It wasn’t a bad fall, as she’d always imagined it would be. Nor was it terrifying or any of the other things she’d always assumed giving control of her body to another would mean.
With Cole it felt right. Natural. As right as his hands caressing every part of her, as perfect as his eyes lingering on each sweet spot she had.
The words trembled on her lips, the need to share with him what she’d only just discovered nearly overwhelming. But she was beginning to know Cole, to understand how he worked. And she was smart enough to understand that he could not accept how she felt about him—not yet. Whatever his demons were, they were riding him hard. All she could do was hang on and hope to somehow, some way, gentle him into returning her feelings.
With this newfound knowledge burning inside of her, Genevieve felt the body she’d thought too tired to function begin to respond to Cole’s tender ministrations.
Arching her hips, she moaned a little, but he ignored the signs. Instead he rinsed the soap from her body slowly, letting the hot water ease aches and pains she hadn’t even known were there.
He leaned forward, moving the handheld showerhead up so that water cascaded over first one shoulder and then the other. Little rivulets ran over her br**sts, down her stomach, and she arched her back, enjoying the sensual warmth of the water as it touched every part of her.
Soon, too soon, he turned off the water and wrapped her in a huge black towel. She was in a daze, so tired that she could barely hold her head up, so disconsolate that she wanted to crawl into bed and pull the sheet over her head until she could once again face the world.
Cole’s hands were gentle as they dried the water from her; gentler still as he carried her back to his bed. After crossing to his dresser and yanking out a huge T-shirt, he pulled it over her head and then slipped her between the covers.
“Cole?” she asked, her hands reaching for him despite the exhaustion.
“Sleep, sweetheart.”
“Don’t leave me.” Her hand clutched at his and she curled herself around it, trying desperately to hold him to her. If she’d been more aware, such neediness would have appalled her. As it was, all she knew was that she didn’t want to be alone. Would pull into a ball and sob if Cole left her after taking such sweet care of her.
“I’m right here, Genevieve. I’m not going anywhere.”
He climbed into the bed beside her, pulling her into his chest. His warmth seeped into her, and she sighed as she rested her head on his chest, heard his heart beating steadily beneath her ear. She drifted to sleep feeling safer than she ever had before.
* * *
Cole smiled as he watched Genevieve sleep, trailed a finger over her high cheekbones and across that lush, relaxed mouth. She looked like hell—dark circles beneath her eyes, tension drawing her skin tight across her forehead and cheekbones, even in sleep. But she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, this woman who wore herself to exhaustion and beyond in her quest for justice.
She’d say it was her job, and maybe it was, but for Genevieve it was a calling, one she took incredibly seriously. Even if she weren’t beautiful and intelligent and the most exciting lover he’d ever had, he would still be intrigued by her, simply because of the way she fought for her victims. For their families. Her raw, unadulterated, uncompromising view of right and wrong—of justice and injustice—appealed to a man who had been forced to see the world in too many shades of gray for much too long.
He brushed his lips over her crazy curls, careful not to wake her despite his need to keep touching her. To feel her against him. To know that she was here, with him, safe in a world that was anything but.
If he’d held Samantha closer, had forced her to—He cut off abruptly, unwilling to take that train of thought any further. Not now, when Genevieve’s body was curled so trustingly against his. Not tonight, when his emotions and fears were much too close to the surface.
He squashed a momentary longing for the bottle of tequila in the next room. He’d relied too heavily on the clear liquor since he’d gotten to this godforsaken city, and enough was enough. If he couldn’t deal with his problems, couldn’t control what was happening now and what had happened seven years before, then what good was he? As a director or a man?
He didn’t know how long he lay there like that, watching Genevieve. Winding her curls around his fingers in an effort to hold her to him. Touching her just to reassure himself that she was still alive, still with him.
But dawn was streaking the sky outside his windows before she stirred. He didn’t move for long seconds, hoping that she wouldn’t wake up. She needed to sleep so badly, needed to heal her tired body and wounded psyche with a little time away from her responsibilities. From the case.
