Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(40)

“Don’t know,” he said. “And don’t care.”

Nearly tripping over another case, he tossed Rachael onto the couch. She landed with her robe splayed out behind her, a curtain of red against her pale skin. She smiled wide and nailed him with a sultry, come-and-get-me glance.

Sexiest sight ever.

He committed the image to memory and got busy stripping out of his clothes. He kicked off his boots and jeans and slid the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. In his frantic rush to be inside her, he’d forgotten the condom. He dug into his jeans pocket, tore through the wrapper and rolled it on.

Seconds dragged by.

Shaking with anticipation, Cole gripped her backside and slid her to the edge of the couch.

They groaned in unison as their hips met. He stilled inside her, buried to the hilt.

“Know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he said, as he slowly thrust in and out of her wetness. “Since you caught me in my towel.”

She rested back onto the couch. Tilted her hips so his length would sink deeper into her heat. She was a hot glove of molten ecstasy. A perfect fit. Every muscle in his body clenched into a tight fist.

“I wanted you that night, too,” she said.

He stilled. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

The corner of her lips pulled up into a grin. “Get down here, you cocky sucker.”

“Cock and suck in the same sentence?” He plunged deeper. “Music to my ears.”

She rose up, grabbed him by the back of the neck and brought him down over her. As skin met sweet-smelling skin, their bodies rocked together in an undulating rhythm that drove him to the brink. And when her inner walls began to clench around his shaft in tiny little pulses, his muscles seized. She cried out his name, and sent him careening over the edge with her.

As the surges waned, Cole stilled, though he didn’t want to roll off just yet.

She consumed him. From the rosy-sweetness of her hair and warmth of her body, to the soft pitter-patter of her heart beating through her chest. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms around his back.

He never wanted the moment to end, which was a new notion for him.

Normally, he’d start thinking of a way to get out without hurting the woman’s feelings. But not a single idea of the sort entered his head. They could stay here. Throw a blanket on the floor, light a fire and curl up in front of it until dawn. He felt relaxed and drained, his muscles spent. Not a single thought of how he’d botched the concert could worry him now.

“I need to get up,” she said, patting his back.

Wasn’t that normally his line?


He rolled off the couch and disposed of the condom as she wrapped herself in her robe and disappeared upstairs. For a long while, Cole wasn’t sure she’d come back down, and a pang of loneliness struck him, which was damn odd. When she finally trotted down the stairs, she swept into the kitchen without one glance his direction.

Not what he’d expected.

“Rachael?” he strode through the dining room without bothering to cover himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She filled a glass of ice water. “Why wouldn’t I be? Here.”

He eyed the glass. “Don’t you want some?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He stared, and tightened the slack in his jaw. Rachael may’ve tried to play up the shy vibe, but she was a vixen in the sack. Beyond that, the woman was a saint, caring for others over herself. Every one in town loved her—he was beginning to see why—and he hadn’t heard a bad word whispered behind her back. She was naturally beautiful unlike the plastic groupies who tried to mob him at every tour stop. She was stable. Kind and nurturing with a stubborn streak that would keep a relationship interesting and vibrant.