Wrapped Up In You (A Mystic Island Christmas) Page 6

  Silence grew between them, and her heart started to race. She was so conscious of every place their bodies were touching, the intimate way their legs were tangled, the feel of his fingers still stroking her hair, the heat of his body against her belly. When they were fifteen, the intimacy between them had been innocent. Now, it was completely different, intimacy layered with a deep awareness of Cole as a man, and herself as a woman.

  "What about sex?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "Have you been waiting for me to be your first there, too?"

  "Seriously?" She slapped his chest, laughing despite the sexual tension wrapping so tightly around them. "What kind of question is that?"

  He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Like I said earlier, sweetheart, I'm not a fifteen-year-old boy anymore who isn't interested in girls. I'm a man, and—" He stopped, cutting himself off.

  She pressed her lips together, her heart sinking. What had he been about to say? Some cocky, arrogant remark about sex? "You love women? Is that what you were going to say? You love sex?" Her warmth faded, and her emotional defenses sprang back into place with effortless efficiency. "You like to sleep around?"

  "No." He caught her wrist as she tried to pull back. "I don't sleep around. I've slept with one woman in the last five years. I dated her for three years, and we got engaged. When she decided to sleep with a friend of mine, I cut her loose, didn't give a shit, and didn't bother with women again. I don't have baggage. I just don't care enough to make it worth my while."

  She swallowed at the edge in his voice. She didn't even know which of his statements to respond to first. "Your fiancée cheated on you?"

  "Yeah." He slipped his hand behind the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. "When I stood there in the doorway, watching the two of them trying to get their clothes back on in a hurry, I felt nothing. I realized that I hadn't expected anything better from her. I wasn't surprised, and I didn't care."

  She searched his face, and saw that he was telling the truth. "How could you not care? When my fiancé—" She stopped as the old pain welled up. Dammit. She didn't want to revisit that part of her life. It wasn't worth all the energy it had already sucked from her, let alone any more. She didn't want that to be a part of this moment with Cole.

  "You were engaged?" He frowned. "Not anymore? What happened?"

  She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. It doesn't matter—"

  He tugged on her hair, drawing her attention to him. The moment she looked at him, he kissed her softly, so tenderly, so gently that she wanted to cry. His lips were a whisper across hers, gone before they'd even been there, a kiss every bit as perfect as that first one he'd given her so long ago when he'd kissed away her tears back then. "My sweet Willow," he said. "Tell me. I want to know."

  God, how could she tell him what had happened? He'd realize what a mess her life was. She shook her head, tracing her finger along his jaw. The whiskers prickled her fingertips, whiskers he hadn't had when she'd known him before. "Cole—"

  He caught her chin with his hand, and lifted her face to his. Her breath caught, and she realized he was going to kiss her again, one that was more than a whisper across her lips. He searched her gaze, and time seemed to freeze between them. Her fingers tightened instinctively on his jaw, and then he smiled, a small, quick smile before he moved in and kissed her.

  Chapter 7

  HIS MOUTH TASTED of sin and passion, and the kiss was pure heat. Her fingers curled in the front of his sweater, tugging him closer as she kissed him back, unable to resist the allure of his seduction. No, not seduction. Something more pure and elemental than that, a connection that ran from her soul to his, a mingling of breath, laughter, and pain. It was a kiss of intimacy and private connection, a kiss to remind her who she was with, a kiss that made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered in that moment. He paused the kiss, their lips still touching, and her breath caught in anticipation, a heartbeat in time, both of them waiting to see what direction it would take.

  After a moment, he pulled back just enough so she could see his face. One hand was in her hair, stroking it back from her face as he studied her. "It was bad?" he asked. "Your situation with your fiancé?"

  She smiled. "You kissed me to drag the story out of me?"

  He shrugged. "Seemed like a good excuse to do what I wanted to anyway." He cocked an eyebrow. "So, talk to me. That's what we do, remember? We pour the shit out to each other and take away its power. Tell me what happened."

