AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cole places our dinner orders for us with perfect, sexy French, a language that he apparently excelled at during school. I approve. Once the waitress leaves us alone again, we chat about our week and even our eventual caseload when we return home. I love that we are this connected. That we share so very much. I’ve never experienced this in my life, with anyone. Time flies by with us laughing, flirting and enjoying good food, as well as sweet, bubbly champagne. We’ve just finished off our dessert and coffee when Cole leans forward. “Look, sweetheart. Since we’re going home tomorrow, I need to fill you in on something.”
My eyes go wide. “What something and why do I not know already?”
“Because I wasn’t going to let you worry all week and before you panic, your mother is fine. I know that despite her recovery from her stroke, you worry, but it’s not about her. That said, you know that large trials can come with protestors, and you’re a protestor virgin no more. When you win a case, after the public prosecutes a client, like they did ours before we left for Paris, all hell breaks loose. We’ve had protestors at the office since we left, and that comes with random threats.”
Again, my eyes go wide. “Threats?”
His hands slide over mine where it rests on the table. “It happens. If I could keep you away from this stuff, I would, but it’s part of the job. And honestly, I didn’t think our win was one of those trigger cases. It was televised. It was pretty obvious that our client was innocent.”
“Will they target my mother?”
“Doubtful, but to be safe, I offered her and her new man a trip to the Hamptons to get out of the city for a while.”
“And my mother refused,” I assume, reaching for my purse to retrieve my phone.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he says, catching my hand again. “I convinced her to go. All is well and the only reason I’m telling you now, not in the morning, is that I knew you’d want to talk to her before we leave. With the time zone difference, that means tonight.”
Tension rolls across my chest and down my spine. “Right. Okay.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What are you thinking?”
That I’m worried, I think but I say, “That I need to go to the bathroom.” I set my napkin down and stand up, barely avoiding the guy next to me as I hurry past our table and cut right toward a bathroom. I step inside the rather large room with no mirrors, two sinks, and four floor-to-ceiling doors, sealed shut. I’ve barely closed myself inside when Cole is joining me.
“What are you doing?” I demand, and already his big hands are on my waist, and he is pressing me against the wall.
“The bubble is not going to pop,” he says. “Nothing bad is happening. This is normal.”
“I know,” I whisper, unsure how he’s just put what I feel into words when I haven’t even formed it into coherent thoughts until this moment.
“You don’t know. You felt safe and then the rug was pulled out from under you when your father died. I’m not going to let that happen. You have me now. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can,” he says, his voice deep, rich, his tone absolute. “I will.”
“People die.”
“Yes, but if I die, you’ll know how much I loved you. You’ll know I’m still with you.” He cups my face. “But you don’t get to get rid of me that easily. Whatever waits for us here, there, or anywhere, we’ll get through it together. That’s what husbands and wives do.”
Warmth and calm wash over me. “Husband,” I whisper.
“Wife,” he replies, his gaze raking over my lips, and lifting. “About that zipper.”
“Take me to our hotel and I’ll show you how it works.”
“I can’t wait that long,” he counters, reaching for said zipper.
I catch his hand. “Cole,” I warn urgently. “You have to wait.”
I’ve barely finished that reprimand before his mouth is crashing down on mine and he’s kissing me, his tongue stroking my tongue. One of his hands settles at the base of my spine, molding me close, all those hard, sinewy parts of him pressed to all the soft parts of me and I moan. Another second later, and my zipper is open, and he’s pressed my hands over my head, his fingers dragging over the thin lace of my barely-there bra, teasing my nipples.
“We can’t do this here,” I whisper, and I mean it, despite the moan that rolls from my throat, as his fingers slide between my legs, heat pooling low in my belly and spreading to the touch of his fingers.
“And yet we are,” he says.
Voices sound just outside the door, and I panic. “Cole,” I hiss.
He reacts, and in an instant, his arm is around my waist and he’s pulling me into a long, narrow stall, shutting the heavy door and locking it. Women, two I think, enter the bathroom, and Cole steps back in front of me, his cheek pressing to mine as he whispers. “I’m going to make you come with them standing right there.”
