Ten Reasons to Stay ((The Risky Hearts Duet) Book 1) Page 13

  “Jack is going out of town tomorrow,” I said, touching her hand. Making my move.

  Her gaze lingered on my hand on hers, but she didn’t move it. “I know.” I didn’t think two words could sound so sad. Lost. Aching.

  “He’ll be gone for a week.”

  She shifted, but, she stayed quiet.

  “I want to take you somewhere. Come away with me. Just for a few days.”

  I didn’t tell her that I’d been planning this ever since the day she took me to buy the tree. She gave me something that day I wasn’t sure she understood. A new outlook on things. A feeling I haven’t felt since my mother passed.

  The feeling of home.

  I wanted to give something back. The same feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time with Jack.

  If she would only give me the chance.

  “You don’t have to answer tonight. You can let me know tom—”

  “I’ll go,” she said, squeezing my hand.

  “Really?”

  I didn’t think she’d say yes. I’d hoped, but I didn’t dare think it.

  “Yes,” she said, a new light building in her gaze. “When will we leave?”

  “Tomorrow, if you can. Pack warm. I’ll have a car waiting downstairs around nine for you. It can take you separately if you don’t want to be seen getting in with me.”

  “I appreciate that.” Sadness warred with the growing spark in her tone.

  “Okay,” I said, exhaling. “Great.”

  “Corinne?” Jack said from the doorway.

  She jumped, face closing tighter than a lock. After she moved around me, she strode to him at a clipped pace.

  “You ready to go?” she asked, nearing his side. Clearing her throat.

  He nodded distantly, his gaze locked on me. It only took a second. A dark swirling second for him to see it. To recognize what was happening, and then he retracted.

  “What were you doing out there with him?” The question floated back to me as they disappeared behind the door.

  Swiveling to the city lights, I felt a pang of guilt. Though I hated she was leaving with him, I reveled in knowing I’d have her all to myself for the next few days. No interruptions from Jack. No interruptions from life.

  Hopefully, she’d see how well we could be together.

  Chapter 17

  Cole

  “You grew up here?” Corinne asked as I carried her bag to the front door.

  I was surprised by how light she packed. Most women I’d been around needed multiple bags to keep themselves together on a trip.

  “Yeah,” I said, pushing the door open. “My father built it. After they passed, I… I haven’t been able to bring myself to sell it.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes gobbled up every inch of the space. Hands smoothing over every surface.

  I set her bag by the stairs, following her through the living room. It was endearing how she took herself on her own tour. She passed through the dining room. Stopping in the farmhouse-style kitchen, touching the cabinet knobs. Peering into the fridge. Opening up the pantry.

  “You don’t have much,” she said when she spun around. “I guess you wouldn’t,” she added, laughing.

  “I figured we could go into the market after you were settled in. Maybe grab dinner.”

  A furrowed scowl was thrown my way. “You mean to tell me you brought me here just to eat out?”

  I scratched at my chin. “What else would we do?”

  She planted her hands on her hips, the feisty side roaring to life. “You do know I can cook, right? Why leave and waste a perfectly good kitchen when we can have a feast all to ourselves.”

  My blood rushed at the thought of watching her in an apron, cooking a meal for us. “If you insist. I just didn’t want to—”

  “I insist,” she said, her hand against my chest, blinking up at me.

  I kissed her then. Pressed her warm body against the hard length of me, telling her everything I felt without words.

  She melted against me. Allowed me to part her lips so I could taste the heat of her mouth. A taste I was hooked on. Sweet mint.

  “You make me dizzy,” she said when I pulled away. She was leaning against the counter, holding herself up.

  My heart thumped erratically against my chest. I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted Corinne. Once wasn’t enough. Hell, even a hundred times. Every kiss felt like the first. Every touch felt like a godsend.

  “Me too,” I admitted, the air thrumming with energy.

  “Where will we sleep?”

  My dick went hard.

  “Upstairs.” I grabbed her bag and then followed her up, watching the supple sway of her ass beneath her skinny jeans. “In there,” I said, pointing to the first room. It was mine from childhood. Though my parents’ room was bigger, I couldn’t bring myself to use it.

  She was smiling when I came in behind her. The room was still the same. Posters of my favorite baseball players were pinned to the walls. The trophies I’d won were up on shelves. The walls a deep blue. The sheets a dark gray.

  “You know, I can kind of see you as a baseball player,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  Damn, I felt like I was back in high school with a hot girl in my room, hoping to score a feel.

  I sat her bags down on my dresser. “How so?”

  “Your biceps,” she said heatedly. “And your grip.”

  I moved to stand in front of her. Her hands smoothed over my ass. Pulled me closer. With a sly smile, she unbuttoned my pants before pushing them down.

  I stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side, more than ready for the soft feel of her velvet mouth.

  “How does it feel to back here, in your room?” she said, teasing her lips over the length of my dick.

  “Right now…” I said, barely able to contain myself, “pretty fucking awesome.”

