Chapter 9 – Colton
She doesn’t say another word when I shut the door behind her.
She doesn’t have to.
Lacey stands in the middle of my kitchen, rain still glistening on her shoulders, hair loose and curling at the ends. Her chest rises and falls fast — like she ran here, like she’s still catching her breath. I take one step closer and see the truth in her eyes.
She wants this.
She wants me.
I reach her slowly, giving her every second to change her mind. But she doesn’t move. Her lips part just slightly, her breath hitching when my hands find her waist.
“You sure?” I ask.
She nods once. “I’ve never been more sure.”
That’s all I need.
I press my mouth to hers and the world falls away.
There’s no hesitation this time. No nerves.
Just heat. Years of tension crashing between us like fire meeting gasoline.
She kisses me back with a hunger I wasn’t expecting — desperate, open, full of need.
Her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan into her mouth as my hands sweep down her back, anchoring her to me.
We move through the house like we’re magnetized — colliding, clinging, peeling off layers as we go.
Her sweatshirt hits the floor first, followed by my T-shirt.
Her skin is soft and warm and already flushed, and when I bend to kiss the base of her throat, she shudders and tilts her head back to give me more.
“Bedroom,” she breathes.
I lift her without a word, her legs wrapping around my waist like she’s done it a hundred times. I carry her down the hallway, kissing her like I’ll never get enough, and when we fall onto the bed, she laughs — breathless and wild — before pulling me back down with her.
She tastes like rain and memory.
Like home.
I slide my hands up her stomach, under her shirt, and she arches into my touch as I lift the fabric over her head. She’s wearing nothing underneath. My breath catches.
“You’re unreal,” I murmur.
She grabs my face in both hands and kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters. Like she’s been starving for this.
My mouth finds her collarbone, then lower. She gasps when my lips wrap around her nipple, her back arching, hands in my hair. I take my time — slow, focused, savoring every reaction.
I want her ruined for anyone else.
Her jeans are next. I unbutton them while she works on mine, our fingers brushing, tugging, trembling slightly. There’s a heartbeat of silence when we’re both bare, nothing between us but breath and want.
I look down at her, sprawled out across my sheets, flushed and waiting.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, voice rougher than I mean it to be.
Lacey reaches up, dragging her fingertips across my jaw.
“Then take me,” she whispers. “I don’t want slow tonight. I want you.”
And she has me.
Completely.
I slide between her thighs, guiding myself with one hand, and when I sink into her, we both go still.
She’s warm and tight and perfect. The sound she makes when I press all the way in is wrecked and needy, and it damn near undoes me.
I brace my forearms on either side of her and move.
Slow at first — deep, steady strokes — letting her feel every inch, watching her eyes flutter closed, then snap back open when I roll my hips just right. She clings to me, legs locking tighter around my waist, hips rising to meet every thrust.
“God, Colton…” she moans.
My name in her voice is like fuel.
I kiss her again, harder now, our bodies locked together and moving in rhythm. Her nails scrape down my back. Her breath comes in shallow gasps.
“You feel so good,” I groan against her mouth. “You were made for this. For me.”
She cries out softly when I angle my hips just right, and I feel her start to shake.
“Don’t hold back,” I say.
“I’m not— I can’t—”
Her body clenches around me, and she breaks apart with a sharp cry, clutching at my shoulders like she’s afraid to fall. I watch every second of it — the way her lips part, the way her eyes lose focus, the way her whole body arches beneath mine like she’s flying.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I chase her over the edge, driving into her harder now, faster, the heat in my spine finally snapping. I come with a growl, buried deep inside her, every nerve in my body white-hot and sparking.
We collapse together, limbs tangled, bodies slick with sweat and rain.
My chest rises and falls against hers, and her fingers trace lazy patterns along my back. She’s still catching her breath, lips parted, eyes closed.
I kiss her temple.
She doesn’t move away.
Whatever this is — whatever just happened between us — it wasn’t casual.
She came here knowing what she wanted.
And now she’s here. In my bed. In my arms.
Where she belongs.
I don’t say it out loud.
Not yet.
But I think she knows.