Текст книги "Pocketful of Sand"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

EIGHTEEN

Eden

MY HEART IS slamming around in my chest like an eight-ounce pinball.  I can hardly breathe and memories assail me like demons in the air, running at me from every direction.  I tell myself over and over that it’s in the past, that he can’t hurt me anymore.  I tell myself that Cole is different.  But his words…they resonated within me.  Like a scream reverberating through an empty cave.  Through the hallway of time.

I don’t bother dressing.  I simply roll onto my side and curl up into the tightest ball that my body will make.  I close my eyes and concentrate on the heat of the flames.  I picture it like comforting hands, reaching out to gently touch my face. I picture them warming me, chasing away the cold, soothing away my fears.  And the darkness.  And the demons.

I don’t know how long I stay this way before I finally doze off.  An hour.  Three.  A week. A lifetime.

When I wake, it’s with a start. I’m flat on my stomach, face turned toward the dwindling fire, and my pulse is pounding.  As though someone spoke the future right into my ear to rouse me, I have the crystal clear realization that I just let something amazing slip through my fingers.  All because of something awful in my past.  How long can I let Ryan haunt me?  How long can I let him decide my future?  How long can I be a prisoner of yesterday?  And how many tomorrows will suffer because of it?

I think of my daughter, sleeping soundly in her bed. I think of her concerns of late, her fear that my happiness is her burden to bear. No child should feel that responsibility.  And certainly not a child who already has the weight of bad memories pressing on her thin shoulders.

Cole could be good.  Good for me, good for us.  I feel it. All the way down to my bones.  He’s broken, yes, but not twisted-broken.  Not like Ryan was. Not even broken like I am.  He’s the good kind of broken, the honorable kind of broken.

And I pushed him away because of fear.  Because I got out of the moment and into my own head. I let myself fall into the darkness, into the chasm where all the monsters lurk. And they chased away my one shot at normal, at happy.  At love, even.  Maybe.  At the very least the hope of love.

⌘⌘⌘⌘

The demons from my past haunt me.  Last night, they ran rampant through my dreams, turning them into nightmares that left me in a puddle of my own cold sweat.  They whispered to me from every corner today.  They’ve done that for years.  They tell me that I’m not normal, that I’m damaged goods and that no one will ever want me.  And, for the most part, I’ve believed them.

Until now.

Until Cole.

All day, I’ve watched for him.  I saw him inside the house across the street earlier and I’ve watched for him to come out.  He never did.  At dark, the lights came on inside and they’re still on now.

I move into the living room, away from the window.  Away from Cole.  But I don’t leave him behind. I bring him with me.  I dwell on him as I sit, staring into the fire that I’ve nursed since he built it.  Somehow I’ve equated it to what burns between us, as though if I let the fire die, so will the attraction.  The possibility. The hope.

The hope of Cole.

I’ve never been so drawn to another person. Never wanted someone this way.  And I do. God, how I want him!  Before he uttered those words, before he caged me with his arms, I was lost.  Ecstatically, euphorically lost.

But I let a monster ruin it.  A monster that now lives only within the confines of my head because he’s hundreds of miles away.  All I’ve ever wanted was to be normal, to be happy and healthy and whole, and part of me believes that I could be all of that with Cole.  That he’s the one who’s destined to drag me out of the past.  Only I don’t think he’s the type to drag me if I resist.  He stopped the instant he felt me resisting him last night.  And it hurt him. I could see it.  He was so kind about it, but I could see the confusion and the hurt.

What if that completely ruined it? What if he doesn’t want to try again? What if now he thinks I’m damaged goods and wants nothing to do with me?  What if I don’t get another chance? What if I’ve looked into his beautifully intense blue eyes for the last time?

I envision my life ahead as more of the same.  I love my daughter and I live for her, but this thing with Cole…feeling like a part of something else, one half of a whole…I never realized it could be this way.  That I could feel this way.

But that could be over. I could go the rest of my life and never feel this way again. Never get butterflies of excitement.  Never melt with a look.  Never burn with a touch. Never crave with such intensity.  All because I was afraid. I let someone who can’t hurt me anymore hurt me.  And he’ll keep on hurting me if I don’t get over this.

Now.

I look around me, at the way the fingers of light stretch into the dark shadows around the room.  Or is it the dark shadows encroaching on the light? It mimics the power struggle within me.  My past–black nothingness, lurking, stalking, mocking.  My present–warm, golden, promising.  Alive.

