Page 78 of Crazy for You
“Why not? Don’t you surf?”
“I haven’t since Josh died. But surfing and skateboarding are not the same.”
I rolled my eyes. “Kind of similar.”
“Yeah, but if I fall on my face in there”—he stabbed a finger to the brightly lit bowl where four boys were flying high and doing verticals—“I’m toast. At least in the water, I might be bruised, but my bones won’t be connecting with cement. Coach might kill me if I break a bone.”
“How about you watch while I do my thing?”
“I’ll watch you do anything.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Remember, when we’re done here, it’s my turn. You’ll do what I want. Right?”
I rolled my eyes and shrugged as I headed in.
“Skyler,” Colton called. Then he swaggered up to me, his hair loose around his shoulders, his jaw full of scruff, his red T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, and his jeans encasing his thick thighs and narrow hips.
My lady parts throbbed at how gorgeous he really was, and the closer he got, the need to skate died a quick death.
He sized me up with a hooded expression. I shivered where I stood, with my skateboard in one hand as the other landed on his waist for nothing more than to steady myself.
He gripped my neck with his big palm as his forehead touched mine. “You’re all mine after this.” The huskiness of his voice threatened pleasure and passion.
I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “Promise.”
He leaned down, captured my lips, and bit lightly. “Good. Now, let’s see what you can do on that board.”
I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing, not after that pulse-racing moment.
31
Acouple of hours later, Colton carried me into Grady’s house. Bass pounded from the speakers in the ceiling as kids drank, mingled, and danced in all corners of the open floor plan.
“I can walk. It’s only a scrape.” Apparently I was rusty, and I’d skated like it had been my first time.
“Move,” Colton snapped at a group of girls who looked as if they’d seen a ghost. I did have blood running down my leg.
As I bounced in his arms, I spotted Georgia talking to a guy with curly red hair. I’d never seen him before. They seemed to be into each other, and Georgia waved her hands in the air as she often did when she talked excitedly.
I locked my hands around Colton’s neck. “Seriously, I can walk.”
He grunted. “You’re not.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. I really was. I’d fallen many times on my skateboard, and I’d relayed that to him when he sped through the streets to get to Grady’s. At first, he’d wanted to take me to the emergency room. He’d thought I’d broken some bones.
“I’m not,” he said, a little breathily. After his brother’s fatal drowning accident, I imagined Colton would always be on edge with people he cared for.
I rubbed his neck while kids opened a swath to let us by. Colton didn’t even stop to say anything to Grady, who was playing beer pong at the long kitchen island. All he did was shake his head at Grady, who seemed to get the silent message that Colton didn’t need any help.
When Colton banked around a corner to climb the stairs, a mass of auburn hair came into my peripheral vision.
Amanda Gelling glided down toward us. “Colton, there you are.”
I growled, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Not now, Amanda,” he said as he continued to climb the stairs.
“My mom has been trying to get a hold of yours,” she said. “She needs to get her signature on the documents.”
Colton stopped on the landing. “I’ll let my mom know.” Then he rounded the corner, heading toward one of the bedrooms.
