All She Ever Wanted - Barbara Freethy [96]
"I love that sound you make," Cole muttered, stopping long enough to look at her with eyes that had darkened with desire. "It drives me a little crazy every time I hear it. I know I should let you get up now. You must be hungry. You probably want to take a shower. Go home. Do something."
She put her hand on his neck and pulled his head down, touching his lips with hers, sliding her tongue between his lips in a kiss that made Cole sigh. "The only thing I want to do is make love to you again," she whispered against his mouth. "You know, the night isn't officially over until I get out of bed. That's a rule. And we promised each other a night."
"Really? Well, I wouldn't want to break any rules." He slid his hand across her breast, his fingers teasing her nipple into a tight point. He bent his head to suck the point between his lips, and she thought she might just die again. Her lower body pooled in delight and she kicked the covers off so she could rub her legs against his. Then she slipped her hands inside his boxers and pushed them down over his hips.
"I'm ready for you, Cole," she said softly, pulling him into the cradle of her thighs. "I'm always ready." She sighed again as he sank deep into her body. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. She might have to let him go later, but for now he was hers.
The persistent ringing of a doorbell finally brought Natalie back to awareness. Cole was sprawled on his back beside her, his eyes closed, but she could tell he was awake by the groan that followed and the way he squinted his eyes as he opened them. "Who the hell is that?"
"I have no idea," she said, a bit unsettled. "Whoever it is must have gotten past your doorman."
"It can't be a reporter then," Cole said, as he hopped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. "It's probably Josh or Dylan."
As Cole left the bedroom, Natalie gathered her clothes off the floor by the bed. She intended to jump into the shower, but at the sound of loud voices, she paused and decided to put on her clothes instead. She could hear arguing, a man's voice, then a woman's. She didn't quite recognize them. Madison maybe? Dylan?"
"Where is she?" the man demanded. "Is she here? Is she with you?"
Natalie's heart sank. Now she recognized the voice. It belonged to Cole's father, Richard Parish, and he did not sound happy. She had a terrible feeling that the she he was referring to was her.
The bedroom door flew open and Natalie jumped. Her blouse was still open and she quickly pulled the edges around her body. Richard Parish stopped in mid stride, a fiery figure of anger and pain. His hair, once a light brown, was completely gray now. His body, once muscular and strong, appeared thinner, softer. His eyes, Cole's eyes, were hard and unforgiving as they stared at her in disbelief. Then he looked back at Cole. "You slept with her? You slept with the girl who killed your sister?"
"She didn't kill anyone," Cole said, leaping to her defense, for which Natalie was intensely grateful.
"That's not what the book says."
Natalie drew in another sharp breath as Cole's mother entered the bedroom. She was an older version of Emily, dark chocolate brown hair, matching eyes, a small pert nose that set off her perfectly oval face. But Janet Parish had not aged as well as Natalie would have thought. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, and her skin was pale and filled with shadows.
"Natalie," she whispered, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "It really is you."
"Yes," Natalie said. "It's me."
"Richard said he saw you on television last night. You and Cole were running down the street together. I didn't believe him, but here you are."
Damn. The reporters must have filmed their getaway. Natalie hadn't anticipated that. She felt guilty now for spending the last twelve hours wrapped in a cocoon of fantasy. Well, that fantasy was officially over now.
No one seemed to know what to say next. Natalie didn't like the silence, but she was afraid she would like conversation even less. She was right.
"You pushed