11. Colton
Chapter 11
Colton
My hands were slick on the wheel, and no matter how many times I wiped them against my jeans, my nerves didn’t settle.
Next to me, Remy fiddled with the radio, his fingers light on the dial as he searched for something to fill the silence between us.
The hum of static gave way to a slow country tune, something about love lost and found, and he settled back into his seat, humming along under his breath.
That sound—his voice, low and easy—sent a shiver through me. I stole a glance at him, the glow from the dashboard catching the curve of his jaw, the soft part of his lips.
It hit me then, sharp and unexpected, just how much I wanted tonight to last a little longer. I’d had everything planned out.
A night out—a real date—reservations at that new Mexican restaurant where we’d have tacos and margaritas, maybe even dance if the moment was right.
I wanted to show him off, let him know how incredibly special he was, that I wasn’t just playing around. Instead, work got in the way.
I should’ve expected it—Bottomless BBQ Night was always a madhouse—but I’d still held onto the hope that, for once, things would go according to plan.
Instead of a night out, we ended up elbow-deep in work.
But in the end, when the rush died down and it was just the two of us sitting in the quiet of the back kitchen, eating—it didn’t feel like a consolation prize. It felt like something real.
Inviting Remy over had been impulsive, but now that he was here, sitting in my passenger seat, illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, I knew I didn’t regret it.
A movie? Yeah, that had been my excuse. But the truth was, I just wasn’t ready to say goodnight.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I killed the engine and scrambled out, rushing to open Remy’s door before he could do it himself.
He blinked up at me, looking surprised for a second, before a slow smile spread across his face.
I could have stood there staring at him all night, but then I remembered the food in the backseat. Right. Practical things first.
I reached in, grabbing the leftovers before leading him inside.
Remy stepped into the foyer, taking in the high ceilings and the wide, open space.
"You live here alone?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet.
"Yeah." I set the food on the kitchen counter and leaned against it. "My parents and Ethan moved out a while ago, so it’s just me now. Sometimes the house is a pain in the ass. Thought about getting an apartment closer to the restaurant, but..." I shrugged. "Something in me just can’t let it go."
Remy nodded, his eyes looking around, thoughtful. "I get that."
I gave him a quick tour—nothing too fancy. Just enough to show him the place I called home.
We ended back in the kitchen, where I stowed the leftovers in the fridge, turning back to find Remy watching me, arms crossed, a slight smirk playing at his lips.
"You didn’t really want to let me go, did you?" His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something softer.
I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not even a little."
He took a step closer. "Good."
My breath hitched as the space between us shrank. He smelled like coffee and something faintly wild, like the woods after a fresh rain.
I swallowed hard, my hands twitching at my sides. Was he giving me an opening?
I took it. Reaching out, I traced my fingers along the side of his jaw, my thumb ghosting over the edge of his bottom lip.
His breath caught, eyes darkening just enough to make my pulse skip. And then, unable to hold back any longer, I leaned in and kissed him.
The first brush of our lips was tentative, testing. But the second—that was where everything unraveled.
Remy made a small sound in the back of his throat, a noise that sent heat curling low in my stomach.
His fingers fisted in my shirt, tugging me closer as I deepened the kiss, tilting my head to taste more of him.
His lips were soft, warm, and when I licked into his mouth, he responded eagerly, his body pressing against mine.
My hands found his waist, slipping under his shirt to rest against his heated skin. He shivered beneath my touch, and I groaned, reveling in the way he responded to me.
"Colton," he murmured against my lips, voice rough with want.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my forehead resting against his. "We don’t have to?—"
"I want to," he interrupted, voice firm, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt now, dragging against my skin. "Take me to your bed.”
That was all the permission I needed. I grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together, and led him down the hallway, my heart pounding in anticipation.
The moment we stepped inside my bedroom, we were kissing each other again. We both got rid of the rest of our clothes. I sat on the edge of the bed, tugging Remy towards me.
He climbed into my lap, straddling me. I threaded my fingers through his hair and I kissed him with unrestrained hunger.
Remy let me take control and I savored the way he tasted, the way his body fit against mine, before flipping him onto the mattress beneath me.
He let out a surprised laugh that turned into a moan as I trailed my lips down the curve of his throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there.
His hands roamed my back, gripping my shoulders, pulling me closer.
My own hands wandered, mapping out the planes of his chest, the dip of his waist, the sharp lines of his hips. The heat between us built, electric, undeniable.
I wanted to take my time with him, to learn every inch of him, to make sure he understood exactly how much I wanted him.
And from the way he clung to me, breathless and eager, I knew he felt the same way.
“Tell me to stop any time and I will,” I told him.
“Don’t stop,” he said.
I left a trail of kisses down his body, loving his moan when I wrapped my lips around his dick and took his length down my throat. I sucked on him, bobbing my head up and down.
Knowing he was on the verge of climaxing, I pulled away. I didn’t want him to come yet.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” I said.
Remy complied and I reached for the lube and condom in the bedside table. After grabbing them, I positioned myself behind Remy.
After tearing open the condom wrapper, slipped it on, then applied a generous amount of lube inside Remy’s entrance. I slid one, two digits inside him, prepping him for access.
I wasn’t exactly small and hurting him was the last thing on my mind. Deeming him ready, I guided my member into his hole and entered him, slow and steady.
Remy felt so good and perfect around my shaft. Finally, I was balls deep inside him.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Better than okay,” Remy responded.
I started moving in and out of him, beginning with a steady rhythm which suited us both. Remy begged me to go faster and deeper and I complied.
