Chapter Twenty-Six
He was a total pushover for her. Oh, he might have the upper hand right this second, with her pinned under him, her legs wrapped about his hips while he made her come apart around him, but in an hour or so, he’d be at the depot, doing exactly what he’d swore he wouldn’t — be dragged into spending an evening with his cousin who despised him.
At the moment, he didn’t have to think about that yet — he could lose himself in the hot, wet clasp of her body, her quiet moan next to his ear, the scrape of her nails on his nape, zinging sensation down his spine to his balls.
Yeah, with all that, he wasn’t going to last.
Digging his elbow into the mattress, he levered up enough to slide his other arm between them, dancing a fingertip over her clit while holding his rhythm. Her gasp made him smile, and he tangled his hand in her hair, meeting blue eyes dark and slumbrous with pleasure and arousal.
She arched into him. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Very good.” His voice emerged raspy, his lungs and belly tight with exertion and desire. Propped above her, he could see the way her breasts moved with each thrust, pink nipples furled and hard. Rubbing with a pair of fingers, finding the pressure she liked best, he hunched enough to dip his head and drag his teeth over a pink, stiff peak.
“Colton.” She bowed again, fingers scraping his neck. Man, the breathless way she said his name . . .
She came apart in his arms, legs tightening about his, belly rubbing into him as she clenched on him in a sharp orgasm. And thatmoanwhile she came around him in waves . . . have mercy.
His own climax raced up his spine, tightening his balls before he lunged deep, spilling with a rough groan, the soundtorn from his throat while his ability to breathe, think, see disappeared under a wash of knockout pleasure.
Lungs heaving, he rested his forehead on her shoulder, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the tremble of her belly. Her laugh built under his torso, vibrating into him, and she tangled her hand in his hair, pulling his head up so she could kiss him.
Holding the condom in place with one hand, he molded his mouth to hers, drinking in her breathless laughter, her sighed “I love you.”
Mischief had him rubbing his nose and sweaty brow against her neck, and she wriggled, trying to evade him despite his weight pinning her lower body.
“Colt.” A giggle belied the stern command in her voice. “Stop.”
He kissed her clavicle, sucking a little at the rise of bone that was a perfect fit for his lips. “Weren’t saying that a few seconds ago.”
She smacked his ass, hard enough to sting.
“Hey.” Making a grab for the offending hand, he pinned her wrist to the bed above her head and dipped his head for a hard kiss, taking her mouth until she sighed and softened into him. With a regretful growl, he bumped his nose next to hers. “I’ve got to get in the shower.”
“Mmmm.” She rolled to her belly, cheek pressed to her folded arms as he crawled off the bed, still holding the condom in place. “Tick’s new habit of being late makes sense now.”
The slug of that name hitting his belly shoved some of the lingering pleasure aside. “Huh.”
In the bathroom, he tugged off the condom and discarded it before reaching in the shower to start the water heating. Eyinghimself in the mirror, he rubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw. Yeah, a shave was a necessity.
Light footsteps preceded her appearance behind him, and she wrapped her arms about his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. He folded a hand over hers, trapping her fingers against his abs. Her cheek brushed his spine, and he met his own gaze in the mirror, even and steady, none of the slight dread showing.
That was good. He didn’t want her worrying.
Even though her shower had turned into a sort of erotic playground for them over the past month, he managed to keep his hands to himself and not start anything else, soaping off and shaving while she lathered and rinsed and washed her hair.
Listening to her cosmetics rattle and the hairdryer buzz, he kept his mental focus on getting ready – antiperspirant, a splash of aftershave, shrugging into his white shirt he loved on her as much as he loved stripping it from her body. Dark jeans, his belt and watch, socks, boots. With nothing but his blazer to go, he straightened up the bed while she donned her party attire – a sparkly red sequined skirt that clung to her hips and thighs, a black sweater with wispy feathers waving about her wrists while she threaded rhinestone drops through her ears.
He paused in the middle of fluffing a pillow. Man, the way she shone. He loved that. “You look great.”
Leaning down to fasten the ankle strap on a pair of black heels – she’d be clinging to him all night, not that that was a bad thing at all – she flicked a glance up at him, a bright smile lighting her face. “Thank you.”
That smile was his reason for doing this tonight. Not seeing his cousin, not giving in to the old hope that had done nothing but break his heart over and over. Tick could be mad and resentful as he wanted to be, punish Colt forever by freezing himout because thatthank youwas bullshit, meant nothing, as long as Holly was happy.
Now, if Lamar upset her? All bets were off.
He didn’t need Tick, had let go for real, but let Holly get hurt because of Lamar’s stubbornness.
Colt would have his ass.
