Freight Trained by Sarah Curtis Page B

jitters under control.  However, this time, she didn't sit in the car and contemplate whether she would get out.  No, she put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and swung open her car door all in one fluid motion, hopping out and walking briskly up to the front door.  She was a woman on a mission. 
    And then her mission fell apart thwarted by her own uncertainty.  
    The house was dark, no lights shone through any downstairs windows.  She wondered whether he was home or worse, home but not alone and already "in bed" for the night.   Arm raised ready to knock, that thought made her hesitate.  And once the first doubt crept into her mind, others soon followed.
    She wasn't sure how long she stood paralyzed in front of Cole's front door but knew the jig was up when the door opened.  Cole stood before her, shirtless, in only a pair of jeans, barefoot, his hair in disarray, eyes heavily lidded.  He looked as if he'd just woken.  It was a good look.  Flickering lights from the big-screen TV pulsed in the background of the otherwise darkened living room. 
    One look at his sleep-sexy, disheveled state was all it took for her doubts to disappear, and her name, uttered in his gruff voice on a relieved sigh, sealed her fate.  He was right, she was his.
    * * * * *
    He'd known the moment a car had pulled up his drive.  The headlights had flashed through the front window.  When a few minutes passed and no doorbell or knock was forthcoming, he'd gotten up from his reclined position on the couch to investigate.  Opening the door, he hadn't expected to see Abby at such a late hour.  He also hadn't expected the rush of relief he felt upon seeing her, knowing that she'd come to him, again, even if standing immobile on his stoop for five minutes proved she was still hesitant about her decision. 
    "Abby."  Her name fell from his lips, and he took the few steps that separated them, capturing her face in his hands before claiming her lips in a kiss.
    He was like a man starved and Abby, his first meal.  He bit, licked, sucked, and devoured her lips.  He turned, maneuvering her through the door, closing it with his heel before turning once more, pressing her against the hard surface.  His hands raked into her hair, encountering some kind of hair thing that he ripped at with his fingers until the offending object was gone, leaving her hair free to cascade over his hands.  He gripped handfuls, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. 
    His devil, in full control now, took over the show, pressing his hips into her soft, pliant stomach, grinding against her while his tongue ravaged her mouth, branding it, leaving his mark.
    He was consumed by her — her taste, her scent, the feel of her surrounding him.
    So lost in a sexually haze, he almost didn't hear her small, distressed whimper.  It played through his ears, firing tiny synapses that transmitted fright loud and clear to the small section of his brain that still held a shred of morality.  Pulling away, slightly loosening his hold on her, he looked into her fear-widened eyes and felt like a complete ass. 
    Still breathing heavy, he placed his forehead to hers, lightly skimming his fingers along her scalp in a soothing gesture.  "Just give me a minute," he rasped, willing his heart rate to slow. 
    His hands trailed down to her neck, caressing the soft skin.  He felt her heartbeat thumping a strong rhythm on the pads of his fingers.  He'd scared her, he'd frightened his little mouse, and the realization caused something unfamiliar to squeezed at his heart.  He backed away from her and looked down at the floor.  He raked a hand through his hair, his hand coming to rest on the back of his neck where he gave a firm squeeze.
    In another minute, he had himself under control and dared to glance over at her.  She still leaned against the door, but the fright had left her eyes.  He felt the restricting noose around his heart loosen and was able to take a complete