Page 127 of Colt

Since when do I let emotionally unavailable cowboys in?

Only Colton made himself available in every sense of the word tonight. I know so much more of his story now.

I understand him in a way I didn’t before. And I kinda love everything about this man.

My already overworked heart seizes.

We do not say that word. Not when said cowboy is still inside you. The things men say during sex don’t count.

But what about the things men do during sex? Colton has made sure I’ve come first. He’s genuinely curious about my body. His touch is genuinely tender.

He also takes his time with me. When you think about it, tonight was just one long game of foreplay, wasn’t it? Him picking me up in a clean truck. Him being interested in my story over drinks. Him buying me dinner, then rescuing me from a mechanical bull at the world’s cutest dive bar.

And then the sex. Epic. Best ever. Life-altering. Soul-destroying. The way he said he was already going to miss me “like that”—

Holy fuck, honey, he’s into you.

The thought makes my stomach flip. Maybe because I’m into him too. Which is just great, considering there’s no real way we could have any kind of future together. My contract here is ending, and I don’t know where I’m going to end up. Mr. Firstborn Foreman here, however, has always known where he belongs.

Where does that leave us?

Does it even matter right now, though? We could stop while we’re ahead. Make this the first and last time we end up in bed together.

It’ll hurt less when I leave.

I think not having more sex like this, though, might hurt worse.

I’m already fucked. Why not enjoy the literal and metaphorical benefits of that?

His scruff scrapes against my cheek as he lifts his head.

“Dallas, I think we got a problem.”

Laughter bubbles up my throat. The contrast between that joy and the ache I feel behind my eyes and between my legs is the most exquisite mindfuck ever.

“What’s that, cowboy?”

My heart drops like a stone when I see the look in his eyes.

It’s the look. Soft. Full of yearning to the point of being almost mournful.

What the hell is there to do now except enjoy the excellent sex I’ve been searching for my entire adult life?

“I already wanna do that again,” he replies, leaning down to take my nipple in his mouth.

He really digs the piercing.

I feel his cum leaking out of the condom. Lots of it, then.

God, we’re making such a mess.

But my chest feels too tender and mushy to care about that now. I reach up to play with his hair. We’re both sweating.

“I think we both need to get out more,” I say around the tightness in my throat.

I am still shaking.

A fact he recognizes, because he frowns and says, “Aw, honey, you cold?”