Chapter 10 #3
"You feel so fucking good," he growls against my mouth. "You have no idea what you've been doing to me."
His tongue rolls over mine and I whimper. Actually whimper, like I'm twenty-three again instead of thirty-four with a kid and bills and a million reasons not to do exactly what I'm doing right now.
"Every morning in that bakery. Watching you. Your hands. Your mouth."
His hand slides higher up my spine, dragging my sweater with it. Cold air kisses my lower back and I don't care, I don't care that we're right here, exposed in the locker room where anyone could walk in and see us.
"Colt—"
"I've thought about this every night," he breathes against my throat, nibbling, biting and sucking his way down. "About what you'd taste like. About what sound you'd make when I—"
I moan and reach for his belt, but the second I do, his whole body locks up.
"Zoey. You sure?"
I press my forehead to his, panting. "Your team is on the ice with my daughter. I have approximately three minutes to feel like a person before I have to be a mom again. So yes, Colt. Yes."
He doesn't argue as my fingers fumble at his buckle, popping the button on his jeans. Warmth floods my body as I slide the zipper down with hands that are shaking. He watches me the whole time, those blue eyes black with need.
I slip my hand inside, past denim, past cotton, and—oh.
He's hard. So hard it nearly knocks the breath out of me.
I curl my fingers around his cock and the sound he makes is unholy. A guttural groan that bounces off the lockers and floods the heat building between my thighs.
"Fuck, Zo—"
I tighten my grip, dragging my hand up the long, hot length of him, feeling every ridge and vein beneath the silk-soft skin, and his hips jerk forward into my palm like he can't help it.
"This okay?"
His head drops to my shoulder, his hand braces against the stall behind me. "Yeah, baby, that's so fucking okay."
I stroke him slowly, watching the way the muscles in his arms tighten with every pass of my palm. His mouth finds the soft skin beneath my ear and sucks, and a—
A—
A sob breaks loose from my throat.
Not a moan. Not a gasp.
A sob.
Colt freezes instantly as tears threaten to leak from my eyes.
What the fuck, Zoey. What are you doing?!
"Hey."
Colt's hand flies to my face, lifting my chin until I have to look at him.
"Hey. Hey, look at me. Look at me, baby. Are you okay? Did I—"
"No."
I'm laughing now, but the tears are coming faster, hot and embarrassing and absolutely not stopping.
"No, you didn't do anything, I just… oh my God. Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't apologize. Don't ever apologize." His thumb sweeps across my cheek, catching a tear. "Talk to me. What's happening right now?"
I press my forehead against his chest, and his arms come around me immediately.
"I don't know! It's been so long, Colt." I take a breath, but it's not helpful. "It's been years since anyone touched me. And… and maybe… maybe I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. Like this. And I just—"
I sob again, and then I'm laughing… then I feel so ridiculous that I start sobbing all over again. Somewhere in the middle of the mess I'm making, I manage to gesture vaguely toward his open jeans and he tucks himself away.
"And of course this is happening in a locker room. Of course it is. With my hand in your pants and your captain's whiteboard ten feet away."
I shoot up out of his stall, starting to pace back and forth. Because that will make me look less crazy right now.
"I'm a grown woman, Colt. I'm thirty-four. I cannot be doing this here. Oh my God, Gabe was literally just sitting there."
A laugh rumbles out of Colt's chest, and after he zips up his pants, he gathers me closer and just holds me tight.
"Yeah. About that." His chin rests on the top of my head. "This room… now you mention it… it does smell like Gabe's jockstrap."
I laugh-sob into his sweater.
"Colt."
"I'm just saying. When we redo this, we should pick somewhere that doesn't smell like a giant Canadian's compression shorts."
He's grinning now, I can hear it in his voice.
"Colt. I swear to god if you don't stop talking right now…"
He tucks me under his chin and rocks me gently, his hand stroking up and down my back over my sweater.
I cry into his chest for a long minute. Not because anything is wrong. But because everything, for the first time in so long, feels right.
When I finally pull back, my mascara is undoubtedly halfway down my face, my nose is running, and I am the least sexy version of myself that has ever existed.
Yet Colt is standing there, looking at me like I just walked out of a Hollywood movie set.
"There she is." His thumb brushes another tear from my cheek. "You okay?"
"I think so."
He cups my face in both hands and presses his forehead to mine.
"We don't need to do this now. We can do it whenever you're ready, Zo. I'm not going anywhere." His voice lands like a vow. "You know that, right? I'm not going anywhere."
I close my eyes.
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him.
And the most terrifying thing of all?
For the first time in eight years…
I think I might.