  “I like this,” she said as we drove through the countryside toward the market. My hand was on her thigh, her hand on my forearm as I shifted gears. The soft notes of music trickled out from the speakers.

  I smiled. If only she knew.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve just gone away somewhere. Disappeared. Breathed.”

  “Same,” I said as she leaned her head back against the headrest. “I honestly don’t remember the last time I took time for myself away from the office. I’ve always been the type to dive right into something and commit fully.”

  “I know.”

  It was how she said it that caused me to momentarily take my eyes from the road. The mixture of sadness and longing. Knowledge and pain embedded in her tone.

  I rubbed my thumb over her thigh. Smiled when a batch of goose bumps rose along her porcelain skin. Skin I’d touched every inch of just hours before, taking my time, tasting every bit I could. We christened my childhood bed, fulfilling every fantasy I’d had as a young man and then some.

  The market was only thirty minutes from my parents’ house. I remembered going there every Saturday, excited for all the vendors with delicious flavors and tantalizing scents. My mother carrying her basket, filling it with fresh vegetables and fruits. Dad behind our stall.

  After I pulled in and parked, she took my hand in hers, stilling me as I shut the car engine off.

  Slightly twisting to her, I waited.

  “This weekend, I want to pretend you’re mine and I’m yours,” she said. Need poured from her words, looping around my heart. “I know it’s not right… but everything is such a mess and I… we deserve this moment. Just this one.”

  Although I heard the foreboding in her tone, I kissed her right there, taking what she was offering.

  Even if this was the first and last time.

  “Okay,” I said, squeezing her hand.

  She picked a variety of vegetables, meats, and cheeses, schooling me on foods I’d never even heard of. Taking the small samples passed out, feeding them to me, laughing when juice from a pear slipped over my chin.

  Though it was
freezing out, I’d never felt so warm in my life.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, leaving her at the local honey booth to head a few tables up.

  She nodded, too busy listening to the woman explain which honey would be perfect for what Corinne was cooking that night.

  “Hi,” I said to the elderly woman knitting behind the table. I picked up what I’d spotted, then held it out to the woman. “How much for this?”

  “Two dollars,” She never took her attention off her needles.

  It was the perfect gift for Corinne.

  I opened my wallet, pulled out cash, and handed it to her.

  “That’s vintage,” she said, “created in the early nineteen twenties.”

  “It’s perfect,” I smiled. “It’s for my sweetheart.”

  She finally raised her eyes to mine. “You’re a good man.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded. When Corinne appoached, I grinned.

  “What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to my fist.

  “A gift for you.”

  Stars dazzled in her smile as she did a small, giddy dance.

  “But you have to wait.”

  “For?”

  “Tonight. After dinner.”

  Her bottom lip stuck out. “I hate waiting.”

  I chuckled, and then kissed her head. “Something else I didn’t know about you.”

  She looped her arm through mine. “And that’s just the beginning. By the end of this trip, I’m sure you’ll be ready to be rid of me.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I said, not wanting to think of our trip ending.

  She giggled. “I guess we’ll see.”

  “How much longer?” I asked as my stomach growled. I was sitting at the dinner table, sipping on a craft beer we picked up from a brewery on the way back, watching her dance around the kitchen.

  I remembered watching my dad watch my mom the same way, and I never understood why his eyes would look funny. Like he could happily melt into the ground.

  Not until now.

  She was laughing when she spun around, her hips moving to the music that played in the background. “Now look who’s Mister Impatient.”

  I reached for her, laughing as she yelped, and pulled her down onto my lap. “I guess we have more in common than we thought.”

  She kissed my forehead. My nose. My cheeks. But not my lips.

  When she stood and headed back to the stove, I growled. I could take her right there.

  “Can you set the table? Five minutes, and it’s done.”

  By the time the table was set, she was placing the steaming pan next to a bowl with a freshly tossed salad beside our plates.

  When she lifted the lid, my mouth watered. “Burgundy braised roast with root vegetables. I whipped the potatoes with a chunk from the cheddar, along with some of the fresh cream and pepper. The salad has a light balsamic honey dressing.”

  I dipped my pinky into the gravy, put it to the tip of my tongue, and tasted a flavor explosion. “Holy fuck, woman,” I said, shocked delight apparent from my tone.

  She was blushing roses again.

  “And why aren’t you cooking as a career?”

  She shrugged and sat across from me, picking up my plate to load it with the delicious meal. “Cooking has always been a love of mine. I never really thought to turn it into a career.”

  After she set my plate down, I filled my fork with potatoes, meat, and vegetables, then shoved it into my mouth. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d tasted something so decadent, yet simple. A cross between my best personal chef and the simplicity of my mom’s cooking.

  “You like?” she asked, her fork hesitating over her plate.

  “If I could, I’d marry you here and now,” I said, stabbing into my salad. I cleared my plate in a matter of minutes, and then reloaded it for seconds.

  She was laughing, taking small bites here and there, enjoying watching me eat.

  She picked up her glass of wine. “I can’t remember the last time I cooked a meal for someone.”

