Cole in My Stocking (31 page)

“Okay, honey,” I said with a peck to his cheek.

After Cole lowered the first inch of my zipper, I raced upstairs to change. Instead of the shelf-bra tank top I’d worn under my flannel jammies last night, I reattached the straps to my new bra and put it back on before buttoning up. He’d said no sex. He hadn’t said no second base, and if I was going to round that elusive base tonight, I wanted it to be in a beautiful bra.

Chapter 22

When I padded into the den and found Cole lounging in the corner of the sectional with a throw blanket raised up to invite me in, I shuddered with anticipation. He was in army-green sweats and a white T-shirt. Half-reclining on a bed pillow, he had his legs spread with one long, pale foot on the floor and the other propped on the couch with his knee hugging the back cushions.

“Saved you a spot.” He indicated the space between his legs.

I swallowed and went to him, lowering myself to sit with my back to his front. His warmth seeped through my jammies and into my skin. The blanket settled over us, and his arms came around me. He hugged me, and I hugged his forearms, loving the way they bulged with strength and were dusted with soft blond hairs. As a teenager I’d fantasized about these arms. Imagination had nothing on the reality of being within their protective circle.

Cole swept the hair off my neck and kissed my nape. “I put in
2 Fast 2 Furious.
You like that one?”

“Yeah,” I said distractedly. I didn’t care what movie he put in. I just wanted more of his shiver-inducing touch. I was actually looking forward to fooling around with my boyfriend. A chuckle rose from my throat because that was such an out-of-character thought for me.

“Ticklish?” Cole asked, long fingers stroking my arms, lips brushing my neck.

“No. I’m just happy right now.”

I felt like I was in high school again. Dizzy on hormones and desperate for a guy’s attention. But the flavor of the desperation was different. Back then, I’d wanted to be liked so badly. Affection from a boy meant he liked me, he would be seen with me, he would pay attention to me. With Cole, I already knew he liked me. I didn’t have to earn it by being any certain way or offering certain pieces of myself. With Cole, I wanted to fool around simply because I suspected it would feel good and ease my building desire.

“The woman giggles like the world’s cutest angel when she’s happy. Good to know. Anything else I should know?”

“Probably lots,” I said, angling my head to meet his nuzzle. “But I’m not super interested in talking right now.”

“Mmmm. Direct. I like that.” He aimed the remote at the TV and started the movie then settled in with me reclining in the cradle of his body. During the first act, he alternated between slowly stroking my arms and twining our fingers together for long stretches of hand-holding. His gentle touches should have lulled me into relaxation. Instead, they drove my desire into a frenzy.

Eventually, he cupped my cheek and turned my head until our mouths met. He didn’t wait for me to part my lips in invitation but licked at the seam in something between a request and a demand. I opened to him with a little moan that he swallowed.

I tried to maneuver my body to face him—I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck so bad—but he stopped me, breaking the kiss. “No. Stay like this. I’ve got you.” He tightened his hold and kissed me again.

Facing away from him reminded me of being on a zip line. It was like freefalling into passion but knowing I wouldn’t hit ground. A safety mechanism was in place because our groins weren’t in line. There could be no misunderstanding in this position, no accidental sexual stimulation. A sense of freedom blew over me like a thrilling wind.

For long minutes engines revved and music pounded from the direction of the TV. Light and sound flashed over us like ocean waves. Neither of us were paying attention to the high-octane action on the screen. My eyes were mostly closed, but sometimes, I peeked and found Cole with his eyes slitted and smoldering as we feasted at each other’s mouths. Hungry. I was so hungry for him.

Things were happening low in my body that I hadn’t experienced in years. I remembered arousal. I’d felt it sometimes with high-school boyfriends. Except for a few occasions when I’d read a steamy scene in a book, I hadn’t felt this way as an adult. Certainly, no man had ever made me feel this way. Was that why the hint of anything sexual always resulted in the end of a relationship? Could it be I had simply never wanted a physical relationship with anyone before?

