It. Was. Glorious.
Tongue against tongue, sliding, dancing, thrusting, retreating. Her heart was a reckless wild thing, leaping and racing and rushing blindly through the forest of her fears. Fears that seemed smaller and less important than they had not that long ago.
Angie melded her body to his, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back with all the passion she possessed. His hands on her tightened, but he didn’t lose control. She could feel his cock pressing into her abdomen, and it didn’t scare her.
No, it turned her on. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of the idea of more.
Colt broke the kiss gently. “Baby, you need to know that I can’t do much more of this.”
“Why?” she asked, confused. She was holding off on hurt until she understood. But it was there, under the surface. Waiting to break free. “Is—is something wrong?”
His brows lifted. “Wrong?” He flexed his hips and she felt his cock against her. “Believe me, there’s nothing wrong. I want you, baby. I want to take you to my bedroom, strip you naked, and lick you into a screaming orgasm before I slide inside you and take us both the heaven. I can’t keep kissing you like this if it’s not going to happen. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and the more I kiss you, the harder I get. But I’m not pushing you, so I have to stop.”
Angie slid her hand down and over the bulge in his jeans. He hissed in a breath. “Angie. Jesus.”
“I want you too, Colt.” He leaned toward her again and she put a finger against his lips to stop him. “I have to tell you something first.”
“Okay.”
She gathered her courage. “It’s been a long time for me. I haven’t, um, had sex with a man since Dan left. So I want you to know that, because it worries me it might, um, be uncomfortable.”
Colt hugged her to him without hesitation. Her eyes blurred and she pressed her cheek to his chest, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him.
“Minette, I promise you I will do everything in my power to make it great for you. If you’re not having fun, neither am I.”
God, he was nothing like Dan. Or any other man she’d ever dated. He actually cared about her pleasure and not just his own. How had she been so stupid before? Why had she ever put up with any man who’d made her feel bad about herself? Why did any woman?
Angie tilted her head back. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
He toyed with a lock of her hair. “I want to see you wearing nothing but this hair in my bed. I’ve dreamed of it for months.”
“I’m ready,” she said. “I want that too.”
She really did. So much.
He hooked an arm behind her knees and picked her up. She squeaked in surprise, clinging to him as he strode through the house and into the master. He set her down on the bed, then stepped back and slid the plaid shirt from his shoulders. Angie lay back on her elbows to enjoy the show.
When he reached behind him and tugged the gray shirt up and off with one hand, Angie sighed. “That is the sexiest move ever.”
He laughed. “I’ve got more.”
He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, and then produced a pistol. Angie blinked. She hadn’t known it was there. He set it on the nightstand and advanced on her without pushing his jeans down his hips the way she wanted.
She lay back on the bed as he came down on top of her, hovering over her rather than pressing her into the mattress. She let her gaze slide over his bare chest. The scar from where he’d been shot was smooth and shiny, a round disk of flesh that was far too close to his heart. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at it.
“Hey,” he said.
She dragged her gaze to his.
“I didn’t die. I was very, very lucky. Or Natasha was a great shot. Either way, the outcome was the same. I’m here, now. I’m with you and I don’t want you to dwell on it or blame yourself or any of that crap, okay? It happened and it’s done.”
She reached up and traced it with a finger. “I know.” The lump in her throat was huge. “I’m working on not blaming myself, okay? It’s just that I’ve never seen the scar before.”
He dropped his head and kissed her softly. “Want me to put a Band-Aid on it?” he whispered.
She pushed back enough to see his face. He was grinning at her.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know. But if it gets me laid, I’m all for it.”
She caressed his cheek. “You’re still getting laid, sweetie. It was a moment, not a roadblock.”
“Thank god for that,” he growled—and then he kissed her again, a full-on assault that obliterated any defenses she might have still had.
Angie smoothed her hands over his skin, exploring the dip and swell of strong muscles. He rolled to his back and took her with him. She straddled him, and though she was still fully dressed, the feel of his erection pressing into that space where she ached for him was intoxicating.
She rubbed herself against his hardness and sparks flew behind her eyes. Colt’s hands slipped beneath her sweater, sliding against bare skin as they moved north. She expected him to go straight for her breasts, but he didn’t. Instead he traced little circles against her skin, going higher each time. When he got to the swell of her breasts, he traced the undersides of them without trying to move beneath the fabric.
Angie was holding her breath by the time he slid a thumb over one of her nipples. A shot of
