Secrets Vol. 2(4)

A few hours later, sweat is pouring off of me. The air conditioner totally died and the repair guy hasn't shown up. Cole calls them and is assured that we are next on the list, so we sit and wait. I stop editing and lay down on the cool concrete floor. Sweat was dripping into my computer keyboard; it's so insanely hot up here. The cement feels nice on the back of my neck and legs. I sigh and fold my hands behind my head.

When Cole notices, he walks over and stands above me, his hands on his hips, "Get up, Lamore. There's more work to be done, and we'll be here until tomorrow at this rate." He holds out a hand to me.

I don't take it. "It's got to be 20 degrees cooler down here. We should move the computer to the floor. This is way better." When I don't take his hand, Cole cocks his head and places his hands on his hips. I laugh. He looks ridiculous, "What? Are you gonna yell at me? It's like a hundred degrees in here. Besides, you'd be sitting on the floor if you could get up again. Ya know, without using that button around your neck." I change my voice to mimic the old lady on the TV, "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" My laughter obscures my words by the time I finish teasing him.

Cole moves fast. He falls to his knees and lands by my side before starting a tickle fight that brings tears to my eyes. His fingers move over my slick skin. I'm laughing so hard that I can't breathe.

"If I could get up again," he mutters with a smile on his face. "I'm not that much older than you, Lamore. In fact, you're going to be the one who begs for help getting up." He tickles me more. My legs kick as I try to roll out of reach. I manage to flop onto my stomach, but he grabs my ankle and pulls me back. I squeal as my cami hikes up. Frantically, my hands shift from the tickle fight, trying to keep my shirt from revealing too much skin.

Cole is laughing, "Surrender, Lamore. Beg me for help." He bats his eyes and says in a girlie voice, "I've fallen and I can't get up." His fingers wiggle against the bare skin at my waist, as I laugh hysterically.

Kicking at him, my foot connects with the side of his face by accident. The impact is audible. I didn't mean to do that. Startled, we both pause for a moment. His jaw drops, so does mine. No one laughs. No one breathes until he grins, saying, "You're gonna pay for that."

Before he grabs for me, I try to crab crawl away, but Cole yanks my leg and I fall on my back. Suddenly he's over me, his hands trying to still my wrists. We roll around on the floor for a minute, both of us much hotter than a few minutes ago. Sweat trickles down my face. The little beads roll down my neck and into my cleavage. Cole's eyes trace the movement. I try to knock him off his knees, but when he goes down, he pins my body to the floor, clutching my wrists.

We're both breathing hard when he yanks my hands and slams them down over my head, stretching me. As he does it, our gazes lock, and now my shirt has crawled up, revealing more than I'd normally show. I feel the bare skin on my stomach against his shirt. It makes me feel like I'm falling. I don't want it to stop. There's no laughter, just ragged breathing as we stare at each other. He remains on top of me and I can't move.

I feel lost. My head is swimming, stuck in the haze that comes with being high from laughter. The way he looks at me sends a shiver through my body. He feels it move through me, but he doesn't release me. I don't want him to. I want to know what this passionate man will do, how he treats his lovers. I can't ignore the dream I had last night at my parents' house.

I close my eyes slowly, and look back into his beautiful face, "Do I really have to beg, Cole?" My voice is too deep, too sensual. I meant to be playful, but can't manage it. My voice betrays me and my innocent question sounds anything but innocent. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and it feels like every bit of my dream is painted across my face. I don't breathe as I watch him, waiting for him to react, but he doesn't.

Cole's expression doesn't change - his intense gaze darkens, his lips part. There is no smile on his face. Not anymore. Something changed, a moment of flirtation that crossed a line. We both know it. Cole's grip on my wrists tightens; his eyes are still locked on mine. His taller frame allows him to pull me slightly, stretching my body. My breasts push into his chest harder. I gasp, wishing, wanting something that I can't quiet comprehend. Every inch of my skin feels cold and hot at the same time. Cole's lips are just above mine. I want him to pull us together, and nip me, taste my kiss, and then do it all again.

Cole's body is tense, every muscle perfectly formed. His ribs expand as he tries to steady his breath. I can feel his heart pounding when he tugs me. The movement makes him lay flat against my chest. His eyes are so dark.

He whispers, "Hell, yes. Beg for it, Anna. Beg me..." His lips are so close to mine, but he won't kiss me. I wriggle beneath him, trying to close the distance, but he won't let me.

Before either of us can say another word the chime from the front door sounds. We split apart. Cole springs to his feet, rubbing his hands through his hair. His back is to me as he leaves the room to let the repair guy in. I can't read the expression on his face, but the way he moves, the way his broad shoulders slant as he walks away - it looks like regret.

My stomach falls. I wonder if he regrets not kissing me, or regrets being in that position with me at all. I'll never ask him.


When Cole returns, I'm working at my desk. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't notice. When he sits down he acts the way he did before our roll on the floor. My stomach is twisting in knots. Looking at him makes me want to touch him, his beautiful face, his silky hair, so I turn back to my computer. The screen glows in front of me. I edit pictures until I can't see anymore. The world has turned blurry, and my eyes sting. Cole tells me to leave several times, but I won't. The work isn't done yet, and in truth, I don't want to leave him. I want to see if there's more there. If he'll take me in his arms when the last photo is edited, and the computers are shut off. But, he doesn't.