Long Simmering Spring (22 page)

“Are you all right?” His voice was low. Leave it to Cole to say the right thing even when his body was giving off some serious warning signs.

Julie didn’t want a repeat of last time. “Before the questioning begins, would you like to come in?”

Wordlessly, he stepped inside. She shut the door and then began to walk back down the hallway to the kitchen, feeling his presence behind her the whole way. Once there, she turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter, wrapping one arm across her body.

“So?” She waved her hand impatiently.

He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking furious. A line formed between his eyebrows. “So what?”

“So aren’t you going to grill me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, deliberately challenging him.

The corners of his mouth turned down even farther. “Is that what you think I came here to do?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’d planned on it,” he said, gritting the words out between clenched teeth. “But you’re making it difficult.”

“Well, we’re kind of past that, now, don’t you think?”

He crossed the room in two long strides, took her wrist, and pulled the cardigan down her shoulder to expose her upper arm. By now, pale purple marks were forming where Don had grabbed her, the spots where his fingers had bitten into her flesh darker in color.

“This,” Cole ground out, “is not okay.”

Julie looked up at him. His gaze was hyperintense. “Of course it’s not okay. But rather than lose your cool about it, why not figure out how to lock down a case against him?”

Something flickered behind his eyes—something frighteningly raw and shocking in its force.

“And
I’m
okay,” she said. He didn’t respond right away, seemingly in some kind of trance, his hand still encircling her wrist. “Cole, I’m fine. I swear.” Then he blinked, and the look was gone. He was back with her, though barely.

“You were afraid.”

It wasn’t wise to push him. Not when he was already teetering on the edge. But she couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“You need training,” he rasped.

“Okay,” she agreed, instinctively understanding that having some order come out of this disorder would make him calmer. “Whenever you want.” Gently, she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he had the same hard look. “I’m not kidding, Julie.”

She cupped his jaw in her hand. “I know. We can start right now if you like.” Then she smoothed her palm down his chest.

He shook his head. “No.” Fire flared in his eyes. “Now we need to go upstairs.”

“Up—” But she didn’t get the rest of the word out because his mouth was on hers, hot and dangerous. Her lips stayed parted because he immediately swept his tongue inside. It sought hers, tasting her. Devouring her. And before she could even blink his hands were up her shirt, on her back, desperately pulling her closer to him. Her body caught on quicker than her brain, but before she could process that they were going to do this right here, he slid one big hand right down the front of her jeans. Within seconds, he’d found exactly what he was looking for.
Her.
Wet. Wanting.

“Julie,” he groaned, and it sounded like a plea.

“Yes,” she whispered, rocking her hips against him, and that was all she needed to do before he yanked out his hand and shoved her jeans and panties down all the way to her ankles. Then he lifted her up onto the counter, tugged everything off, and threw it on the ground. Pulling her to the edge, he spread her wide and pressed a long finger inside her. She gasped when he curled his finger up, his mouth sealed to hers. Two fingers. A flick of his thumb in just the right place. Pressure and need—she was drowning in it.

And then somehow he’d gotten a condom on and he’d opened her legs even wider and he was inside. She nearly cried with the pleasure of it and wrapped her legs around his hips. He reached for her hands and placed them around his neck.

“Hold on” was the only warning he gave before he slid his hands under her backside and lifted. She tightened her thighs around his waist and locked her ankles. Her full weight bearing down embedded him deeper inside her. She gasped, he groaned, and in a few agonizingly sensitive steps, he had her back up against the kitchen wall, fully impaled on his flesh. The cold wall on her back and his hands on her ass had her squirming, but he held her still, his raw power never more evident than it was at this moment.

He sealed his mouth over hers and began to pound, her body rocking upward with each stroke. She gasped, the sound swallowed up quickly, and tightened her grip around his neck. It was too intense—the length of him, the friction of their bodies rubbing together, the power in his spare movements—but he didn’t stop. Just cupped the back of her head and thrust heavily into her again and again, filling her completely. All his gentleness was gone now, and he kissed her, hard, his tongue claiming her mouth as his hips slammed against hers.

