Against All Odds (8 page)

As my eyes explore him I note some changes. Cooper’s always been incredibly sexy, but as he’s grown into an adult, he’s aged like a fine wine. His emerald eyes were one of the first things that slayed me. They’re so piercing, it’s as if he can see into every corner of my soul. His rumpled hair, the color of which reminds me of champagne, lays scattered across his forehead and arches along his ears. Its sexy, just fucked look sets my skin aflame. I notice he’s been working out more since Kayla died, and it shows in the heavy lines of his arms and the bunched, corded muscles of his chest and abs. His body is broader, thicker, heavier. It makes my mouth water and my fingers itch to touch. I’m so busy lusting after him that his husky voice startles me.

“You’re staring, Kylie. What are you thinking?”

I look up, embarrassed at being caught. My body, which is hot, gets hotter when I catch a glimmer of lust in his eyes. He knows I want to fuck him.

“There’s no rush, you know?” he says. “Let’s hang out, spend time together, and cook some of my world famous pizza.” He winks and smiles, turning into the kitchen.

I sigh and look at the ceiling. I try to remind myself that we’ll be okay and it’ll happen. There’s no rush. We can take our time. Dinner first. Shaking off the haze of lust, I follow Cooper for some cooking fun.

Two hours later, we sit next to each other, candles lit, pizza and wine served. We chat about everything, from work to Cooper and Grayson’s latest hobby–fishing—to my out-of-control shoe addiction. We laugh and smile, flirt and tease. And while it’s comfortable, some moments seem awkward.

He’s still tender and sweet, but he holds back from me. I see it in his tentative touches and shortened gazes. He’s trying, but he’s not giving me everything. He seems to be struggling with himself. I try not to put too much thought into it and just accept things the way they are, but it hurts. I feel my stomach sink every time he turns his eyes from mine during an intimate moment. I want my husband back. I want the happy-go-lucky guy who couldn’t keep his hands off me. I try to shove the hurt back and just savor my time with him.

“Hey, Kylie, you still here?” he asks, placing his hand over mine.

I’d been so lost in thoughts of us that I missed the last half of the conversation. I look at Coop, my mind all over the place, and feel my heart tumble. I can’t hold back anymore. “I’m sorry, I’ve just really missed you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Nervous tension cartwheels through me at the pensive look on his face. “Yeah, things have been rough.” His voice swims with remorse as his eyes meet mine. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”

“You have?” My pulse stutters with his confession.

“Yeah, I have.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“I know,” he admits, averting his eyes out the windows to the lake.

“Why?”

His forehead creases at my question. “I don’t know.”

“I need you, Cooper. Please.” Desperation unleashes inside me. I just want a kiss, a touch… anything.

His chest lurches, and he swallows, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Then come here, sweet girl.”

I stand, my chair scraping the floor, and move into his waiting arms. He cradles me in his lap while I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent. My heart claws from my chest. Every cell inside me celebrates this homecoming. He is the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ve ever allowed inside my body and my heart. I’ve carried his child within me, and the love I feel for him is interwoven with my very identity.

Without him, I’m nothing.

The last couple of months have been hell. Not only did half my heart die with my baby, the other half died with Cooper. I’ve withered, and my last petal is ready to drop. I stay curled in his lap, not realizing that tears are running unchecked down my face.

My husband’s here… with me. I’m in his arms. He missed me.

“Kylie, baby, can you look at me for a minute?” he whispers, pulling my attention to his.

I remove myself from the hollow of his neck and look into two dark pools of raw sadness. He grasps my face and leans forward, skimming his lips against mine. I almost break when I feel his tongue pass softly across my bottom lip.

I swear, if I died in this exact moment, I’d be okay.

I open my mouth, and he slips inside, caressing my tongue with his. I groan and cling to him as he weaves his fingers through my hair. The kiss is sweet and sinful, igniting a fire inside me. I feel the primal groan that rumbles from his chest all the way to my pussy. I twist in his lap until I’m straddling him, and I feather my fingers through his hair, holding on for dear life.

The kiss becomes desperate, rough. I grind against him. That gets another deep, dark growl, and his hands move from my hair to my hips. He urges me to move against him. I feel his cock, hard and thick, straining against his jeans.

Tingles explode. I want him so badly, he’s the only thing my brain registers. Breaking the kiss, I pull back and look at him. “Please. Please, I need to feel you.”

He groans, his eyes closing, and I watch him expel several labored breaths. When he opens his eyes, a flicker of apprehension in them sears me. My pulse trips and falters. I watch him struggle with something that’s beyond me.

I yearn for his touch. My need is so strong. He can’t ignore it. “I love you,” I whisper, desperate to give him whatever reassurance he needs.

His body trembles, and his eyes fill with tears. “I love you too, always.”

“Then please, please, Cooper.”

He leans forward and kisses me again. I feel his breath, fast and raspy. He stands and grips my ass. I wrap my legs around him, hope running wild, while he carries me to the sofa and lays me down gently. My heart thrashes violently. Our heavy gasps fill the room as basic need and a different kind of tension coil through the air. I hold my breath and lay mesmerized as he, ever so slowly, drags his shirt over his head.

I tremble, nerves prickling my body like millions of tiny needles. I need him.

He gets to his knees, sitting me up. He grips the hem of my blouse and stills, rubbing his nose on mine. I feel the tickle of kisses as he trails them along my cheek to my ear.