His caution was for nothing, though, as her beautiful sapphire eyes blinked open. She stared at him owlishly for a moment, confusion evident on her beautiful features. He knew the exact moment she realized where she was and how she’d gotten there—a warm, becoming flush crept up from beneath his T-shirt to cover her neck and cheeks.
“Hi there.” He tightened his arms around her as he whispered the words, so that she was snuggled—full-length—against him.
“Hi yourself.” Her voice was husky with sleep and so sexy he felt the semi-hard-on he’d been ignoring for hours twitch in reaction, growing fuller.
“Go back to sleep.” He kissed her eyes, trailed his lips over her soft pink cheeks. “You need more rest.”
“I need you.” She shifted so that her legs tangled with his and her pelvis was pressed against his suddenly throbbing cock. “Make love to me, Cole. Please.”
He stared at her for a long moment, tried to convince himself to leave her alone. To let her get the rest she so desperately needed. But she was wiggling and squirming, her ni**les growing hard against his chest, her pu**y radiating a heat that called to him.
Telling himself to be gentle with her, he pulled her shirt off, then feathered a trail of kisses from the hollow of her throat to her belly button. His tongue darted out, licked the intriguing lines of her tattoo again and again, until he felt her quiver beneath him, her body softening just a little bit more.
Reaching up, he ran his thumb over and around her nipples. They were diamond hard and so sensitive that each brush of his hand against them had her sucking in her breath and arching her back for a harder pressure.
Licking his way up her body, he stopped at her br**sts. Drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled gently. She cried out, buried her hands in his hair, and he reveled in the feel of her fingers on his scalp. She tasted amazing—like the sweetest honey, the softest lavender—and he couldn’t get enough of her.
Inhaling deeply, he took her scent into his lungs, loved that the candy sweetness of her was mixed with the wild scent of his own soap. She smelled like him, and that mark of possession, that primitive proof that she belonged to him, lit him up like a rocket. Tightening his arms around her, he rolled until she was above him—her legs straddling him, her hot pu**y resting against his dick.
She gasped, her blue eyes darkening to black as she moved her h*ps gently against him. Rocked until he slipped between the moist folds of her sex, the head of his c**k just touching her clit.
He groaned, fisted his hands in her hair and fought for control. How could he lose it so quickly? How could she steal it so easily when he’d been determined to take her with the sweetness and gentleness that he’d previously neglected to give her?
Biting his lip, tamping down on the raging inferno that was his body, he smoothed his hands down her back. Savored the silkiness of her skin, the warm softness of her body. No one had ever touched him the way Genevieve did so effortlessly.
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he skimmed his hands over her ass, around her h*ps and up her stomach to her br**sts. Cupping the sweet weights in his hands, he rubbed his thumb in small circles on the undersides of her br**sts.
“Cole.” It was a whisper of sound, a plea for more, but he refused to be rushed. Today, he would savor her, so that when she went back to her hellish job, she would know just what she meant to him.
“Let me love you, Genevieve. No games, no control—just you and me and everything we can give each other.”
She bit her lip and her eyes darkened even more as she looked at him. He could see the wariness there, the need to give herself to him but also the desire to keep her battered spirit safe.
He slid his hands up her torso to her face, cupped her jaw in his palms. “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. I already told you that. Trust me to do what’s right for you. What’s right for us.”
He sensed her disquiet, felt her holding her breath as surely as she held him between her thighs. And when she finally nodded, her long, loose curls flowing over her shoulders and br**sts in a cascade of gold, he felt his heart melt in his chest.
“I’ll make it good for you, Genevieve.” He nuzzled her breast, traced patterns on the delicate skin. “I swear I will.”
She laughed, the sound low and husky and amazingly feminine. “You always make it good for me.”
And then she lowered her mouth to his, caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged softly, sliding the tip of her tongue over the outside of it before moving slowly, teasingly, over the slickness of the soft inner flesh.
He felt the caress through his whole body, from the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands to his balls, which were already threatening to explode. His hands tightened in her hair, and she laughed.
