Obsession (Ink & Iron #1) (6 page)

“Come here, baby,” he said.

As he pulled her against him with her back to his chest, she could see that he’d aimed the sprayers at his body—at their bodies. She felt his erection against the small of her back, the water hitting the front of her body, a heady sensation of hard and soft. Then he placed his hands on her inner thighs and held them as he spread his legs and hers, opening her up, the backs of her thighs resting on top of his. The sprayers hit her open sex in a warm, strong pulse.

“Oh… God, that’s good.”

“Let the water do its work, baby. I want you to come for me. Will you do that?”

“Mmm…oh…any time.”

She bit her lip as the water shimmied over her clit, her sex, the sensation unbelievable. And in moments she was at that keen edge.

“Cole…need to come!”

“Yes, do it, baby girl. Come.”

She did, her body shattering, shivering in his hold on her thighs, pleasure sharp, exquisite, searing her.

She was still panting when he let her thighs go and told her, “Take me in your mouth now, baby. I need you.”

Eager to obey, eager for
him
, she got down on her knees on the soft rubber mat, kneeling between his thighs. She licked her lips and braced her hands on his strong thighs, the water from the jets pounding against her back. There was something about the heat and the water, something that made everything more sensual and a bit surreal at the same time. But Cole’s cock in front of her was real. And she wanted it.

She stroked the hard shaft with her fingertips, heard him sigh. Smiling, she wrapped her fingers around it, barely able to span the girth, and began a slow slide.

“Oh, that’s good, Janie,” he murmured.

She leaned in, licked at the tip, and he moaned. She did it again, flicking her tongue at the sensitive spot on the underside of the head, and the moan turned into a groan. When she sucked it into her mouth and tongued the hole—something she knew he loved—he let out a guttural growl.

She kept the head in her mouth while she stroked him with her hand—he was so big it was sometimes hard to take all of him any other way. But apparently it wasn’t enough for him tonight.

He grabbed her hair, his fingers pulling close to the scalp so that she felt that sense of being under his command, and pressed her head down as he arched into her mouth.

She took in a breath as his cock slid down her throat, and she knew to drop her hand. He let her come up, then forced her down again, her throat filled by his hard flesh. Tears stung her eyes, but she loved every moment of it. She swallowed him down with every stroke, even when it choked her, wanting nothing but to please him, knowing from his groans, from the way his cock pulsed against her tongue, that she did. He only ever did this when his desire for her was raging, out of control. There was a sense of power in it for her too, having him at her mercy.

He bucked his hips, and in a few more powerful strokes he cried out, his come hot as it shot down her throat. She swallowed, wanting all of it, all of him.

He lifted her face, sinking down onto the floor of the shower with her as he kissed her lips, her cheeks, lifted her hands and kissed her palms. He held her in his arms as the steam rose all around them, making a cocoon of the warm shower—the heat, the falling water and the two of them. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

Chapter Six

The moon shone in the night, casting a pale, silver light across his bedroom floor. Cole stretched, smiled when he felt Janie’s weight resting on his chest. One of the best feelings in the world. He loved waking up with her in his arms—morning, middle of the night. Didn’t matter.

He stroked her hair, taking a few of the silky strands between his fingers. In the last month since they’d gotten back together he’d written seven new songs. They weren’t all complete yet, but the music was moving through him in a way it hadn’t for far too long. Janie was his muse—she always had been, but the next album Ink & Iron put out was going to have a whole new feel to it.

He
had a whole new feel, and that feeling was nothing but positive. Pure happiness. Pure love.

He’d never stopped loving her. But getting to know her all over again had been an amazing process. Learning the woman she’d become, discovering this Janie who was the same sweet girl he’d always known and loved, and yet a newer, stronger woman. He loved her more than ever.

Watching her sleep as the moonlight caught the tips of her eyelashes, silhouetting her cheekbones, the lovely line of her jaw, he was overcome by a sense of coming home. With her in his bed. In his life.

Music started to buzz, swarming his mind like liquid, like a dance in his head he couldn’t resist.

Your body hears me when I call

Sees me when I cry

Is it reason enough to give

Reason enough to try

So lay me down tonight

Say just one prayer

Tell me you’ll be there

Lay me down tonight

He leaned over and kissed her half-awake. “Gotta go work on a song, baby girl. Gotta get it right. Stay here and sleep.”

She yawned, her eyes still closed. “Hmm? ’Kay… Love you, Cole,” she murmured.

It felt like he’d been hit in the chest with something warm and solid and full of hope. He’d been dying to hear her say the words. He’d been dying to say them to her, but he hadn’t wanted to push her any faster than she was ready to go.

He waited, watching her as she fell back into a deep sleep, her breathing regular, shallow. Then he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Love you too, Janie girl.”

