by Tara Wyatt
“I want to steal a burrito,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.
Gently, he eased her away from him. As much as he might want her in his bed again, tonight wasn’t the night. Not when she was drunk.
“No stealing.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “But it would be fun.”
“No stealing,” he repeated, cutting his eyes at the teenage clerk, who was completely absorbed in his comic book and ignoring them, thankfully. “I’ll buy you one. Deal?”
She nodded enthusiastically, her blond waves falling around her face. “Deal.”
While he procured her a burrito, he watched as she wandered through the fluorescent-lit aisles, humming to herself and twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Steaming pocket of carbs, fat, and God knew what else in hand, he found her at the back, studying the magazine rack.
“If you had to pick one dirty magazine, which one would you pick?” Her eyes lit up when he handed her the burrito. “Ooh! Thanks.” She bit into it and closed her eyes, sighing out a low moan that had blood flowing straight to his dick. She turned her attention back to the magazine rack. “I think…” She danced the fingers of her free hand over the covers. “Oh, this one!” She pulled out an issue of Camo Cock, featuring a very buff and oiled-up model wearing nothing but camo-print briefs that barely contained his obviously photoshopped bulge. Colt glanced back at the teenage clerk, whose full attention was now on his phone, unconcerned about his only customers.
“Really? You think that’s my flavor?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tamped down a smile, trying to look stern.
“Well…” She waved the magazine from left to right, and then through a mouthful of burrito said, “It’s military.” She turned it toward herself and glanced at the cover. “This isn’t what you wear under your soldier-pant things?”
“One: I don’t wear ‘soldier-pant things’ anymore,” he said. “Two: Those are definitely not standard issue.” He took a step toward her and watched her throat work as she swallowed the last of her burrito. “And three: You’re awfully interested in my underwear.”
She leaned in, and suddenly their faces were inches apart. “Maybe it’s what’s in your underwear that I’m interested in.”
For one long, taut second, their eyes locked, and then she looked down at the magazine, holding it up between them. “I’m gonna steal it for you, because I like you, and it’s okay if you’re too embarrassed to buy it for yourself.”
“For the last time, no stealing. What is it with you? You get drunk and turn into a klepto?”
Blue eyes flashing mischievously, she glanced around the store before starting to slip the dirty mag under her leather jacket. He grabbed for it before it fully disappeared and she laughed, turning away and trying to hold on to it. He circled his arms around her, one hand slipping under her jacket and grabbing the magazine while the other lightly pinched the soft flesh between her ribcage and her hipbone. She shrieked with laughter and loosened her grip on the magazine, and he pulled it free. She spun back quickly to face him, and he held the magazine behind his back, stepping forward and pinning her against the magazine rack with his chest. She scrabbled for it, wiggling against him in a way that had his cock rising quickly to attention, and he dropped it on the floor, the pages fluttering noisily before it landed with a clap against the floor. Before she could maneuver around him, he pinned her wrists to her sides and her eyes found his, pupils wide. She took several rapid, deep breaths that pressed her breasts into his chest, and just as he was about to release her, she tipped her head forward and kissed him.
The feel of Taylor’s mouth on his again made every single thought empty from his brain, and he released her wrists and slid his arms around her waist to pull her closer. His hands cradled her back as her lips worked eagerly against his, sucking his bottom lip between hers. Everything about her mouth—her lips, her deliciously sweet tongue—was just as soft and warm as that first night. She moaned softly into his mouth and fisted her hands in his shirt, holding him there, as if she could sense his hesitation. He knew they had to stop, but as her tongue slid against his, he struggled to hold on to the reason why.
Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, he kissed her back enthusiastically, and she slid her hands up over his shoulders, pulling him tighter against her and rocking her hips against him. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth to him more, and although he wanted nothing more than to give her everything she wanted, it couldn’t be tonight. After savoring the feel of her mouth for a few more seconds, he pulled away, letting his lips linger against hers, not wanting the kiss to be over. He inhaled slowly, trying to get a handle on his breathing. On the lust rocketing through him. On his heart.
She trailed kisses up his neck, and he bit back a groan. “Not like this, gorgeous,” he managed, his voice low and a little hoarse.
“Stop talking.” She wove her fingers into his hair, and with a gentle tug that had sparks shooting over his scalp, pulled his mouth back to hers, and they melted into each other almost instantly. As wrong as it was, he couldn’t deny that he was hungry for another taste of her, and he lost himself in the feel of her body pressed against his, her fingers threaded through his hair, and the sweetness of her mouth as he caressed her tongue with his. She nipped at his bottom lip and he couldn’t stop the groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest as he tore his lips from hers.
“Fuck,” he breathed, resting his forehead against hers and then nipping at her lips again, just once, in a hungry, biting kiss. He shook his head, trying to find his way back to earth through the haze clogging his brain. This couldn’t happen tonight.
“Fuck.” He swore again before sliding his hands up to her face, tilting her chin up and closing his mouth over hers. His tongue found hers again, and he stroked into her mouth in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His control was almost gone, and he knew he needed to get hold of himself. If they were going to do this again, they were going to do it right. He knew he couldn’t handle being some fuck she’d regret the next morning. Again.