He took advantage of her open mouth, slipped his tongue inside to tangle with her own. As her teeth parted, he tilted her head so that she was wide open to him, until no part of her mouth was unavailable to his hot, hungry quest.
He slid his tongue beneath her upper lip, played with the soft skin. Relished the moan the little caress drew from her before wrapping his tongue around hers and sucking softly.
She gasped, and he felt her sex grow wetter, hotter against his cock. His h*ps jerked before he could control them, and his eyes nearly crossed as her legs tightened around him reflexively.
She was so turned on, her body pliant and his for the taking. Part of him wanted to shove her onto her back and thrust inside of her until they were both sweating, both screaming. Both coming.
But that was how he always took her—pushing her to take everything she could. Straining the boundaries of her experience and experimental nature until she took everything he wanted to give her, until she gave all that she was to him.
Today, he wanted to give himself to her. To love her without the tricks and the toys and the walls he’d kept between them until now.
But taking it slow was the hardest thing he’d ever done, when his body was on fire for her, his c**k screaming for the chance to slip inside her slick warmth and ride her until ecstasy took them both.
Control, he told himself, as he took her mouth in another soul-searing kiss. Control was the ticket.
Cole had lost his mind, was doing his best to make her lose hers. Genevieve cried out as he nibbled at her lips, his tongue sweeping over and around and inside her lips until she was ready to scream with frustration.
What was he waiting for? How much hotter did she have to be? Already, her body was trembling, electrified, every nerve ending she had calling out to him, yet he refused to take her. Instead, he kept his mouth on hers, tasting and teasing until she was nearly mad with desire.
“Cole, I need you,” she gasped, rocking her h*ps against his hard cock. He felt so good, so amazingly, heart-wrenchingly good, that she was close to cl**axing just from the occasional, glancing caress of his tip against her aching clit.
At that moment, sunlight filtered into the room through the half-open shutters. For a moment, she was dazzled by the play of sun over Cole’s strong golden torso, enthralled by each shift and ripple of his muscles.
But then common sense kicked in and she yelped, jumping off Cole as if she’d been burned. His hands were still tangled in her hair and it tugged as she moved away from him, but even that didn’t slow her down as she raced across the room.
With Cole it felt right. Natural. As right as his hands caressing every part of her, as perfect as his eyes lingering on each sweet spot she had.
The words trembled on her lips, the need to share with him what she’d only just discovered nearly overwhelming. But she was beginning to know Cole, to understand how he worked. And she was smart enough to understand that he could not accept how she felt about him—not yet. Whatever his demons were, they were riding him hard. All she could do was hang on and hope to somehow, some way, gentle him into returning her feelings.
With this newfound knowledge burning inside of her, Genevieve felt the body she’d thought too tired to function begin to respond to Cole’s tender ministrations.
Arching her hips, she moaned a little, but he ignored the signs. Instead he rinsed the soap from her body slowly, letting the hot water ease aches and pains she hadn’t even known were there.
He leaned forward, moving the handheld showerhead up so that water cascaded over first one shoulder and then the other. Little rivulets ran over her br**sts, down her stomach, and she arched her back, enjoying the sensual warmth of the water as it touched every part of her.
Soon, too soon, he turned off the water and wrapped her in a huge black towel. She was in a daze, so tired that she could barely hold her head up, so disconsolate that she wanted to crawl into bed and pull the sheet over her head until she could once again face the world.
Cole’s hands were gentle as they dried the water from her; gentler still as he carried her back to his bed. After crossing to his dresser and yanking out a huge T-shirt, he pulled it over her head and then slipped her between the covers.
“Cole?” she asked, her hands reaching for him despite the exhaustion.
“Sleep, sweetheart.”
“Don’t leave me.” Her hand clutched at his and she curled herself around it, trying desperately to hold him to her. If she’d been more aware, such neediness would have appalled her. As it was, all she knew was that she didn’t want to be alone. Would pull into a ball and sob if Cole left her after taking such sweet care of her.
“I’m right here, Genevieve. I’m not going anywhere.”
He climbed into the bed beside her, pulling her into his chest. His warmth seeped into her, and she sighed as she rested her head on his chest, heard his heart beating steadily beneath her ear. She drifted to sleep feeling safer than she ever had before.
