“Good morning,” she said softly, and couldn’t resist the smile that curved her lips.
“You are going to drive me crazy, you know that?” he panted.
“Good,” she said with a smile.
“That’s a helluva lot more effective than a cup of coffee,” he said, still panting. He grabbed her leg and tugged until she fell into bed beside him. “Your turn.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise. “Oh?”
“Absolutely,” he said, and slid down her body, his hands going to her hips. He tugged at the briefs and slid them down her legs. She shifted slightly under him, doing her best not to wiggle—or tremble. She felt exposed, uncertain. This was incredibly intimate for her. Allan hadn’t been a fan of going down on her, and she could count the times she’d had oral with him on one hand.
Great, now she was thinking about Allan again.
And then he tugged at her leg, asking her to part them. His hand stroked along her inner thigh. She waited for him to say something. She hadn’t gotten a Brazilian in forever, and, well, the carpet didn’t match the drapes, if she was going to be blunt. And sure, he’d seen her naked and they’d had sex, but this was the first time he was getting up close and personal, and in broad daylight. It made her anxious.
But all he said was, “Pretty.”
And that made her flush with pleasure.
His fingers brushed over the curls of her pussy. One slid deep, brushing against her clit and eliciting a gasp from her.
“Pretty, and very wet,” he murmured. “Did you like having my cock in your mouth?”
She nodded.
But he waited, and looked up at her. “Tell me.”
A hot flush crept over Beth Ann’s cheeks as he eased one of her bent knees back toward the bed, then the other, splaying her. “I…liked waking you up like that.”
“Gonna spoil me for alarm clocks,” he said with a hint of a smile, and continued to run his finger along the wet slit of her pussy. “I want you to tell me what you like, Beth Ann.”
“Okay.”
As she watched, he dipped his head and nuzzled at her sex. A moan rose from her throat and her legs jerked involuntarily at the sight. Lord have mercy, but that was erotic. She felt his tongue slide out, part the seam of her pussy, and stroke along her clit. Her breath sucked in.
He lifted his head, and she saw his lips were wet with her own juices. “Didn’t like that?”
“I did.”
That dimple flashed. “Then tell me.”
“I will. I promise.”
“We’re going to make a demanding woman out of you yet, Beth Ann Williamson.”
She simply grinned at that, and ran her hands over his short, spiky hair. “Mmm, I like this.”
“Then keep rubbing it,” he said, and bent and licked her sex again. His fingers parted it, revealing her clit, and he glanced up at her as he gave it another long, slow lick.
She moaned. God, was he going to watch her responses the entire time he was licking her? It made her body flush and her nipples grow tight.
But then he moved away again, kissing around where she wanted him to be, and pressing his mouth to the curve of her hip. She shivered and rubbed her fingers on his head. It felt good, but not nearly as wonderful as his mouth on her clit. “Colt…go—go back.”
He moved his mouth and flicked his gaze up to her, hovering just over her slit. “Here?”
He was so close she felt his breath there. She nodded, biting her lip.
“Tell me.”
“O-on my clit. Please.” Why was it so hard to say? She felt so vulnerable and exposed having to tell him what she wanted.
But he descended back on her clit, and she forgot about being exposed as he gave it a long, slow lick with his tongue. Her hips pressed against his mouth. “Oooh.”
His hands grasped her hips, holding her steady, and paused, waiting.
“L-lick me again,” she said, her breath shuddering.
He did again, long, slow and exquisite, and she felt every moment of it singing through her entire body. Her toes curled. “Don’t stop. Keep licking me.”
He began to flick his tongue against her clit then, the movements slow, languid. Lapping at her like she was a favorite dish. Slow, measured strokes. Her hips lifted again, but she was pinned down by his hands. “Oh mercy, just like that.” With every flick of his tongue on her clit, her hips bucked, trying to follow.
