by Tara Wyatt
It was their own tiny oasis, a stunningly beautiful and peaceful cocoon from the outside world. She felt safe—and yes, the cabin and its location had something to do with it, but mostly it was because of Colt. From the night they’d arrived, he’d kept her close, protecting her with his body, holding her as she slept, with his strong arms wrapped around her and her face pressed against his chest. That first night, she’d fallen into a deep sleep after they’d made love, not having slept much the night before. She’d found almost immeasurable comfort in the scent of Colt’s skin and the warm, steady thump of his heart against her cheek. But before that sleep, they’d been desperate for each other, and with their limbs intertwined, sweat glistening on his skin, he’d shattered her, over and over again. The second time, deep in the middle of the night, when she’d woken and reached for him, had been slower, sweeter, his fingers laced with hers as he made love to her, his body over hers as he’d kissed her until neither of them could breathe.
Until she forgot where she ended and he started.
Now she sat with her acoustic guitar in her lap, picking out Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” while she watched the sun set over the lake. Colt grilled hamburgers and corn on the cob on the barbecue, and she thought back to the first morning she’d woken up here, a couple of days ago. Days that felt like years. Days bathed in warm, golden sunlight and capped with magical, silvery moonlight. Days where the fact that multiple psychopaths were after her didn’t matter. Colt, and making music, and the beauty surrounding them. That was all that mattered.
That first morning, she’d flung an arm over her eyes and then turned her face back into the pillow, the sun barely peeking in around the curtains, and she’d forgotten for a second where she was. Before she’d opened her eyes, Colt had pulled her close and kissed her temple, his stubble rasping against her skin. She’d turned into him, throwing her leg over his.
“Morning.” She’d buried her face in his neck, breathing in his warm, comforting scent.
“Morning, gorgeous.” He’d threaded his fingers into her hair, brushing her tangled locks away from her face.
“Don’t get up yet,” she’d mumbled. “I know you’re an early riser, but stay with me.”
He’d laughed and brushed his lips against hers before he’d flipped her on her back. His mouth trailed over the sensitive skin just below her ear as their legs tangled together.
“I am an early riser.” He’d pulled back and wiggled his eyebrows. “A big one.”
She’d laughed, and she’d felt as though she were floating off the mattress and melting into Colt. “So humble.”
He’d kneed her legs apart and she’d felt his cock, hot and hard, slide against the inside of her thigh. “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”
She’d laughed again and wrapped her legs around his hips, sighing and arching up into him as he took her nipple into his mouth. “Mmm. Can’t argue with that.”
But instead of reaching over to the nightstand for a condom as she’d expected, he’d settled beside her and slid a hand down her body, over her breast, her ribs, into the dip created by her hipbone. “I’ll stay with you as long as you want, gorgeous. As long as you want.” His hand had slipped between her parted thighs, and his fingers had brushed gently against her lips. With sure movements, he’d eased her lips apart and slipped a finger into her. She’d clenched around him, and he’d smiled, pulling his finger out and slicking her wetness over her, his fingers rubbing a slow, teasing circle over her clit. She’d let out a soft moan, and he’d repeated the motion, adding a bit more pressure as her hips rose to his touch. He’d moved his fingers in a sure, steady rhythm, doing nothing except stroking her clit, until she fell apart in his arms, her legs shaking, her muscles rigid, his name falling from her lips in breathy gasps.
“You are so beautiful when you come,” he’d said, his deep voice rumbling across her oversensitized skin. He’d looked down at her, a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. It was then that he’d reached for a condom while her stomach let out a long, loud grumble.
“Let’s get you fed first,” he’d said and winked. “I need your energy up for what I have planned for you.”
An unwelcome rush of cool air had tingled across her skin as he’d pushed up off the bed. She’d watched with pure female appreciation as he’d bent and scooped his boxers off the floor, yanking them on and then his jeans, his muscles flexing and bunching beneath his taut, tattooed skin, his big hands pulling his pants on. With possessive satisfaction, she’d noticed the red lines down his back, scratches from the night before.
Her stomach had grumbled again, and with a sigh, she’d levered herself upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She’d extended her arms above her head and stretched, the afterglow of her orgasm still tingling through her.
She’d heard a low, gruff moan of appreciation from behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Colt stood with one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest, a thumb resting against his bottom lip.
She’d bit her lip and smiled. “Enjoying the view?”
His eyes had crinkled as he smiled. “Always, gorgeous.”
“Back atcha.”
Her stomach growled loudly again in the quiet room, and he laughed, bending to pull a clean shirt out of his duffel bag. “Come on. Breakfast. Then, I promise, we’ll go back to bed.”
He’d kept his promise.
Bringing herself back to the present, she let out a sigh as she strummed her guitar idly, watching the sun sink into the trees, casting dreamy pink and orange light over the lake.
For the first time in weeks, maybe even years, she felt peaceful. Happy, despite everything going on. And she knew it was because of Colt.
* * *
“I want to suck your cock.” Taylor’s husky voice sizzled against his ear as she slipped her arms around his waist from behind. He paused with his hands immersed in warm, soapy water, a sponge in his hands as he washed their dinner dishes. He pulled his hands out of the water so fast that he flung suds against the window above the sink. He spun and pulled her against him, slamming his mouth into hers.
Tongues and lips melded together instantly, and she let out a breathy moan that sent even more blood flowing to his cock. Her mouth was warm and hungry against his, her breath sweet and addictive. He kissed her with abandon, losing himself in the perfection of her mouth.
“I love how you taste,” she breathed in a husky voice, her lips moving against his as she spoke. “And I want to taste all of you.”
“Fuck, yes.”
With a sweet smile, she sank gracefully to her knees. She looked up at him through her lashes, her blue eyes slightly hooded and dark with lust. Without a word, she undid his pants, the metallic zip echoing in the kitchen as she lowered his fly, and then she slipped his cock and balls through the fly of his boxer briefs. The fact that they were both still fully dressed with only his massive erection and heavy, quickly tightening balls protruding from his pants was a hell of a turn-on.
Her eyes locked with his as she wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft and licked the clear bead of moisture from his swollen head. She hummed out her approval. “So good.”
His hands found their way into her golden waves, holding her hair back from her face in loose fistfuls. She dipped her head slightly, sucking one of his balls into her mouth and swirling her tongue lightly over it before releasing it and tracing her tongue up the underside of his shaft in one long, slow lick.
“Fuck, gorgeous,” he whispered. She slicked her tongue over her palm and stroked him, just once, and then pressed the head of his cock against her lips. Just when he thought the visual couldn’t get any more perfect, she smiled and enveloped him in the wet heat of her mouth. He fought the urge to tip his head back and close his eyes, because he needed to watch every single second of Taylor on her knees with his throbbing cock in her mouth. She teased the head, swirling her tongue over it, sucking it, pressing it against the inside of her cheek. The
pleasure of it, hot and intense, was tearing him into little pieces, shredding him from the inside out until he had to remind himself to breathe. She pulled back, stroking him a few times, slicking the moisture from her mouth over him. Heat pulsed low in his gut, electric tension radiating through his muscles and across his skin.
“I love how you feel in my mouth,” she murmured. He’d been about to reply with something dirty and encouraging but was only able to let out a long, low groan as she filled her mouth and throat with his pulsing dick, taking him far, far deeper than he’d have guessed she could. Wet heat engulfed him, her mouth deliciously tight around him. She anchored her hands on his hips and began bobbing her head in a sure, steady rhythm.
He fought the urge to move his hips, but as though she could sense what he needed, she moaned and picked up her pace. His vision narrowed, almost fading in and out at times. Probably because his eyes were on the verge of rolling back into his head.
“Fuck, Taylor,” he managed, his hands tightening their grip in her hair. “Your mouth feels so damn good. Holy shit.”
She slowed her rhythm and looked up at him, her blue eyes bright with lust and arousal. God, she was enjoying it, and fuck if that didn’t make what was already the hottest blow job of his life even hotter. When she looked up at him like that, his cock filling her pretty mouth, he felt like a fucking god. A god who would do anything for her.
His balls tightened with a sharp, sweet twinge, and he knew he was going to come soon. Very soon. Searing pleasure radiated from his balls and up his cock, intensifying with each sweep of her mouth up and down his shaft. Pressure built, an incredible sensation of fullness swelling his cock almost to the bursting point.
“Taylor, I’m gonna come, so if you don’t want…” His voice was hoarse and shaky, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t able to finish his thought because she sucked him hard and deep, and he hit the point of no return. All other sensation in his body dropped away, and his entire existence narrowed to his cock.
He ground out her name as he felt the first intense throb of his orgasm blast through him. With his hands wound tightly in her hair, he came hard, pulsing his release into her beautiful mouth. With half-open eyes, he watched her swallow down everything he had, knowing the moment would be forever burned into his brain.
She slowed her movements, giving him a few seconds to ride it out. A heavy numbness invaded his limbs, his dick warm and tingling from the release. With an adorable, self-satisfied smile, she tucked him back into his pants and stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her shirt. Hoping he could trust his legs to support him, he pushed off the counter and circled his arms around her waist, pulling her into him and kissing the soft, warm skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
“That was fucking incredible. Thank you.”
She pulled back and smiled, biting her lip. “You can pay me back later.”
“Trust me, it’s at the top of my to-do list.” He pressed his face into her neck, trailing kisses across her throat. “You are a very naughty girl, and I fucking love it.”
“Mmm. Maybe I need to be spanked.”
He spun her around and leaned her over the counter, his hands dropping to her ass. He caressed the supple flesh and then roughly squeezed, a hand on each cheek. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Because despite the intense orgasm he’d just had, he was beginning to stir in his jeans at the thought of bending her over and marking the pale flesh of her sweet little ass with his hand print. Marking his territory and claiming it for his own.