Without even stopping to think about what I’m doing, I shove my feet into boots, creep in to check on Emmy and then head straight for the door. I don’t even grab a coat. I just lurch out into the cold, snowy night and head for the street.

I clomp through the drifts, oblivious to the wind whipping at my hair and the flakes wetting my cheeks.  I have one thing in mind–Cole.  I need him.  I need him to come back. I need him to make me forget rather than remember. I need him to replace the ugly with the beautiful.

I march up the steps and knock on the door.  He might answer. He might not. But I’m not leaving until he does. Because I need him. And I think he needs me.

I jump when the door jerks open.  I wasn’t expecting such a rapid response.

For a few seconds, I’m struck speechless by the heat in his wildly blue eyes.  They’re the most amazing color, and the way they hold me…the way he looks at me…it’s like he’s touching me.  Through and through.

Cole shakes his hair back. He has great hair.  Sexy hair.  The longish locks lay like a hairdresser fixed them and then messed them up just the right amount.  The bangs hang nearly to his chin, effortlessly framing his gorgeous face.

My heart stutters in my chest when I take in his naked torso and his low-slung jeans.  Rather than taking the risk of saying something stupid, I just bend and grab the boots by the door and hand them to Cole.  I hold my breath as I wait. What if he’s not interested since I freaked out?  What if he starts asking me questions that I have no answers for?  What if this is all a huge mistake?

I bring myself up short.  There’s no turning back now.  There’s just not. Not for me.

Cole’s brow furrows, an expression that I’m learning to love.  I think for a second that he’s going to resist, or tell me to get lost, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wordlessly takes the boots from my hands and drops them on the porch.  My heart sinks for a second, thinking that’s as far as this is going to go, but then, with his eyes on mine, he steps into them.

Hesitantly, I reach for his hand and tug. My stomach flips over when his fingers curl around mine and he reaches back with his other hand to close the door behind him.

I waste no time crossing the street again. My determination is still at fever pitch, but now my nerves are kicking in and I’m jittery, which makes my steps even more hurried.

“Eden, what’s wrong?” Cole finally asks when we’re nearing my front door.

On the porch, I turn to face him.  I look up and up and up until I meet his fathomless midnight eyes.  “Last night I woke and you were gone,” I explain.  “It felt wrong. So wrong.  And today…”

Unmoving, he stands watching me, his big hand still gripping mine, his frown still firmly in place.  “I couldn’t sleep last night.  At all.  That’s why I’m working tonight,” he finally confesses.

My soul sighs in relief.  Maybe he can overlook my crazy. Maybe he can love me despite my issues.  Maybe he’s the one.  And maybe this is the first step.

And the second step is to get closer.  To him.  So I do.  I move in and don’t stop until my chest is brushing his. I rest my palms against his cool, flat stomach.  I feel the jerk of his muscles.  Then I feel the answering twitch of my own. “I need you, Cole,” I whisper.  “I need you to touch me again, to kiss me again.”  I hear his sharp intake of breath.  “I need you.  Please.”  I rise onto my toes to kiss his chin.

As gently as the wind tosses the falling snow into a swirl of white mist around us, Cole sweeps me off my feet.  Slowly, he carries me up the steps and inside.  He pauses only to kick off his boots, his eyes never once leaving mine.  They hold me as securely as his strong arms do.

When we are once more in front of the fire, mere inches from the exact place where we stood last night, he sets me on my feet. “I will love every inch of you until you tell me to stop,” he declares. It’s as much a sensual promise as it is a pledge that he won’t do a single thing that I’m not comfortable with.  What I don’t tell him, what I’ll show him instead, is that I won’t stop him this time.  I need this more than he does.

With his intense stare focused on me, Cole tips his head toward the hall.  “Emmy?” he asks.

“Asleep,” I answer.  “She sleeps like a rock.”

Cole reaches for my hands and brings my knuckles to his mouth. He drags his lips back and forth over them, a tiny grin teasing a dimple out of his cheek.  “We’ll be quiet anyway.”  Slowly, he stretches my arms above my head, curling his fingers in the hem of my shirt, the backs of his cool fingers brushing my belly.  “So. So. Quiet.”  He punctuates each word with a soft kiss to my lips before his hands begin to inch the material up my body.

He tugs my sweater over my head and then tosses it on the couch without looking. It’s like he’s as hesitant to take his eyes off me as I am to take my eyes off him.  This moment…it’s so fragile, it seems. I’m almost afraid to look away. To break the spell.  To forget even one second of it.  Of how he looks, how he feels.

