Echoes of Scotland Street (On Dublin Street 5)

He pulled back from the kiss and we panted against each other’s mouths. Cole brushed my hair back from my face and it took everything within me to tear my gaze from his gorgeous mouth. As soon as I looked into his green eyes, however, I swore I’d never look away. The gold flecks in them seemed brighter than ever as he said, his voice hoarse, “I want to see you. Just you and all that fucking hair.”

I bit my lip on a shy smile. Although excited, I couldn’t help wondering how I’d measure up to the tall goddesses who seemed to decorate Cole’s past. I’d heard the stories and even seen some pictures, courtesy of Rae. However, I discovered a while ago that men generally didn’t get as hard as Cole was right now unless you turned them on, and acting insecure would definitely take the sexy out of our very sexy—oh my God, too sexy to breathe—situation. “I’m starting to think you like my hair.”

He touched a strand that fell down over my breast, his hands gently caressing it in a way I felt between my legs. I shifted a little impatiently against his erection. “I love your hair,” he murmured, more than a little distracted. “You have no idea how many fantasies I’ve had about you and your hair.”

Flushing hotter than I would have thought possible, I squirmed and whispered, “Tell me one.”

“The most recent?” he said, dragging his gaze from my hair and breasts to my eyes. “You’re naked on your hands and knees, and your hair is spilling down your shoulders, the ends touching my ink on your lower back. Some of your hair is wrapped lightly around my hand as I fuck you from behind.” His eyes flashed. “Hard.”

I was panting now at the visual, the hot puffs touching Cole’s mouth. “I want that.”

A possessiveness entered Cole’s eyes, a possessiveness that given my history caused me momentary panic . . . but then he was kissing me again, his hand fisted in my hair. The feel of his tongue stroking mine, the taste of him, the smell of him . . . nothing else mattered.

The kiss broke but only because Cole was reaching for the hem of my camisole. “We need to be careful with your tattoo,” he panted as he lifted my top up. I raised my arms to assist him, the cool air prickling over my skin and turning my already tight nipples harder. Cole threw my top somewhere over my shoulder and spanned my waist with his hands. “My thumbs almost touch,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “You’re tiny.”

“Or you just have big hands,” I murmured saucily.

“I do but you’re still tiny.” His eyes lifted to my breasts and I was suddenly glad I’d had the forethought before leaving the flat to put on my best bra—a satin and lace balconette in a pretty peach color. “These . . . not so much.” He gave me a hungry smile and somehow I managed to melt even more. He met my hot gaze. “You really are perfect.” His tongue wet his lower lip before he said gruffly, “The fantasy doesn’t live up to reality, Shortcake.”

Then I jumped him. His signature version of sweet and hot was pushing me to the combustion point. Cole met my aggressive kiss with his own fever, his hands carefully dodging my tattoo as they slid up my back, under my hair, to my bra clasp. I felt it loosen within seconds and Cole gently pushed me back so he could look at me as he removed it.

He sucked in a breath as the straps fell down my arms, his eyes fixated on my naked breasts even as he threw the bra aside. I swelled at the need in his eyes, my nipples puckering up under his focus, begging for his mouth.

Cole’s fingers went to the button on my jeans. “Get these off,” he commanded, and I felt the demand in my core. Trembling, I slid off the bed and began to undo my jeans.

“Undress,” I demanded right back.

I stopped to watch as he removed his sweater and the T-shirt underneath it, my eyes drinking in his beautiful tan body. Sculpted and tawny and inked. The deep cut in his obliques made my throat suddenly dry. I wanted to lick the sexy definition in his muscles before moving on to his six-pack.

I’d known he was muscular, but I’d had no idea just how tightly roped he was. He was honed and toned and fighting fit and I almost climaxed just looking at him.

“Shannon,” he urged as he stood up to unbutton his jeans.

I nodded and pushed my jeans down, stepping out of them and my underwear. “I get to lick your tattoos at some point.”

His soft laughter filled the room. “Deal.” He reached one of those tattooed arms out, grabbed my hand, and hauled me up against him. I’d gotten a glimpse of the rather huge erection that was standing to attention before I felt it hot against my naked stomach.

“Cole,” I said, breathless.

He lowered himself back to the bed and pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him again. I dropped my gaze to his cock as it pushed insistently against my belly. If anything it seemed to swell under my attention. Nick had been big, the biggest I’d seen, and Cole was definitely giving him a run for his money. I was at once turned on and a little apprehensive.

I felt his fingers graze the curves of my breasts and I turned my focus to his face.

“You’re sure about this?” he said.

“You’re asking me now?”

“If you wanted to stop ten minutes ago, we would have stopped. If you want to stop now, we’ll stop. If you suddenly want to stop when I’m inside you, we’ll stop.” He cupped my cheek, casting his tender eyes on me. “I will never do anything you don’t want to do. You’re safe with me, Shannon.”

“Fuck,” I said, choking on the word and all the emotion that had formed a lump in my throat.