Page 50 of A Photo Finish
He leans over me, the sheer width of him casting a shadow over my body as his hands slide across my collarbones and rub at my shoulders, digging in so hard that it almost hurts. An ache that blooms into a burn, that blooms into pure consuming heat.
I close my eyes, not wanting to watch him anymore. Not wanting to see the harsh look on his face though I can still smell him. That faint clove scent mingling with my perspiration and baby powder deodorant. The whoosh of his exhale feels like a cool breeze across my dampened sternum. My yoga shorts and tank top suddenly feel sticky and altogether too tight against my body, like they’re constricting around me and stealing my breath.
I try not to focus on the caress of his hands on my bare skin, the flutter of his fingertips, the overwhelming press of his body looming over mine. But I can’t. Even closing my eyes isn’t working. He’severywhere. Smothering me, weighing me down, it’s like I’m suddenly being suffocated by him.
I can’t breathe around him.
“Okay, that’s enough!” I push up onto my elbows, breathing hard. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say as I look down over my body, noting the way my nipples have pebbled through my unpadded sports bra.
His eyes follow mine, those gray irises going molten as they scour their way down and land on my breasts. They momentarily flick back up to my lips, causing my tongue to dart out nervously. Any words I could say die in my throat as I peer up at the man I’ve fantasized about for two years who is currently looking at me like he might have the same fantasy.
“Violet.”
“Yeah?” My voice is weak, breathy.
Cole leans closer, inhaling deeply, as his mouth hovers near my throat. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”
My heart stops. Lurches. Freezes. I look up into his eyes, so full of uncertainty and longing. So tortured. Sopained.
I search his face. Looking for some clue as to what he really wants me to do here. A hint, a tell,something. But that military training is shining through, so I opt for the truth. “I’m not a very good liar.”
A strangled growl tears free from his chest, right as his head drops down onto my body. I feel the tip of his tongue trail up the center of my sternum, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My vision goes fuzzy, and my head spins. I fall back flat on the mat.Is this really happening right now?
Cole devours me like a man starved—like an expert. His lips dust kisses over each collar bone as the tips of his teeth scrape against my skin, followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice vibrates across my skin, spraying goosebumps out in its wake.
I whimper and run my hands through his thick hair, wanting to keep him close. Wanting him to keep going and never stop. “Cole . . .” I trail one trembling hand down over his neck, fisting his T-shirt at the shoulder and pulling him in.
He slides his hand up to cup the base of my skull as his thumb presses softly to the very top of my throat, holding me like it’s his right. His body looms over mine, mouth moving up toward the hand that grips me. He nips gently just beneath my ear, and I arch up into him, my back coming up off the ground, my nipples rasping across his hard chest—wishing he was laying right over me so that I could grind up into his length again.
“Tell me,” he whispers into my ear.
“Don’t stop,” is my pleading reply.
His teeth trail across the line of my jaw, his lips hovering close to mine. So, so close. I can’t tear my eyes from them. I want to watch this all and commit it to memory.
“What are you doing to me?” I can feel his breath on my lips, smell the mint on his breath. I want to taste it too.
It seems rich, him saying that, when there hasn’t been a day in the last two years where I haven’t thought of him. Where my fingers haven’t itched to log into our chat and ask him an innocuous question or beg him to give me another one of those mind-altering orgasms.
I’vemissedCole, and I’ve only dreamt of this. His lips on me, his hands roaming freely, while I turn to putty beneath him. I want so much more.
“We need to stop.”
My eyes flash open as his mouth hovers just over mine, soaking up words that make little sense. Inches apart. So close, and yet so far away. He pulls up and sits back on his heels, panting. His hands shake with the strain of holding himself back as he scrubs them across his face.
“Okay,” I huff out. “Why?”
“Because I don’t do this.”
I’m breathing like I just ran a hundred-meter dash. “Do what?”
“Physical contact. Relationships. Any of it.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Like . . . at all? Ever?”
“Not for . . . a long time. Years.” He trails off as he stands, and the enormity of his confession hits me like a wrecking ball.Years?“Not since . . .” He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. I already know he means since Hilary. My throat burns with jealousy. Sad, pathetic jealousy. Such a wasteful and pointless emotion. “I’m sorry,” he adds as he turns to walk away stiffly toward the kitchen.
