BUFF

  She swallows the moisture in her mouth. “And… then what?” she murmurs, her eyes drift shut as his nose bumps hers.

  “Then we go back to our lives. You and your family will be safe and I'll—”

  “You'll go back to what you do.”

  “Yeah…” He breathes against her cheek, the slight brush of air makes her quiver even though he’s scarcely touching her.

  Sighing full and hard, