Chapter Thirteen #2
“I can take care of that except-for-your-shirt part.” She sat up and tugged the garment over her head, fighting the cotton, leaving her hair a bright tousle as she looked down at him with a self-satisfied grin.
“Hell, Holly.” She was beautiful, all gilded curves in the shifting light. Anticipation tied his lower belly in a heavy knot. “I might have wanted to take that off you myself.”
She held the shirt up with a lascivious wiggle. “Want me to put it back on?”
“Later.” He dragged it free of her hold and tossed it to the floor before he wound a hand about her nape. “Come here.”
Curling into his chest, she met his kiss without coyness or reserve. She touched him, hot hands shaping his pecs and ribs, finding the hard, sensitive nubs of his nipples. He hissed when she scraped a fingernail over one, and she smiled against his mouth.
“I love when you make that sound.” She licked the side of his neck and tweaked his other nipple, sending electricity along his nerve endings.
A suckle at his collarbone wrung a strangled groan from his throat, and he dug his fingers into her hip, relishing her smile against his skin.
“I bet I can find all the places that make you sound like that.”
“I bet you can.” Wrapping an arm over her waist, he rolled, pinning her beneath him. “Maybe I’ll look for all of yours.”
“Mmm.” She stretched under him, a slow, sinuous movement, rubbing breasts and belly against his torso. “I could tell you, but letting you look for them sounds so much more fun.”
“Like reading a poem.” He dropped his head to nuzzle at her throat and chuckled at her shiver. “A guy has to go line by line.”
He punctuated the words with open-mouth kisses, along her neck, over her upper chest, on the slope of one breast. With a humming moan, she stretched again, arms above her head.
“I suppose you think I’m going to lie here and let you read me.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, stroking his scalp.
Colt kissed lower, found her furled nipple and licked, swirling his tongue about the taut flesh, then blew across her wet skin. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling as she arched into him, and he smiled.
He shifted his attention to her other breast. “I always did have excellent reading skills.”
Laughter shimmered through her, and he skimmed his palms up her sides to her arms, tracing biceps and the inside of her elbows before wrapping his fingers around her wrists. He’d waited forever for this, and he wanted to memorize every line, every nuance.
Like she was going to lie back and let him read her, though.
She turned her head, finding the inside of his arm with her lips, then curved her foot around his calf, sliding up in a slow, sweet caress.
The position opened her to him, so his hard-on pressed against her hot, intimate flesh, the thin barrier of his boxers unbearable.
He needed to be closer, skin-on-skin.
Lifting on an elbow, he shoved his boxers down and off, coming back to rest over her.
Arms linked about his neck, kissing the side of his throat, she arched into him, rubbing the softest part of her against the hardest part of him.
Lord, she was more than hot — she was so damned wet for him.
Holy hell, slow was about to be out the window.
Cupping her shoulder, playing his thumb over the hollows of her clavicle, he dipped his other hand between them, stroking and teasing. Like always, she met him there, wrapping her fingers about him, sweeping from base to tip.
Teeth clenched on a hiss, he rested his forehead on her shoulder. He should—
“Colton.” Warm palms framed his face, forcing his gaze up to meet hers, pupils wide with desire. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“Thank God.” He rolled away to fumble in the nightstand, his hands shaking so hard he struggled to get the packet open. With a soft laugh, she helped him, fingers tangling, until he rolled the condom on with deft movements.
She spread her thighs, hands at his shoulders to pull him down. Palming his erection, he positioned himself. His gaze fixed on hers, he curved a hand over her head and slid into the hot clasp of her body on a smooth thrust. Her eyes widened, head thrown back on a quiet moan of pleasure.
“Holly.” Her name left his lips on a shaken whisper. He rubbed his thumb over her temple, soaking in the sensation of being deep inside her. Intimate muscles clung to him, surrounding him in lush heat. “Babe.”
“You feel so good inside me.” Another of those slow stretches and she flexed her fingers into his shoulders.
“Yeah?” He pulled almost out and thrust deep, shuddering at the intense sensation.
“Oh, yes.” A dreamy smile curved her lips, eyes gleaming with pleasure. “Just like that.”
Who was he to argue, when that rhythm was just as good for him? Planting an elbow by her head, he kept up the long thrusts, playing with her breast with his free hand. She was so soft and smooth and so damned perfect he could cry.
Her breathing shifted, growing shorter, hitching before she bowed into him, a moan shivering over his ears while her body clenched on his, a wave of strong ripples stroking him.
Pleasure seized the base of his spine, arcing up and to his balls, drawing tight as he thrust harder, deeper, burying himself to pulse inside her, a ragged groan torn from his chest.
Chest heaving, he collapsed, stroking her hair, one part of his brain aware he was too heavy, the rest short circuited by the best orgasm of his life.
On a quiet laugh, she hugged him close, playing with the edge of his hair before she poked his shoulder to tip him off her. “Okay, you’re heavy.”
He rolled to his back, pulled the condom free and stretched to drop it in the wastebasket, then rubbed both hands down his face. His gut jumped and trembled with aftermath. “Damn.”
“Yes.” She curled along his side, thigh over his, an arm slung across his torso. Humor hovered in her humming purr. “Exactly. That was so good, Colt.”
“So I was okay for your first time?” He turned his head and grinned. “I’ve never been with a virgin before.”
“You . . .” Her fist landed against his shoulder.
“Ouch.” Grinning, he rubbed the spot.
“‘I’ve never been with a virgin before.’” She mimicked his drawl. “Right. Marisa, Jada . . .”
“I didn’t sleep with either one of them.” On a relaxed sigh, he folded one arm behind his head. “Hell, I didn’t lose my virginity until ABAC.”
Her head jerked up from his chest, and she stared at him, open-mouthed. “You’re joking.”
“I am not.” His grin so wide his face hurt, he pinched her side. “And you’re my first virgin.”
“Oh, my Lord, I should never have told you that.”
“You shouldn’t be lying to your mama.”
“I don’t lie to her.” She snuggled into him again, playing with the indentations of his ribs. A satisfied sigh bled from his lips. “I just don’t tell her the truth.”
His brows knitted. “I think that’s the definition of lying, Hols.”
“You think you’re so smart.” She was quiet for long moments, still outlining his rib cage, sweeping a finger along the lower line of his pecs. His lids drifted down, his body warm and lazy with a sense of well-being. She shifted, and he sensed her gaze on his face. “ABAC for real?”
“Yeah, ABAC for real. I kinda thought Laurel was the one.” He flexed his hand at her waist. Holly hadn’t been interested in him, and Laurel thought he was cute.
They’d dived in fast, and he’d been completely gone over her, thinking about rings and sappy proposal scenarios, while she’d been thinking about some new guy she’d met in her stats class. “I was wrong.”
He wasn’t delving into those memories right now, not with her in his bed, naked and pressed so close sunlight couldn’t get between them. Those memories led to other memories, being drunk and at Andy’s, and that aftermath didn’t belong here with the joy she brought into his life.
“So.” He dragged a fingertip from her hip along the curve of her waist up to the plump sweetness of her breast. “Do I outrank Coach Z?”
She laughed, the surprised one that ended in a snort, the one he loved because it was so damned real. Hands folded on his chest, she propped her chin on them, gaze dancing as she looked at him.
“Hmm, I don’t know.” She brushed a single finger over his nipple. “I mean, one time with you versus three days with him? I might need more source material to make a solid judgment.”
“Yeah?” He sat up and twisted sideways over the edge of the bed, dislodging her. He could handle providing her with that source material. And hell, he’d always been competitive. He’d be so damn good she wouldn’t remember Coach Z’s name.
Not to mention Barlow.
“What are you doing?” Behind him, she sat up.
“Getting my shirt so you can put it back on.” Straightening, he tossed the garment at her. “So I can take it off you.”
Lips plumped into a sultry smirk, she took her time sliding one arm, then the other into the blue cotton. Her hair a shining sheet of rumpled silk about her shoulders, she rose to her knees to fasten four buttons, leaving a deep decolletage.
And he was a tease? By the time she’d finished with her little reverse stripshow, his half-hard dick stirred in interest, renewed desire dragging at his gut. With a foot, he shoved the sheet and duvet to the end of the bed.
“I don’t have three days.” He knelt with her, toyed with the topmost button, flicked it free with a finger.
Her breathing shortened, and he grinned, hooking a hand around her nape to pull her close for a long, slow kiss that had her moaning his name into his mouth.
Yeah, he could definitely make her forget Barlow.
He palmed the left cheek of her ass and tucked her into him, caressing under her hair with his other hand.
He caught her upper lip between his. “Let’s see what I can do with all day Sunday. ”