  She sighed, and leaned her head against his shoulder, resting her cheek against the softness of his sweater. "You thought it was bad when your mom shacked up with the hardware store owner and his boys?" He didn't smile. He simply waited. With a sigh, she ran her finger over his chest, drawing designs on the finely woven fabric. "Well, I was engaged to the first man who had truly won my heart, until my mother called me into her office and told me that she was going to marry him instead." Ugh. Just saying the words made her feel like such an idiot. How had she not seen it coming? How had she been such an idiot?

  Cole's eyebrows shot up, and she felt heat suffuse her cheeks as he stared at her. "Really?"

  "Really. They got married a month later." She averted her gaze away from him, fixating on a hairline crack in the ceiling, remembering all the questions and the looks. The whispers. She'd had no time to grieve in private. Instead, she'd been forced into a public display of nonchalance. "I was the maid of honor at their wedding. It was the only way I could get people to stop talking. I had to make everyone think I didn't care." That had been the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, to stand there and pretend she was above it all. "I don't trust easily, and I believed in him. I trusted him...and..." She blinked back tears that she'd thought she was past as Cole continued to stroke her hair. "I don't know which betrayal was worse, my mom or him. In a way, he was worse, because I had long ago stopped counting on my mother, but still—"

  "Hey." Cole touched her chin, drawing her attention back to him. "People can suck," he said softly. "It's not your fault. They suck, not you. You were right to be upset. It's bullshit that they treated you like that."

  She looked at him then. "How could I have been so wrong? I never trust, but I trusted him. I just...I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to be a part of a world where people have agendas that are more important than being good people. That's why I wanted to come here. I wanted just one week, one holiday, one Christmas, surrounded by people who wouldn't do things like that to the people they claim to love, you know?" She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. "You had the same thing happen with your fiancée, but I can tell it didn't bother you. You're hard, Cole. I don't want to be hard. I want to be able to love, but I don't think I can do it anymore. I'm scared, I'm bitter, and I don't believe." She searched his face. "I need to believe again, Cole, and I'm terrified that I never will. I need magic to touch my heart again, or I'm afraid it will shrivel up and die."

  He framed her face, his touch incredibly gentle. "You have too much heart for it to ever stop loving," he said. "I can feel the beauty of your heart, and I don't feel much anymore. You're right that I'm hard now, and I like it that way. It's a better way to live...but when I'm with you..." He leaned closer, his breath warm against her mouth. "When I'm with you, I want to be the guy I was when I was fifteen...I want to make you smile again, and I want to feel what I felt that night with you."

  And then he kissed her again...not a sweet, tender kiss, but a deep, intense kiss that sent fire searing through her body. She knew instantly that this wasn't a kiss that would stop. This was a kiss that had no ending, one that would explode into flames that would incinerate every last defensive barrier locked around her heart. It was lust, passion, and desire, a kiss that would never let her go…and her heart burned for it. Instinctively, she gripped the front of his sweater, holding on tight as she melted into him.

  The moment she kissed him back, the kiss turned molten. He growled low in his throa
t, and tightened his leg around her hip, dragging her so tightly against him that there wasn't room for even a sliver of air between them. His fingers tunneled through her hair, making her want to nestle even more tightly against him. She loved the feel of his hard body against hers. She loved his hands in her hair. He tasted incredible, and his kiss took her breath away.

  His hand went to her butt, drawing her hips against him, and she felt his erection against the junction of her thighs, through their jeans. Apprehension rippled through her, and she froze, a thousand emotions rushing through her. Desire. Need. Fear. Want.

  He immediately went still, pausing in the middle of his kiss. For a split second, neither of them moved, and then he pulled back, releasing her hair. "Sorry."

  Cold air whipped across her as he pulled back, leaving her bereft. "It's okay—"

  "No, it's not." He extricated himself from her, leapt to his feet, and stood there, his hands flexing by his sides. His hair was tousled from her hands, and his shirt was untucked. With his whiskers and hooded gaze, he looked dangerously sexy, a man born for sin and seduction. "You just told me that you're afraid to trust. I had no right to put you in that position. Shit."

