Saddle up

Chapter Fourteen : Lapse in Judgment

Cole's kiss was desperate, urgent—a ghost of our shared past. His hand gripped my neck, fingers tangling in my hair with familiar possessiveness. Something primal stirred in me, a dangerous mixture of memory and need. I bit his lip, hard enough to punish, and his responding growl awakened something I thought I'd buried long ago.

"Jess," he breathed against my mouth, my name a plea and a prayer.

Reason dissolved into pure sensation as I straddled him, my trembling fingers working at his shirt buttons. Each inch of exposed skin was both foreign and achingly familiar—the same body I'd once known by heart, now somehow changed. Our kiss never broke, as if we both feared what words might spill out if we dared to pause.

"I've missed you," Cole whispered, his voice rough. "God, I've missed this."

My hands traced the contours of his chest, remembering every ridge and plane. When I reached his belt, I felt him hard beneath his jeans, and the evidence of his desire sent a shock of heat through me. His fingers worked at my blouse buttons while I shifted against him, drawing another moan from deep in his chest.

I rose to my knees, giving him better access, and his hands moved to my shorts with practiced ease. The cool air hit my skin as he slid beneath the fabric, finding me ready for him. The intimacy of his touch—so familiar yet now forbidden—drew a gasp from my lips.

"Still perfect," he murmured, his ministrations building a dangerous pressure inside me. Just before I crested the wave, he stopped. In one fluid motion, he had the door open, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. The back door of his pickup creaked open, and suddenly I was across the bench seat, the leather cool against my bare skin as clothes fell away.

"Wait," I breathed, a moment of clarity breaking through the haze of desire. "Cole..."

This wasn't love—it was muscle memory, a desperate attempt to reclaim something we'd lost long ago. But even as my mind formed the thought, my body arched toward his touch, caught between want and wisdom.

His eyes met mine in the darkness of the truck cab - familiar brown eyes that had once held my whole world. Now they were haunted with something darker, more desperate. Cole traced his fingers down my bare collarbone, and I shivered, not entirely from cold.

"Remember how good we were together?" His voice was husky, pleading. "It could be like that again, Jess. We could fix this."

Part of me ached at his words - for the innocent love we'd once shared, for the future we'd planned in whispered midnight conversations just like this. But that innocence was gone, shattered by betrayal and time.

I reached up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble under my palm. "We can't go back, Cole. You know that."

But my body betrayed my words, arching into his touch as his hands mapped familiar paths across my skin. Each caress echoed with memories - our first fumbling explorations, lazy Sunday mornings, the last time before everything fell apart. His lips found that sensitive spot below my ear that he'd discovered years ago.

"Tell me you don't still feel this," he breathed against my neck. "Tell me you don't miss us."

I tangled my fingers in his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The air in the truck grew thick with tension and unspoken words. My heart pounded against my ribs, but whether from desire or panic, I couldn't tell.

"Cole, please..." I wasn't sure if I was begging him to stop or continue. The familiar scent of his skin - pine and motor oil and memories - made my head spin. In the distance, a hawk cried, reminding me we were in his truck, that this wasn't right, that I wasn't his anymore.