Cole’s fingers went to the button of her pants, and she helped him, wiggling them down her legs until she could kick them aside.

She crawled over him then, shamelessly rubbing her naked body against his, relishing the contrast of their bodies, hard against soft, rough against smooth, big against small.

Cole’s hands were on her butt, her thighs, then he slipped one finger under the fabric of her underwear, sliding down until he found her wetness.

He slipped a finger inside, then a second.

Penelope moaned as he slowly thrust his two fingers in and out of her, his eyes latching onto hers. His eyes were dark with want. Want for her. For this.

But for how long?

Driven by a sudden, desperate fear that their days as lovers were numbered, Penelope rode his hand harder until she came with a shuddering, harsh climax that was both too much and not nearly enough.

Before the last shudder had ripped through her, Penelope moved off him, digging around in her nightstand until she found a condom.

She’d never felt this frantic. Greedy. She’d never wanted like this.

Cole started to reach for the condom, but she batted his hand aside, instead rolling it on herself.

Then she peeled off her underwear and resumed her position on top of him, feeling heady with a strange feminine power at the flare of lust in his eyes.

“Penelope—”

She found his hands, kissing his knuckles before she pinned his hands above his head.

He was twice her size. He could easily fling her off and take control.

He didn’t.

“I’m all yours,” he said gruffly.

That was all it took.

Three simple words, and Penelope’s inhibitions flew out the window.

For years, she’d been thinking she wasn’t good at this. That she wasn’t sexy. That she wasn’t worth wanting.

Years of ridiculousness fixed by three words from one magnificent man.

Acting on instinct, Penelope shifted upward slightly until her nipples brushed softly over his mouth.

Cole lifted his head, his tongue fluttering against the tip of one breast before blowing cold air against it teasingly. In response, she lowered herself farther until he had no choice but to take her nipple into his mouth and suck.

“Cole,” she gasped.

His lips moved to the other breast, all the time keeping his hands pinned to the pillow. He let it be her show. Her moment.

She was tempted to ride the sweet torture forever, but the man’s mouth was too skilled.

She wanted him now. Inside.

Penelope sat up, giving him a naughty look through her lashes as her hand wrapped around him and guided him to her opening. She held his gaze as she slowly sank onto him in one slow, sensuous movement.

Cole’s eyes slitted and his breath grew more ragged as he filled her, but still he didn’t move.

Not until she lifted once more before sinking down onto him, harder this time, deeper, did his hands slide down to her hips with a quiet groan that could have been a prayer or a curse.

Penelope had never been on top before. Thirty-one years old, and she was just now learning what it was like to ride a man. To have all the power.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, Cole licked his fingers and then reached to play with her.

“Let go, Pen.”

She did. She arched back with a victorious cry as she gave herself completely to him.

“Good girl,” he whispered before wrapping both arms around her and rolling her on her back beneath him.

He thrust into her again and again, his eyes holding hers as though trying to tell her something.

She tried to understand—tried to grasp what he was telling her with his body, but she was too far gone with want.

Cole slid an arm behind her neck, cradling her face into the hot, slick skin of his shoulder, whispering her name so reverently she thought she imagined it.

And then he went over the edge, her name a harsh groan on his lips.

Cole stayed lying over her for longer than usual, his breath hot against her temple, as her lips soothed the scratch marks on his shoulder that she didn’t remember making.

He pulled away with another kiss to her cheek as he eased off the bed and went into the bathroom.

He returned a few moments later just as she’d managed to muster enough energy to crawl under the sheets.

Cole hesitated near the side of the bed, his features flickering with vulnerability, and Penelope’s heart seemed to lodge in her throat.

She held the sheets up in wordless invitation, and watched as his vulnerability flickered into relief.

Cole pulled her against him, and she went easily, as though she belonged there.

Still, neither spoke. Not about what had just transpired, nor about what it meant.

And happy as she was, just before she drifted off to sleep, Penelope couldn’t help but wonder how long this could continue.

She was now 100 percent positive that she couldn’t honor her promise to Cole that she wouldn’t fall in love.

If she told him, she’d lose him.

But if she didn’t tell him…

She’d lose herself.

Chapter 25

Sunday marked a first for Cole: he’d rescheduled his and his brother’s standing Sunday date.

It hadn’t been an easy decision. But Jake had scored four Yankees tickets directly behind home plate and invited Cole and Penelope. And even though it was Sunday—his and Bobby’s day—Cole had found himself tempted. Tempted to spend a sunny afternoon with friends and a woman who was, well…he didn’t know.

Something had shifted between Cole and Penelope.

As far as what was different, Cole didn’t have a fucking clue. He couldn’t have named it. He only knew it felt a good deal more important than weekend bed partners and weekday colleagues.

And for the life of him, he didn’t know whether to be freaked out or happy.

Bobby had agreed to the change of plans with so much enthusiasm, Cole half wondered if Bobby hadn’t been waiting for this moment—waiting for Cole to have a reason to have a relationship with someone other than his big brother.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the Mets were away, so a ball game was out of the question anyway, since Bobby good-naturedly refused to go to Yankee Stadium.

But whatever Bobby’s motivations, his brother had approved. Heartily.

Still, Bobby’s approval didn’t quite ease the sting of guilt Cole felt when he and Penelope walked into Yankee Stadium with Jake and Grace Malone.

As though sensing this, Penelope’s fingers found his and squeezed.

“Okay,” Grace said, clapping her hands together. “They have wine here, right? I know beer’s customary, but I could really go for a nice chardonnay….”

Penelope stared at her in horror. “You can’t be serious. This is a ballpark.”

“An evolved one,” Grace said with a little wink.

“But—but—” Penelope was sputtering.

Grace gave her a little pat on the shoulder. “I can see you’re all about the classics, so how about we split up and meet back after everyone finds their food and beverage of choice?”

“If she brings sushi, I’ll have to unfriend her,” Penelope muttered to Cole after Grace had dragged Jake toward the wine cart.

“Fair enough,” Cole agreed as they headed to the main concession stand. “So what’s our plan? Hot dog?”

Penelope studied the menu with as much interest as a sommelier perusing a wine list.

“I’m thinking…pretzel,” she finally pronounced. “I haven’t had a good one in forever. Or wait, do I want nachos?”

“I notice popcorn’s not in the running,” he said.

She smiled. “I know it’s been a week since I was doused in the stuff, but I swear sometimes I still get a whiff of butter. Speaking of which, how’s Bobby? Are you sure it’s okay that you’re not hanging out with him today?”