She liked it. God, she
loved
it! This was the real Cole Grayson, unrepentantly base. The side of himself he’d been hiding from her all along. Her thighs began to tremble and she was rubbing against him and then a few hard slides later she was bursting, falling, but he didn’t wait for her to land. Just pounded harder, faster,
rougher
.

At the moment of his climax he tore his mouth away from hers and bit her shoulder. Shocked, she involuntarily clenched her sex around him. He buried himself even deeper within her, groaning her name.

For a few long moments, both of them were utterly still, the only sounds their commingled breathing.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “You—you’re all right?”

She opened her eyes to find his gaze piercing her. He still held her up against the wall, an unreadable intensity behind his eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “Is your leg okay?” She was rewarded when he pressed his lips to hers. “Upstairs now?”

He gripped her firmly. “Hold on tight.”

With his body still wedged in hers, the walk was more than stimulating. By the time they’d reached the bedroom, she was raring to go again. At the edge of the bed, he withdrew his body from hers. The loss was nearly devastating.

Cole was still wearing all of his clothes, so he methodically stripped them off, along with the rest of hers, and pushed her back on the comforter.

He lay down beside her, stroking her arms, her hair, her face, seemingly reassuring himself that she was whole. Though she was aching for a repeat of what had happened in the kitchen, she lay still for him, letting him touch her. Letting him see how much she trusted him.

His gentle caresses heightened her already sensitive skin. She desperately wanted him to cover her breasts with his hands. But he waited, continuing those gentle touches, perusing her body with a practiced eye. He swept over every inch of flesh he could see, paying careful attention to the bruise on her arm.

He was beautiful in the dim light of her room, the planes of his face darker where he turned away from the light, the tattoos on his skin flickering in the shadows.

She reached out and traced the one over his ribs, moving her fingers over the intricate design of lines and names. “What is this?” she whispered.

“Remembrance for the dead.” He’d pulled out the pins from her chignon and had his fingers in her hair now. Gently, he raked through the strands, watching as they fell from his hand to the comforter in little waves.

“But you’re still alive.”

He turned to meet her gaze. That dangerous thing flared behind his eyes again. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am.” Then he covered her mouth with his and kissed her, softer this time, but deeply, passionately, filling her with his taste, his essence.
Yes
.
This. You.

He moved down her body, kissing everything in his path. She nearly cried when he merely gave her nipples a brief flick with his tongue—she wanted so much more—but she let him continue past her ribs, trailing down her stomach. Then he spread her legs wide and by the time he touched her sex again, she was more than ready for him. He slipped two long fingers inside, gave a wicked flick with his thumb, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensations wash over her.

He rubbed a swollen spot in her channel that made her ache. Her fingers curled in the comforter. She needed more from him, but he didn’t give her more. Just the same maddeningly soft strokes. Just a little more pressure. Just a little harder and she’d fly over the edge, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to take her there.

She moved one of her hands toward where Cole was working his dark magic, but he captured her wrist with a strong hand and pinned it to the bed.

Needy, almost desperate now, she was slowly unraveling. “Please, Cole.” Was that even her voice? It didn’t sound like her. She’d never begged for anything in her life.

“You want something?” he asked, only the hint of a tease in his voice. But she wasn’t playing. Not when she was about to lose her mind.

“You. I want
you
.”

She saw the self-satisfied smile for only an instant, and then it was gone, replaced by a gaze so intense it took her breath away.

He got a fresh condom from the night table and pushed her knees up, and then he was covering her body with his and entering her slowly, oh, so slowly. She tried to move her hips to get him to go faster, but he wouldn’t. He just wrapped an arm under her shoulders, held one hip down with the other, and impaled her inch by agonizingly pleasurable inch. By the time he was seated inside, she was almost frantic, but when he began a slow slide and release, everything kind of tipped on its axis and she was there, resting on a plane of pleasure higher than she’d ever been.

