Page 34 of Colt
“Were you lonely today?”
“A little bit stir crazy, I admit. But, you know, I felt better. I feel better.”
“You’re not better,” I say.
“I am, though. A little bit better every day. That is true. Undeniable, even.”
“Well… Yes. It’s true. But with everything that I know about healing, and about the kind of fracture that you got, it’s a long road ahead. You are really lucky you didn’t lose your leg.”
He goes just a little bit pale. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he attacks his food with even greater relish, acting like I didn’t say a word.
“I’m just saying. You don’t want to push yourself too hard. It’s not going to make you heal faster. There’s going to be a point where you’re doing PT and then… That will be the time to push yourself. Until then, your job is resting.”
“I hate resting,” he says.
“I know.”
We finish eating, and I stand up. But my foot gets tangled up in the chair, and I lose my balance, and Colt reaches out, gripping my hip and stopping me from falling flat on my face.
I’m facing him, standing in front of him, my breasts level with his eyes, his hand planted firmly on my hip.
And suddenly, my whole body goes hot.
Like I was lit on fire.
This isn’t a slow smolder like the other times recently, this is something major. Something deep and intense that transcends, and makes me feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle on the floor.
God. Sex isn’t even that great. I already know that.
Ihadto go have sex when I was sixteen. Partly because I spent a few years feeling like life was short and brutal and I needed to squeeze as much living in as I could, as soon as I could.
But shamefully, also so I could prove to myself there was no reason for Colt Campbell to have that kind of power over me. To prove that my crush was unreasonable. That the way that I felt when he walked into the room had nothing to do with reality. I did that.
The guy I lost my virginity to was a one-and-a-half-pump chump.
It was over so fast I barely felt it.
To be fair, we were both so young, it was both of our first times, and he was overexcited. It was better the next couple of times, at least in the sense that he lasted a bit longer. But I still didn’t orgasm or anything.
I have had orgasms with partners since then, but it wasn’t… It hasn’t been… Nothing undeniable. Nothing world-shattering. Nothing life-altering.
But the feeling of Colt Campbell’s hand on my hip is like a complete and total reimagining of everything I’ve ever believedmy body could feel. Everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve ever believed might be possible.
He’s looking up at me, fire in his blue eyes, and I can’t look away. Does he want me?
The thought is so horrible, so wonderful, so frightening, that I move away from him. Because I can’t stand it, I can’t process it.
“Careful,” he says, his voice rough.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“You’re lecturing me on doing too much, but you’re not really taking care of yourself.”
“I have a lot to do. I’m just clumsy, I’m not negligent.”
“You had a concussion.”
“More than three weeks ago and I barely had any symptoms.”