That thought was sobering enough that he was able to summon the last remaining crumb of his willpower and break the kiss.
“No, Taylor. Not like this.” He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I want you to be sober when I fuck you again. I want you to remember every single second.” He nuzzled into her neck and dragged his lips over the warm skin there. “Every touch. Every kiss. How hard I make you come with my hands. My mouth.” He sucked the skin right behind her ear and then soothed it with a lap of his tongue. “My cock. Because I am going to fuck you again, and we both know you’re going to want to remember it clearly.”
“I want all of that tonight. Your hands. Your mouth. Your cock,” she said, echoing his dirty talk back to him and arousing him even more. “I want you to fuck me tonight.”
A thrill shot through him at her words, and it took everything he had not to pull her back into him and crush his mouth to hers again.
“Not gonna happen.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” She slipped her hand into his, but didn’t move, the light in her eyes shifting.
She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. “Can we…I don’t want to stay at my place tonight. With my dad and the sick weirdo…” She trailed off, her shoulders slumping slightly.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “We’ll stay at my place, if that’s what you want.” Fuck, it wasn’t going to be easy, sleeping on the couch while he knew Taylor was in his bed, but he’d do anything in his power to make her feel safe.
Chapter 15
Taylor rolled over in bed and slowly peeled her eyes open. Even though the room was still semidark, the light teasing around the edges of the curtains was enough to start a dull pounding in her temples. Groaning, she pushed her face into the pillow, and her stomach churned uncomfortably. The inside of her mouth felt like sawdust, and for some reason, a strange, lingering sense of embarrassment ate at her alon
g with the acid in her stomach. Still facedown, she extended her arms above her head and stretched, noticing that she was still in the same black blouse and jeans she’d worn out the night before, minus the black ankle boots she’d had on. She didn’t even remember stumbling into bed.
Holy hell, she’d overdone it last night. She’d tried to drink away the confusing mix of her feelings about Colt, and although she’d succeeded, the relief had only been temporary.
She rolled and pried her eyes open.
This was not her bed. Not her bedroom. No, it was Colt’s. She slid her hand across the sheets to the other side of the bed, but they were cool beneath her touch. She blinked several times, trying to think around the pounding in her temples. She flipped over and sat up, making the room lurch in front of her eyes for a second. Pieces of the end of the night started to come back. Her cheeks heated and she curled her arms around herself as she remembered how she’d come on to Colt last night. In a freaking 7-Eleven of all places. God. She’d really let her white-trash roots show, insisting on a stupid 7-Eleven burrito.
And then his words echoed through her brain, sending heat spiraling through her entire body.
I want you to be sober when I fuck you again. I want you to remember every single second. Every touch. Every kiss. How hard I make you come with my hands. My mouth. My cock. Because I am going to fuck you again, and we both know you’re going to want to remember it clearly.
Oh, hell yes.
Another flash of memory, this one much foggier than the kiss, floated up, and she latched on to it because of the warm sense of happiness it sent coursing through her. It was of Colt, leaning over her and tucking her into bed, smiling as he smoothed her hair away from her eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Oh, holy Mother of God, was she in trouble. She was already in free fall mode, and they’d barely begun. And yet, a tiny seed of hope took root.
The truth was that with Colt, all of her doubts and insecurities felt unfounded. Her fear felt unreasonable and illogical in the face of just how good he made her feel. Happy. Protected. Worthy. He’d reignited something deep inside her that had been long extinguished, and that had to be worth something.
She reached for where Colt had plugged in her phone on his bedside table and stopped, her hand suspended midair as a tender pang hit her right in the chest. Beside her phone was an unopened bottle of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a banana. Beside it was a scribbled note on the back of a gas station receipt.
Thought you might need these. I’m downstairs.—Sparklepants
A laugh pushed up through her throat and she read the note again, taking in his slightly messy, block-letter scrawl, allowing herself to bask in the intimacy of looking at his handwriting. She twisted the cap off the water and took a long, healthy swallow. Popping open the top of the aspirin, she shook a couple out into her palm, swallowing them down with another gulp of the water. She pushed a hand through her tangled hair before rubbing first one eye and then the other, and the side of her index finger came away smeared with black, since she hadn’t removed her makeup the night before. Stretching one last time, she pushed the covers back and padded across the room, poking her head out into the hall, and then darting into the bathroom. With the door latched firmly behind her, she peeled off her clothes and reached into the shower, cranking the water as hot as it would go.
After showering, rinsing her mouth out with mouthwash, dressing, and forcing down the rest of her water and the banana, she felt semi-human again. Her head was no longer pounding, and her stomach felt much steadier. She left the bathroom, listening for Colt in the house but not hearing anything. She walked down the hall and glanced into the only other room on the upper level, which turned out to be a large, multipurpose loft, with a home office set up by the window, a punching bag and free weights stacked in one corner, and a pool table in the center of the room. She descended the stairs, taking in the rest of Colt’s house as she went.