Sweat soon coated our bodies as I rode him. Each time our bodies joined, it felt like a piece of my soul drifted out to touch his. Remy soon came, arching his back and crying out my name.
I wasn’t far behind. A few thrusts later, I hit climax. The room fell away from my line of sight, and I emptied my balls.
I took a few minutes to gather myself, then headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and grab a towel. When I returned to Remy, I cleaned both of us up, before sliding next to him in bed.
Remy was warm beneath me, his scent wrapping around my senses like a drug. His lips were swollen from my kisses, his breath coming fast and shallow.
I trailed my mouth down his jaw, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath his ear. His pulse fluttered wildly against my lips, and the sound sent a low growl rumbling through my chest.
My wolf howled in triumph inside me, clawing at my control, demanding I take what was rightfully ours.
My teeth ached with the need to sink into the tender spot where his neck met his shoulder, to mark him as mine, to make sure no one else would ever dare touch him.
The instinct was primal, raw, impossible to ignore.
Remy shifted beneath me, his fingers gripping my shoulders. He looked up at me, flushed, languid, his usual guarded expression nowhere to be found. He trusted me.
That realization made my breath catch. He had no idea how much I wanted him—how much my wolf wanted to claim him right here and now.
Mate. He was my mate. My grip on him tightened instinctively, my wolf pushing harder.
I could do it. One bite, one moment, and he would be bound to me forever.
He wouldn’t be able to leave, wouldn’t be able to deny what was between us.
But was he ready? Were we ready? Doubt cracked through the haze of my need, forcing me to take a shaky breath.
No. Not yet. I couldn’t do this to him, not when he had no idea what it would mean. I wanted him to be mine, but I wanted him to choose it. To choose me.
With effort, I swallowed down the urge, smoothing my hand over his side in a slow, grounding motion.
My wolf wasn’t happy, pacing restlessly inside me, but he didn’t fight me on it. Not yet. But I knew his patience wouldn’t last forever.
Remy made a small sound, something between contentment and exhaustion, and I eased us both down onto the mattress.
I wrapped an arm around him, tucking him against me, pressing a soft kiss to his hair.
He melted into me without hesitation, and my chest tightened at how right it felt to hold him like this.
* * *
The morning light filtered through the curtains, filling the room with a warm golden glow. I stirred, warmth pressing against my side, and my lips curled into a soft smile.
Remy was still curled up beside me, his steady breaths fanning over my chest.
For a long moment, I simply watched him, memorizing the peaceful expression on his face. Last night had changed everything.
The realization still sat heavy in my chest, thrilling and terrifying all at once—Remy was my mate.
My wolf had known the second I kissed his neck, the primal need to claim him almost overwhelming. He wasn’t ready, but I would wait. For him, I’d be patient.
Carefully, I extracted myself from the tangle of limbs, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before slipping out of bed. He barely stirred. I took that as a victory.
If he could sleep so soundly beside me, that meant something, right?
I made my way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I headed toward the kitchen. If last night had been for revelations, this morning would be for something simpler—breakfast.
Humming to myself, I started gathering ingredients. Something easy—scrambled eggs, toast, crispy bacon, and coffee strong enough to wake the dead.
As I worked, I mulled over everything that had happened. Did Remy know we were mates? Had he felt it too? Or was he still keeping walls between us, afraid to acknowledge it?
The uncertainty twisted in my gut, but I reminded myself that I had time. I wouldn’t rush him. Not with something this important.
I had just finished plating when I heard footsteps padding down the stairs.
My head snapped up, and there he was—dressed in last night’s clothes, his hair adorably tousled, his eyes heavy with sleep. He looked… perfect.
“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” I said, half teasing, half disappointed that my plan had been ruined.
Remy blinked, still not fully awake, then smirked. “You’re cooking me breakfast too? I feel special.”
His voice was warm, teasing, but there was an edge of something else there too. Something hesitant.
I pushed aside my thoughts and gestured toward the stool at the kitchen island. “Sit. Eat.”
He did, and for a while, everything was easy. Comfortable. We talked between bites, the conversation flowing in a way that felt effortless.
I told him stories about growing up in this house, about the nights Ethan and I would sneak downstairs and eat ice cream straight from the tub.
He listened, really listened, his attention solely on me, and it made my chest ache in the best way. But the weight of what I knew pressed down on me.
If Remy was going to be my mate, I wanted no secrets between us. I had to do this.
I set my fork down, inhaling sharply. “Remy… I know you’re living in your car.”
The words landed between us, heavy and unshakable.
Remy froze. For a second, I saw the shock flash across his face, then something else—anger. His shoulders tensed, his fingers curling into fists on the countertop.
“What?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, sharp as a blade.
“I’ve seen you,” I admitted. “The way you always ask me to drop you off near the park. I followed you once?—”
“You what?” His eyes darkened, his entire body going rigid.
I swallowed hard, but I didn’t back down. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“You had no right,” he snapped, pushing his stool back abruptly.
Guilt and regret tangled inside me. “I know. I should’ve handled it better. I just—Remy, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to?—”
But he was already standing, jaw tight, his expression a mix of anger and something deeper. Something wounded.
“This isn’t your problem, Colton.”
The words stung more than they should have.
“Remy—”
But he was already turning toward the door, shaking his head.
“Just—don’t.” His voice was thick with something I couldn’t quite place, and then he was gone.
I exhaled sharply, gripping the counter as the sound of the door closing echoed through the house. My wolf clawed at my chest, urging me to go after him, to make him stay, to fix this.
But I didn’t. Not yet. I had to give him space. I had to let him come to me when he was ready.
Still, as I sat there, staring at the untouched food across from me, I couldn’t help but wish I had handled things differently.