Page 13 of Colt’s Betrayal

“I wasn't planning to.”

“Good.” He gives me a look that would probably make me laugh if he wasn't moving inside me like that.

The pressure builds until I stop being able to think about anything beyond him. When I come, I bury my face against his neck and bite down on the sound. Colt swears, thrusts hard twice more and follows me. For a while neither of us moves. His weight settles carefully rather than completely, one forearm braced beside my head. I stare at the ceiling.

“Well.”

He turns his head.

“Well?”

“I didn't prepare an opening line for this either.”

His laugh vibrates against my chest and it feels absurdly good. Then he kisses my shoulder and pushes himself up. I look at the clock on the nightstand and reality returns with all the subtlety of a slap.

“Shit, I have to leave in five minutes.”

His expression immediately darkens. “I've changed my mind.” I laugh at him. “You never agreed in the first place. Remember?”

“Exactly.”

I sit up and reach for my clothes, but he catches my hand.

“Jayne.”

I look at him.

“I mean it. If you walk in there and anything feels wrong, you leave. You don't owe Kane, the club or me anything. Raze gets one chance to run his mouth. That's it.”

“I know.”

I pull my hand free gently. “Colt, I know.” He nods. I dress while he does the same, and neither of us talks about what happens after tonight. Maybe because we don't know and maybe because twelve years is too much to fix between sex and a meeting with a man who wants to kill him.

At the door, Colt puts his cut back on and the sight of it should remind me why I left. It does, and that's the problem. I still remember every reason and I also remember what twelve years without him felt like. He catches me looking, but I turn away before he can ask. I don't have an answer for him yet.

Raze chooses a bar on the edge of Ransom where nobody will care about motorcycle cuts as long as the men wearing them pay for their drinks. I arrive first. Colt told me he'd be close, and I believe him without needing to know exactly where. Raze walks in five minutes late wearing Perdition colors and the expression of a man who believes my presence confirms something important about himself.

He slides into the booth opposite me. “Knew you'd change your mind.”

“I agreed to one drink, that's all.”

“That's how it starts.” He smiles.

I don't answer, and thankfully a waitress comes over to take our order. I ask for soda because I want every part of my brain working. Raze orders whiskey and looks amused.

“Nervous?”

“No. Should I be?”

I hold his gaze. “See, that's the part I don't understand.” His eyebrows lift.

“You spend a lot of time telling me how dangerous Perdition is. Truly dangerous men usually don't have to explain it this often.”

That provokes the first flash of irritation, though it's gone quickly.

“Chains tell you that?”

“No. I learned it somewhere else.”