Page 47 of The Forbidden Trio

Don’t worry. Not now.

No, now she would enjoy it. See where things went. Revel in being held by the man she had never stopped loving.

For two weeks they’d spent every spare moment together. Janie went to work each day with a smile on her face and came home to Cole. Sometimes he’d be waiting for her at her place, and they’d eat dinner in, then watch a movie snuggled up together on her velvet sofa—on the nights when they managed to wait to get their hands on each other. Some days she’d head over to his house, which she thought was beautiful and so muchhim, with its open floor plan and spare furnishings made comfortable with plush pillows, soft throw blankets and candles everywhere, and his collection of framed vintage rock posters on nearly every wall.

In between sessions in the studio doing the final mixing on Ink & Iron’s new album, he took her for long motorcycle rides up the coast on one of his Harleys or his beautiful vintage Indian bike, a picnic packed in the saddlebags. They went hiking, spent a day at the Getty Museum exploring an exhibit on black-and-white photography, went to the art house movie theater and made out in the back row like teenagers.

One afternoon Cole invited the band and their roadies over for a poolside barbeque, and she realized how much she missed the camaraderie of a band, as well as Chase and Jaden. She had a chance to sit down and talk with Ryan, and she realized she hadn’t ever gotten close with him because she’d never quite moved past the fact that he’d replaced Sonny in the band. But the tall blond bass player was laid-back and easy to talk to, and they were friends by the end of the night. The guys all acted as if seven years hadn’t passed since they’d seen her, accepting her back with open arms and no questions asked, and it was good to be “one of the boys” again.

She talked to Celine as often as she could—usually on her way to or from work—and her friend reminded her to enjoy herself, not to look too far into the future or too far into the past, but to protect her heart. There were times when Janie’s mind would wander and she would start to worry, but things with Cole were too good for her to dwell on what could happen. She’d lived through what could happen. She simply wanted to be with him.

The sex was amazing. Cole was as sensual and commanding a lover as he’d ever been, and there was an edge of tenderness sometimes that absolutely stunned her. They seemed to be falling into a new groove, and things were better than they’d ever been.

She let herself into Cole’s place in the Hollywood Hills—he’d given her a key the first time she came over. She shut the door behind her and that’s when she saw it: the candles in votive glasses creating a winding path with a note by the door that said “Follow me.”

Smiling, she dropped her purse on the floor and slowly made her way over the pale travertine floors, through the living room and down the hallway, through the airy master bedroom suite, which was done in neutral shades and accented in dark turquoise.

Finally following the candle pathway into the master bath, she found Cole there. He had all the fixtures going at once in the enormous shower stall tiled in pale slate—the two rain showerheads, the two hand sprayers, the body jets. The room was half-obscured by steam, but that didn’t prevent her from seeing every gorgeous inch of his well-muscled body as he leaned against the sink, dressed in nothing but his sexy tattoos and a turquoise towel around his hips.

He grinned, his dark goatee framing his lush mouth. God, she needed to kiss him.

“Hi, baby girl. Long day at work?”

“Hi, Cole. And yes, but I think my day is about to improve.”

The familiar buzz was beginning in her body, starting in her limbs and working its way inward, toward more sensitive places. She shivered when he approached her and silently began to undress her, his hands smoothing over her skin as he pulled each piece of clothing off.

When she stood naked before him, he grinned at her. “Even tired and sweaty from work, you are so goddamn beautiful I can hardly believe it.”

“Don’t be silly,” she chided, but she was smiling.

“It’s true, Janie girl. The most beautiful girl ever born.” He moved in and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, making her sigh with pleasure. Making her melt all over in the way only Cole had ever made her do. “Come on. Let’s get you clean so I can do unspeakably dirty things to you.”

“Yes, please,” she said, batting her lashes at him. “Beautifulandaccommodating.”

She laughed, then the laughter died in her throat as he dropped his towel. She could never get over how flawless his body was, every taut line of muscle and sinew perfectly formed. His tattoos only accented his purely male beauty. And his cock was a solid shaft of gorgeous flesh between his strong thighs.

“Cole?”

“Hmm?” He’d taken her hand and was drawing her into the shower stall.

“I need to do some dirty things to you too. I really do.”

“Are you asking permission?”

“I… feel as if I need to. When we’re… when sex is involved, the roles simply slide into place, and I slip into the headspace—I’m already slipping. So… yes. I’m asking.”

It was only with him that she felt this sense of submission. She’d played at kink with another man or two over the years, but only with Cole did she feel any real power exchange.

“Good girl,” he said, leaning in to kiss her lips, and she felt herself sinking into that lovely submissive space where everything went a bit cloudy.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in that iron-hard grip that crushed her breasts to his chest and squeezed some of the breath from her, making her feel a sense of safety in a way she couldn’t explain even to herself. He pulled them both into the shower.

The falling water was a lovely, liquid heat on her skin, in her hair, running over her face— both their faces—as he kissed her. His tongue slipped in and met hers, hot and sweet and demanding. When he let her go a few moments later, her sex was already clenching. “I’m going to wash you, baby. Stand still for me.”

Yes, for him. Anything.

He shampooed her hair first, his strong fingers working on her scalp, then more gently as he pulled conditioner through the long strands. He rinsed her hair before he lathered a sponge with the earthy-scented soap he used. She loved to wash in his soap, to be bathed in his scent, to smell it on her skin after she bathed. Even better when he washed her himself, as he did now.

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