Page 133 of Shut Up and Score
His smile softens as he looks up at me, eyes all molten gold and wonder. “Told you I would.”
I kiss his dimple when it shows. “I didn’t think you’d answer the call.”
“I didn’t think you’d stay in the bed,” he shoots back, teasing, even as he pulls me closer.
We laugh. Not the nervous kind. Not the sad kind.
The kind that feels the same as letting go.
I bury my face in his neck, still grinning at the fact my heart’s been handed back to me in one piece. His arms wrap around my waist, warm and solid and right, and for the first time in two years, I let myself believe this might last.
That we might last.
Because it’s real now. No more hiding. No more pretending. Just us.
And fuck, it feels good to laugh again.
I shift, sliding fully on top of him, my smile turning wicked as I brace my hands on either side of his head. He’s still laughing, a little breathless, a little in love, and entirely unprepared.
“This kind of happiness,” I murmur, leaning in until our noses brush, “deserves something more.”
Colton goes still beneath me. Then shivers—full body, obvious, helpless. His breath catches in that way I know means his mind’s already spinning with the possibilities.
“You—” His voice breaks, jaw flexing. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
I grin, slow and dangerous. “Oh, but I can.”
His hands tighten on my waist, grounding or pleading, I can’t tell. Doesn’t matter. His pupils are blown, lips parted, cheeks flushed with something that isn’t laughter anymore.
I drop a kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “And you love it.”
He nods, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. Fuck. I really do.”
“God, I could kiss you forever,” I say, dragging my mouth down his throat. “But this? This deserves more than soft.”
He shivers under me again—visibly. I grin.
“This deserves dirty,” I whisper, lips brushing his collarbone. “You laid it all out, Colt. You told your mom you’re mine.”
I bite just below his neck, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to feel my teeth. His hips twitch up into mine.
“Fuck, look at you,” I rasp. “Already squirming.”
His hands clutch at my back, trying to pull me closer. He doesn’t say anything, just breathes harder.
“You know what that does to me? Hearing you say I’m real?” My tongue traces the ridge of his sternum. “That you’ve loved me for a long time?”
He gasps when I drag my teeth lightly across his nipple.
“You’re mine now,” I growl. “Not just in secret. Not in the shadows. Mine in daylight. Your mom knows. It’s on the fucking record.”
His fingers thread into my hair, and I let him, let him tug, let him feel how much I love this—him.
“Say it,” I whisper, trailing heat lower, tongue dipping just above his happy trail. “Say who you belong to.”
“You,” he breathes. “Micah—fuck—it’s you.”
I look up at him, eyes locked. “Damn right it is.”