Every cell in her body screamed for him to move, to take, to pound into her the way she wanted—
the way he just had
—but he wouldn’t let her set the pace. Instead, he held her down and made her feel every glorious thing he was doing to her. She was panting now, her hands twisting in the comforter, in his hair, on his well-muscled back. He was gentle, so gentle she wanted to scream.

And then, finally, he wasn’t.

Stifling a groan, he began to quicken his pace, urging her to follow his lead. She welcomed the regaining of control, moving her body in time with his. Wrapping a leg around his back, she lifted her hips to meet his every thrust. He was going harder now, faster, his movements ruthless and almost desperate, the mattress giving with each downstroke. But shockingly, she wasn’t quite there.

And then he suckled a nipple, slipped a hand between her thighs, and two seconds later she was flying so high she thought she’d never see the ground. Gasping, her back arched, she went into a free fall, Cole’s heavy thrusts only heightening her pleasure until he, too, took his release inside her body.

It was a long time before she came back to earth, and when she did, all she wanted was to lie there for a long while, listening to him breathe while the wind blew outside.

When Cole had discovered that Don had attacked his woman for the second time, this time on a public street, he’d almost lost it. He’d actually left the office, knowing that if he were away from everyone, getting himself under control would be easier. After his deep breathing exercises and a trip to the shooting range—imagining Don’s face on every target—he’d felt better.

But his rage had been rekindled when he’d seen Julie and the bruise on her arm. It wasn’t until they’d made love that he’d regained his equilibrium. And now, with Julie wrapped in his arms, somehow, things were even calmer. She’d taken him back from the brink. Again.

He’d remembered Julie’s reaction the last time he’d gone at her for not dealing with her own safety—guns blazing, of course, same as he always did. But his cool-headed doctor was having none of that. She’d shut him down, forcing him to deal with her on her own terms. Just as she’d done tonight.

And this time, despite his rage at the situation, his abject fear that something could have happened to her, and his anger that Hank—not him—had been the one to help her, it had been easier to face the darkness. Because he knew Julie would be there, waiting for him, when he got back.

She was lying there, eyes closed, but not sleeping. He smoothed the hair back from her face and sighed. Whether she was aware of it or not, she humbled him with her generosity.

But something was still bothering him about the way she’d chosen to handle Don. She still didn’t know what she was doing, safety-wise, and it was slowly driving him mad to know that he wasn’t going to be able to protect her 24/7.

“I’m worried about you,” he said, his voice hollow.

Julie didn’t open her eyes. “I know.”

There was silence for a few moments as he thought about how to proceed.

“Let me stay with you for real. Not half-assed, like we’ve been doing. I want a key.”

She opened an eye. “For how long?”

Forever
. He could barely wrap his mind around that idea. He’d been living in chunks of hours, sometimes days, but not weeks and definitely not months or years. “For now,” he said instead.

Both hazel eyes were open now. She shifted onto her side, propped herself up with an elbow, and regarded him evenly. “Are you asking to move in with me?”

“I guess I am.”

“Why?”

“Don’s in jail now, but for how long? He got out fast last time. He likely has resources we don’t know about, and that worries me.”

She thought for a moment. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you can’t move in with me.”

He blinked. “Why not?”

“Honestly? That’s the worst reason I’ve ever heard of for two people moving in together. If you want to protect me day and night, you or your deputies can guard my house.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

“Give me a better one, then.”

“You know it.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Damn, this woman was smart! He rolled until he was lying half on top of her, cradling her in his arms. With her hair spread out on the pillow, lying in the sheets rumpled from their lovemaking, her lips swollen and soft, she looked like a dream. Gently, he cupped her cheek and turned her face to his. “Because I love you, Julie,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I love you.”