Let her make the moves, dude.
“You know, I don’t really want to talk about Dan,” she said. “I’m not still hung up on him and I don’t miss him at all. I just wanted you to know that I think you’re pretty incredible—and maybe I’ve spent too much time in my head comparing you to Dan and thinking you’d turn out to be the same way because that’s how guys are. But I think I was wrong. I’ve had enough time to watch Jace and Maddy, and he’s nothing like that. Neither are you.”
He didn’t want to fuck this up, but he also had to know. “Why did you want to marry him, Ang?”
She let out a breath. Shook her head. Then her liquid green eyes met his. “I’m not sure anymore. He was the first guy to ask me. Which is crazy, I know—but I didn’t have a lot of confidence back then. I still don’t sometimes. I just hide it well.”
He put his hands on her hips, pulled her in close enough to feel how she affected him. Her eyes widened a little, but she didn’t pull away.
“I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. Don’t you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”
She smiled up at him. “You’re sweet. I know I’m attractive, but I’m not special or anything. My hips are too big, and my chest isn’t quite big enough. And then there’s all this crazy blushing I do because I’m so pale.”
“I like the blushing. It’s how I know you’re attracted to me.”
“See? I couldn’t deny it even if I wanted to.”
“Why would you want to?”
She rolled her lips inward. “To protect myself?”
“You don’t have to protect yourself with me, Angie. I won’t hurt you. It’s the last thing I’d ever do.”
“I know. I didn’t always know, but I do now.” She spread her palms over his pecs. “If you decide you’re done and want to move on, I’d appreciate knowing it up front, okay? No pretending or trying to figure out how to let me down easy. Just tell me and let me deal with it.”
She was talking crazy. Once she was his, he had no intention of letting her go. Oh, he’d thought at one time he’d walk away because she deserved a normal guy. But that’s not what was going to happen. He knew that now. Angie was his. He just had to prove that he’d be there for her no matter what. There were things he still needed to tell her, but he’d get to that. Soon.
“I’m not ever going to be done with you.”
She frowned at him. “Colt, be serious.”
“I am being serious, minette.”
“You can’t be serious. We barely know each other. I might snore. Or nag. Or any number of crazy things you’ll hate.”
“You don’t snore, except when you’re sick, and even that’s barely on the Richter scale. You might nag, I don’t know, but I can handle that. As for knowing each other—isn’t that what we’re doing? Getting to know each other better?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So let’s go watch a movie while we wait for dinner to cook. We can watch one of your old favorites and you can tell me what your grandfather liked about it.”
She nibbled her lip. “What if I have a better idea?”
“What’s that, minette?”
“I-I want you to kiss me.”
Chapter Sixteen
“That accountant broad is staying with the guy she was with the night Tommy tried to break into her condo. Big, tough looking dude. Military or former military. One of Ian Black’s people.”
“Do you know where they are?” Paul Sobol sat at his desk and frowned at the computer screen in front of him, listening to the voice on the phone. This whole fucking thing was a disaster. It’d gone sideways in more ways than one. First Charles, then Jenny Clark, and now this Angie Turner chick.
Steve was pissed as hell. Calling him from Miami, telling him to take care of things. He fucking hated Steve. Asshole married his sister and thought he owned Paul too. Well, he fucking didn’t.
Paul had been skimming money right from under the asshole’s nose and he had no clue. The plan was to take enough to disappear one day. But then Charles had to go and get a conscience. He’d had no problem lining his own pockets until he found some transactions he didn’t like. What did Paul care if Steve wanted to funnel weapons to a bunch of terrorist jerk-offs in Afghanistan? Let them kill each other. Who the fuck cared? And if a few U.S. military troops got in the way, well, that’s just the way war worked.
Paul hadn’t sent them to a war zone. Neither had Steve. But Charles—shit, you’d have thought the dude was personally being sent over there to join them the way he’d reacted. Yeah, his little sister had been in the military, but she’d died in a car accident in Germany. So what the fuck was his problem? His sister couldn’t get killed again.
Charles had threatened to blow the whole operation wide open. He’d sworn they wouldn’t get caught if they exposed Steve, but Paul knew it wasn’t possible. The blowback would get them all killed because Steve wouldn’t go down without taking as many people with him as he could. That’s what Charles refused to understand.
While Paul didn’t have any problems stealing from his brother-in-law, he had huge problems with dying. Hence the current mess.
“Yeah, I know where they are,” Marco said. “It’s not far from her friend’s house. They were there for tea and fucking cookies today when our boys were working on the electrical. We tagged his vehicle while they were inside playing tea party.”
Paul could almost breathe again. Almost. “Don’t do anything until I call you again. I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Her heart raced. Little beads of sweat popped up on her skin. Had she really asked him to kiss her?
Colt stood near, his big form towering over her. Today he wore a gray T-shirt that clung to his muscles like a second skin and a blue plaid button down with long sleeves, open and untucked. His gaze grew hot.
