Page 74 of Slow Burn
But Cole was right there, warm and solid, and she didn’t want to be careful anymore. Not tonight, not after watching Joe’s place burn.
Her fingers curled into Cole’s shirt, and before she could second-guess the decision, she tugged him closer until his body pinned her against the counter.
He tipped his head forward, bringing his face centimeters, millimeters—a breath—from hers. “You told me not to kiss you again.” His words skimmed along her mouth, dancing the temptation over her lips.
She arched a brow. “What if I changed my mind?”
“I need to hear you say it.” His voice was rough, snapped tight from the effort of holding back.
“I want you to kiss me, Cole.”
His name barely left her lips before his mouth crashed against hers, taking what she was more than willing to give. The solid weight of him pressed into her, stealing the last of her resistance.
This wasn’t like before. Their first kiss had been reckless and consuming, and all she could do was hold on. But this? This was slow-building desperation, a pressure pulling her deeper with every brush of lips and tongue. Every time his mouth moved against hers, she felt herself unraveling, her body arching into his like it had been waiting for this exact heat all her life.
She got lost in the journey of discovering what he tasted like—the sweet cinnamon from the pie earlier mixed with something like bourbon, smooth and intoxicating—and beneath it, something purely him, wild and dark and impossible to resist. His scruff scraped along her chin, marking her, branding her, until she thought she’d carry the memory of this kiss on her skin forever.
There was some kind of knowing in the way they connected, inevitability in every touch, and she knew it wouldn’t just be one night. It couldn’t be when it felt like everything had been leading to this moment.
She broke the kiss with the realization, trembling at the knowledge. She wanted to choose the scary thing, to let herself fall into his kiss, even his bed. Cole searched her face, patient as he waited for her to make the choice, because that's what he was giving her.
“Murphy women are cursed in love,” she whispered, more to herself than him.
His nose brushed her cheek. “Curses can be broken.”
She tipped her head back so that his lips could graze her throat.
“Just call me the curse breaker.” His breath danced along her skin, making promises she willed herself to believe. Her body wanted her to, even if it meant lying to herself.
But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be a lie. She was desperate for it to be true, for something to be real and honest and… permanent for once. His eyes were telling her it would be, that he wanted that as much as she did.
“Alright, curse breaker,” she said, voice shaking only a little. “Prove it.”
He growled, the sound rumbling through her as he took her mouth again. He turned them, walking backward without breaking the kiss. But then he lost patience and slipped both hands behind her thighs to scoop her up. Her breath hitched, the world spinning as he lifted her like she weighed nothing. She clung tighter, nails digging into his shoulders, the primal thrill of being carried toward his bed burning away the last of her hesitation.
Her logical mind still tried to force some sense of self-preservation to the forefront. But she was too far in now. Her body would destroy her if she let her mind take control. Her skin ached with want, her senses lit by every press of him. She had survived fire once before, but this time she was the one fanning the flames, begging them to consume her.
She couldn’t stop now even if she wanted to, and she did not want to.
When he laid her down, lowering his body along hers, it was no longer even a choice. Every shift of his hips, every scrape ofhis jaw along her throat, stoked the heat spiraling lower, winding tighter, until she thought she might combust.
His lips claimed hers again, slower now, deeper, exploring, tasting, demanding. And as their breaths mingled, as hands roamed and pressed, the line between comfort and desire blurred entirely. She tangled her fingers into his hair, the silky curls softer than she expected, and his eyes slowly shut.
“Feels amazing.” The words vibrated against her mouth like a secret meant just for her, his breath hot on her skin, and she arched up into him, desperate to be closer, to erase every barrier left between them. She clawed at his shirt, impatient, aching to feel the bare heat of him against her.
His eyes shot open to meet hers.
“I need you now, Cole.” It wasn’t embarrassment that painted her cheeks red. It was pure, unadulterated desire.
A wicked grin spread across his face. “You got it, Darlin’.”
Some time later, as she lay tangled in him and his hand moved lazily along her spine, sleep tugged at her like an eager friend. Instead of dreams, though, memory met her. In the twilight of consciousness, she found the hallway of her childhood home, the nightgown clinging to her as the creak from the front porch chased her back to her room.
And then there was heat.
The distant crackle of fire.
A spark leaping from shadow.