He spent what was left of the night at the piano in his studio, penciling notes on a song sheet, scribbling lyrics, crossing them out, making them better.

It was the scent of freshly showered Janie that finally made him look up.

“’Morning, babe. I brought you some coffee,” she told him, coming into the room and setting a mug down on the table next to the piano.

“Thank you. Just what I needed. The coffee, and you.”

She smiled, looking gorgeous and girlish with no makeup on, wearing nothing but a pink cotton tank and black yoga pants, her hair hanging in damp strands down her back. She leaned down and kissed him, and he grabbed her, pulling her into his lap.

“I thought you were working.”

“I am. I was. I’d rather molest you.”

“That sounds…much better than what I had in mind, which is, unfortunately, that I have to go to work,” she said, swatting at his hand on her breast and getting up.

“Okay, okay. But prepare for the molestation later.”

“Is that a promise?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling.

“Abso-fucking-lutely, baby.”

Grinning, she bent to kiss him, her lush mouth lingering on his, making his heart slam like a hammer in his chest as he remembered the words she’d said in the night.

She still loved him.

He’d known it. But it was damn good to
know
it.

“Dinner out tonight, Janie girl? There’s this funky Mexican place in Silverlake I like. That sound okay to you? I want to go someplace low-key.”

“That sounds great.”

Grabbing her and pulling her in tight, he laid his head on her stomach, humming the song he’d been working on.

“What is that? I like it.”

“It’s for you. They all are.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “When do I get to hear it, Cole? You’ve been writing a lot, but you won’t play anything for me.”

“I’ll play them all for you when they’re finished. They need to be perfect.”

Why did some part of him feel like it could all be over if he played the new songs for her before he got every note, every lyric, just right? He’d made some sort of deal with himself after that first time he saw her at the yoga studio. The song had come to him while he was riding his Harley down the highway, the scent of motor oil and the ocean in his lungs, images of Janie in his mind. He’d promised himself that he’d sing that song for her and ask her to come back to him. But was she ready to hear it? Or was she already back? All the way back—for good?

“Cole? I have to go.”

He blinked. “Sure, baby. Have a great day at work, bendy girl.”

She laughed. “I will.”

Wrapping a hand behind her neck, he pulled her down for another long kiss.

“Bye, Janie. See you tonight.”

Every night.

It had been nearly every night. But things still felt a little fragile, as if one wrong move could scare her off. That total trust wasn’t there yet, and he couldn’t blame her for that. It was more than a feeling—she still wouldn’t let him tie her up or blindfold her, even though those were games they’d played long ago, and some of her favorite aspects of power play. Being held helplessly. Being deprived of her sight while he touched her, teased her with hands and mouth. But it would all come in time. He had to keep wooing her. Fighting for her.

It was a fight he never intended to give up on.

The sun was setting as they headed toward Silverlake, her arms wrapped around Cole’s waist, the engine of the Fatboy purring beneath her. This was her personal favorite of his bikes. The bronze and silver paint job reminded her of the LA sunset, and she loved the classic, chopped style—it was the most graceful of Cole’s motorcycles, but still totally masculine. Totally bad-ass, in fact. But what Harley wasn’t?

Even with a helmet and her sunglasses on she could feel the wind warm on her face as they passed the older homes and funky cafes, tattoo shops and retro boutiques the area was known for. She leaned into him, holding more tightly onto his big, solid body, pressing into his muscled back even though there was no need to…except that she
needed
to. He let go of the handlebar to squeeze her hand for a moment, and she loved the touch of leather from his fingerless road gloves. She loved the hum of the engine between her thighs. That he controlled this powerful machine. She’d never admitted to anyone how much she loved the vibration, the low, guttural rumble when he gunned the engine, making it reverberate through her body.

By the time they reached Silverlake she was a little turned on, and half in love with the awesome machine. Every time she got on a bike with Cole it reminded her of their early days, the romance with that touch of danger in being out on the road on a motorcycle—unable to do anything but cling to him and enjoy the ride. She still loved the romance of it. And the danger, which, she supposed, meant she would always be destined for the bad boys. Right now, with her arms around Cole’s body, his scent on the wind, the roar of the motorcycle in her ears, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

They pulled up in front of a funky, low stucco building painted in bright blue and yellow. There was no sign on it, just a mural of Frida Kahlo surrounded by the calla lilies her artist husband Diego Rivera had made famous. She was glad Cole had picked an out-of-the-way place to eat. She wasn’t in the mood to be swarmed by people asking him for an autograph, or the paparazzi that hung out at the trendier spots, hungry for a scandal.

He parked and let her jump off with a protective hand on her arm before swinging one long leg clad in tight, faded blue jeans over the bike, then helped her off with her helmet before removing his own. He strapped them both to the bike and locked them there.