* * *
Cole smiled as he watched Genevieve sleep, trailed a finger over her high cheekbones and across that lush, relaxed mouth. She looked like hell—dark circles beneath her eyes, tension drawing her skin tight across her forehead and cheekbones, even in sleep. But she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, this woman who wore herself to exhaustion and beyond in her quest for justice.
She’d say it was her job, and maybe it was, but for Genevieve it was a calling, one she took incredibly seriously. Even if she weren’t beautiful and intelligent and the most exciting lover he’d ever had, he would still be intrigued by her, simply because of the way she fought for her victims. For their families. Her raw, unadulterated, uncompromising view of right and wrong—of justice and injustice—appealed to a man who had been forced to see the world in too many shades of gray for much too long.
He brushed his lips over her crazy curls, careful not to wake her despite his need to keep touching her. To feel her against him. To know that she was here, with him, safe in a world that was anything but.
If he’d held Samantha closer, had forced her to—He cut off abruptly, unwilling to take that train of thought any further. Not now, when Genevieve’s body was curled so trustingly against his. Not tonight, when his emotions and fears were much too close to the surface.
He squashed a momentary longing for the bottle of tequila in the next room. He’d relied too heavily on the clear liquor since he’d gotten to this godforsaken city, and enough was enough. If he couldn’t deal with his problems, couldn’t control what was happening now and what had happened seven years before, then what good was he? As a director or a man?
He didn’t know how long he lay there like that, watching Genevieve. Winding her curls around his fingers in an effort to hold her to him. Touching her just to reassure himself that she was still alive, still with him.
But dawn was streaking the sky outside his windows before she stirred. He didn’t move for long seconds, hoping that she wouldn’t wake up. She needed to sleep so badly, needed to heal her tired body and wounded psyche with a little time away from her responsibilities. From the case.
His caution was for nothing, though, as her beautiful sapphire eyes blinked open. She stared at him owlishly for a moment, confusion evident on her beautiful features. He knew the exact moment she realized where she was and how she’d gotten there—a warm, becoming flush crept up from beneath his T-shirt to cover her neck and cheeks.
“Hi there.” He tightened his arms around her as he whispered the words, so that she was snuggled—full-length—against him.
“Hi yourself.” Her voice was husky with sleep and so sexy he felt the semi-hard-on he’d been ignoring for hours twitch in reaction, growing fuller.
“Go back to sleep.” He kissed her eyes, trailed his lips over her soft pink cheeks. “You need more rest.”
“I need you.” She shifted so that her legs tangled with his and her pelvis was pressed against his suddenly throbbing cock. “Make love to me, Cole. Please.”
He stared at her for a long moment, tried to convince himself to leave her alone. To let her get the rest she so desperately needed. But she was wiggling and squirming, her ni**les growing hard against his chest, her pu**y radiating a heat that called to him.
Telling himself to be gentle with her, he pulled her shirt off, then feathered a trail of kisses from the hollow of her throat to her belly button. His tongue darted out, licked the intriguing lines of her tattoo again and again, until he felt her quiver beneath him, her body softening just a little bit more.
Reaching up, he ran his thumb over and around her nipples. They were diamond hard and so sensitive that each brush of his hand against them had her sucking in her breath and arching her back for a harder pressure.
Licking his way up her body, he stopped at her br**sts. Drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled gently. She cried out, buried her hands in his hair, and he reveled in the feel of her fingers on his scalp. She tasted amazing—like the sweetest honey, the softest lavender—and he couldn’t get enough of her.
Inhaling deeply, he took her scent into his lungs, loved that the candy sweetness of her was mixed with the wild scent of his own soap. She smelled like him, and that mark of possession, that primitive proof that she belonged to him, lit him up like a rocket. Tightening his arms around her, he rolled until she was above him—her legs straddling him, her hot pu**y resting against his dick.
She gasped, her blue eyes darkening to black as she moved her h*ps gently against him. Rocked until he slipped between the moist folds of her sex, the head of his c**k just touching her clit.