But he was going so very slow. Each flick of his tongue seemed more like a tease than a promise. “Faster,” she breathed. “Lick…faster.” And lord, if that wasn’t a naughty thing to be demanding of him. But oh, he did begin to lick faster, and she moaned, throwing her head back as he continued, his tongue now flicking against her clit in a faster staccato. “Oh, that’s good,” she murmured. “Keep going.” Her short nails raked over his head, and she caught the barest sound of his growl of pleasure. Was he enjoying this, too? Liquid heat rushed through her at the thought, and she shivered, her skin prickling. Was he just as turned on licking her as she was when she’d taken his cock in her mouth? Enjoying the power he had over her? She squeezed her eyes open again. His fingers held her pussy spread open, and as she watched, his tongue slid out and flicked over her flesh, over and over again. And oh lord, that was intensely erotic.
A jolt of lust flared through her, and she felt herself become even wetter. The tension in her body began to build, her hips trying to rise off the bed. She wanted to look away. She couldn’t look away. All she could see was that dark sweep of lashes as his gaze was on her pussy, concentrating, his tongue flicking over her clit over and over again. “Faster, please,” she panted. “Need more.” She shifted her hips in a little circle, trying to buck up against his tongue.
He nuzzled deep as she watched, swiveling his tongue over her clit and she whimpered. Oh God, that had felt good. “Again,” she cried. He did, and she clenched hard. She needed more. Needed something—
“Fingers,” she gasped.
A thick one thrust deep into her, eliciting a small cry of pleasure from her throat. He didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to flick at that same measured pace.
“Faster,” she cried again, undulating her hips. “More. Please. Give me more.”
The finger thrust inside her, harder, fiercer, and his mouth sped up. She cried out, writhing underneath him. She was so close. Needed more. “Please,” she panted. “Please. More. More.”
Faster he thrust with his fingers, and she heard the low moan in his throat as she flexed her hips against him, trying to push over the edge. “Please,” she said, her voice an almost sob. “Colt. Please.”
But then he was lifting his mouth from her, and bit back a curse. She gave a whimpering sound of distress as he left her. God, she was so close and he was leaving her like this? But then she heard the crackle of a condom wrapper, and then he grabbed her leg, and she opened her eyes again just as he slid his cock deep into her.
She screamed, her entire body locking in orgasm.
He bit out another curse, thrusting into her hard. Her knees were pushed into her chest, hitting her breasts as he pounded into her, and waves of the orgasm kept hitting her. Her scream had bubbled into a keening cry that seemed to go on and on, just like her orgasm. Wave after wave of it crashed over her, and every time he pounded into her, it cascaded all over again.
And then she was gasping for breath, and he jerked against her, and it was her name he bit out. His body stiffened and then he fell forward and kissed her, hard. Branding her. She could still taste her own sex on his lips, felt him seated deep in her body. Her knees were still pressed to her breasts, and her pulse was pounding so hard that she thought she might pass out. Didn’t care. That had been intense.
He rolled off of her after a moment and he leaned over the side of the bed, tossing the used condom into a nearby wastebasket. Then, he pulled her against him. “Definitely ruined me for coffee.”
She grinned and burrowed against him. Her legs felt like Jell-O. Good, won
derful, blissful Jell-O.
His fingers trailed up her shirt and danced along her spine. “Guess we should take you home soon.”
All her languid contentment vanished, replaced with uncertainty. Was he just trying to get rid of her and here she was throwing herself at him? How embarrassing. Of course he was going to take a blow job if it was offered.
But then he leaned in and kissed her again, fiercely, and she didn’t know what to think.
One-night stand, dummy, she told herself. Of course she knew what to think. She felt stupid. So it had turned into a two-night stand. How silly of her. It had been great sex, but that’s all it was. No-strings-attached sex, and now she’d go back to her salon and he’d go back to his survival classes, and they’d be totally awkward around each other when they ran into each other in town.
Totally normal.
She sat up, pushing at her hair. It was a frizzy, tangled mop. That was going to be fun to detangle later. “I suppose I should go back before people start wondering where I am.”
“All right, then,” he said.
