Eventually, the rest of the guys start to head off, leaving behind their usual wake of empty mugs, crumbs, and a half-eaten pack of cookies. Don’t get me wrong, I love them like brothers, but they’re absolute chaos when they descend en masse. And Hux? Well, ever since that night with Colt, he’s stillguarded around me. Polite. But distant. I don’t blame him. I hurt his brother, and that kind of thing doesn’t disappear overnight.
Once the house clears out, Colt threads his fingers through mine and tugs me toward the stairs. Princess trots after us, her little feet padding against the floor.
“We’ve got that appointment tomorrow, yeah?” he asks as we walk into our bedroom.
“Yeah, Anna and Johnny are coming too. The doctor wants to start the embryo transfer counseling, since it’s a whole process before we even get to the implantation stage.” I strip off my shirt and walk into the ensuite, already tugging at my jeans.
Colt follows me in, eyes locked on my body like it’s the only thing in the room that matters.
He steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, bare chest pressed against my back. “I can’t wait to hold our baby in my arms,” he murmurs against my skin, lips brushing over my shoulder. His voice is low and reverent, but there’s a hunger behind it too.
“I know,” I whisper, turning in his arms to face him. “Sometimes I still can’t believe Anna and Johnny are doing this for us. It’s the most selfless thing anyone’s ever done.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve known Johnny forever, but I never thought he’d be so chill about me knocking up his wife,” Colt says, smirking.
I smack his chest. “Don’t say it like that. It freaks me out.”
He chuckles and presses his nose to mine, swaying me gently from side to side. “Sorry, sorry. But you know I’m totally in love withyou, right?”
“Had a hunch,” I tease.
His lips brush over mine, soft and teasing at first, then deepening with intent. His hands drift down, undoing the button of my jeans and sliding the zipper. I shiver as he pushes themdown along with my panties, letting them fall to the floor with a whisper of fabric.
My fingers trail along the planes of his back, muscles flexing under my touch. I tug his shirt over his head, breaking our kiss only long enough to strip it off. Our lips reconnect instantly—hungry now, urgent. His body molds to mine, bare chest to bare skin, and I swear I feel the air crackle around us.
I reach for his jeans, undoing them quickly, pushing them down his hips. He steps out of them in one smooth motion, revealing, of course, no underwear.
Typical Colt.
His lips leave mine just long enough to lean into the shower alcove and twist the faucets. Steam begins to curl around us almost immediately.
“Let’s get you wet, Miss Norman,” he says, his voice all gravel and mischief.
I laugh, cheeks flushing. “You’re such a menace.”
He grins, offering his hand like a gentleman, but the way he looks at me is anything but innocent.
I take his hand and step into the shower, letting the hot water pour down my back. Colt follows, closing the glass door behind us.
And the rest of the world disappears.
The steam swirls around us, curling over our skin as the hot water cascades from above. Colt steps in behind me, his hand sliding up my spine to cup the back of my neck. I shiver, not from the water, but from his touch.
His mouth finds my shoulder, lips warm against my skin. “You know I’ve been thinking about this all damn day,” he murmurs, voice low, roughlike gravel wrapped in silk. There’s a hunger beneath the words, tightly reined in, but I feel the edge of it pressing against his control. It’s the kind of voice that makesmy thighs clench, the kind that reminds me exactly who Colter Slade is when he’s not holding back.
I lean back into him, tilting my head to the side to give him more room. “You always think about me naked in the shower?”
“Only every time you walk away from me half-dressed.”
His hands skim down my sides, lingering at my hips before gripping them, firm and possessive. He turns me slowly, pressing me against the slick tile. His body crowds mine, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind me who he is.
His eyes lock onto mine.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” he says, and the tension in his jaw tells me he’s still holding back. Still afraid. And, of course, those words affect me negatively, but I don’t show it.
“It won’t,” I whisper.
Colt lifts my arms and pins them gently above my head, his fingers wrapping around both wrists, anchoring them to the wall.