  Her heart ached at his regret, and she sat up. "No, it's okay. I just panicked."

  "I should never have put you in a situation that made you feel panic. Shit." He ran his hands through his hair, and she saw the flash of a watch on his wrist, an obscenely expensive brand she'd seen on the wrist of many men over the years.

  She stared at him in surprise. He was wealthy. She'd known he wasn't the local innkeeper or an island kid who lived on a beach anymore, but to see that watch made her realize exactly how far from that he was. He was a man with money and a life far away from here, a man who might not be so unlike those she was running away from.

  He turned away, bracing his hands on the mantle as he bowed his head, taking a deep breath. Above him hung the picture of his father and mother in their adorable Christmas sweaters. Willow's gaze settled on that picture, and she saw the love in his parents' eyes, especially his father. There was so much warmth in his face, so much love in the way he held his wife's hand. They had loved each other, truly loved each other, and that was what Cole had grown up with.

  He turned toward her. "I'll take you out to breakfast in the morning," he said, his voice so business-like and reserved that her heart sank. "I'm going to make this Christmas what you deserve. I'll give you the Christmas my dad would have given you. Tomorrow, there's a Christmas Eve holiday pageant and dance, and a snowman festival in the afternoon. We can build one if you want. I can hook you up with the carolers. They go out every night. We missed the Christmas tree lighting in the town square. That happens the day after Thanksgiving, but they flood the area and freeze it, so there's a skating rink. You skate?" He glanced at the window, though it was still dark outside. "If it has snowed enough, I'll take you snowmobiling. I'll just have to check the gas and tune it up. It's the best method of transport after a snow." He turned away, muttering to himself. "The decorations must be around here somewhere. We'll find a tree and put it up." He swore under his breath as he headed to the door. "Another Christmas in Mystic," he muttered. "Who'd have ever thought?"

  "Cole." She scrambled over the back of the couch, almost falling on her face when her foot caught on the pillow. He caught her arm before she fell, holding her upright. His face was dark and moody. "You don't have to do this for me. Give me a Christmas, I mean."

  "I want to." He stared down at her, his face a stoic mask. "My dad would shoot my ass from heaven if he knew I didn't take care of you. It's what he lived for." He started to turn away, but she caught his arm again, drawing him back. "What?" he snapped.

  She didn't back off, knowing he would never hurt her, even though he was angry. "When you got off the couch instead of kissing me..." She paused, searching for the words that would make sense. "No one has ever done that for me. Walked away because they might hurt me. People in my life don't do that."

  The tension in his jaw eased somewhat. "I won't be that bastard to you—"

  "I know." Her heart ached for him. He had no idea who she was, other than the girl he'd met on the beach. Nothing he was doing was for ulterior motives. He was just real, and he was hers, for tonight. His heart had broken when his dad had died, and Christmas had died for him as well...and yet, he was ready to do whatever it took to give it to her. That, alone, made her feel like the most treasured person in the world. "Kiss me," she said softly.

  His face become shuttered. "No."

  "Why?" She moved closer to him.

  He stiffened. "Because I want to."

  She stopped in front of him, searching his tormented face. "I know we both have to go back to our lives in a week, but we have tonight, right? You've become so hard that you feel nothing...except I make you feel, don't I?"

  He looked past her at the wall, his jaw flexing. "Yeah."

  "And you make me feel like I can breathe again. Isn't that worth something? To each other? To us? Don't we both deserve what we give each other?" She reached out and took his hand, surprised at how cold it was. "Cole?"

  He finally tore his gaze off the wall and looked at her. "I don't want to simply kiss you," he said, his voice raw and hoarse. "I want to make love to you a dozen times before dawn, and never get out of bed the rest of the day. I want to learn every inch of your body, I want to know every secret in your heart, and I want to heal them all. I want to come alive with you, and hold nothing back. If I kiss you, I'm not taking you anywhere on the snowmobile today. If I kiss you, I'm going to take you to bed, and I'm not going to stop making love to you until I have nothing left to give you." His eyes darkened with smoldering heat. "If I kiss you, you're mine in every way, until we get back on the ferry."