Cole traces the lacy edge of my bra with his fingertip.  He follows it all the way to the strap and up to my shoulder.  Chills break out across my chest when he eases the strip down my arm until it hangs loosely at my elbow. I feel the cup of my bra slip down to my nipple and catch on the rigid peak.  I stand perfectly still, breathing as quietly and steadily as I can even though my insides are a quivering mess.

With excruciating deliberateness, he repeats the movement with the other side until my breasts are nearly bared to him.  Tantalizingly half-covered.

Still, Cole watches me as he leans closer, our eyes locked until he passes out of my vision. A fraction of a second later, I feel his lips at my ear.  “So beautiful,” he whispers, tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue as he teases my aching nipples with the backs of his fingers.

He brushes his lips and flicks his tongue along my jaw until he reaches my mouth.  He hovers at the edge of my lips, close enough to kiss me, yet not. He licks the corner and I open reflexively, hungry for the taste of him on my own tongue.  But he doesn’t come in. He must know what he’s doing to me, though, because I feel the huff of warm air and the light rumble of his laugh, followed by a soft, “Be patient.”

I close my eyes as Cole kisses his way down my throat, across my collarbone and then down to the swell of my breast.  I feel his warm breath.  I anticipate his touch, his firm touch, so much that it makes my hands tremble.

I arch my back the tiniest bit, a silent plea for him to take what I’m offering.  But still, he won’t.  He simply skims his open mouth back and forth over my throbbing nipples, taunting them with his moist breath.  Taunting but never taking.

I feel his hands move around my ribs, skating lightly over my skin as he goes. With a flick that’s as quick and soft as a butterfly kiss, his fingers unhook my bra.

When he straightens away from me, I feel it. I feel it in the loss of his body heat, in the loss of this crazy magnetism that’s between us.  And when he inhales, I feel it in the air, like his slow drawing of breath created a vacuum, a bubble where only he and I exist.

I open my eyes when the quiet becomes too still.  Cole’s gaze is trained on my chest, even as his hands come to the straps at my elbows, slowly dragging them down my arms, inch by excruciating inch. I have to bite my tongue to keep from moaning when my nipples pop free of the lace and Cole’s breath hisses through his teeth.  “Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, his pupils swelling as he drinks me in.  Truthfully, I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do right now, with his eyes blatantly loving what they see.

Cole lets my bra drop to the floor.  In slow, slow motion, he reaches for my breasts, cupping them, weighing them, feathering the peaks with the pads of his thumbs.  My nipples pucker prettily for him and he exhales on a breathy groan.  He closes his eyes for a second.  Time seems to stop.  But when he opens them again, they’re on mine, intense as ever.  Hotter than the fire behind me.

“Perfect,” he says softly, bending his head to swirl his tongue around my tingling flesh.

I let my head fall back, threading my fingers into his hair to hold him to me.  “That feels so good,” I murmur, squeezing my legs together, intensifying the delicious throb taking place between them.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” he says against me.  “Lush.  Round.  And your nipples…Jesus!  They fit perfectly in my mouth.  They beg for my tongue to lick.  My lips to suck.  For my teeth to bite.”  The last is said on something like a growl.  It reverberates through my chest and furls my nipples even tighter.  “Mmmm!” he mutters, scraping his teeth lightly over me and causing my insides to spasm.

How embarrassing would it be to have an orgasm at this point in the night?  How embarrassing, but how amazing.  No other person has ever brought me pleasure before. Just me.  Me and my imagination. Me and my fantasies of a man who might change everything.  A man like Cole.  And this time, in real life, I might not be able to stop my body from reacting.

Cole makes hungry sounds as he devours my breasts. I’m arched so deeply into him, it’s a wonder my whole breast isn’t in his mouth.  But I want it to be. I want him to consume me.  To eat me alive, leave nothing but the bones.

His fingers find their way to my waistband, effortlessly unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans as his mouth works to unravel me.  He drops to his knee in front of me, his tongue still flicking my left nipple as he drags my pants and panties down my legs.

When I feel them at my feet, I step out of them and kick them to the side.  The air circulates between my legs, cooling my hot, wet flesh.  Stimulating me. Torturing me.  The muscles within me ripple and squeeze, telling me I’m getting closer.

“Christ Almighty!” Cole moans as he abandons my nipple for the flat plane of my stomach.  “I can smell you.  So sweet it makes my mouth water.”

Lava gushes to my core, and the closer Cole gets to it, the harder it becomes to remain upright. But Cole fixes that.  As though he can’t wait another second, he pulls me down to my knees and lays me on my back in front of the fire.

