Instead, they fought. And then hugged and made up.
“I like you, too,” he said, and this only served to give her more warm fuzzies. And more terror.
“Olivia,” Cole said, voice low.
Kind.
Warm.
She met his gaze and he crooked a finger at her, the universal sign for come here.
And though she wanted to resist, wanted to walk away, her feet took over, bringing her right to him.
Chapter 22
Cole had wondered if Olivia would relax enough to have a good time. When he’d caught a glimpse of her tears, his heart had stopped. But he’d quickly realized that she’d been deeply touched by his family, and possibly missing hers. “Come here, little mermaid,” he murmured, wrapping her in his arms when she stepped into him.
“You going to pillage and plunder?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.” Actually, what he was going to do was his damnedest to erase the sorrow from her eyes. Spreading his legs, he pulled her into the V until they were snug against each other.
“Your sisters are—”
“Crazy?” he asked. “Yeah. I know.”
“I was going to say nice,” she said.
“Huh.” He laughed a little. “That’s a word I haven’t heard associated with them before.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “You love them. You’re close.”
He blew out a sigh. “For better or worse. That surprises you.” He held her gaze, trying to see inside her, to the secrets she held so close to her heart. “Tell me about your family, Olivia.”
She pressed her face into his throat. He could feel her lips on him. Since this threatened to derail his thought process, he urged her head up so that he could see her face again.
Her eyes remained on where she’d nipped him on the Adam’s apple. “Olivia,” he called.
She pressed her hips to his, rocking the softest part of her against what was now the hardest part of him. With a groan, he tightened his grip on her, holding her still. “Were you close to your family?” he asked.
“It’s been a long time.”
He heard the pain in her voice and he softened his hold, cuddling her into him. “Kiss me, Supergirl.”
She didn’t hesitate, lifting her mouth to his, opening when he gently nipped her lower lip, sucking her tongue into his mouth with a soft moan that had him insta-hard.
And that’s when the door opened.
A three-and-a-half-foot-tall minion stood there. Jonathan, Clare’s mini-me, stared at them, taking in the way Cole was gripping Olivia close with one hand, his other cupped the nape of her neck. “Uncle Cole?”
“Yeah, buddy,” Cole said, hearing the residual huskiness in his voice.
“Why were you swallowing the Little Mermaid’s tongue?”
“I wasn’t,” Cole said. “I was…” You were what, genius? “Checking her tonsils.”
Jonathan turned his gaze on Olivia, awe in his eyes. “When I get to be big like you,” he said to Cole, “I wanna check the Little Mermaid’s tonsils, too.” And then he slammed the pantry door shut, the sound of his little feet running out of the kitchen echoing around them.
Cole grinned and pulled Olivia back in. “Where were we?”
“We can’t,” she said a little breathlessly, which was damn good for his ego. “We can’t do it here.”
No, regrettably, they couldn’t. But he intended to chase away the last of her sadness. And he knew a really great way to do that, too. Nuzzling her throat, he opened his mouth, sucking on a patch of her soft skin.
She melted into him like her knees had liquefied.
Also gratifying.
“But someone might come,” she whispered.
Yeah, he’d like that. He’d like it to be her, coming all over him. “We’re not going to do it now.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding so disappointed he laughed against her soft skin.
“We’re not going to do it,” he said again. “Just you.”
Her eyes flew to his. “What? No, I—”
He cupped a breast in his left hand, letting his thumb rasp lightly over her nipple, back and forth.
“Oh,” she breathed softly into his mouth. “Oh, that feels good.”
His other hand slid down her back to squeeze her sweet ass. “What’s beneath this skirt?”
A soft huff escaped her, and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “I had to be careful of VPL.”
He had sisters. He knew what VPL meant—visible panty lines. “Are you telling me you went commando?” he asked, his voice as rough as sandpaper. If there is a God…
“No!” Another soft huff of laughter. “I didn’t go entirely without…”
Taking that as a challenge, he slid his hand into the skirt’s waistband and cupped her backside.
Oh Christ, yeah. She was wearing the teeny-tiniest G-string he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring. He let his fingers do the talking, tracing the narrow strip of barely there silk south until she gasped.
“Spread your legs, Little Mermaid,” he whispered.
The skirt didn’t give her much room, but he got an inch or two when she did as he’d asked and shifted. He stroked her until she fisted her hands in his shirt at his pecs and was breathing in hot, short pants against his throat, her hips pressing into him with every stroke of his fingers.
“Cole,” she whispered, voice tight and a little desperate.