Close Enough to Touch (11 page)

Not that she couldn’t force it. She was damn good at what she
did, after all. She could pull off pretty, even for herself. In fact, for a
while there, she’d been styling herself to fit in. She’d felt almost comfortable
with it. Then Scott had started pushing her to be nicer. To kiss ass. To make
herself into part of the Hollywood crowd. For
him.
And her one small rebellion had been going back to purple hair and black shadow.
But she knew how to create the illusion that she was pretty.

She smiled at her reflection as she thought of pulling a
transformation. Of showing that bastard just how cute and sweet she could be.
The idea made her laugh, and she forgot her momentary hurt. She was who she was.
And if Cowboy Cole wanted a way into her mysterious life, why not? He wouldn’t
find any answers that way. There were big differences between sex and intimacy.
The first being that she’d had lots of one, and had never bothered with the
other.

Grace worked her hands into her hair and scrunched it up, then
tossed it around to make it even messier. She touched up her black eyeliner and
added a faint hint of pink gloss to her lips. Her blush was fine. So subtle that
you couldn’t see it beneath the actual flush in her cheeks now.

No, she wasn’t pretty. Or sweet. Or cute. But she was still
going to get lucky tonight. Her first cowboy. And God, she hoped he’d be her
last.

CHAPTER TEN

H
ALF
AN
HOUR
LATER
,
Grace was reevaluating that wish. Her back was against Cole’s door. His hands
were sliding down her arms, his mouth whispering delicious things against her
neck. And he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

What he had done was carefully close the door behind her, then
just as carefully edge her back against it. He’d put his hands to the door,
caging her, then ducked his head as if he’d kiss her. But instead of her mouth,
his lips had brushed her ear.

“I’ve been looking at your neck,” he whispered.

“My neck?” Her eyes closed as he leaned closer.

“Your skin is so white. I wondered—” his mouth slipped down,
pressing just below her ear “—what it’d feel like.”

“Mmm.”

He kissed again. “Taste like.”

“Oh.”

“God, you smell good.”

She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected his voice to sound so
hushed. Awed. Hadn’t expected his hands to slide down her arms with only the
faintest pressure. As if he were scared he would hurt her. As if she were
precious.

She eased her head to the side and felt his mouth open against
her skin. His hands slid all the way down before he laced his fingers into hers
and slowly raised her hands up toward her shoulders. Then he pressed them
carefully against the door.

“Oh,” she breathed as his teeth scraped her skin.
Oh, my God.
Her heart beat faster. He was still being
gentle, still soft, but there was no escaping the fact that her hands were
trapped in his, and he was bigger and stronger and… Her heart raced and her
nipples tightened to painful buds.

He smelled good, too. She wanted to rub up against him like a
cat, but she didn’t want him to know how much she wanted this. So she settled
for turning toward him and burying her nose in his hair as she inhaled. The
scent of him turned to heat inside her. Heat and heaviness. She must have
tightened her grip, because Cole’s fingers squeezed in response.

His mouth was searing heat against her neck, his teeth a
startling pleasure. Grace heard a soft hum of need and realized she was making
that noise. Cole pressed his hips to hers, and her hum caught on a gasp.

He was hard. And big. And he still hadn’t kissed her.

Grace would’ve claimed that she didn’t care about kissing, she
didn’t need that, but she suddenly felt desperate. Hungry. For the taste of him.
For his mouth on hers. But she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t like to ask for
anything. If he didn’t want to kiss her, she wouldn’t beg for it.

Not out loud, anyway. But in her mind, she said,
Please, please, please,
over and over again. Turning
to him, she put her mouth to his neck. She closed her lips over his earlobe and
sucked.

Now he was the one who moaned. And when he turned to catch her
mouth with his, triumph surged through her like a wave. Yes. Finally. Finally,
his mouth was hers. His lips opening so she could taste him. His tongue hot
against hers.

Somehow it didn’t appease her. Grace tugged at one of her hands
until Cole set her free, then she twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled
him tighter to her. She sucked at his tongue and held him so he couldn’t get
away.

But now he had a free hand, as well. His fingers spread over
her shoulder and then slid down. He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over
her nipple until she groaned into his mouth.

Normally, sex for Grace was about
her.
She took the pleasure she could glean from it. She took it for
herself, a trick she’d learned early on from the men she’d slept with.

But as Cole slid his hand lower and snuck it beneath her shirt,
she was suddenly very aware of him. Of what he might be feeling as his palm
pressed the skin of her belly and he sighed. He sighed as if it was a relief to
touch her. A blessing.