They dressed in silence and left the small cabin. Her feet were bare—the Louboutins tossed into the garbage once and for all—and her dress that had once been cute and swingy was now saggy and a sad shade of muddy gray. She had no idea where her panties were, either, but was too embarrassed to admit that to Colt.
He borrowed a Jeep from the school and she climbed in. “Where to?”
“My salon,” she said, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair again. “While I would love to go and give my smirky little sister a piece of my mind, I can’t really go back to my parents’ house looking like this.”
He grunted. “You’re an adult.”
“It’s not them I’m worried about.” She thought for a moment, then paused.
“What?”
Beth Ann glanced over at him, then bit her lip. “It’s just that…if it got back to Allan, he’d be worried, and then he’d swing by the house to make sure I’m okay, and I just don’t feel like the hassle.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. “All right then.”
They rode back to town, awkwardly silent. Beth Ann was almost disappointed to see the bright, cheery pink sign of California Dreamin’. Her wild little weekend was over. No more mud, no more hiking.
No more Colt.
Just Lucy, who wouldn’t feel guilty in the slightest that her big sister got stuck in the woods all weekend. Just her parents, who would shake their heads, puzzled at her need for independence at the age of twenty-seven. Just Allan, who would come by on an almost-daily basis to give her sad puppy-dog eyes and hope that enough guilt would make her go back to him.
She sighed as he pulled into the space in front of the salon. “Thanks again for the ride,” she said. “I’ll see you around town?”
He gave a crisp nod.
She opened her door and began to slide out.
His hand caught hers and she looked back at him, hopeful.
“Keys,” he said.
“Keys?”
“To your car. I’ll bring it by when it’s towed with the others.”
Oh. “Of course,” she said hastily and dug into her ruined little purse. Her keys were muddy, too, and she tugged the Volkswagen key off of the key ring. “Here you go.”
Colt nodded at her, and she thought she caught a glimpse of dimple. And then she shut the car door, and he pulled out.
And he was gone. Good-bye weekend, hello reality.
She sighed, unlocked the door to her salon, and stepped inside. Her answering machine light was flickering—no surprise. She ignored it and went to the big mirror in front of the barber chair. Sure enough, she looked like a wreck. She set to work—once her hair was detangled, she pulled it into a braid and curled her bangs. Her nails had little rings of dirt under them, so she fixed that and repainted both fingers and toes, and then moisturized her feet because they’d had a rough weekend. She flipped through the magazines she kept stacked in the salon, even though she’d read them all before. When she could stall no longer, she headed to the back storage room where she kept her air mattress and a few changes of clothes. She switched out, tossing her dress into the garbage—it was ruined. Then she changed clothes, put on a pair of disposable flip-flops, and called her parents’ house, hating that she had to do so.
Lucy picked up.
“It’s me,” Beth Ann said. “Come and pick me up at the salon.”
EIGHT
Lucy had been all apologies, and was still apologizing when she dropped by the salon to pick up Beth Ann a few minutes later. “Mom and Dad totally grounded me. I can’t see Colossus anymore,” Lucy said with a frown, her blue-streaked braids swinging as she shook her head. “It’s such bullshit.”
“That’s too bad,” Beth Ann murmured, lost in thought. Her brain was still focused on that morning, waking Colt up with her mouth. She’d loved that electric moment when he’d wrapped his hand in her hair and she’d realized he was conscious and could feel everything she was doing. That had been so…delicious.
“So where you been all weekend?” Lucy asked, giving Beth Ann a narrow-eyed stare. “You get evacuated, too? I tried calling your cell but you didn’t answer. I thought you were pissed at me.”
“I was mad. I’m still mad,” Beth Ann said lightly, and pulled out her waterlogged phone. “And you owe me a new iPhone.”
Lucy looked over and sighed. “Were you at the motel, too? They made us sleep girls with girls. So lame.”
“No,” Beth Ann said, and then paused. “I had one of the volunteers drive me to the salon so I could cool off.”