“But you’ll die such a happy man,” she said, pressing her ass against his hands.
“God, you’ve ruined me for other women.” He meant it as a joke, but his heart stuttered, tripping over itself, stopping and then restarting with a jolt as the truth of that statement washed over him.
“Good.” She drew in close, her breath hot on his ear as she wound her arms around his neck. “I don’t want there to be any other women. Only me.”
“There aren’t; only you. No other men?”
She pressed her forehead against his and shook her head. “Only you. I only want you.”
Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t have stopped his wide smile from surfacing. “You and me, gorgeous. It’s you and me.”
She sighed, and he felt a tremor pass through her. “I really like how that sounds.”
“No one else. Just you and me.” He cupped her face, tracing his thumbs over her cheekbones. When he kissed her, he tried to pour everything good that was filling him up into the kiss. Everything he was too scared to voice. The hope. The happiness.
The feeling that maybe he’d found home.
Chapter 23
Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” Taylor pressed her face into Colt’s chest, breathing in the clean cotton scent of his T-shirt. He pulled the blanket tighter around them and slid a hand up and down her back. She tilted her head slightly, pulling the fresh, cool air into her lungs as she took in the star-speckled night, thousands of stars hanging in the dusky indigo sky, spread like diamonds against velvet.
LA’s night sky was blank, void. A nothing sky. But here, looking at the thousands of stars with Colt, it felt as though the sky hanging above them held everything. Beauty and promises and love. Everything good and pure, twinkling back at them. It was their sky, the two of them together.
They’d grabbed pillows and a blanket and climbed up onto the cabin’s flat roof, something that had quickly become part of their nightly routine. They’d lie on the roof and watch as the sky darkened and the stars switched on, talking about anything and everything. Every night, she learned new things about him, and it only made her hungry for more. He was like a map of a new, uncharted continent; she was exploring and slowly discovering all of his hills and rivers, his oceans and borders, and filling his map as she learned new and amazing things. What made him laugh, what made him moan, what annoyed him.
But even more, it was the little things. Like that he preferred jam on his pancakes instead of syrup. Or that his first celebrity crush was on Cameron Diaz. And that he was really, really good at beer pong. That his biggest regret was that he hadn’t gone to college. That if he had gone, he would’ve maybe liked to be a teacher. She took it all in with a voracious hunger, wanting everything he’d give her.
And then there was last night, where, as they’d lain in each other’s arms, he’d confessed that he pictured himself with kids someday, even though he wasn’t sure he’d be very good at it. She hadn’t trusted herself to say anything, hadn’t trusted her voice to even work, so instead she’d just kissed him, slowly and tenderly, trying to show him that she wanted that, too, for herself and for him. Trying to show him that she understood how he felt, because she had the same damn reservations about herself. But maybe, with the two of them, it could work. Being with him was easy, because her broken pieces fit perfectly with his, and when she was with him, she actually liked who she was.
“Something I’ve never told anyone before?” he asked, and she nodded against him. The lake lapped quietly at the shore, the blackened tops of the pine trees poking up into the sky. “A happy thing, or…something else?”
“How about one of each?”
His chest rose and fell underneath her cheek, and she trailed her hand over his stomach, which was hard and firm, waiting quietly while he thought of an answer. He cleared his throat softly before answering. “Sometimes, I don’t understand why I’m here. Why I—out of all the guys I fought with—why I’m the one who made it back. Some of those guys died because of me, because it was up to me to protect them and I failed. Guys who had a hell of a lot more to come home to than I did. Girlfriends and wives. Parents who loved them. Babies. Futures.”
Her arms tightened around him, this man who was so strong, so brave, and who carried so much pain around.
He continued, his voice rumbling over her. “I feel so damn guilty that I’m just here, alive, breathing, when those guys aren’t. I don’t�
��it hurts, sometimes, Taylor. It’s too much, and when I start to really think about it, I just…I can’t. I don’t deserve to be alive any more than they deserve to be dead.”
“You deserve to be alive,” she whispered. “You do, Colt.” She raised herself up onto one elbow and kissed him, wanting to comfort him, to take some of his pain and help him carry it.
When she pulled back, he smiled, cupping her cheek with one, big strong hand. “You keep telling me that, and I might start believing you.”
“Good.” Their eyes met, and something passed between them, shimmering like the stars surrounding them.
“Your turn. Tell me something that you’ve never told anyone before.”
“You never told me your happy thing.”
He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “I’ll tell you after. Spill.”
She sighed and laid her head back down on his chest, loving how perfectly she fit against his strong, sturdy body. How safe she felt in his arms, his heartbeat pulsing against her, seeping into her skin. “You’re gonna laugh at me. It’s stupid.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “I won’t, and I bet it’s not. Tell me.”
“I’m not the kind of girl who grew up planning her wedding. But I’ve always thought, if I ever do get married, that I want to go to the Little White Wedding Chapel in Vegas.”
He pulled her tighter against him. “With Elvis and everything?”
She nodded. “And I want to walk down the aisle to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.’”