Grace pulled her head back to try to catch a breath, but it was
impossible. Cole immediately put his mouth back to her neck, and his hand slid
around to her back. Within seconds, her bra was unclasped and his big hand was
against her bare breast. His skin was hot against her, and just rough enough to
make her gasp.

“God, you feel good,” he murmured. “So damn soft.”

Soft. Not what she ever wanted to be, but her body arched into
his touch at those words, as if it were proud of its weakness. He rolled her
nipple between his fingers and she moaned at the pleasure.

“You like that?” His words were harder now. More urgent. “Tell
me.”

She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to admit anything. He squeezed
her tighter, and Grace pushed her hips toward him, wanting more.

“Tell me,” he urged.

The words rose in her throat, but she kept her teeth clenched,
her head turned away from him, even as goose bumps chased over her skin. Why
couldn’t he just be quiet? Just take what he wanted and let her do the same?

“Please,” he murmured just below her ear. Then he sank to his
knees, and his mouth whispered against the curve of her breast. “Tell me.”

She shook her head, but her jaw trembled and she couldn’t keep
her teeth clenched anymore. “Yes,” she finally breathed. He sucked at her nipple
and she groaned. Then his teeth pressed into her, and something snapped free
inside her. “Yes,” she urged. “God, yes. Please.”

He’d let her go to put his hands to her hips, so Grace was free
to clutch his head. To dig her nails into his scalp and offer the same pain as
his teeth scraping over her sensitive breasts. He swept her shirt higher, both
his big hands sliding up her back.

She pulled her shirt and bra off.

“Oh, Jesus,” Cole rasped. “Look at you.”

When she looked down, Cole had put his mouth to the tattoo that
snaked up her hip and waist. He slid his mouth along the black branches of the
leafless tree that spread all the way to her ribs, stopping just below her
breast.

But he didn’t stop there. He caught her nipple in his teeth
again, but his hands slid down to unfasten her jeans. Grace held her breath. She
was aching and wet, and she felt as if he’d been teasing her for hours, even
though he’d first touched her only a few minutes ago. Maybe it was the sight of
him on his knees for her, his mouth worshipping her body. She liked that. She
liked it a lot.

But when he rose up to his feet and slid his hand into her open
jeans, she liked that even more.

His fingers rubbed along her slick sex and she cried out.
“You’re so wet for me,” he said. “Does that feel good?”

He knew it did, damn him, because she was whimpering and
pressing her hips against his circling fingers. “Tell me what you like.”

She shook her head again, determined to resist this time. He
wanted her to give something up. To give in. But she was only going to take.
Take the pleasure of his fingers against her clit, rubbing her. Pressing. Her
hips jerked in need.

“You like that?” he pressed. “Or this?” He slid his hand lower
and suddenly his fingers were deep inside her.

Grace cried out, but she bit her lip, trying to stifle the
sound.

“Tell me.”

“No!”

He growled and then his hand was in her hair, turning her head
away from him, holding her tight against the door.

Oh, God.

“Tell me.” His mouth was against her ear, whispering. “Tell me
what you want.” His fingers slid out of her body, and Grace wanted to weep. She
just wanted to get off. Just wanted that one simple thing, but now his fingers
were too light against her clit. Just enough pressure to make her whimper, to
drive her insane. Not nearly enough to get off.

“Like that?” he asked.

No. No. Not like that.
She ground
her teeth together. She tried to shake her head.

“More?”

Oh, God, she hated him. Hated him for wanting her to give him
something. She wrapped a hand around his wrist and dug her nails in.

“That’s it, honey,” he murmured. “Show me what you like.”

Bastard,
she cursed in her mind.
But she pressed his hand tighter to her and sobbed in relief when he rubbed her
clit with just the right pressure.

“That’s it. That’s what you like.”

Yes. Yes. Just like that.

But now she felt so empty inside. Tight and empty and needy.
She wanted to be fucked, but she didn’t want to give up his fingers. Her hips
rocked, urging him on. Begging him in ways her voice never would. She pressed
his hand down, tilting her hips up, and he obliged so nicely, his fingers
sliding deep inside her again.

“God, yeah,” he groaned into her ear, the hand that held her
hair tightened to a delicious pain. “Show me. Show me what you like. I want you
to come for me.”

Grace wrapped both her hands around his wrist and showed him.
She urged him into the rhythm she wanted, fucking herself with his fingers. The
heel of his hand ground against her clit and she was panting.