I wasn’t the only one aroused. I felt Cole hard against my lower back. My brain didn’t freeze like it had last night. Maybe because he’d made it clear he wasn’t a slave to his arousal, and I trusted that he meant it. Maybe I was too turned on to feel fear. Whatever the reason, I celebrated my small victory over the dreaded penis. I didn’t dread Cole’s penis, and since his was the only one I was interested in getting better acquainted with, I considered it progress.

While Cole kissed me, I craved more than his secure hold and the feel of his chest cradling my back and shoulders. With his help and patience, I’d overcome one of my sexual hurdles. There was one more I hoped to tackle tonight. Covering his hand with mine and twining our fingers, I eased his hand up, over my pajamas, toward my breasts.

He froze, brought our linked hands down to my waist again. Breaking the kiss, he panted. “Slow, baby.”

“No sex,” I said. “But I want to give you second base. No one else has had it in so long. It’s time. Just this. If it’s not too much for you.” I bit my lip and glanced down the line of his body, wondering how much even a patient, well-disciplined, trust-worthy man could take.

Cole considered me with hooded gaze then nodded, seeming to come to a decision. “I can handle it, honey, but not like this. Here.” He shifted us along the couch so we could lie down with me tucked between his side and the back cushions. Cupping my calf, he guided my leg over one of his so my knee rested on his thigh. “This okay?” he asked.

“Very okay.” One hand in the center of his mounded chest, I stretched up to resume our kissing, noting how our position was intimate without leaning toward sexual. This man was being so careful with me. Love spread warm and satisfying through my chest. This was the missing piece, I realized, not arousal. The vital component to embracing my sexuality with a man was love.

I hadn’t been able to experience this safe, exciting physical exploration with anyone else because I’d never been in love. Would it be enough to shepherd us through that greatest of intimacies? It was a question for another day. For now it was enough to trust Cole with my mouth, my aroused body, and with the permission to touch where no boyfriend had touched me since before my assault.

Cole’s kisses took on a languid quality, like inner-tubing down a lazy river, sipping a bottle of sun-warmed root beer. No care in the world could possibly find purchase in my head while his tongue worked mine in that slow, sliding rhythm. All the while, his hands roamed my back and shoulders. He was becoming acquainted with my topography, the dip at my waist, the gentle rise to my rear, the musculature I enjoyed keeping fit, the ridge of my spine, the horizontal interruption of my bra strap.

His attention slowly zeroed in on the strap. Shivers raced up and down my arms and neck when he dipped a finger beneath, taking the flannel of my night-shirt under, like the sexiest imaginable back wedgie. Back and forth he would rub, then dip and release, then again and again. The soft rasp of flannel, the skin-rousing stretch of elastic as he toyed with it, not opening it, just driving me crazy with sensation, with the suggestion that he might go under my shirt and open it at any time. The suggestion was enough to make me whimper into his mouth.

A peek at him showed his cheeks flushed. His chest rose and fell with measured deep breaths. Cupping the back of my head, he delved deeper into our kissing while his other hand slipped around to my front. Over my pajamas, he cupped my ribs just below my breast. Millimeter by millimeter, he inched his thumb up toward the underwire. His fingers grazed the smooth place where bra strap widened toward cup.

He still wasn’t touching my breast, but he was so painfully close. I almost said something.
Go ahead. Do it. What are you waiting for?
But I held myself back. He was being patient with me. I could be patient too.

It wasn’t until the music reached a crescendo at the climax of the movie that he angled his hand between us and rubbed his thumb lightly over the peak of my breast. Despite the two layers of clothing between his touch and my skin, a zing of delicious sensation shot from my breast to my core. I gasped.

“Too much?” he said immediately, hand gone to my waist.

“No. It’s good.” My mouth back on his, I murmured, “More.”

He repeated the touch, letting his fingertips linger and explore while dotting my face and neck with kisses between which, he breathed, “Anything feels like too much…you say so…no pressure, honey…loving this, by the way…in case you couldn’t figure that out.”

I’d figured it out from the tension stringing his body tight and the way his hand trembled as he cupped and weighed my breasts one at a time, but it was good to hear. “I love it too,” I said over his ear. His touch brought me alive in a way I’d never known before. Never. Not even in the privacy of my apartment with my fingers between my legs and an imaginary man—until Cole, the only safe man I’d ever known—on my mind.

