Page 61 of Colt
She gives me a pointed glare. “Yes.”
“You drank so many daiquiris.”
“Yes. Well. It was my birthday. That’s what you’re there for.”
“Gentry practically had to cart you out of there in a wheelbarrow.”
“It was fun.”
“Yeah. It was. Then you were beautiful. I couldn’t stop staring at you.” The memory makes my stomach tighten. It’s one of those things that I’ve been pushing away ever since. But she was just so cute and giggly that night. Happy. Dancing with Lily, attracting attention from everywhere. She’s lovely. She had a boyfriend at the time, and he was there, enjoying things, and probably thinking he was going to get lucky. He probably did.
She’s never had difficulty attracting a man. But apparently, none of them have done right by her. So I reserve the right to be annoyed at them. A woman as pretty as her deserves more than men who are just using her to have their own pleasure. A man has to appreciate a woman’s body if he’s going to have it shared with him, in my opinion. Has to be just as invested in her pleasure as he is in his own. Hell,moreso. That’s just what I think.
“I was beautiful?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I reach out and take a strand of her hair between my fingers. “It made me mad.”
“Why?”
“I guess for the same reason I make you mad.”
She ducks her head. “No comment.”
“You were dating… What’s his name?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. I was.”
“And he was bad in bed.”
“We’ve established this.”
“Interesting.”
“Well, if you had offered that night, I would’ve gone home with you.”
My stomach goes tight, pleasure brushing down to my groin. I want her again. And we’ve already done away with all the explanations, potential recriminations, and what-ifs. We’re just doing this.
I wait impatiently for her to finish her meal. Her glass of wine.
Then I lean in, cup her face, and watch as her pupils expand, as her breath catches. I feel an answering response in my own body. My own need building. I kiss her then. It’s even sweeter than I remember. Even better than it was this morning. When she kissed me up against the wall I was shocked. Now I’m in control. Licking her lower lip, her upper lip, nipping her, sucking that lip into my mouth. She groans, her hand going to my thigh underneath the table, nails digging into me.
“I should’ve had you then,” I whisper against her mouth. “But I didn’t. I have you now, though.”
“Please,” she whispers.
I want to pick her up and carry her to bed. I want to throw her around and give her a good athletic fuck. I want to take her in the shower, against the wall, and I can’t do any of that. At the moment, I don’t actually care if I ever ride again. What I want is to be able to take her, anyway I want.
She’ll be gone by then. And you won’t be doing this anymore. I don’t like that realization, so I push it to the side. There’s quite enough happening in my life right now that I don’t want to face. I don’t need to be bracing really realistic about this.
“Come to bed,” I say.
She nods slowly, and stands up, then she’s the one who reaches her hand out, and I take it. We walk together to the bedroom, and I wrap my arms around her, kissing her hard and deep. And I decide that I’m good to have her just like I want her. I will figure it out.
But while I’m thinking of that, she’s pawing at my shirt.
I strip it up over my head, and she leans in, licking my chest, moving her hands down my midsection, down my stomach. Letting her tongue blaze a trail down to the waistband of my ruined jeans.
She undoes my belt. I sit down on the bed, because I know I’m not going to be able to keep steady if she’s headed for what I think she is.
