Page 118 of Colt

I take my time turning, shaking my ass to a Kane Brown cover. Someone hoots. Someone else hollers.

Glancing over my shoulder, I realize it’s Colton who’s hollering. His eyes are downright feral. Dark and laser-focused on me.

“Damn.” He yanks me against him, melting his hips into mine. “Damn you, honey.”

I glide a hand up his chest and hook a finger in the V of his shirt, marveling at the fact that I can touch him like this. That he’s mine. For tonight at least.

I work a button through its hole, biting my lip when I’m able to glimpse a whorl of his dark chest hair. I cannot wait to see this man naked.

In reply, he slips his leg between my own. I hang on to his nape for dear life as I press my center against him. The friction is deliciously unbearable.

I want more.

“Humping in public isn’t very polite!” someone shouts at us.

Turning my head, I see a cute couple dancing beside us.

Colton looks up and grins. “You would know, Sawyer.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

The bar goes apeshit when the band plays a countrified version of “Wobble.”

“Do you know how to do this dance?” I ask Colton.

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Not a fuckin’ clue.”

“Great. Me neither.”

We try to get the hang of it by watching the people around us. But we just end up with our arms and legs tangled, laughing so hard that tears leak out of my eyes.

I’m out of breath. A little sweaty and just the right amount of buzzed. The band is good. The man I’m with is quite possibly the sexiest being to ever exist.

Best. Night. Ever.

We dance to one song after the next after the next. In the back of my mind, I know I’m dying to get laid, but this is too fun to quit now. When was the last time I danced this way?

Colton sings along to an excellent cover of “I Like It, I Love It” by Tim McGraw. Eyes closed, hand on his chest, he belts it out like he’s the one onstage.

You’re the knockout when you let loose like this.

In between songs, Patsy makes an announcement about the bull being open for riders.

Colton looks at me.

I look back.

“Yeah,” we both say at once, and then he’s grabbing my hand and leading me toward the back of the bar.

“The last time I got on a fake animal, it did not end well.” It’s not as loud back here, so I don’t have to shout to be heard. “I’d give me, oh, half a second before I’m falling off again.”

Colton sets his empty beer bottle on a nearby table and shakes his head. “Not if you’re riding me. With me, sorry.”

I hook my finger through his belt loop. “Two can ride?”

“You can go it alone, but it’s always better with someone else.”

I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. Everything hurts, in all the best ways. My feet from dancing. My sides from laughing. My center from wanting.