I reach behind me, flicking the lock on the bedroom door.
He releases my hair slowly, watching me closely.
I press against him, letting my fingers drag through his hair. “I’ll take you any way I can get you,” I whisper. “Plus, I’m drunk. And when I’m drunk around you, it always ends up in sex.”
He chuckles darkly, then lifts me with ease, and I squeal when he tosses me onto the bed.
“Your parents are downstairs,” he warns.
“Then you’d better be quiet,” I tease, hearing the music crank up louder.
“They’ll just assume we’re arguing again.”
“Which is probably worse,” I mutter, laughing.
Colt lowers himself over me, kissing me with slow, deliberate hunger. His body presses into mine, heat and weight and everything I’ve missed. My hands tangle in his hair, desperate for more. His hips grind against mine, his hard length undeniable.
The kiss deepens, his tongue dancing with mine, the bourbon on his breath turning me on even more. He grinds again, and I can’t stop the moan that slips out. He breaks away, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking hard. I know it’ll bruise, and I don’t care.
His hand cups my breast, squeezing firmly.
My body arches into his touch, craving it.
Then, suddenly, he sits up.
Confused, I blink up at him. But he doesn’t say a word, just grabs the hem of my dress, moving it slowly. I lift my hips, letting him pull it over my head.
He sits back, eyes raking over my body, now in nothing but black lace.
He shakes his head, smirking.
“What?” I ask, self-conscious, moving to cover myself.
He huffs, brushing my hands aside like he owns every single damn inch of me. His eyes linger, and I catch it, that unmistakable spark.
He’s so turned on.
Despite the scar that still makes me flinch, Colt’s gaze is molten. Reverent. Like I’m the most irresistible thing he’s ever seen.
“You are… fuck, Dee,” he mutters, wrapping an arm around me to unclasp my bra. “I can’t stand how gorgeous you are.”
My bra slips off and lands somewhere on the floor. I smile, warmth curling through me at the hunger in Colt’s eyes—the kind of look he used to give me before everything fell apart.
It’s back.
He’s back.
He kisses me quickly, then trails his lips down the center of my body, the stubble on his jaw igniting a delicious burn across my skin. My body arches toward him without thinking. When he reaches my panties, I swear my skin catches fire. His hands hook into the sides and drag them down with practiced ease. I lift my hips, helping him strip me bare.
Now I’m naked.
He’s fully clothed.
The power imbalance is enough to make me tremble.
He kisses my thigh, then runs his nose up the center of my pussy, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, baby… you smell so good.”
The moment his tongue touches my clit, I gasp, and heat explodes through me like a fuse lit too fast. I clutch the quilt beneath me, clenching my fists as he works me over with slow, torturous precision. When he slides a finger inside me, I moan and buck against him. The rhythm of his tongue and hand is merciless. Expert. I’m already on the edge.
