Angie shook her head with a small laugh. Damn Maddy and her decorating shows.
She hesitated when she was almost there. What would Colt say to her?
Would he look at her like he’d been there, done that, and now he was marking time until she could go home again? Had she made a mistake to sleep with him?
Her heart throbbed with fear and indecision. Her head told her she’d made a mess of the whole thing. She’d fallen for him, had sex with him, and now he might be ready to move on.
You should have waited to fall for him, dummy. Or maybe you should have fucked him months ago, then kicked him to the curb.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head. Colt wasn’t like that. She knew he wasn’t.
Angie took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen. Colt looked up from where he sat at the table with his phone in his hand. He shot to his feet.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking her into his arms.
She hugged him, burying her face against his gray T-shirt. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She pushed back and gazed up at him. “Yes. I was being silly. I thought I’d walk in here and you’d be done with me. Like the look on your face would tell me you’d gotten what you wanted and now you were done.”
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. He murmured in French. She didn’t know what he was saying. Maybe the same things he’d said when he’d been buried inside her, or maybe something different. She didn’t know, but she loved it. Felt comforted by it this time, whereas before it’d been the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.
“I’m not done with you, minette. I’m addicted to you,” he said, and she shuddered with quiet bliss.
“That’s good because I think I’m addicted to you too.” She could say it because her face was pressed to his chest, but she blushed just the same.
He tipped her chin up and kissed her, a soft slow sweet kiss that curled her toes and started the fires burning in her core again. So easy for him. She felt like she could come again and again if he wanted her to.
He broke the kiss and stepped back, but he still held her lightly. “Are you hungry?”
She started to tell him yes, she was hungry for him—but her belly growled and she had to laugh. He laughed too. “Imma take that as a yes,” he said. His gaze dropped over her. “I love the way my shirt looks on you.”
“I couldn’t find my clothes, so I grabbed it. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”
He smiled. “I don’t mind.” He slipped a hand beneath and squeezed her ass. “In fact, I prefer it.”
She giggled. Like, seriously? Since when did she giggle?
Apparently when a big, strapping, hotter than hot man who spoke French in her ear and kissed like a dream grabbed her ass and told her he liked her in his shirts.
He let her go and pulled a chair out for her. “Mademoiselle,” he said.
Angie sat. It wasn’t really odd to be at the table in his shirt, with only panties beneath, because it was a lot like wearing a dress. Except it was way better than a dress because the shirt smelled like him.
Colt served her coq au vin with crusty bread and a nice Pinot Noir. He played French music through the wireless speaker sitting on the counter. It was romantic and homey. She didn’t care if the appliances were avocado and the floor was old vinyl tile, it was far better than sitting in a fussy restaurant with tablecloths and hovering waiters.
And more honest too. They were themselves. No pretense.
“What do you think?” he asked when she’d tasted the first bite of her chicken.
“I think it’s a wonder you aren’t married yet,” she teased.
He laughed. “Yeah, well, I guess I never met the right woman.”
“Ever come close?”
Because she was completely curious. Overwhelmingly so. Yet her heart tapped out a faster beat as she waited for his answer.
His blue gaze sparked. “Nope.”
She thought he wouldn’t say anything else, but then he did.
“I didn’t think my life was the kind I could ask anyone to share. Plus I never met anyone who I wanted to ask before.”
He held her gaze for a long minute, and her heart throbbed. She told herself not to read anything into it, but of course her crazy heart wanted desperately to do so.
He took a sip of his wine, and the spell broke. “What really made you want to marry Dan? There had to be more to it than he asked.”
Angie’s belly tightened. She’d started the topic, so she wasn’t going to suddenly beg off it. He’d seen through her previous answer.
“I thought I was in love. I guess I was for a while, really. It’s a lot easier to say in hindsight that you didn’t love someone—but the truth is I thought I did while it was going on. I felt like getting married and having a family was one of those things I was supposed to do. Dan was handsome and educated, and he had a great career ahead of him. He was going to Georgetown Law. I thought he was the perfect man to build a future with. I was wrong.”
“He was an idiot, Ang. I said that before. But I’m glad he was because we wouldn’t be sitting here if you’d married him.”
Her mouth curved in a smile. “You say the nicest things.”
“It’s not nice. It’s true. His mistake was my gain. You’re sitting there in my shirt, you aren’t wearing a bra—which has been on my mind since you walked in—and I’ve got the rest of the night to explore every inch of you.”
