Page 72 of Muddy Messy Love

I blink a few times, processing, then stare at my thighs where they squish against the benchtop, twice their usual size. My face burns, and irritation spatters through my chest. I hop down from the island, my bare feet hitting the cold tiles with a slap, then push past Cole towards the bathroom. “You should go. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

He snorts a laugh. “Aves, come on.” His footsteps follow me down the gallery hall. “Don’t have a tantrum.”

A tantrum? A fucking tantrum!The nerve.

I spin around and poke my finger into his hard chest, gritting my words. “I am not having a fucking tantrum.”

Well, maybe I am. A little. And considering I deprived myself of the same thing forty-eight hours ago, I’m not handling this well. But that was before. Before I tasted inconceivable ecstasy. Before I knew what bodies could do. Before I experienced it withhim. I’m so pent-up I could scream.

Cole smirks, but I itch to wipe it off his smug face. Why does he have to look so delicious while being so annoying? And why do a few orgasms grant him this much power? God, I need to buy a vibrator.Stat.

He raises his hands in an open-palm surrender. “I’m sorry, okay? I was just playing.”

I frown. “You took me right to the brink and then left me with…nothing. That’s so…” I shake my head, grinding my teeth. “Mean!” My bottom lip quivers, and I mentally facepalm. What the fuck is wrong with me?

With a chuckle, Cole steps in to kiss my forehead. “Christ. Remind me never to deny you an orgasm again. It’s like I’ve killed your puppy.” He kisses my lips, and to my annoyance, I melt into him. “Turn around and face the wall. I’ll make it better.” His promise dissolves my pride, so I comply. I’m on the brink of bursting with something, and it may as well be pleasure.

“I’m not showing you my studio,” I whisper to the wall.

“Why?” Cole slides down my pants and knickers, kissing and biting my bum cheeks. Tracing my spine with his tongue on the way up. He sounds wounded, which wrenches my chest.

Because he’ll see I really am obsessed. That I’m in free fall, like a skydiver without a chute. Because he’ll see all my hurt—my love—my crazy. He’ll see…me.

“Because.” My voice cracks.

He must sense the onslaught of thoughts spinning through my head. “It’s okay. You can show me whenever you’re ready.” He slides his mouth down the side of my neck, teeth grazing, tongue tasting. A warm hand slips up the front of my jumper, squeezing my breast, pinching my nipple. I hear the jangle of his belt—his zip opening. The sound of crinkling foil. “Place your hands up against the wall.”

My purple fingernails shimmer against the stark white wall as a topless woman stares down at me from her golden canvas.Pulling my hips back towards him, Cole sinks into me, biting my shoulder and running his hot breath up my neck. “Better?” he rasps.

I rest my head back on his shoulder and moan. “Yes.” The angle. The depth. The man. Pure. Heaven.

He slides his broad hand up the wall to cover mine and entwines our fingers as he thrusts into me. “You feel divine,” he says, and the words dance through my mind, tango with arousal, and morph into everything.

The orgasm slams through me with double force, and I ride out the waves, cursing Cole’s name.

“Turn around to face me.” Cole pulls out, and I do as he says. He hitches up my knees and re-enters me, wrapping my legs around his hips, ramming me hard against the wall.

“Come home with me next Saturday,” he breathes, grinding against my clit, conjuring a delicious second wave.

“I’d like that,” I manage to say.

The canvas bangs against the plasterboard with every smooth thrust, and Cole stares into my eyes, bracing one forearm near my head, grazing my scalp with his thumb. Silent, tender words fill his gaze, connecting with the ones building inside me.

His breathing grows ragged. “Come with me.”

And as though he’s trained my body, I do. In perfect synchrony with him.

Fifteen

Cole navigates the narrow,windy road with ease as we ascend into the hills en route to his house. A luminous amber cliff soars up to our right, lined with metal mesh to control any rocks, while a death gully plunges down to the left, disguised with waxy leaves glistening in dappled sunlight.

I admire Cole’s profile. The straight Roman line of his nose. The shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. The curve of his full lips. He grips the steering wheel at ten and two, and there’s something beautiful about being at his mercy.

“You’re staring at me,” he says.

I wriggle in my heated seat. Warmth seeps through my jeans and puffer jacket like a big, cosy hug. “Yeah, and for once you can’t dissect my thoughts with those pretty X-ray eyes.”

He bats his dark lashes and spares me a quick glance. “You think they’re pretty?”

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