Laying a hand on the small of her back, he moved toward the front door of the restaurant. “You enjoy the ride, Janie girl?”

“It’s such a beautiful evening—it would have been a shame to take your car.”

He smiled, the warm glow of the twilight sky reflecting in his eyes. “That’s my girl.”

She stood back as he opened the door for her and ushered her through. Feminist or not, she knew better than to try to open it herself. He’d always been a gentleman, a bit old-fashioned, and it was something she appreciated when she remembered to stop fighting it.

Inside, the lighting was dim, but she could see the colorfully painted chairs at the tables, the booths upholstered in turquoise and red vinyl. The hostess led them to one of the curved booths, and Cole gestured for her to sit, then slid in next to her, his thigh touching hers, making her warm all over. Making her tingle. He always did, this charismatic man whose bed she’d shared for weeks. The thrill had definitely not worn off. She didn’t think it ever would. If anything, the attraction grew stronger every day, and she still got butterflies every time she saw him.

She looked at him, his strong profile outlined in the dim amber light as he browsed the menu. He had to be the best-looking man she’d ever seen. So strong and sweet at the same time. So utterly commanding, in presence and voice and his hands on her body.

She had to stifle a moan.

Her heartbeat was a steady rhythm in her chest, beating faster the longer she gazed at him. Almost impossible to look away, as if a magnet held her there. But it was more than the intense chemistry. It had been there from the start—not only the first time they met all those years ago, but back again the moment he set foot inside
Om
.

No.

She wasn’t sure how long she could fight it, or even if she should.

She took a breath, filling her lungs.

Be in the moment. Don’t look back. Don’t look ahead.

Except she
wanted
to look ahead. Wanted to think about—wanted to
talk
about—their having a future.

No.

She was being ridiculous. It had only been a month, and despite their past,
this
was still new. Still unproven. But how much did she have to prove to herself? How much did he have to prove before she truly believed this was real? Celine had given her good advice about being a little wary, letting time be their testing ground. It had only been a month.

She had loved him most of her life.

She still did.

No.

Every nerve in her body went red, on high alert as the waitress came, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction from the tumult in her head, in her heart.

Cole asked for chips and salsa, then went back to the menu while she silently tried to get herself to calm down.

He glanced up. “Still the
enchiladas verdes
for you, Janie girl?” he asked.

“What? Um, yes. I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything about you,” he said, his pale blue gaze going soft.

She stilled. He was watching her closely in that way he had. As if he was trying to reach inside her. It was working. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Do you?” she asked a little breathlessly.

He nodded slowly. “I remember that you like your coffee with cream and sugar because it’s like dessert. That the only sport you’ll watch is baseball, and only if it’s the Mariners. That you love to have your back tickled but you’ll kick the hell out of me if I tickle your feet. That the yellow gummi bears no one else likes are your favorite. That you’re afraid of clowns.”

Even though her pulse was thready, she had to laugh, her skin going warm as something in her chest expanded, filling her up in some strange way that made her want to cry. “Clowns are scary! Who does that to small children?”

He grinned. “They are pretty sinister looking, even when they’re smiling.”

“
Especially
when they’re smiling. And the whole balloon thing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know that’s a fetish for some people.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even want to know. Change of subject, please.”

When he reached out and covered her hand with his, the heat of his touch went through her in such a surprising explosion she couldn’t have explained it to herself. Desire ran so thick and heavy in her veins, she wanted to lean into him, put her hands under his T-shirt and feel his naked skin. Desire, and emotion so strong she felt stunned by it.

Love.

And fear.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Cole?”

“What is it? What do you need? Come here, baby.”

His arms went around her waist as he pulled her in close, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, breathe in his unique scent as she laid her head on his shoulder. His hand went into her hair, stroking it away from her face.

“What’s going on, Janie?”

She shook her head, buried it deeper into his strong shoulder.

“This is all so…good,” she said.

“Baby, did you just say this is all good? Because your voice is a little muffled and that doesn’t really make sense. Is ‘good’…bad?”

She lifted her face to look at him. His dark brows were drawn.

“Is this okay, what we’re doing here? Is this…wise? I mean, we’ve been apart all these years and…God, I don’t know.”

“Janie.” He put a finger under her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. “You gonna tell me things haven’t been amazing these last weeks? That we’re not rebuilding? Because that’s not how it feels to me. Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful blond head, baby.”

Biting her lip, she pulled back a little, trying to regain some stability. It was several moments before she could find the words. Finally, exasperated, she said, “Aren’t you scared?”

He cocked his head. “Hell, yes. Who wouldn’t be in this situation? My only real fear, though, is whether or not you’re going to change your mind.”

“Mine too,” she whispered.

He held her face in his hands, and her heart wanted to leap and to break at the same time—to break for all the times she’d missed this.