Unwrapping Holly: (13 page)

SITTING BEHIND THE WHEEL OF his truck, Cole drove toward town, the radio announcer talking about yet more early-season bad weather. He didn’t give a damn if a blizzard had rolled in. Let it snow. Let it sleet. He was going to get hammered. Absolutely flipping hammered, like he hadn’t been in a damned decade. After damned near twenty-four hours, it was clear that Holly showing up to apologize was about as likely to happen as a heat wave in Alaska. Evidently, he’d been a fool for thinking she’d figure out he’d done nothing wrong and show up to kiss away the pain of her attack. He sniffed.
Fool,
he thought.
Nothing but a fool.

With a grimace, Cole turned the corner leading to the main road and squinted past the windshield wipers. There was a car in the ditch to his left, and his heart froze.

“Fuck!” That was Holly’s car. How long had she been there? Oh God. Had she been coming to see him the night before and gotten trapped? The worst-case scenarios flashed in his mind. She was injured, bleeding, freezing to death.

Feeling as if his heart would explode from his chest, he accelerated and U-turned near her location. He had his door open before the gear was fully in park, the wind gusting against him as he charged toward Holly and wrenched open her door.

She gasped. “Cole?”

He bent down, framed her face with his hands, checked for injuries.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” She stared up at him, silent, a look of shock registering in her face. “Damn it, Holly. Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said. “No. My tire blew. I’m fine.” Abruptly, she pushed him away, her eyes colder than the wind beating at his back. “I’m fine, Cole. Let go.”

Grinding his teeth, he let her go, and leaned back on his heels. Now he had confirmation of where they stood. In the sewer. He pushed to his feet.

“Are your parents on the way?”

“They didn’t answer. I called a tow truck.”

“I’ll take you home. They’ll bring your car along later.”

She hugged herself against the cold that his body was no longer blocking.

“No, I—”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

Her chin lifted defiantly. “You can’t make me leave.”

“Try me,” he said, his voice implacable.

He grabbed her hand and hauled her out of the car, and smack into his arms. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you, Holly.”

Her eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

“You already think I’m some sort of monster,” he ground out between his teeth, trying not to notice that damned vanilla scent of hers. “What do I really have to lose here besides keeping you from letting pride freeze you to death?”

She glared at him. “Fine. Let go of me.” She shoved at his chest. “I’ll get in the
damned truck
!” He released her and she started walking, almost slipping in the process. He reached for her, and she slapped him away. “Don’t touch me! ”

He dropped his hands and gave her an exaggerated wave to the truck. “Get in my side so you don’t end up in the ditch, like your car.” She didn’t respond, but treaded the precariously icy ground with a bit more care than before. That made it easy for him to outpace her and grab the door. She slid across the seat and didn’t stop until she was plastered to the passenger door.

Cole slid inside the truck and didn’t move. He sat there, absorbing the discomfort of the space between them. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. And it was ending, one way or the other. Tonight.

The short ride to the cottage was full of stiff silence that only served to piss Cole off. And when she bolted out of the door the minute he pulled the truck to a stop, that was the last straw. He deserved more than a slammed door.

He managed to reach her door a second before she shut it, shoving it open and closing it behind him. She was facing the wall, hanging up her coat and suit jacket. She whirled to face him, surprise in her face. “Cole—”

He didn’t give her time to say more. With two long strides, Cole pinned her against the wall, his legs enclosing hers. “You have no idea how pissed off I am at you.”

“I know,” she whispered hoarsely, squeezing her eyes shut. “I know. Cole, I—”

He kissed her. It was a hard, angry kiss, meant to punish her for distrusting him. The kiss of a starving man who desperately needed sustenance. And she gave back all that she got, her tongue lapping at his with fierce strokes, her body pressing against his. That primal caveman side of him that she brought out screamed with demand. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled the soft scent of her desire. His cock thickened, pulsed.

“Holly,” he whispered by her ear. He wanted inside her where he belonged, where she knew he belonged. Wildness careened inside him. A wild desire to claim her.

And so his mission began, to claim his woman. His hands branded her hips, her breasts. She arched into the touch, moaned with pleasure. He savored the gentle touch of her fingers gliding through his hair, caressing his scalp. He shoved her skirt to her waist, wrapped his palm around the curve of her lush ass and wrapped her leg around his hip. Then, he fixed her in a heavy-lidded stare as he pressed his hips to her, his cock thick against her stomach.

“Cole,” she gasped, her head resting against the wall, her cheeks flushed, her eyes heavy.

His gaze didn’t waver as he reached up and ripped open her shirt, tiny buttons flying everywhere. He yanked the material of both bra cups down and exposed her nipples. Bent and licked them, then kissed her. She clung to him, her soft sounds of pleasure, of desperate need, driving him wild. Making him hot. He was so hot. And so was she. Writhing against him, she rocked her hips, soft sighs sliding from her throat.

He ripped her panty hose, and slid his fingers along her drenched lips. She shivered and moaned. Whimpered his name. He unzipped his pants, wasting no time sliding inside her, damned happy they’d had the birth control conversation because he wasn’t sure he could have stopped himself from taking her here, now, at this moment.