  My eyebrows dipped. “What about Jack?”

  She took a sip. Set her glass down. “He has specific tastes. And most of the time, because he comes home so late, the food would get cold and he’d have either already eaten or brought home takeout, so I just kind of gave up.”

  “That’s a shame.” With how well she cooked, I’d be rushing home for her meals.

  Her shoulders lifted, and then fell. “It’s not a big deal. It’s only food.”

  “But you love cooking,” I stated.

  “Yes.”

  “Then it is a big deal.”

  Every inch of her stilled. “Why do you have to be so amazing?” she asked, her eyes glazing over.

  “I should ask you the same thing.”

  “You… uh… you want dessert?” she asked, clearing our plates.

  I smirked. “Depends on the menu.”

  “We have—” She stopped when she saw the heat I felt for her on my face. A second later, she went to untie the back of her apron.

  “Not that. Leave it on.” I stood, closing in on her. I had her back against the counter, pulling her pants down as she wormed out of her shirt and bra, left in nothing but the apron I’d bought her at the market. I pulled a condom out and had it on in seconds, throbbing for her.

  And then I took her right there, against the counter, hands fisted in her hair.

  Later, as we sat on the porch, her on my lap, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair, I twisted what I bought her in my hand, filled to the brim with happiness.

  “The stars are so different away from the city,” she said, her head leaned back.

  We were bundled beneath a couple blankets, the quiet sounds of the night the only music we needed.

  I found her hand beneath the blanket. Turned it, palm up, and then set the small gift down, closing her fingers over it. “I want you to have this. A symbol of what I feel for you.”

  She pulled her hand out from under the covers, staring at the small thimble.

  “A kiss,” I said, pressing my lips against her temple. “No matter what. No matter where. With this, you’ll always remember this small moment in time when I was the happiest man on this earth. Because of you, Corinne. Because of you.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes as she kissed me deeply, hands framing my face. My heart reaching out for hers.

  Chapter 18

  Corinne

  Every minute with Cole felt like an undeserved present.

  I didn’t want to feel that way about him. Like I could never tire of his presence. Of the way his body moved across a room, demanding yet quiet. Of his eyes pulsing more wildly when they were on me. The fire we created burned slowly between us, our tender words the logs tossed into the flames, keeping it alight.

  Jack barely crossed my mind when I was with Cole, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. Was it normal in an open marriage? When would a line need to be drawn? I should have felt ashamed about being with Cole while Jack was away. It wasn’t a part of our deal. However, I still had that pit in my stomach, the one called intuition, that told me when he wasn’t holding up his end either. I was pretty sure he wasn’t alone on this business trip. His calls were few and far between. And when we did speak, he was short. Almost as if he was distracted.

  Not to mention the whispered giggles I’d heard in the background the night before. The call was cut short after that.

  How could I get mad when I was doing the same thing? I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Didn’t want to feel disdain for him when I not only agreed to this, but have broken some of my own rules.

  Who was I becoming?

  “You okay?” Cole asked, reaching for my hand as he drove us toward the lake on his property.

  I smiled at the rich, chocolaty decadence of his tone. His voice had a way of making my bones tingle with anticipation. The creamy tone slid over my skin like silk, waking every one of my slumbering nerves. “Yeah,” I said as the air blowi
ng in from the partially opened window played with the ends of my hair.

  “When I was a kid, I used to drive my dad’s truck out here during the summer and jump in.”

  The sun was unusually warm for this time of year. The weatherman’s voice had strummed in the background earlier this morning as Cole stood behind me, his hands moving to settle on my hips as I scrambled eggs. I remembered hearing him mention something about a heat wave pushing in from the Midwest. A high of sixty degrees in the midst of winter.

  I was grateful for it, layered in a pair of loose-fitting denim jeans and the hoodie I’d had since college.

  “Sounds nice.”

  He smirked. “I had this friend—Sam. He lived over there.” He pointed to a house I could just barely make out across the yard. “He’d meet me there, and we splash around for hours. Sometimes fish. Sometimes race each other.”

  “Who won?” I asked, trying to picture Cole as his younger self.

  His smirk widened. “He usually did.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Hmm… I’d like to meet this Sam that could beat you at something.”

  He chuckled, his eyebrows quirked with amusement. “You say that as if you’re surprised.”

  “I am. Picturing you losing at something is like picturing Zeus accidentally dropping a lightning bolt. It doesn’t happen.”

  He let out a deep, throaty laugh. The kind that sounded like it had been trapped its whole life, waiting for a moment like this to surface. I couldn’t help but laugh with him as a warm breeze blew past us.

  With the Jeep in park, he leaned back, placing his arm around me. The lake was frozen in a sheet of white, the sun reflecting off the surface. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, a comfortable silence twirling between us, as nature seemed to wrap her arms around us and pull us in. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d just sat hand in hand with my lover. The sun smiling at us from its perch in the sky.

  “Don’t you think it’s weird?” Cole asked sometime later, his voice a soft pierce through the quiet popping and cracking of the ice.