God, I should ignore him—get the glass of water I came down for and return to my room. Yet something about him keeps my feet firmly planted on the chilly wood floor. He makes me want to push the boundaries.
“You’re giving me the vibe that you might be trying to deal with them right now,” I continue when he doesn’t answer.
Colten lifts a hand to his mouth, swiping a few fingers over his bottom lip before dragging the same ones through his hair. His black shirt hugs his chest and biceps, the cords in his muscles and neck catching the light as he moves fluidly.
I’m not sure why I do it, but I stalk toward him, our gazes sparking and lighting something I should be running from.
Getting close enough that the fabric of his sweatpants brushes against my knees, I lean over, grabbing the liquor in his hand.
Maybe I have a death wish. Or maybe I’m curious what taunting Colten will lead to. His eyes don’t leave mine, but as our fingers brush against each other’s, molten lava floods through my veins simultaneously as a threat flashes across his eyes.
“Taryn.” His husky voice, laced with warning, sends a rush of desire to my aching core.
God, the voice that comes out of that mouth.
A mouth whose words have nearly brought me to orgasm almost as quickly as his tongue pressed to my clit. A throbbing between my legs increases the staccato rhythm of my pulse.
He releases his hold on the glass, inspecting me savagely as I lift it to my lips and draw a mouthful. Swallowing it down, the smoky, sweet flavor bounces off my tongue and burns my throat. I know alcohol doesn’t work this instantly, but my flesh tingles just the same.
His fingers curl into a fist on his lap. “What are you doing, Little Ghost?”
I smirk, taking another sip. I lean across his muscular frame, setting it back on the table, my head so close to his that I can feel his hot breath skimming the slope of my neck.
Wetting my lips, I whisper, “Facing my own nightmare.”
Before I can even register what’s happening, his hand whips out, his fingers wrapping around my throat with such a subtle force I release a strangled noise. He stands the exact moment he rotates us, throwing me on the couch effortlessly. He shoves my back into the sofa with his fingers still firmly around my throat and his body pressing between my open legs.
Oh, shit.
His swift actions and the way he forced me into this position transfers a surplus of tension between my parted legs—the fear inside me sparking and shifting into something much more needy.
His fingers softly dig into my erratic pulse. I’m completely trapped and helpless under Colten’s hard physique. Thrusting his hips between my thighs, the massive and hard bulge of his cock grates against my sensitive flesh.
Lightning crackles under my skin.
His lips skim the shell of my ear. “I highly suggest you go to bed, Taryn.”
I should.God, I should.
Making no effort to move, I give myself over and accept my fate. He’s making it nearly impossible to scurry away from him and back to my room. So, I stare at him challengingly, dissecting the look in his eyes, my chest rising and falling beneath him.
His eyes flutter closed, his features contorting in a way that shows me the internal battle he’s fighting. When his eyes fly open, my body jolts at the complete shift. His hooded eyes inject venom into my bloodstream, immobilizing me in place.
“Fuck it,” he breathes.
His lips crash down onto mine, my body igniting into flames underneath him at the unexpected feeling of his mouth on mine. His cock swells against my core, enticing him to grind on top of me and wrench a moan from my mouth and into his.
Colten’s other hand, not capturing my throat, grips my hip bone, tugging my frame flush against his. His touch sears through my flesh and liquifies everything. Hot damn, I’m going to turn into a puddle on the couch for this man.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m soaked through my underwear and shorts, drenching him through his sweatpants with the skillful way he’s dry humping me. His thick erection rubbing against my clit has everything twisting and coiling, begging to be released.
He bites my bottom lip hard, the sting quickly diminishing when his tongue swipes against it. He thrusts it between my lips,demanding further access and deepening the kiss. Our tongues tangle, his sugary, minty flavor sizzling on my taste buds.
Did he even drink the scotch? He doesn’t taste like it at all.
Every part of my being floats in space as his dominant tongue, which brought me pleasure a few days ago in his truck, duels with mine.
His minty taste and the spiced scotch lingering in my mouth create a cocktail of flavors that increase my feverish flesh.
