by Jessie Evans
“This is fucking bullshit!” an angry male voice growled from near the starting line.
Phoebe turned in time to see the frat boy who had pointed out Colt’s prosthetic shoving one of his teammates. The blond man’s pale face was bright red and his eyes swollen from the run, but instead of taking a rest he was taking his frustration out on his friends.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he continued. “How can you even call yourself a brother?”
“Relax, man.” His friend lifted his hands into the air, a shocked, embarrassed expression on his face. “It’s just a race.”
“A race we lost because you drank too much last night,” the red-faced man continued. “We got beat by a gimp with one fucking leg and two little girls, Dawson. How is anything about that okay?”
Before Phoebe could think twice, she was storming across the pavement, quickly closing the distance between her and the man-child with the anger management issues.
“You should leave,” she said, stopping directly in front of him and pointing a finger back toward the highway. “Now. We don’t like men without manners in this town and anyone who would call a hero who lost his leg in service to his country a gimp doesn’t belong in decent company.”
The man had the nerve to roll his eyes. “Whatever, bitch.”
“You should leave.” Colt’s deep voice came from behind her a second before his arm went around her waist, pulling her back against him. “I’m not inclined to fight you for my own sake, but if you call my girl any more ugly names, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Come on, Chris. Let’s get out of here.” The boy’s friend touched Angry Jerk’s elbow, but the other man pulled away with a rough jerk of his arm.
“Joining the military doesn’t make you a hero,” Angry Jerk said, swiping the back of his hand across his nose. “It makes you an idiot too dumb to go to college. So what if you lost your leg? It’s your own damned fault.”
Colt’s arm tightened around her, lifting her off her feet before she could lunge for the idiot.
And she had been in midlunge, there was no doubt about it.
The violence of her response shocked her. She had never physically attacked another person in her life, but the urge to get her claws into this punk was like lightning running through her veins. She had never been so angry in her entire life. How dare he talk to Colt that way, after everything he had been through and how hard he’d worked to take care of the people he’d promised to protect, both when he was in the service and back here at home?
“You wouldn’t know a hero if he came up and punched you in the face,” she spat. “And I bet you have the smallest penis in the entire world or you wouldn’t be such a clueless, classless, life-sized prick.”
Phoebe’s eyes went wide and her blood froze in her veins.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, unable to believe those words had just emerged from between her lips. In public, no less. She’s never said anything like that out loud. Heck, she didn’t even think things like that very often. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but before she could formulate an escape plan, someone behind her started laughing.
A moment later, more deep, male laughter filled the air from the direction of the LLPD team. By the time Phoebe’s face had flushed hot enough that her cheeks felt like they would catch fire, the air was filled with laughter and Angry Jerk looked like he was the one who wanted to find a hole to hide in.
With one last incoherent sound of outrage, he turned and stormed away. After an apologetic look in Phoebe and Colt’s direction—and a mouthed “I’m so sorry” from the shortest member of the team—his friends followed, leaving their coffin abandoned on the track.
Finally, Phoebe’s shame abated enough that she became conscious of Colt silently vibrating against her.
She glanced over her shoulder to see him laughing and blushed again.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as he set her back on her feet. “I’m so embarrassed. I had no idea I was going to say that until it came out of my mouth. And there are kids here.” She leaned into him, hiding her face against his chest. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”
“It’s okay, I’m sure the kids have heard worse,” he said, patting her on the back. “And everyone else thought it was hysterical. Besides, he was a life-sized prick. Past time someone called him on it.”
“So you’re not ashamed of me?” she asked, still not ready to lift her face.
“No, I think you’re pretty kick ass.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Anytime,” she murmured, tilting her head back. “Thanks for keeping me from starting a brawl.”
She expected Colt to pull away or to lead her back to where the mayor was waiting to award their trophy. But instead, he dropped his lips to hers and kissed her. A real sweet, sexy, knock-your-socks-off kiss that triggered a round of applause from the people gathered around them.
But Phoebe was barely aware of the applause; she was too focused on the amazing man in her arms, the one who was making all her dreams come true.
Chapter 17
Phoebe
After the race, Colton and Phoebe joined Daisy for a celebratory brew in the beer tent before heading back to Phoebe’s place to feed Sir Licks-a-Lot the crickets and mealworms Colt had picked up at the pet store. They stayed long enough for Phoebe to pack an overnight bag before bundling into Colt’s Jeep and heading out to his place just ahead of the storm clouds rolling in over the mountains.
By the time the snow began to fall, they were showered and cozy by the fire with the homey, fragrant smell of frozen lasagna rising from the oven and another beer in hand. As Phoebe settled deeper into the mammoth lounge chair, and more firmly under Colt’s arm, taking in the magnificent view outside his living room window, she decided she had never been more content than she was at this very moment.
“Let’s stay here forever,” Colt said, echoing her thoughts. “I don’t think life gets better than this.”
“Me either.” Phoebe sighed. “It’s been the perfect day.”