When she’d been here before, she’d barely looked around, and it had been too dark to see anything in detail. But now she had the luxury of both time and daylight, and she took her time making her way through the house. The main floor was open and looked recently renovated, with a cozy living room and eat-in kitchen filling the space. A couple of blankets and a pillow sat on the couch, but other than that, the living room and kitchen were tidy. Being in his house felt…good, actually. She didn’t feel like she was intruding or that she didn’t belong. She felt cozy and safe.
The coffeepot was still half full, the scent filling the kitchen, and she’d been about to hunt for a mug to pour herself a cup when the faint strains of music coming from the driveway reached her. Glancing out the kitchen window, she saw Colt’s Charger in the driveway, the hood propped open.
After retrieving a hair elastic from her purse and pulling her wet hair up into a ponytail, Taylor stepped out of the house and into the bright morning sunshine, squinting slightly as the warmth danced over her skin. Colt’s head popped up over top of the hood, and he stepped around the car. Maybe it was a residual effect of her hangover, but her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart fluttered in her chest. She’d seen him in a T-shirt and jeans, in nothing but athletic shorts, and completely naked—albeit in very dim lighting. But this look just might be her favorite.
He dropped a wrench into the toolbox open at his feet and took another step toward her, wearing a pair of black sweatpants with “Army” spelled out in block letters down one leg, and a white tank top stained with black grease. He wiped his hands on a worn blue rag and then tossed it over his shoulder, a smile tipping up the corner of his mouth. A small grease smear adorned one perfect cheekbone.
“How you feeling this morning, gorgeous?”
Oh, yes. Casual Colt, Athletic Colt, and Naked Colt were all nice. Very, very nice. But Mechanic Colt was so gloriously masculine and sexy that she was pretty sure her panties were disintegrating on the spot.
She must’ve been staring longer than she realized because he leaned his head forward, one eyebrow cocked. “Hello? Earth to Taylor?” Blinking rapidly and giving her head a small shake, she bit her lip and met his eyes.
His phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket, glaring at the screen before releasing a tense chuckle. Looking up, he met Taylor’s curious gaze. “Roman. I asked him to leave Chloe alone last night, and he’s pissed at me.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I heard you ask him not to hit on your friends.” He shrugged like having her back and being on her side was no big deal when really, he had no idea how big a deal that was. She was so used to being on her own, having to tough things out by herself that something inside her melted, turning her insides gooey and sweet. All because he’d cockblocked a friend for her.
“Colt…” She met his eyes and shivered as the sudden, intense urge to be honest with him hit her. “I’m sorry I got so drunk last night. I was just…I’m scared.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her against him. She nestled into him, letting his warmth settle over her like a blanket.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Promise.” He tightened his hold slightly and some of the tension ebbed out of her muscles. “Shit. I’m getting grease on you.”
“I don’t care.” She slipped her arms around his waist and he stroked a hand up and down her back.
“We should go to the police with all of this.”
She nodded against his chest, pulling his scent into her with a deep breath. “I know, but we don’t have much to tell them yet. Has your investigator friend found anything?”
“Not yet, but he’s running down a few leads. He should have some information for us soon.” His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her and she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his voice, his hands stroking her back, his arms around her. The shelter of him that made her feel safe. Made her feel protected. For a long moment, they just stood in his driveway, Colt’s a
rms wrapped around her as a Bad Company song played softly from the Charger’s stereo.
“I’m glad you’re here. With me,” she said, pressing her face into his neck.
“Until we figure out what’s going on, I don’t want you out of my sight.” He held her away from him and met her eyes. “And once we figure it out, I still won’t want you out of my sight.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly and she ducked her head for a second before forcing herself to meet his eyes, a giddiness floating through her at his words. “I owe you an apology. For last night, and for what a brat I’ve been. I was…well—” she forced herself to take a breath before plowing forward “—kind of a mess. I’m sorry if I—”
He cut her off with a gentle kiss, his hand slipping under her chin. His lips moved slowly against hers, and she sighed into him, pressing her hands into his back.
He broke the kiss, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled across her skin, sending ripples of pure, raw hunger dancing over her nerves. “The only reason you didn’t wake up naked beside me this morning is because of how much you’d had to drink, and I didn’t want it to be like that. Do you remember what I told you last night?”
She nodded against him, breathing him in again as her stomach flipped over on itself. “God, yes.”
“I meant it. Taylor, whatever this is between us…” He kissed her again, a brief, sweet caress of his lips against hers. “I want it. I want you.” She watched as emotions flickered across his face, barely surfacing before slipping away again.
“Colt.” She shoved away the fear knotting her stomach, hanging on instead to the glimmering thread of hope that maybe this time, things could work out. That maybe if she jumped in with both feet, she wouldn’t crash and land broken and scarred. That maybe if she let herself fall, Colt would actually catch her. Because she had to admit, everything felt different with him. Bigger, somehow. More real. More vibrant. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so hungry for someone, and not just in a physical sense. She was hungry for all of him. She wanted to know him, learn everything about him.