Page 61 of Tinsel & Tools
I heard him rip open the foil packet, and I imagined him rolling on the condom.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, his voice rough.
“I want it.” I dropped to my elbows to give him a better angle.
He surged forward, the sudden invasion making my toes curl in the best possible way. I exhaled a shaky breath as he began thrusting hard enough that all I could do was cling to the back of the couch.
“You feel so good,” he praised, his grip firm on my hips as he continued filling me over and over.
I couldn’t form words, so I just moved with him. The sounds of our bodies coming together echoed through the house. His pace ramped up, and I reached down to wrap a hand around my shaft.
He bent forward, his lips brushing the side of my neck. “You like it when I take you like this?”
“Yes,” I cried out. “Keep fucking me just like that.”
He cursed softly, but kept going, his breath ragged as his body leaned over mine. My orgasm hit without warning, pleasure coursing through me until I couldn’t hold back. I spilled into my hand, trying not to make a mess on the couch.
Cole’s movements grew rougher, his fingers tightening against me as he pushed deep and came with a shout. “God damn it.”
Once he stopped pulsing inside of me, I let out a weak laugh. “I think that might’ve been the best reward I’ve ever received.”
23
Cole
The plow had cleared the main road, so the morning after our “snow day,” I got up before Gavin and headed to the inn to start work. Dale and his guys were already there as I pulled my truck in and killed the engine. I decided to start rewiring while the walls were open and the studs bare. By the time I packed up for the day, my arms ached from hauling around my ladder and pulling spools, and my hands were stiff from twisting connections in the cold. Having no heat in the inn only made the work more miserable. During my short lunch break, I tried to warm up in my truck, but that only made me feel tired.
Just after Dale left, I locked up, tossed my tool bag in the truck, and sat in it with the heater running. The weekend forecast called for more flurries, and if it landed hard, I might lose more days if the roads became impassable again. Lost days would push everything closer to spring, and spring was when Gavin aimed to reopen. If I didn’t get ahead, I’d end up watching him try to smile through worry. I wanted to stop that before it started.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, dusk had already settled, and lights glowed through the front windows. The second I opened the door, the smell of garlic and tomatoes made my stomach growl.
I kicked off my boots, then unzipped and hung up my coat before heading into the kitchen. Gavin stood at the stove, spoon in hand, watching steam curl out of a pot. The oven light was on, and a timer ticked down. The table was set with plates, mismatched glasses, and paper towels folded by each spot. Nothing fancy, but it still looked like more than I’d bothered to do for myself.
“You’re cooking,” I stated the obvious.
He turned with a quick grin. “I am.”
“I didn’t expect this.”
“You worked all day in a freezer, and I bet you’re hungry. Go shower. Dinner will be ready when you get back.”
I wanted to stand there and watch him, but I needed to get warm and a hard scrub more. “I’ll be quick.”
After stripping out of my clothes, I stood under the hot spray, bracing my palms on the tile while the heat worked through the ache in my shoulders. The smell of garlic and bread had followed me down the hall, and it stuck with me. Whitney never once had dinner waiting when I came home. Most nights she worked late, and we picked something up, or I cooked for both of us. The last time I’d come home to a hot meal and a ready table was back in high school when Mom prepared the family meal and Dad set the plates out while she finished up.
I hadn’t let myself miss that, but standing with water pouring over me while Gavin moved around in my kitchen, hit me harder than I wanted to admit. It felt good. Too good. Like something I could look forward to, like a reason to want to be home, and that scared me. Gavin wasn’t at my place to play house with me. He was here because the inn had no plumbing or electricity. Once it did, he’d go back, and what we were secretly doing would stop.
Or would it?
I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, pushing the thought aside before it could take root. I pulled on a clean T-shirt and pajama pants, ran a towel through my hair, and headed back down the hall.
He was pulling bread from the oven when I walked into the kitchen. As he set the loaf on the counter, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Perfect timing.”
“Thanks for cooking for me. I honestly don’t remember the last time I came home to dinner waiting.”
“It’s no biggie.”
I sat, and he placed a big bowl of spaghetti in the center of the table. After he handed me a beer and then took the chair across from me, both of us filled our plates with the noodles and meat sauce.