“Almost perfect,” Colt said, setting his beer on the table beside him before sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “I can think of one way to make it better.”
“What’s that?” She set her beer next to his, sensing she was going to want her hands free.
“I was thinking,” Colt said, capturing the zipper at the front of her sweater and slowly drawing it down, “about an appetizer before dinner.”
“Is that right?” She watched, breath catching as he tugged the camisole beneath her sweater lower, lower, until her breasts slid free at the top.
“Yes.” His fingers traced the outside of her nipples, making them pull tight, but not brushing the sensitive tips. “I’ve been wanting another taste of you since we left your bedroom this morning.”
“Then you should have one,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair as she shifted to straddle him, bringing her breasts even with his face.
“You’re so good to me.” He lowered his head, his tongue sweeping out to flick across her left nipple, summoning a tug of arousal low in her body. “But I was thinking you’d look even better on the rug by the fire. On your back. Naked.” He licked her other nipple, back and forth, back and forth until she moaned. “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, clinging to his shoulders as he stood and carried her across the room.
He disposed of her sweater, camisole, and jeans in record time, kissing her breathless as he continued to tease her nipples between his fingers, quickly driving her crazy.
“Now on your back, beautiful,” he said. “I want to look at you.”
Phoebe lay down, watching a pained expression cross Colt’s face as his eyes roved over her from head to toe and back again. Finally, he knelt between her legs, grunting softly as his knees hit the ground.
“You okay?” she asked, hands moving to cover her chest.
“Just a littl
e sore. Don’t cover up,” he said, reaching for the bottom of his sweater. “Touch yourself. Play with your nipples for me.”
Phoebe swallowed, hesitating as Colt stripped his sweater and then his tee shirt over his head, revealing his stunning chest, a sight she knew she would never get tired of seeing unveiled, again and again.
He glanced down at her, holding her gaze as he reached for the close of his pants. “Never done that before with someone watching?”
She slowly shook her head, mesmerized by the sight of Colt shoving his jeans and boxers down around his lightly furred thighs, baring the long, hard length of him.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, hand closing around his cock and stroking slowly up and down, sending a shudder of longing through her. “I just want to see how you do it. Show me, Phoebe. Show me how you touch yourself.”
With trembling hands, Phoebe brought both hands to her nipples, rolling them lightly between her fingers. She used just the barest teasing pressure at first, staring deep into Colt’s eyes as she brought her body to life.
“Harder,” he said, still stroking his cock, the sight of his hand on his own body sending more white-hot bolts of arousal through her, giving her an idea what watching her might be doing to him.
She obeyed, pinching her nipples, her breath coming faster and her hips shifting restlessly on the carpet as Colt watched her and continued to tug at his erection with slow, deliberate strokes. He looked so big from this angle as if he would never be a comfortable fit.
But she knew by now that there was nothing better than being joined with him, feeling him completing her, closing a circle inside of her soul that she hadn’t realized had been left at loose ends until he stepped in to tie off the knot.
“Please,” she breathed, her thighs squirming on either side of his legs. “I need you.”
“Put your hand between your legs,” he said, gaze darkening as his breath came faster. “Get your fingers wet for me.”
Cheeks flushing hot, Phoebe let one hand trail down her stomach to disappear beneath the elastic of her panties. Closing her eyes, she dipped two fingers into the well of heat between her legs, biting her lip as she slid them farther inside.
“Open your eyes,” Colt said, groaning softly as she obeyed. “Yes. Fuck, Phoebe. You’re so beautiful. So sexy.”
“I feel that way,” she said, sliding her fingers out and back in again, drawing a shudder from her body that had as much to do with the eroticism of being watched as it did with physical sensation. “When I’m with you.”
That pained expression flickered across his face again, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he was reaching for her panties.
“Lift your hips. I need to keep these pretty panties intact.” He pulled her underwear down her legs before capturing her wrist in his hand, bringing the fingers that had been inside her to his mouth, drawing them between his lips.
He moaned as he sucked her clean and his thumb came to circle her clit, quickly driving her desire from desperate to critical.
“Please,” she begged, bucking into his hand, trying to dislodge his thumb and force some part of him, any part of him, inside her. “I want you, Colt.”
“Bend your knees and spread your legs,” he said, clearly not finished bossing her around just yet.
If she didn’t find the bossing around so insanely sexy, she’d probably be dying of frustration by now.
But she did find it sexy, so sexy she shuddered as she spread her legs wide, baring herself completely to him. She met Colt’s gaze, seeing the hunger written so plainly on his features, and opened her thighs just a little wider, drunk with lust and feeling so vulnerable, powerful, and turned on all at the same time.
“You are….” He trailed off, shaking his head as his tongue slipped out to dampen his lips. “I can’t…”
Phoebe reached for him through her spread thighs. “Please.”
