“That’s—” I grabbed his wrist. Not to stop him. Just to hold on.
“Tell me.” His hand pressed, and I bit my lip hard. “Or I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop,” I said, before I could stop myself.
“Then tell me.”
“This,” I managed. “I was thinking about this. About your hands. About—” He moved his hand and thought dissolved. “About you.”
“Good girl.” I shivered at his words and I felt them everywhere. His fingers found the button of my jeans, and he worked it open and pulled the zipper down.
Then without warning, he thrust his hand down my jeans.
“You’re so wet,” he said, rubbing his finger along my slit over the cotton of my panties.” Because of course I was wearing cotton panties. I had not anticipated this. “You’ve been like this all day.”
“Shut up.” That earned me a harder press of his finger.
“It’s not an insult.” His fingers moved and my head fell back against the shelf behind the bar. “It’s the best thing I’ve felt all day.” He found my clit and started rubbing. I grabbed his arm with both hands. “Do you want me to make you come, Charlie?”
I bit my lip then looked up at him. “Yes,” I said. “Please.”
“Please.” He said it like he was tasting it. “I like that.”
His fingers moved in a slow, devastating rhythm, watching my face the whole time. “You’re going to say that again. Later. In my bed.” His mouth brushed my ear. “When I’m finally inside you, you’re going to say please, and I’m going to give you everything you’re asking for.”
Then his fingers were moving faster, harder, bringing me closer and closer…
I came apart.
My release crashed through me hard and sudden, and I buried my face in his shoulder and he worked me through every second of it, murmuring low things against my hair —good girl, that’s it, I’ve got you— until I wasn’t shaking anymore.
I sat on my bar catching my breath while he buttoned my jeans back up with the same methodical focus he brought to everything, completely composed, like he hadn’t just taken me apart entirely.
“Colt,” I said finally.
“Yeah.”
I didn’t really know what to say. No man had ever touched me like that.
He looked at me steadily. “And that was just my hand, Charlie.” He picked up the screwdriver from the bar. “Think about that tonight.”
He went back to work on the shelf bracket.
I sat on my bar for another thirty seconds, then slid down, smoothed my shirt, and went back to my inventory.
And yeah, I thought about him all night long that night.
CHAPTER FOUR
Colt
Monday was the longest damn day of my life.
Why? Because the bar was closed and I couldn’t see Charlie.
I’d sat on my porch in the cold with a cup of coffee and thought about her. Her wit, her charm. Her damn fucking curves.
Oh, and how she’d let me make her come all over my fingers.
