“I—”
“Please.”
“Colt.”
His mouth snaps closed, teeth clicking together.
I squeeze his hand then pull mine free as my next period starts rolling in.
“I was just going to ask what time?”
Sixteen
Colt
The doorbell rings as I’m sliding the pan into the oven.
It’s nothing special, just some roasted potatoes and chicken breasts seasoned with breadcrumbs, rosemary, and a dash of hot honey.
The dessert that’s percolating in the fridge is killer, though.
Lemon parfaits with freshly whipped cream and strawberries that cost almost ten bucks for a tiny carton.
But they’re ripe and fresh and Kylie’s favorite.
One of her favorites, anyway.
Because her favorite food is dessert.
Yup. Just dessert.
Mouth twitching, I close the oven, snag a towel to wipe my hands and hurry to the front door, pulling it open and?—
My lungs freeze.
She is so fucking beautiful.
She’s changed since I saw her at school, trading her slacks and fitted tee and cardigan for a long skirt and a sweater that caresses the curves I’m desperate to touch, to stroke, to lick and kiss and bite.
But it’s the pumps that are currently on her feet that have my dick going hard.
High and sleek, made of a dark brown material and with a slender, spiked heel I want digging into my back.
“Colt?” she whispers.
And I realize I’ve been staring at her, thinking about those heels, that skirt rucked up around her waist.
And not about stepping back and letting her into my house.
A house she was uncomfortable in the last time she was over.
A house I want her spending a fuck-ton more time in.
Something that won’t happen if I just stand here like an idiot, staring at her.
“Sorry, Teach,” I say lightly as I move so she can come in. “I like the shoes,” I can’t help but add.
She pauses, glances over her shoulder, eyes filled with a feminine confidence that has my already hard dick going harder. “Thanks.”