“Not too much,” I told him, hands framing his face. “Just right. Such a gift.” The words came from my heart, and the truth of them brought tears to my eyes. Cole had brought back my joy in my own body. “So precious.”

“Baby,” Cole said, then he wrapped me in his arms as credits rolled and the den fell dark. He kissed me one last time, a tender peck that communicated as clearly as words that the fondling portion of the night was over.

We lay together like that until the DVD menu cast a red glow over us. I wanted to stay that way forever, but he would have to get up in a few hours to go to work.

“Come to bed with me,” I said. “I want to sleep beside you.”

“I could get used to hearing that.”

I could get used to saying it. I could get used to living with Cole. But I wouldn’t let myself get too used to it. It was going to rip my heart to shreds to leave him behind when my business in Newburgh was done. I would be smart not to let myself get too attached to having him with me all the time. Being together would be the exception to the rule in our relationship.

Stacey’s words from our shopping trip came back to me. I’d told her I had to go back to Philly because my life was there.
“Is it?”
she’d said.

I’d rushed inside without acknowledging her question because I hadn’t been able to answer with certainty. I was even less certain now.

* * * *

“You call me if you need anything,” Cole said, leaning across the equipment-loaded console of his cruiser for a kiss. Funny how getting into a cruiser didn’t frighten me anymore. Cole seemed to be good at helping me get over my fears. One week with him had given me the opportunity to actually apply much of what I’d learned in school and with my counselor. I’d made more progress on this trip than in the past six years.

“Thanks for the ride, officer.” I climbed out in front of Dad’s garage and toasted him with my travel mug of Dunkin’s. “And thanks for going up first to make sure the shop is safe.”

“Safe as can be. I’ll swing by to pick you up for lunch. We’ll go to Bruno’s for subs.”

“Mmm. Can’t wait. Work hard.”

“Will do, gorgeous.”

I shut the door and watched him back down the driveway and point the black and tan state patrol car back toward the town center. He had to patrol today, but he’d promised he wouldn’t be far away if I needed him. His directive to call if anyone other than the ADT tech came by still held. “Whoever’s after your dad’s money is still out there. You see anyone, and I mean anyone, coming down your dad’s driveway in anything but an ADT truck, you call me.” I’d promised I would, and I had his .45 holstered under my sweater just in case.

ADT had given me a two-hour range when they might come. Cole didn’t like that I could potentially be here alone for two hours, but I didn’t mind. I’d assured him I would keep busy chatting with my friends on the phone and using Dad’s computer to catch up on email. There were also a couple work-related calls I wanted to make. Letting myself into the shop, I locked the door behind me and got busy.

A half hour into my wait, I’d made the necessary calls and booted up Dad’s computer. After entering the password, I was greeted by Dad’s familiar wallpaper. It was an image of a stunning twelve-point buck he’d taken while out hunting. The antlers from that buck hung above his workbench, right next to the speakers for his sound system. Icons crowded the computer screen. Links to frequently-used documents and spreadsheets, programs that helped him run his business. One icon caught my eye because it had my name under it in all caps. It was a video file.

My hand shook on the mouse. This couldn’t be what I thought it was. The video of my assault. Surely, Dad wouldn’t have kept that. Especially not on his desktop.

I clicked on the file. It opened a black window then asked for a password.

I tried the computer password, but it didn’t work. We’d had another computer in the office in the trailer, one that was so out of date I’d only ever used it to play an ancient version of Donkey Kong. It had a different password than the computer in the shop. To my knowledge, only Dad and I knew that password. I entered it. It worked.

Dad’s face appeared in the window, his sickened face—wasted with sunken eyes and no beard. If it hadn’t been for his shop behind him, the familiar orange knit hat on his head, and the red flannel shirt he wore, one of his favorites, I might not have recognized him. He’d made this video here in the very chair I sat in now. From the looks of him, he hadn’t made it very long ago.

My eyes blurred with tears.

“This video is for Mandy’s eyes only,” he said, his voice a mere thread of how I remembered it. He adjusted the camera while his eyes inspected the screen, looking just below the focus of the lens. “If you’re watching this and you’re not Mandy, respect a dying man’s wish and turn it off. Now.” He paused.