“You should be so lucky.”
His fingers slide under my chin as we stare at each other, his thumb brushing over the small cleft there.
“I’m not your lovesick boy anymore. You don’t hold all the cards, and I don’t come when I’m called.”
“You sure about that? You used to come pretty hard when I told you what a good boy you were.”
His eyes go bright as they meet mine, flickering with amusement as a wry smile spreads across his face. His lashes lowering as his eyes fall to my lips. This man is so beautiful on magazine covers, but in person, he takes my fucking breath away.
But he’s not my type. We don’t even like each other. Fucking him would be a mistake of epic proportions. I literally just got to town. I can’t be making mistakes like that already. Disappointing Ben before I’ve even been on the ground for a full twenty-four hours.
“I mean if we’re being honest, I liked it better when you couldn’t say anything at all because these lips were wrapped around my cock.”
“You have a filthy mouth for someone they call a priest.”
“I recall you liking my mouth.A lot.”
“You were always so eager to use it. Hard not to.”
“Pull your dress up and let me see the color.”
“Excuse you. I’m a fucking lady. I don’t just hike my skirt up because some asshole tells me to.”
“I can make you.”
“I’m sorry?” I blink at him, feigning disgust. Because I wish hewouldmake me. This new Colt, the one with the mouth on him who gives two fucks less about propriety and cordialness? I like him. He’s even hotter than the version I remember. Which means I am indanger.
He leans forward, caging me against the wall, and whispers against the shell of my ear, “You know you would still like the way I make you feel… Just us out here. No one will know you spread your legs for the golden boy. That you have a secret fetish for quarterbacks. But if you want me to make you come, you have to let me see first.”
Holy fucking shit. Forget danger. I’m downright fucked.
I take in oxygen. Remind myself to breathe. That I’m the one in control here. I’m older. Wiser. And Idon’thave a secret fetish for quarterbacks.
But I do have a secret weakness for him. For those eyes and that panty-dropping smile. For how good he is with his hands. So I grab the sides of my skirt and pull it up, higher and higher until he can see what’s underneath.
He’d better fucking appreciate them too. They were expensive. I bought them in a little boutique in Paris right before I flew back here. I’d told myself I was just getting them for me. That it had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s his favorite color. That he used to tease me that I reminded him of the Wicked Witch and loved seeing me in it. But it was a lie. One he knows now as he stares at the deep emerald green strip of satin that’s hand-stitched to two sheer pieces of handmade lace.
SIX
Colt
Her body isas gorgeous as it ever was. If anything, she’s improved with age because her hips are a little wider and her thighs are a little thicker. It makes me want to rip this dress off her, so I can see what the matching bra looks like. The way it probably perfectly frames her lush breasts. See if the rest of her body has filled out with time too because it looks like it has.
The tattoo of a pirate ship still wraps its way around her right hip, and I see hints of some new ink that’s harder to make out in this light. I’d always been jealous of Ben—that Violet had tattooed his number on her wrist. I wanted to tattoo mine on Joss. Sign my name across her skin so every time another guy saw her like this, he’d ask her why she had it, and she’d have to tell him. She’d have to remember that I was the best she ever had. She’d confessed that much. Laughed it off that it was my eagerness that turned her on so much just like she’s doing now.
“Turn around,” I order her, pretending like I’m just taking in the scenery. Like I don’t care, and she doesn’t have any effect on me. Because I shouldn’t actually touch her. We are nothing but a disaster waiting to happen. Cordialness and civility, while we were around Ben and Violet, were the only things we could hope for.
“No comment? No gloating about being right?” she asks as she turns around, and I look at the lace on the back that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. I run my finger along the edge of it, down from her hip until I skim over her ass. It’s perfect. Gorgeous and pale just like the rest of her. She bends slightly at the waist, knowing exactly what she’s doing. The way her muscles flex underneath, I skim my hand over her cheek and imagine what she’d look like riding me in reverse. Wishing I could bend her over and slide inside. Show her how much of me she’s been missing.
Sex is usually low on my priority list. So low the guys call me Priest because of how long it’s been. But she appears and now I’m hard and desperate to fuck her. It must cut both ways, or she wouldn’t be dressed like this. Jumping me the second I walk in the door. Following me down to the boat house. Looking at me with flustered interest. We might hate each other after everything, but the hate sex could be amazing.
“I don’t need to gloat when we both already know the truth. It’s obvious you wore this because you were hoping to get fucked tonight,” I say softly as my fingers skim over the surface of her stomach, sliding down until I slip them beneath the fabric and pause when I hear her breath catch. “And since you wore my favorite color, pretty simple to figure out who you wore it for.”
“You never know. It’s Ben’s birthday. Violet’s put in a lot of work today. She might be tired and need me to pinch-hit.”
I laugh and shake my head because this was classic Joss. Always deflecting and saying something ludicrous. “She loves you a lot. Not enough to share her husband though.”
“If you think you’ll get me to admit I want you, Farm Boy, you can keep dreaming. Or try to torture it out of me. The latter might be more fun than whatever you’re doing right now.”