He slid a hand around her back and tugged her closer, tipping her chin up with the other.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Angelica. Just so we’re clear—a kiss and then a movie? Or a kiss and let’s see where it goes?”
Angie swallowed. On the one hand, she was mortified that she had to say what she wanted. On the other, she loved that he wanted to make sure. How many guys would do that?
None that she’d gone out with, that’s for sure. She hadn’t had sex with any of them in recent years, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to push her into it.
“The second one,” she said on a whisper.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a feral grin. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. But Ang—nothing happens without your permission, okay? If you don’t like something, tell me. You’re calling all the shots here.”
Oh, she loved that he’d said that. Loved that he meant it. Because she knew he did. Colt Duchaine was masculine enough and badass enough to be utterly confident. He wasn’t going to take it personally if she put the brakes on. It wouldn’t be a blow to his fragile ego or an insult to his manhood. He was bigger than that. Better than that.
He was a protector, and he was determined to protect her. Even from himself.
Angie shivered. She didn’t want to stop anything, but she knew it was a possibility. What if she panicked? It’d been over two years since she’d had sex with a man. A vibrator wasn’t the same at all, even though she’d worked hers out pretty regularly. Mr. Dick was big and glittery pink—and very satisfactory—but he wasn’t attached to two-hundred and twenty pounds of prime male flesh.
Hard, beautiful, delicious male flesh.
Colt stepped in closer, though she’d have said it wasn’t possible. His mouth dropped onto hers. Angie moaned as firm lips pressed down. Her mouth fell open and his tongue slipped inside. It was only the second time she’d kissed him this way.
It. Was. Glorious.
Tongue against tongue, sliding, dancing, thrusting, retreating. Her heart was a reckless wild thing, leaping and racing and rushing blindly through the forest of her fears. Fears that see
med smaller and less important than they had not that long ago.
Angie melded her body to his, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back with all the passion she possessed. His hands on her tightened, but he didn’t lose control. She could feel his cock pressing into her abdomen, and it didn’t scare her.
No, it turned her on. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of the idea of more.
Colt broke the kiss gently. “Baby, you need to know that I can’t do much more of this.”
“Why?” she asked, confused. She was holding off on hurt until she understood. But it was there, under the surface. Waiting to break free. “Is—is something wrong?”
His brows lifted. “Wrong?” He flexed his hips and she felt his cock against her. “Believe me, there’s nothing wrong. I want you, baby. I want to take you to my bedroom, strip you naked, and lick you into a screaming orgasm before I slide inside you and take us both the heaven. I can’t keep kissing you like this if it’s not going to happen. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and the more I kiss you, the harder I get. But I’m not pushing you, so I have to stop.”
Angie slid her hand down and over the bulge in his jeans. He hissed in a breath. “Angie. Jesus.”
“I want you too, Colt.” He leaned toward her again and she put a finger against his lips to stop him. “I have to tell you something first.”
“Okay.”
She gathered her courage. “It’s been a long time for me. I haven’t, um, had sex with a man since Dan left. So I want you to know that, because it worries me it might, um, be uncomfortable.”
Colt hugged her to him without hesitation. Her eyes blurred and she pressed her cheek to his chest, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him.
“Minette, I promise you I will do everything in my power to make it great for you. If you’re not having fun, neither am I.”
God, he was nothing like Dan. Or any other man she’d ever dated. He actually cared about her pleasure and not just his own. How had she been so stupid before? Why had she ever put up with any man who’d made her feel bad about herself? Why did any woman?
Angie tilted her head back. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
He toyed with a lock of her hair. “I want to see you wearing nothing but this hair in my bed. I’ve dreamed of it for months.”
“I’m ready,” she said. “I want that too.”
She really did. So much.
He hooked an arm behind her knees and picked her up. She squeaked in surprise, clinging to him as he strode through the house and into the master. He set her down on the bed, then stepped back and slid the plaid shirt from his shoulders. Angie lay back on her elbows to enjoy the show.
When he reached behind him and tugged the gray shirt up and off with one hand, Angie sighed. “That is the sexiest move ever.”
He laughed. “I’ve got more.”
He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, and then produced a pistol. Angie blinked. She hadn’t known it was there. He set it on the nightstand and advanced on her without pushing his jeans down his hips the way she wanted.
She lay back on the bed as he came down on top of her, hovering over her rather than pressing her into the mattress. She let her gaze slide over his bare chest. The scar from where he’d been shot was smooth and shiny, a round disk of flesh that was far too close to his heart. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at it.
“Hey,” he said.
She dragged her gaze to his.
“I didn’t die. I was very, very lucky. Or Natasha was a great shot. Either way, the outcome was the same. I’m here, now. I’m with you and I don’t want you to dwell on it or blame yourself or any of that crap, okay? It happened and it’s done.”
She reached up and traced it with a finger. “I know.” The lump in her throat was huge. “I’m working on not blaming myself, okay? It’s just that I’ve never seen the scar before.”