He groaned, fisted his hands in her hair and fought for control. How could he lose it so quickly? How could she steal it so easily when he’d been determined to take her with the sweetness and gentleness that he’d previously neglected to give her?
Biting his lip, tamping down on the raging inferno that was his body, he smoothed his hands down her back. Savored the silkiness of her skin, the warm softness of her body. No one had ever touched him the way Genevieve did so effortlessly.
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he skimmed his hands over her ass, around her h*ps and up her stomach to her br**sts. Cupping the sweet weights in his hands, he rubbed his thumb in small circles on the undersides of her br**sts.
“Cole.” It was a whisper of sound, a plea for more, but he refused to be rushed. Today, he would savor her, so that when she went back to her hellish job, she would know just what she meant to him.
“Let me love you, Genevieve. No games, no control—just you and me and everything we can give each other.”
She bit her lip and her eyes darkened even more as she looked at him. He could see the wariness there, the need to give herself to him but also the desire to keep her battered spirit safe.
He slid his hands up her torso to her face, cupped her jaw in his palms. “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. I already told you that. Trust me to do what’s right for you. What’s right for us.”
He sensed her disquiet, felt her holding her breath as surely as she held him between her thighs. And when she finally nodded, her long, loose curls flowing over her shoulders and br**sts in a cascade of gold, he felt his heart melt in his chest.
“I’ll make it good for you, Genevieve.” He nuzzled her breast, traced patterns on the delicate skin. “I swear I will.”
She laughed, the sound low and husky and amazingly feminine. “You always make it good for me.”
And then she lowered her mouth to his, caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged softly, sliding the tip of her tongue over the outside of it before moving slowly, teasingly, over the slickness of the soft inner flesh.
He felt the caress through his whole body, from the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands to his balls, which were already threatening to explode. His hands tightened in her hair, and she laughed.
He took advantage of her open mouth, slipped his tongue inside to tangle with her own. As her teeth parted, he tilted her head so that she was wide open to him, until no part of her mouth was unavailable to his hot, hungry quest.
He slid his tongue beneath her upper lip, played with the soft skin. Relished the moan the little caress drew from her before wrapping his tongue around hers and sucking softly.
She gasped, and he felt her sex grow wetter, hotter against his cock. His h*ps jerked before he could control them, and his eyes nearly crossed as her legs tightened around him reflexively.
She was so turned on, her body pliant and his for the taking. Part of him wanted to shove her onto her back and thrust inside of her until they were both sweating, both screaming. Both coming.
But that was how he always took her—pushing her to take everything she could. Straining the boundaries of her experience and experimental nature until she took everything he wanted to give her, until she gave all that she was to him.
Today, he wanted to give himself to her. To love her without the tricks and the toys and the walls he’d kept between them until now.
But taking it slow was the hardest thing he’d ever done, when his body was on fire for her, his c**k screaming for the chance to slip inside her slick warmth and ride her until ecstasy took them both.
Control, he told himself, as he took her mouth in another soul-searing kiss. Control was the ticket.
Cole had lost his mind, was doing his best to make her lose hers. Genevieve cried out as he nibbled at her lips, his tongue sweeping over and around and inside her lips until she was ready to scream with frustration.
What was he waiting for? How much hotter did she have to be? Already, her body was trembling, electrified, every nerve ending she had calling out to him, yet he refused to take her. Instead, he kept his mouth on hers, tasting and teasing until she was nearly mad with desire.
“Cole, I need you,” she gasped, rocking her h*ps against his hard cock. He felt so good, so amazingly, heart-wrenchingly good, that she was close to cl**axing just from the occasional, glancing caress of his tip against her aching clit.
At that moment, sunlight filtered into the room through the half-open shutters. For a moment, she was dazzled by the play of sun over Cole’s strong golden torso, enthralled by each shift and ripple of his muscles.
But then common sense kicked in and she yelped, jumping off Cole as if she’d been burned. His hands were still tangled in her hair and it tugged as she moved away from him, but even that didn’t slow her down as she raced across the room.