Hot wet heat milked his cock as he sunk deep. That wild need to claim her was all his mind could manage, that and the anger at her because she’d pushed him away. A frenzied rush of punishing, erotic thrusts followed. It was the pulsing and pounding of two people trying to break through an emotional barrier with their bodies. A frenzied pumping that ended when her body claimed his, when her muscles spasmed around him and pulled a release from him so deep he could barely breathe.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence was rich with tension, with the barriers that passion could not erase. Cole pressed his head to hers and inhaled the moment, not sure if it would be the last between them. This hadn’t been his intention when he’d followed her. They had to talk. He knew it and he had no doubt she did, too.

Anger started to burn all over again, anger over the way she’d shut him out. She’d let him inside her body, but not into her mind, not into her heart. He’d be damned if he was playing that game.

He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, setting her on the counter and stepping away, feeling the disconnect of their bodies like a blast of cold air. He adjusted his pants and then grabbed a robe off the wall hanger and tossed it to her.

“Put it on,” he said, his gaze flickering over her puckered nipples, his dick daring to throb again, as if he hadn’t just been inside her. “We have to figure out what is going on between us, and believe me, if you don’t get dressed, we won’t figure out anything but how I can get back inside you anytime soon.” He didn’t hold back the truth. He didn’t hold back one damned iota. The truth was, he was hurting. Holly, the only woman he’d ever opened up to, spoken to of the past, of his pain over losing his mother, had nothing but scorn and, apparently, sex to offer him.

She blushed and fumbled with the robe, and he didn’t miss the slight shake of her hands, or the puckering of her nipples beneath the creamy silk of the robe. She hugged herself, and Cole leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, studying her.

“I need to understand what’s going on, Holly.”

THE BATHROOM WAS TINY, ESPECIALLY with Cole occupying most of it with his big sexy body. Holly wanted to slide off the counter and hug him so she could feel his arms around her again. But the implacable set of his jaw, along with the steely stare, said it was time for answers. And she wasn’t sure she had them. She barely understood her own stupid behavior. It had been raw panic. Fear. A control thing that being with him again made her see as pathetically silly and unimportant.

“I feel like no matter what I say, I can’t make this right,” Holly finally admitted. “And that scares me almost as much as you do.” She expected him to say something, but he didn’t. She shifted a bit on the counter, tied the sash around her waist, pressed her hands to the surface beneath her. “When I thought you’d betrayed me, I was crushed. Then I found out you hadn’t, but I couldn’t seem to let go of how that betrayal felt.”

“The one that wasn’t real.”

“But don’t you see?” she pleaded. “It
felt
real. If I count on us and then we fall apart, what happens to me? And the family-home thing—I’d been thinking of moving home. For that, I need a foundation. I’ve always planned for things. I couldn’t plan for any of this. I couldn’t plan for you.” Everything about the man had her crazy, out of her mind. Good Lord, she’d almost had crazy, wild sex with him in the front of his truck. “It’s like a spinning ball, and I keep rolling faster. I can’t even drive my damned car without needing you to rescue me.”

His lips thinned, and he pushed off the wall. “I just realized something I was a fool to miss. I’ve taken the risk and made myself clear. I’ve told you, you’re the real deal for me, Holly. I’ve said I want you in my bed, where we both know you want to be, too. But in my life? You don’t even want me in your house. Not unless you can write me on your planner first. And baby, we both know that isn’t how this thing with us is. It’s all or nothing, and you just don’t have it in you to give it all.”

“I can. I will.”

He moved toward the door, rigid, unwilling to listen. Helplessness overcame her but she knew she had to do something or he’d be gone. Holly jumped off the counter. She plastered her hand on the hard wall of his chest. “Don’t go.”

Cold eyes met hers, eyes that said he’d made up his mind. He was leaving. “I can’t make this right, can I?” she whispered painfully.

“At the moment,” he said, “it doesn’t appear that way.” He removed her hand from his chest. “I need to think, Holly, and I can’t do that when I’m with you.” He walked out of the room, and she followed, her stomach roiling, as she watched him open the front door and exit without looking back.

Holly resisted the urge to run after him. Words weren’t enough to convince him she was past her temporary insanity. She had to find another way.

THREE DAYS LATER, COLE STOOD inside The Tavern with a beer in his hand, and an empty shot glass on the bar. He reached for his beer and swallowed a long slug. After all, he was celebrating. And somewhere up in Manchester, so were his brothers. They’d signed the papers, sold the company, yippee ki yay, and all that stuff. Tomorrow they’d seal the deal on Holly’s family home. He’d talked to the Reddys that day. They were thrilled. His brothers were thrilled. Cole, well, he wanted another drink.

“Another, Joe,” he yelled at the bartender, breaking through the jukebox tune of Garth Brooks’s “Shameless,” a reminder that did nothing to help his grisly mood. Joe arched his brow as if he considered denying him. Cole scowled. “Give me another damned shot, Joe.”

Joe stalked the few steps dividing them and poured the liquor, his lips a thin, hard line. “Drinking away a woman, I take it.” It wasn’t a question, rather a well-versed bartender’s expert assessment.

Cole scowled again and Joe said, “Thought so. Won’t work.” He turned and walked away.

Cole downed the tequila and vowed to make Joe a liar. What insanity had brought him to The Tavern of all damned places, he didn’t know—the place where he’d first spiraled into the abyss, otherwise known as Holly.