He dropped his head and kissed her softly. “Want me to put a Band-Aid on it?” he whispered.
She pushed back enough to see his face. He was grinning at her.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know. But if it gets me laid, I’m all for it.”
She caressed his cheek. “You’re still getting laid, sweetie. It was a moment, not a roadblock.”
“Thank god for that,” he growled—and then he kissed her again, a full-on assault that obliterated any defenses she might have still had.
Angie smoothed her hands over his skin, exploring the dip and swell of strong muscles. He rolled to his back and took her with him. She straddled him, and though she was still fully dressed, the feel of his erection pressing into that space where she ached for him was intoxicating.
She rubbed herself against his hardness and sparks flew behind her eyes. Colt’s hands slipped beneath her sweater, sliding against bare skin as they moved north. She expected him to go straight for her breasts, but he didn’t. Instead he traced little circles against her skin, going higher each time. When he got to the swell of her breasts, he traced the undersides of them without trying to move beneath the fabric.
Angie was holding her breath by the time he slid a thumb over one of her nipples. A shot of pleasure vibrated through her, connecting to her pussy. She was wetter than she’d been in a long time, and she was tired of waiting for more.
She pushed herself upright, breaking their kiss, and dragged her sweater over her head. Then she dropped it and reached behind her to unhook her bra. Colt sat up, his fingers covering hers as he helped her unhook it. He slid it from her shoulders and down her arms. She almost folded her arms to cover herself, but she didn’t.
Colt’s gaze was rapt. “Baby, those are the prettiest breasts I’ve ever seen.”
Angie snorted, though she was ridiculously pleased. “Stop it. They’re just boobs. Like so many others.”
“You aren’t changing my mind,” he told her.
He reached up and pinched her nipples gently between thumb and forefinger. That intense drip of pleasure in her veins intensified. When he leaned forward and licked the tip of a nipple, she shuddered, curling her fingers into his shoulders.
“Colt,” she gasped.
He licked her again. “Yeah, ma petite?”
Oh god, he was planning to talk French while he fucked her. She was going to die.
“More of that. I want more,” she moaned.
“My pleasure.” Colt slid his hands around her back, arched her toward him, and began to lick and suck her nipples like they were the key to her orgasm.
Which they very well might be considering how turned on she was. Every pull of his mouth on her breasts made lightning sizzle down into her deepest core.
“Colt,” she called out when she didn’t think she could take another moment of torture. “Please.”
He didn’t have to ask please, what? He rolled her to her back and lifted himself high enough to unzip her jeans and tug them down her hips.
“Shoes,” she said, and he moved to take off her boots and socks before stripping her jeans and dropping them onto the bed with her sweater.
“Holy shit, Ang.” His gaze swept her from head to toe. “You’re fucking amazing.”
She felt a blush happening. There was nothing she could do to stop it. “So are you,” she breathed.
He grinned. He stood and stripped. Her mouth dropped open as his cock sprang free.
Oh my…
He was nothing less than stunning. Of course. His body was beautiful, packed with hard muscle that was lean and defined. He had a flat abdomen—naturally—and those gorgeous hip bone things that slanted into a vee and pointed to his cock.
He was long and thick and slightly curved. Angie reached out to touch him before she could think twice about it. He groaned, his head tipping back as she stroked the velvety skin.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you doing that,” he tol
d her.
“I’ve imagined it too.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and bent toward him, intent on tasting him.
“Ang, you don’t have to—”
She licked the tip of him and his breath hissed in. He tasted salty and she swiped her tongue over him again. She loved the way he jerked.
“I know I don’t. I want to.”
“This isn’t supposed to be about me, minette. It’s supposed to be about you. I promised to make you feel great.”
She stroked him. “And when do you get to feel great too?”
“I already do.” He swallowed. “Just being here with you. Touching you. Tasting you.”
Angie slid her tongue along the underside of his cock and his head dropped back. “Fucking hell,” he said.
Emboldened, she opened her mouth and took him in. Or as much of him as she could. Her jaw stretched wide as she moved lower, taking more of him. She cupped his balls with her other hand. They were tight. Firm.
“Angie, baby. You’re killing me.”
“Not trying to,” she said before she sucked him in again. God, she was enjoying this. Enjoying having this kind of power over him. Colton Duchaine, French-American soldier of fortune. Hard-muscled badass. Amazing man who could cook like a dream and took care of her without complaint while she was sick. He was tender and sexy and serious.
She couldn’t love him more if she tried.
Love?
Yes, love. She really did love him. She’d tried not to, tried so hard to keep her distance and not let him in. It was all for nothing.
They hadn’t had sex yet and she loved him. You’ve done it now, Angelica. You’re doomed.
She must have hesitated because he reached for her, tugged her up until she was standing on the bed. She wasn’t much taller than he was from that vantage. He held her loosely, looking up at her with those soulful blue eyes. Her heart ached with everything she felt for this man.
She couldn’t tell him. It was far too soon for that. And she was far too vulnerable.
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