Thankfully, he didn’t make her beg another time. Instead he reached down, positioning himself and sliding the tip of his cock inside her. Phoebe tried to thrust up into him and take all of him, but he anticipated her movement, pinning her hips to the floor with his hands.
“No, go slow,” he said. “I want you to watch. Watch with me, Phoebe.”
She directed her gaze down between their bodies, watching as he pushed a little deeper and then withdrew, his erection glistening with her arousal, amazed at how breathlessly sexy it was to watch their bodies come together. He slid slowly in and out, never giving her as much of him as she wanted, never granting her hard or fast or the depth of penetration she craved, but her desire only spiraled higher.
Higher and higher until she was whimpering and squirming beneath him, so desperate for more that she was certain she would die from wanting him. But just when anticipation was seconds away from becoming torture, he sank home all the way to the hilt.
A moment later, he had her arms pinned to the carpet above her head as he slammed in and out of her, taking her with a rough abandon she had never experienced with a lover before. But she was so wet, so hot for him, that there wasn’t any pain.
There was only pleasure, unending pleasure, a feeling like being turned inside out and wrung clean and made new. She came screaming in his arms as he brought her over the edge, clawing at his shoulders, wishing she could pull him straight into her soul and keep him there always.
“God, Phoebe,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his arm wrapping tight around her waist as he neared the edge. “God, I’m coming so hard. I’m coming so fucking hard.”
Phoebe’s heels dug into the carpet as Colt exploded inside of her, taking her up again, until she was so high she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything but cling to him, blind and breathless.
She came back to her body several long minutes later, roused by the smell of burning cheese.
“Lasagna,” she said, her voice breathy as she tapped Colt on the back. “Burning.”
He stirred but didn’t lift his head from her neck, where he was murmuring something about how beautiful she was.
“No, Colt.” She patted him more insistently. “The lasagna is burning.”
“What?” He lifted his head, looking as sex drunk as she felt, making her giggle as she said—
“Our supper is burning you sex fiend. Let me up so I can pull it before it’s ruined.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.” He rolled to one side and Phoebe stood, running across the room naked, grabbing a pot holder from a hanger beside the oven and fetching the lasagna out. She set it on the stovetop, waving the potholder as she peeked beneath the foil.
“It’s okay,” she said, surveying the dark brown edges of the dish. “It’s just the edges. It’s still edible.”
Colt hummed happily, making her glance up to see him watching her from his position sprawled, half naked, on the carpet.
She grinned as she braced her hands on either side of the lasagna, making no move to cover her breasts. “What?”
“You. Cooking. Naked.”
“It reduces you to one-word sentences?” she said, fanning the lasagna again, simply for an excuse to make her breasts bob from side to side.
Colt rewarded her efforts with a groan. “Yes. Sexy as hell.”
“Three words in a row,” she said. “You seem to be recovering.”
“Slowly.” He shook his head, letting it roll back and forth on the carpet. “That was unreal.”
“It was,” she said, skin tingling. “I like you bossy.”
“I like you period.” He sighed. “All of you. Under all of me. Wet and hot and calling my name in that sexy voice when you’re about to come.”
Phoebe bit her lip. “You’d better stop talking dirty. Unless you’re already up for round two.”
He smiled sleepily. “No, not yet. Even men with invincible cocks need to eat.”
She snorted. “All right Mr. Invincible Cock. I’m going to wash up and get my pajamas on before dinner.”
“I approve of that
plan,” he said. “Pajama pants make for easy access after our bellies are full.”
“So I’m going to be the appetizer and the dessert,” she said, not missing the way his eyes followed her as she started across the room. “A lot of responsibility for one woman.”
“You can handle it,” he said. “You’re made of tough stuff, Phoebe Page.”
Phoebe smiled, taking the words as a compliment, never imagining that the man who had just made love to her as if his life depended on bringing her pleasure was counting on her toughness to sustain her when she was on her own.
She had no idea he was already making plans to leave town, a full month ahead of schedule, keeping the news secret from the woman he professed to be falling in love with.
Chapter 18
Colton
Colt had learned early on in his military career the importance of keeping his head and his body in the same place. He couldn’t focus on the mission at hand if he was worried about something going on back home in Lover’s Leap, and often the mission at hand was dangerous, high-stakes, and potentially deadly. His life had literally depended on compartmentalizing his feelings and keeping one world separate from the other.
Even on the day his mother went into the hospital for a biopsy that would reveal if the lump in her left breast was cancerous, once he strapped into the pilot’s seat, his mother’s health was the furthest thing from his mind.
When he was on duty, he was on duty, serving his country; when he was at home, he was home, enjoying his family, and he did his best not to let one interfere with the other.
So it wasn’t that difficult for him to put the letter he’d received the morning of the race from his mind. It was a matter for another day—for December twenty-eighth, the first day his commanding officer had said he would be back in the office—and not relevant to celebrating the holiday with his family. There were decisions to be made, big decisions that would affect the entire course of his life, but worrying about them today wouldn’t do anyone any good.