“Come here,” Cole ordered in a low, masculine voice that danced along her nerve endings almost as erotically as his muscular leg that was now aligned with hers. He opened her coat, merging their bodies beneath it. “I’ll keep you warm until the heater kicks into gear.” He grabbed her cold hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes locked with hers. “You’re freezing.” He covered her hand with his own to warm it.
Freezing? He thought she was freezing? Was he crazy? Holly was feeling the melting-butter effect he had on her all over again.
“You’re the one without the coat,” she managed hoarsely.
“I’ve lived in the cold all my life,” he replied, obviously assuming she had not. “I’m used to it. But then, you mentioned growing up here.”
She nodded. “Yes, but I’ve been in Texas a long time. I’d be in shorts right now if I were still there.”
He arched a brow. “Texas. That’s a long way from home.”
“Yes,” she said, biting back the urge to say more. He had said no thinking, no planning. And that felt right. It felt like the fantasy she’d burned for. “A long way from home.”
A penetrating stare followed—he sent her a deep probing look that said he was trying to read her and, indeed, had. She saw the moment he registered the reason she’d avoided giving out personal details—the moment he knew she sought anonymous pleasure. He showed no reaction to that conclusion, but she doubted he’d complain.
He began rubbing her hand again, warming it a second before he reached out and tested the air flowing from the vent. “It’s already getting warm.” He tilted it more in her direction. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Thank you. I feel it.” Or rather him. She felt him. And he was making her hot. He had a raw, masculine presence that oozed power and control. The kind that attorneys learned to convey in law school, yet Cole possessed the authority naturally, wore it like a second skin. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to where the fingers of her free hand splayed wide against the wall of his amazingly broad chest. Cole raised his hand and covered hers, holding her palm where it rested, as if he didn’t want her to stop touching him. His finger slid beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to his as he pinned her in a potent stare. The dull glow of a not-so-distant streetlight illuminated the dark passion in his eyes, and the sexual tension in the cabin suddenly grew thick, heavy, and delicious.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show tonight,” he said, the soft rumble of his voice dancing along her nerves in a sensuous tango.
Words escaped Holly, nerves clamoring inside her. Was he telling her he knew she was acting out of character? She didn’t know. Probably. Yes. He must know. He touched her with cool confidence that said he knew his way around a woman’s body, kissed her like a man who would dare her to take risks. Carried himself like pure, sinful masculinity. He knew she was out of her element.
Good gosh, she could barely breathe—let alone think—from the desire this man stirred in her. It frightened and excited her to imagine this powerful, gorgeous man on top of her, inside her, touching her. She was wet and aching. Needy.
Willing herself past her inhibitions, she acted on the desire to touch his cheek, reaching out for the rough stubble that felt erotic beneath her fingers. “I couldn’t seem to help myself,” she admitted finally in a raspy voice that she barely recognized as her own.
“I like that you couldn’t help yourself.” He kissed her knuckles and opened her palm, his lips brushing the sensitive flesh with ridiculously sensual impact. And his eyes, those dark emotive eyes, held hers. They reached inside her, touched her, moved her.
And for just a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake. She’d had a few “vanilla” lovers, a few disappointments. But something told her there was nothing “vanilla” about Cole and his demands. Would she be able to handle him? Would she know what to do?
But then, he said, “I’d kiss you, but I’m not sure I will ever stop if I do,” and his expression held such dire need, a confession of need that matched her own, that Holly threw aside inhibitions and fears.
For once in her life, she wanted to be daring. She wanted to know that feeling of completely uninhibited freedom that she’d tried so many times to create on paper, from nothing but pure imagination. And this man was the one to teach her that. On some level, she sensed this particular man could give her a freedom she’d never experienced before. That with him, she would explore her fantasies rather than simply wish them to life. And she wanted that—it fulfilled a need she’d long burned to fulfill.
Desire spiked with her newfound resolve, and she whispered, “I don’t want you to stop,” and slid her hand to his face and pressed her lips to his.
***
ONE TOUCH OF HOLLY’S LIPS on his and Cole was ramrod hard, his cock pulsing with white-hot desire. Her lips were soft, her touch innocent, yet oh-so-seductive. And the kiss, the kiss was laced with a promise that she was his, soft and willing. She trusted him enough to reach beyond her obvious reservations and give herself to him. He found this realization provocative, arousing. He wanted nothing more than to press Holly against the seat, spread her legs wide, and find his way inside her, but even more, he wanted to be worthy of the woman’s gift—a part of herself no other had experienced.
Cole knew women, and Holly wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. Whatever had led her to this place tonight, needing to explore beyond her comfort zone, it didn’t matter—what mattered was that she’d chosen him. And he planned to take damned good care of her. Slowly, he would guide her into confident territory, where she could explore her wants and needs.
Cole slipped his tongue past her lips, into the wet, warm recesses of her mouth, seducing her with his kiss, making love to her with his mouth. She rewarded him with a soft moan, a sensual sound that coiled in his gut and damned near undid his willpower. He could no sooner stop kissing her in that moment than he could stop breathing.
Deepening the kiss, he tasted her, his cock pulsing with the sweet honey flavor of her lips. She responded to the kiss with fervent need, clinging to him, offering him more of that sexy moaning that licked at his cock and tightened his balls.
Wisps of her silky hair tickled his cheek; the smell of her, the sweet aroused female scent, beckoned to him. He was hungry for her, starving—so he kissed her passionately. His hands slid under her coat to surround her slender waist, then brushed the bottom of her full breasts. She arched forward, melting into him as if she couldn’t help herself, encouraging him. Cole caressed upward, thumbed her hard, plump nipples. He wanted more of her. Naked.
The coat had to go, he decided, and he didn’t ask permission. He tore his lips from hers and slid it off her shoulders. Holly shrugged it away, urgency in her actions. The minute the barrier was removed, Cole wrapped his arms around her, and she willingly leaned into him. She was tiny, delicate, and unbelievably sexy.
He dipped his head, nuzzled her neck, and inhaled deeply. “You smell like vanilla and sugar,” he murmured, sliding her hair to the side to nibble her neck.