Obsession (Ink & Iron #1) Read Online Free Page A

and he’d pull his cock from her mouth, grab her and push her down on the bed or the floor or the table—wherever they happened to be—and just take her. She’d get so damn excited her pussy would be soaking wet, tight and fine and grasping his plunging cock.
    “Ah…”
    He stroked harder, his hand sliding up and down his shaft, avoiding the head so he wouldn’t come too fast.
    Janie.
    She was his ultimate fantasy girl. So. Fucking. Perfect.
    Pleasure coiled tight in his belly as he arched into his fisted hand, his climax hovering.
    Had to be inside her again. To know her that way.
    To know her again.
    He had to get her back. Had to.
    Something in his chest twisted, and he let his cock go.
    Damn it.
    He didn’t want to stop, but he didn’t want to come—he couldn’t. Not without her in his arms. This was for her and he wouldn’t waste it in his own hands. He had more control over his desires than that. These last years of sobriety had proven it. If they were ever going to get back to the intense levels of intimacy that came with the power play they’d both once loved so much, if she was ever going to trust him that much again, then he was going to have to prove it to himself. So he could prove it to her.
    He let the cool water run over his head, then shook it hard, shook the water out of his eyes as he bit his orgasm back. A few minutes of Tantric breathing calmed him down enough to breathe normally again, and he picked up the shampoo bottle.
    This wasn’t going to get him anywhere, rubbing one off in the shower over Janie. He had to stay focused. Because she was it, the only one for him. And he damn well would get her back.
    It was time.

Chapter Three
    Janie looked at the mess on her bed that was the pile of clothes she’d tried on and then cast off in her search for the right outfit to wear to dinner. She felt like a teenager.
    She’d barely been more than that the last time she’d been with Cole—really been with him. Twenty-one years old when they’d split. But oh, that last time together…even with him being half-buzzed on who knew what, even with her anger and resentment, his touch had been electric.
    Shivering, she ran her hands over her bare stomach, up over the sheer pink lace of her bra. Her nipples came up hard, tight and aching.
    “This is only dinner. Nothing more than talking,” she said to the empty room. She sighed out a long breath, burying her fingers in her hair. “It is , damn it.”
    She looked up at the enormous canvas that hung over her bed, a painting her sister Iris had done of Buddha’s serene face in shades of brown and gold. “Please give me serenity,” she begged quietly.
    She pulled in a deep breath, into her belly, blew it out.
    Nothing.
    Shaking her head, she went back to her closet and began to dig through it once more. There had to be something in there among all her yoga clothes and her breezy Bohemian dresses. She yanked on one of them in frustration and a box fell from the high shelf, spilling old photos onto the floor. She knelt to retrieve them and saw a scattered stack of pictures of her and Cole. With her heart in her throat, she picked the small pile up and began to leaf through them.
    They looked so young, both of them dressed like the little rock ’n’ rollers they’d been, and still were, at heart, in jeans and T-shirts and leather jackets. There were snapshots of Cole on his old Harley, and she remembered the rides they’d taken up the Pacific Coast Highway. Parking at the beach and making out like mad on the sand as the sun went down over the sparkling ocean.
    There were pictures of the band on stage at The Roxy and Madame Wong’s in Hollywood, back when Cole’s dark hair was still long, his jeans worn tight over his strong thighs. God, he’d had such swagger and style on the stage. He still did, she knew from having seen him on TV.
    She flipped through a few more and found a later one—one from the final weeks of their marriage. She could tell