Then his mouth is on me again.  Crushing my lips, sucking my tongue, laving my nipples, testing my bellybutton.  And when his hands reach between my legs and press them wide, I’m breathless with anticipation.  This time, I’m here with only Cole.  There are no memories, no ghosts.  No tragedies and no pain. Only the now.  Only the beautiful now.

He moans into me when his tongue finds my crease. He laps and licks, his fingers teasing and taunting as they advance and retreat within me.  Never too deep, never enough to satisfy.  Only to torment.  Sweet, sweet torment.

Even though he’s not trying to push me over the edge, I can’t stop my body from reacting. It feels too good, I want him too much.

When the first surge of climax washes through me, it steals my breath. It’s slow and deep and so, so pleasurable that I can do little more than hold on until it passes.  Until it releases me from its spell.

Only it’s not over.

“God, yes!” Cole murmurs against me, his fingers and tongue vying for the center of me, battling it out in the most delicious trade-off imaginable.  With every thrust and wriggle, with every lick and nibble, another swell breaks over me, tightening my stomach and arching my back.  My thighs clamp rhythmically around his head and my fingers curl viciously into the rug.  My ears are ringing with the sounds of his fervor and my ecstasy, and I don’t want to hear anything else.

Before the last of the spasms can wane, Cole is kissing his way up my body, dragging the flavor of me into my mouth, swirling it around my tongue with the tip of his. And then he’s pushing into me.  Slowly, unceasingly. Giving me time to stretch for him, to welcome him, to move with him.

When he starts to withdraw, I wind my legs around his hips to keep him close. He thrusts back into me, even deeper, even thicker.

Back and forth, back and forth, he eases out and then rams back in. Never enough to really hurt me, but enough that I feel a delightful sting, a delectable stretch. I can’t help wondering how much of him is left

I urge him on with my heels and he lifts his head to look down into my face. His expression is almost pained and there’s a fine sheen of perspiration glistening on his forehead.

“I made you a promise.  And I don’t want to give you any reason to tell me to stop.  But dammit, Eden, I can only take so much.”

He flexes his hips, almost as though a beast is riding his back and he’s trying with all his might to keep it at bay.  To save me from it.  Or save me from him.

Only I don’t want to be saved this time.  I’m not afraid.  I see no one, I feel no one but Cole.

And now I want to feel all of him.

I push at his shoulders until he leans up off me, a frown knitting his brow. I keep pushing until I can wiggle out from under him and then I press hard, urging him onto his back.  With a desperation I don’t quite understand, I climb onto him, positioning my body over his.  Our eyes meet, his backlit with a fire that burns brighter than the flames behind his head.  He’s beautiful and intense and I can feel his want like a physical heat, brushing my cheeks, kissing my lips, caressing my body.

My nipples pucker at the first touch of his wide head at my entrance. Cole groans and squeezes his eyes shut.  I feel powerful and sensual and more womanly, more normal than I’ve felt a day in my life.

I lower myself onto him, just a little, before pulling back.  I feel the smile play with my lips. I feel the desire coil inside me.

Cole’s eyes flick open, as though he can feel it, too.  He reaches up and grabs my breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching them.  I throw my head back on a gasp, moisture flooding the place where we are connected.  And then, with one arm snaked around my waist and his mouth at my breast, Cole pulls me down onto him as he juts his hips upward.

And I am impaled.

I am melting over Cole.

He is driving into me.

A loud moan escapes my lips and then his hand is at the back of my head, forcing my face toward his own where he swallows the sounds of my submission, the sounds of my body being completely overtaken by his.  I am on top, but I am not in control. At this moment, he owns me.  Possesses me.  And I’m gladly giving up all that I am to him.

With his mouth devouring mine, his fingers tempting and teasing, Cole moves me on him.  Faster and faster, harder and harder.  Higher and higher.

Until I’m at the top again. Falling over the edge.  Flying through the air like a thousand tiny birds.

I’m aware only of him rolling me over, onto my back, and then his weight and heat is covering me.  He never stops kissing me. Never stops thrilling me.  Never stops riding me until I feel the heavy throb of his cock as it starts to pulse.  Heat sprays into me and I wrap my limbs around him, holding him to me, holding him inside me.  I want all that he has to give. Every word, every sound, every ounce. I want it all.

“So perfect,” he whispers as his movements slow and become blissfully lethargic.  “So perfect.”

Those are the words that usher me into a peacefully exhausted slumber, tucked in the arms of the man who turned this girl into a woman.  A normal woman.