Page 110 of Colt

I know this sounds stupid—or maybe just pathetic—but that makes me feel special.

I’m not sure anyone’s made me feel that way before. Like I’m worth the effort and time it took to look the way he does. Especially when it’s time Colton doesn’t have. He’s a single parent with—hell, not even a full-time job. It’s more of a calling. A legacy he’s been tasked to carry since birth.

But he still made time for me.

Two minutes into this date, and I’m done. Stick a fork in me.

Don’t get me started on the Wranglers. Lord have mercy on my sinful soul, but they are a sight to behold. They fit him just right, molding to his hips and thick thighs in a way that makes my brain short-circuit.

Now he’s nuzzling my neck, his scruff catching on my skin. Electricity bolts through my veins, gathering in a coiled weight deep in my core.

I press my body to his because I have to. I can’t not go up on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. I can’t not sigh when he drops his hat on the couch so he can cup my ass with both hands.

He went there.

He groans, pressing me harder against him. “You feel so fucking good, honey.”

“You smell so fucking good.” Like fresh air and the woods and something earthier. Sexier.

I want him. Now. All night. Fuck the Rattler. Fuck dinner.

We can have each other for a meal.

“No,” he husks out.

I laugh. “No what?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Dallas, ’cause I’m thinking it too. We’re not gonna skip our date so we can just stay here and…yeah. First, I feed you. Then I fuck you.”

My toes curl inside my boots. “Who said I was gonna let you fuck me?”

“I did. Imma learn to do it just how you like.” He runs his nose up the column of my throat. “Which means you let me take you out first. You’re gonna need a square meal and lots of strength for what I got planned for you.”

I nip at his jaw, digging my hands into the hair at his nape. “Sounds strenuous.”

“Told you I was workin’ on my stamina.”

His accent gets thicker when he flirts. It’s cute. And hot. And I want him so badly right now I feel like I’m coming out of my skin.

But I somehow manage to let him go when he puts his hands on my hips and looks at me.

“We’ll see about that,” I say. “Dinner sounds good. The rest sounds…better.”

I find everything about Colton sexy. Even the way he lopes down the stairs, holding the door open for me with a smile that makes my heart hiccup. His pickup truck gleams in the dying light. Climbing inside, I smell something lemony.

I freeze, seat belt in my hand. “You didn’t.”

“What? Clean my truck?” He starts the ignition. “Dean helped. Someone’s gotta teach him that a clean truck exponentially increases your chances of getting laid.”

Colton’s profile is so handsome—the dramatic swoop of his hat, the sharp line of his jaw, the protrusion of his Adam’s apple—that it makes my stomach hurt.

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, using the heel of his left hand to turn the steering wheel. “How do you feel about the Homestead Hen for dinner?”

“I love that place. Yes, let’s do it.”

Now that he’s backed out of the driveway and the truck is in drive, he turns his head to look at me. “You gonna order the most expensive thing on the menu because you’re fancy like that?”