“Oh, God. Like that, Grace? You like that? Deep and slow?”

Yes. Yes, she liked it just like that. Oh, God, yes. Yes. And
then she was saying the words, her mouth beyond her control as he held her
against the door and worked her just the way she wanted.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Please.”

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“Yes. Like that. Fuck me. Make me come. Please. Deep and… Yes.
Please.
” Then the terrible words finally stopped
because she was screaming, bucking against his hand, straining against the fist
in her hair, because the pain made it that much sweeter as she came for him.

“Yes,” she cried out. Not for him. She came for herself.

Her hips shook and trembled through the last waves of her
orgasm. Her whole body was one weak mass of shivers and sighs. “Oh, God,” she
breathed. “Oh, God.”

Cole was breathing almost as hard as she was. He’d worked hard
after all, at breaking her down, at making her give in. She knew that once she’d
sobered up, she’d be pissed as hell. But right now, she just wanted more.

She eased her nails from his wrist, wondering if she’d made him
bleed. Even as she smiled at the idea, she reached for the buttons of his jeans.
His grip on her hair loosened, so she watched as she pulled open each button,
then slipped her hand under the warm fabric of his briefs.

“Ah,” he rasped as her hand closed over his cock.

Ah, indeed. Her heart had started to slow to a normal rhythm,
but it kicked into overdrive again at the feel of him. Hard and thick in her
grasp. Really hard. And really thick. She stroked him, slowly. All the way down
to the base, then up over the head, her thumb spreading pre-come over the tight
skin.

“Grace,” he moaned, and she felt powerful again. Back to
herself. But that only lasted a moment. A moment to stroke him again. A moment
while his eyes closed and his head fell back as air rushed from his throat.

But then he opened his eyes and looked at her, and the
intensity made her gasp. There was nothing of the friendly cowboy in those blue
eyes. He looked wild.

He turned her, walking her toward the couch. But whatever she’d
thought he was going to do, she was wrong. Instead of laying her down or even
sitting down himself, he turned her away from him and bent her over.

Her eyes widened as he tugged her jeans down. Was he really
just going to… “Oh,” she gasped as his fingers slid along her clit again. She
was too sensitive and started to flinch away, but then he lightened his touch
and she moaned.

“I could make you come all day,” he said. “The sounds you make.
God.”

Grace braced her hands against the back of the couch and let
him touch her. His fingers were surprisingly gentle now, but no amount of
gentleness could hide the rasp of calluses on his skin. She could feel his
tempered strength. Years of hard work with leather and metal.

She’d just come, and already he was pushing her toward
tightness again. Emptiness.

His fingers moved away and she shook her head.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

“No. You do it.”

He laughed at her sharp words. “I’m busy with something else,
darlin’.”

She turned to glare over her shoulder and saw him pulling a
wallet from his pocket. He drew a condom out of it and raised an eyebrow.

“Now touch yourself,” he ordered.

A glance down convinced her. His cock looked even bigger now,
and she wanted it inside her. So she bit her lip and touched herself, moaning at
the touch of her own fingers.

His hand settled on her tattooed hip, holding her steady as he
pressed the head of his cock to her. She gasped hard as he sank slowly into her,
stretching her with his width.

“Oh, God. Cole…”

He never once paused. He gave her no time to adjust or relax.
He just slowly pushed deeper. The perfect amount of force against the pleasure
she spun with her own hand.

Yes,
she said silently, unwilling
to let him hear.
Yes. Yes.

He didn’t issue any more orders. He didn’t speak at all. He
just held her hip, and curved one hand over her shoulder, and he fucked her. No
more demands. He simply took his pleasure. And she took hers. The way she
wanted. Stroking herself, feeling every inch of his cock as he slid into her,
then out.

Oh, God. Yes. He was steady and strong, holding her in place.
“Yes,” she breathed as the pressure built inside her. He must have heard her
faint whisper, because his hand gripped her hip harder and he increased the pace
of his thrusts. He thrust deep, and she loved it. She loved that he’d bent her
over and simply taken her. He wasn’t being careful. Wasn’t treating her like she
was small and soft.

Grace tipped her hips up to meet his thrusts, and he grunted.
Now his hips slapped into her ass. Yes. Yes. “Oh, God, yes,” she cried out, and
then her body spasmed and she was screaming. A wordless scream of release and
disbelief. She almost couldn’t take it. Not on the heels of that last, powerful
climax.