“Seriously, dude, I know you’re desperate, but… what the fuck!” the blond guy questions.
My memory might be foggy, but I know Colt was the perfect gentleman and didn’t try to take advantage of me in any way.
“Shut up, Dingo!” Colt slowly sits up in bed, and the guys all turn their attention back to me.
And I stand there feeling…
… hungover.
Incredibly tired.
Extremely insecure.
And the most intense of emotions—vulnerability.
How did I allow this to happen?
While in front of me, these hot pieces of man candy are gawking at me like I’m intruding and most certainly do not belong intheir world.
News flash, lads. You’re inmy room!
“Okay, well, thanks for stopping by,” I assert.
They all laugh at me.
Yes, laugh.The audacity.
Colt rises and stretches while the lads slowly walk toward the door, and I nearly combust.
That sense of panic is rising now that he’s leaving.
He walks to me and smiles, that panty-dropping smile. Colt looks so good, better than I remember, and I have to clench my thighs together to stop the ache I feel for him.
What is this man doing to me?
Oh my goodness, Dee, get a hold of yourself!
This is sonothow a lady would behave.
“So, I’ll ah… see you tonight, then?” Colt asks.
His bandmates walk out of the room laughing, punching each other, and acting like idiots.
“Tonight?”
“The concert, remember?”
I slightly dip my chin and shyly smile. For some reason, I can’t look him in the eyes. Today, he’s intimidating, and I am unsure of myself. I don’t know if that’s because I’m sober and have some brain function or if it’s his ridiculously gorgeous appearance and those bulging biceps covered in ink. Whatever it is, it’s causing me to go completely weak at the knees.
“Right, um… sure. Why not?”
He takes my hand in his. “I look forward to it.” And with that, he lets go and walks out the door. I move to close it, but just as it's about to shut, he pushes it open again. “Sorry, I forgot something,” he says, holding his hand for me to shake. I look at him with an awkward smirk and place my hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Colter Slade,” he says with a cheeky grin.
Shaking his hand, I reply, “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Deliah Norman.”
The formal introductions are backward, and I laugh, caught up in the silliness of the moment.
He brings my hand up, gently kissing my knuckles, then leaves while a flutter of butterflies swarms around in my stomach.
