned and pushed her legs to her chest, curling her inward and thrusting fast and hard. The explosion of pleasure came fast, without warning, and a cry lodged in Holly’s throat. Cole pumped again and again, and then grunted with a hard lunge, sinking deep, and spilling his pleasure inside her. They clung to each other, riding out the last waves of release until slowly he eased her legs down and slid between them. They lay like that for long moments, his head buried in her neck, bodies melded together.

Minutes later, Cole rolled over and settled her under his arm, her head nestled on his chest. She felt remarkably content in a way she’d never felt with a man. A wonderful lover, a fire, a Christmas tree. What more could a girl desire?

Thinking of the tree reminded her of the tree topper. She’d fallen asleep without seeing it. She rolled onto her stomach to stare up at the tree. Cole immediately rolled to his side, wrapping his arm around her and nuzzling her neck and distracting her from the tree.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he murmured.

The endearment, though easily spoken by a man to a woman, felt intimate and special. “I wanted to see . . .” She blinked up at the tree topper. “It’s a ruby angel,” she whispered. What were the odds of a ruby wish
and
a ruby angel? How odd. She almost laughed, wondering if Grandma Reddy was up to mischief from above.

Cole rolled to his stomach and lifted onto his elbows to study the tree. “My parents bought that angel their first Christmas together, forty years ago.” His voice took on a distant, thoughtful tone—a mixture of happy and sad faded in and out of the words. “My mother was very romantic about it. She had to have that angel on the tree for luck. One year when I was a teen, I remember finding her crying in the attic. She thought it was lost. We tore the house apart.”

“Where was it?”

He chuckled and cut her a sideways look. “A hatbox in the closet where she’d put it so it would be safe.”

Holly smiled and stared up at the angel, thinking of the ruby Grandpa had given Grandma. Of the love both rubies represented. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Cole pulled her close, so they lay facing each other, heads on the pillows he’d brought for them. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she might have blushed, if not for the solemn quality she sensed in him.

She could see he was the pillar in his family. But even pillars had weak spots. She sensed that in his effort to appear strong for his brothers, he’d never properly faced his loss and dealt with his own sorrow. He was hurting.

She thought about her grandmother, but decided not to share her loss. Or even how her father had coped with losing his parents. She didn’t want to diminish the importance of Cole and his family.

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.

The 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.

Thus far, they’d kept their relationship, or whatever it was, under wraps. At first, that had been fine. But her feelings were changing, her desire for nothing more than a quick fling fading, replaced by a longing for something more that she could no longer ignore. And unless she was completely off base, he felt the same way. She just wished she could be sure.

Regardless, sooner or later, she had to tell Cole she was thinking of moving home.
Sooner,
she thought. Because she wasn’t going to be driven away by a love affair gone bad. But she also didn’t want him thinking she’d moved back to Haven in some kind of desperate stalker mode. Right. She had to tell him. Tell him now.

She drew a breath. Small talk to lead into the subject, she decided. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook,” Holly teased, peeking over the counter to admire his tight tush and biting her lip in appreciation.

He eyed her over his shoulder. “Scrambled eggs and bacon don’t count as cooking.”

“And if I said I scramble eggs about as well as I fix a car, what would you say?” she asked.

Cole chuckled and cast her another quick look. “I like takeout, and as for the car, that’s what brothers are for. In this case—Abe.”

“Your brothers might be a pain some days, but you’re lucky to have your siblings nearby,” Holly said. Being around Cole and his brothers had made her wish her siblings were closer. But now even moving back home wouldn’t make that happen, since the Reddy siblings had all left Haven. “And as for the cooking,” she added. “I do make a mean box of Kraft mac and cheese. Add a little Texas salsa and it’s gourmet, baby.”

Cole’s cell phone rang a moment before it vibrated across the countertop beside Holly. “Can you see if that’s Abe?” he asked, lifting the pan to pour the eggs onto a plate. She knew he didn’t want to miss the call. He’d been trying to reach Abe about some survey on the property they were buying; the meeting was being moved to later that day.

Holly’s chest tightened with the request. They were feeling like a couple. She’d never felt like a couple. Never wanted to be a couple. She grabbed the phone and scanned the screen. “It’s him,” she said.

“Can you answer it?” Smoke poured from the pan as he ran water over it. Bacon crackled on the stove with the need for attention. “Tell him to hold on.”

Another moment of surprise washed over her before she punched the answer button. “Hi, Abe,” she said, trying to sound cool and collected when she was wondering what judgment Abe would make about her answering Cole’s phone. “It’s Holly. Cole’s cooking and—”

“Wait a minute,” Abe said, his tone clipped. “Did you say that
my
brother—as in Cole Wiley—is cooking? What
the hell
are you doing to him, Holly?”

He sounded so serious, Holly faltered, unsure what to say. Before she could formulate a response, Cole cursed, and Holly’s gaze jerked in his direction. He was holding his hand where he’d burned it, his jaw clenched in obvious pain.

“Oh crap,” she said, followed by, “Hold on,” into the phone, as she jumped off the bar stool to go to Cole’s aid. Then to Cole, “Are you okay? How bad is it?”

“I’ll live,” he grumbled, turning on the water and shoving his hand under. “Burns like a bitch, though.”

Holly flipped the heat off the bacon, the phone still at her ear. “Abe?”

“I’m here,” he said. “And that’s what I was trying to tell you. Cole’s a menace in the kitchen,” he added, obviously overhearing the entire mess. “A downright danger. Always has been. Get him the hell out of there before he burns it down.”

Holly’s chest filled with barely contained laughter because it appeared so true, but now wasn’t the time to jest with Cole. Still, it was quite comical that with the steely tough exterior and firm resolve Cole radiated, a kitchen skillet had him grumbling in pain.

“I will,” she vowed to Abe. “I’ll get right on that.”

Cole surveyed his wound as she watched and, with a grimace, he shoved his hand back under the water. “Tell Abe the meeting is pushed back to four o’clock.”