  Warmth pooled in her belly, and she smiled. "I know."

  "Do you?" His hand snaked out and locked around her back, forcing her against him. He searched her face. "I want all of you, Willow. And you have to take me. No halfway. No holding back. No secrets. I hate superficial crap, and that's not what I want with you."

  She nodded. "Okay."

  "Okay?" He looked incredulous. "That's all you have to say? Okay?"

  "I'm nervous. I'm excited. A part of me has been hopelessly in love with you since that night when we were fifteen, and the other part of me, the grown up part of me, has fallen right back in love with you, in that instantaneous, electric way that has nothing to do with logic, and everything to do with survival, so yes, okay. Kiss me, and don't break any of the promises you just made to me."

  He swore under his breath, and slid his hand through her hair. "Willow." He whispered her name a split second before his lips captured hers in a kiss that was every bit as electric as that one so long ago...but this time...it wasn't an innocent exploration. It was pure, sizzling heat, ignited by the gaping emptiness that they both lived with, the emptiness that disappeared only when they were together.

  "Cole." She whispered his name into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into his strong body as she kissed him back. The kiss turned ravenous, a frenzied assault of passion, lust, and need that tore through her shields and right to her heart. She needed more of him. More skin, more closeness, more of everything. "Your sweater." She tugged at the offending garment, and he yanked it and his tee shirt over his head, tossing them aside, his heated gaze never leaving her face.

  His body was lean and muscled, taut with strength, but she barely had time to appreciate it before he was kissing her again, backing her across the room as he tugged her shirt out of her jeans. His hands were searing hot on her waist as he palmed her sides, sliding his hands up her ribs as he swept her shirt upward. His thumbs grazed her nipples through her bra, and then her shirt was off. He tossed it aside, and then the couch hit the back of her knees.

  He caught her as she lost her balance, taking them both down to the narrow couch. The kiss was frantic now, as if twelve years of pent-up need had been released in a raw, uncon
trollable frenzy. He cupped her breast as he kissed her, sliding his fingers beneath the lace to caress her nipple, a tantalizing tease that made her squirm with need. Her entire body felt like it was burning up. Need coursed through her stronger than she'd ever felt, need for him, for them, for everything.

  She reached between them, trying to find the fly to his jeans, but the minute she touched his zipper, he rolled off her, yanking his pants off with record speed, his eyes burning into her. He was gloriously muscled, pure male, so primal and wild, a man who belonged on this rugged island, far beyond the boy she'd once known.

  "You're more beautiful than I ever could have dreamed," he said, his eyes sweeping over her half-naked body. "A treasure. My treasure."

  Tears burned in her eyes at the reverence in his voice. He meant it. This tormented, kind, handsome man thought she was truly beautiful. "Thank you."

  He grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes, then he kissed her again, taking over the couch as he stripped off the remainder of her clothes.

  Then, suddenly, finally, there were no barriers between them. His body was searing hot against hers, his kisses stripping her of all coherent thought. He sat up and dragged her onto his lap so her knees were on either side of his hips. He kissed her with desperate need, his hands tunneling through her hair. His erection was against her belly, hot and hard, and her breasts were crushed against his chest.

  He swore and broke the kiss, his hands still buried in her hair. He pulled back enough to see her, his eyes dark with the same need that burned through her. "This matters to me," he said softly. "So little matters to me anymore, but this does."

  She nodded, her breath tight in her chest. "Me, too."

  "My dear, sweet Willow." His strong hands clamped on her hips, and he lifted her up, his gaze never leaving hers. "Mine." He lowered her gently, easing her down as his erection slid inside her damp folds.

  She gasped at the rush of sensation, at the desire that flooded every part of her. "It's never been like this," she said. "It's never been you."