“I’m going to take my time,” he whispers. “I want to love you properly.”

I can barely tame the fierce trembling of my body as I nod. He pulls back, looking at me tenderly, and drags off my blouse. I watch as his fingers move to the clasp of my bra. His eyes flick to mine, then back to my chest as he unhooks it and sweeps it off my shoulders. My chest rises and falls, the moment so intense, so full of emotion, that a tear sneaks its way out the corner of my eye. His hands trail up and around my breasts. He groans, making my blood pound forcefully. I begin to sweat from pure need.

Raw, untamed, and unbridled need.

I pant, completely vulnerable and needy. “Please.”

His eyes flash to mine. He pushes me back and undoes the button on my jeans. His eyes burn into mine as lust and hunger ooze off him. His hands slide up my hips and grip the edge of my jeans and thong, dragging them down inch by inch.

Eyes, no longer trained on mine, now linger on my pussy. His breathing intensifies. My hips move of their own accord, silently begging him for more. His hands stroke from my ankles, slowly moving up my legs to my thighs. He stops short of where I need him most. I shut my eyes, urging myself to be patient. I take a deep, calming breath just as I feel pillow-soft lips land at the center of my pubic bone.

Everything in me stills. Completely.

My world tilts and turns as he drags his mouth lower and lower. I can’t breathe, think, or move for fear he’ll stop. I shiver, adrenaline accosting my frame. His lips graze my cleft, his fingers part my folds gently, and his tongue flicks my clit. I cry out, breathless and overwhelmed by the feelings flooding my body in waves so rough they are drowning out every conscious thought.

It’s been almost seven months since we’ve had sex. Since we’ve had any intimacy at all.

“Cooper. God, Cooper,” I moan, unable to contain the ecstasy.

His head lifts. “I’ve missed you, Kylie. Nothing’s as good as this. Feeling you, feeling what belongs to me. It’s been too long. You taste even better than I remember, baby.”

His eyes glisten like the sun reflecting off a shiny surface, slicing right through me. I want him inside me. I want his cock to fuck me so deep that every anxious, broken, and tormented thought I’ve had over the last six months disappears.

“Cooper, come closer please,” I beg.

“No, not yet. I need to see you come” he says. “I need to feel you let go. I need to taste it. We have time. I don’t want to rush this. Please.”

I nod, but I can’t stop pleading. “Okay, but please…” I can’t get the rest out.

His finger grazes my clit in intoxicating circles, sending me straight to heaven. He pushes his tongue into my core, putting pressure on the tender nub. Fast, hot, blinding heat ignites so fiercely within me that my orgasm strikes without warning. I cry out his name as tears slip from my eyes.

I feel euphoric, blissful, and sated from my Cooper-induced high. I crack my eyes open, catching his lazy grin. My heart falters. My breath catches.

He stands up and strips off his pants and boxers. I freeze. Is this really happening? My body, already burning, hums with renewed excitement. I stare as he turns around, his cock jutting out as hard as lead.

Oh, God. I bite my lip, drawing blood. I’m so lucky to have a husband with a body like his. I crook a finger, urging him closer. I reach for his hand, pulling his body tightly against mine.

His face hovers close, his chest brushing my breasts. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I know we’ve been having a hard time, but it’s not you. It’s never you. I need you to know that.”

I want to respond, but the feel of his cock sliding through my wet folds and teasing my entrance stops me. He pulls back, and his eyes hold mine prisoner as his heart captures my soul.

“I love you,” I whisper, every feeling, thought and emotion laid bare before him.

“I love you too, always.” He lays his forehead against mine. “There’s never a moment I don’t. Please, I need you to understand that.”

Closing my eyes, I snuggle deep into the crook of his neck, savoring his skin, his body, his essence. I breathe him in, letting his scent swirl through me. I accept the love he’s giving me and bury the sadness that has threatened to overtake me for the last six months.

He’s here. With me. As close as he can get. It gives me comfort. It renews my mind to fight another day. To somehow find the strength to make it through when my heart is too heavy to continue.

He groans as he grinds against me, slowly sliding up and down my wet pussy. “Jesus, you’re wet.”

The tip of his cock nudges my entrance, and I spread my legs as wide as they can go, welcoming my missing half. He slides in an inch, and my body pitches with satisfaction. He stills, and I give him a minute to get himself under control.

After a second, I try to pull him closer, but he resists. I feel him get clammier with every moment. My heart jerks wildly as a feeling of dread perches low in my gut. He’s rigid under my fingertips, sweat beading on the back of his neck. His breathing is rapid, almost tortured, and before I can wrap my head around what’s going on, he pulls out of me completely.

I gasp, my head spinning, and grab his face before he can move off me. “Hey, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, pushing my hands away and sitting up. “Fucking Christ!”

“What? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I can’t… I’m sorry. I can’t…” He pulls his head down in his hands.

“What? What can’t you do? Tell me.”

He lifts his head, pain dotting his eyes. A tear slips down his cheek before he swipes his hand roughly across it. I’m horrified at how tormented he seems. I try to read into what’s causing his pain, but he reins himself in.

“It’s not you, okay? I love you so much. I want you to understand it’s not you.” He swipes his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“What?” I feel as if the floor has fallen out from under me. Like an earthquake has just sliced open the ground I’m standing on.

He shakes himself off, blows out a breath, and hits me with eyes full of remorse. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry. I didn’t bring condoms.”