A total lie, but she didn’t want to tell Lucy that she’d spent the weekend with Colt. That was a little too personal.
“Huh,” Lucy said. “I could have sworn I left with the last batch of volunteers. I stuck around to see if you were going to make it out, you know. I wouldn’t leave you behind. I didn’t realize you’d deliberately wanted to be left behind.”
Lucy looked over and gave her sister an obvious wink.
Ha. “Nothing like that. I left a little after the last group,” Beth Ann said.
“Sure you did.”
Beth Ann gritted her teeth. “I left a little after the last group, honey,” she repeated. “And if you don’t want me telling Mom and Dad that they were handing out alcohol and condoms at the gate, I think we should just end this conversation right now.”
“Ending conversation,” Lucy said with an impish grin made all the more roguish by her nose ring. “We won’t talk about anyone’s hookups.”
“Do not mention hookups, Lucinda Janelle Williamson,” Beth Ann hissed. “If this gets back to Allan—”
“I know, I know,” Lucy said, turning the car up the long, winding drive to their parents’ house. “Then his crazy ass will start stalking you again. Don’t worry. The last person I’d tell about your hookup is that jerk. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks, Luce.”
Lucy examined her fingernails. “Don’t suppose you’d hook a sister up with a mani?”
She had a feeling there’d be a lot of free manicures in Lucy’s future, just to keep her mouth shut. “You know I can.”
When Colt got back from dropping Beth Ann off, he returned to his cabin. The sheets were still rumpled, the floor tracked with mud from the night before. He moved to the bed and ran his hand over it. Still smelled like her—and him—together. Damn. He didn’t want to sit here all day, ruminating on their weekend together. It had been hot and intense and mind-blowing.
And it was over.
He left the cabin and hiked over to the main lodge. He swung in and of course both Brenna and Grant sat at their desks, working. They looked up at the sight of him, and Brenna smiled. He gave her a half wave and ignored the desk he shared with Dane. Why Grant thought that two survival instructors needed a desk, he didn’t know. He headed to the rec room in the back and turned on the TV, picki
ng up the Xbox controller. A mindless game would distract him.
“Hey,” Brenna protested in the other room. “Where’ve you been?”
He ignored her, too.
She pushed into the room a moment later. Her hair was pulled into two buns perched high on top of her head, both speared with pencils. Brenna crossed her arms over her chest. “I saw your truck parked on the side of the highway all weekend. What gives?”
His truck. He supposed he should go get it. “I was busy after the rescue. You wanna be a dear and go retrieve it for me?”
She gave him an exasperated look, then put her hand out. “Keys?”
He tossed them to her, and she gave him a wink, then left.
Good. Maybe now he’d get some peace and quiet.
As soon as Brenna left, Grant entered the room. Fuck. Not what he wanted at the moment. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for him to start in.
It didn’t take long.
“You are not going to believe the shit Brenna pulled this time,” Grant began. “Remember I asked her to log all the receipts from the camping goods store? She logged them all in a spreadsheet as ‘camping stuff.’ One hundred and eighty-two lines of data. No dates. No dollar amounts. Nothing but ‘camping stuff.’ How am I supposed to write that off?”
Here we go.
“I’m positive she’s doing it just to fuck with me.”
Colt was pretty sure that Grant was right. He and Brenna seemed to have an antagonistic relationship—they were pleasant enough in person, but Grant constantly picked apart everything Brenna did, and Brenna turned around and deliberately did things to irritate Grant.
Sometimes, Dane speculated that it was like working with two children that couldn’t get along. Personally, Colt just thought the two of them needed to fuck and get it over with. He wouldn’t say that to Grant, though. The man still had issues, even five years after his wife had passed away.
So Colt said nothing. He clicked on the remote.
“Speaking of fucking,” Grant said slowly, and Colt looked over at his buddy. Grant had grabbed a coke from the fridge and twisted the cap off. Too early for beer, then. “You disappeared all weekend after that big rescue mission on Friday. You find some hot little piece in need of rescuing and hookup?”
The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male Page 12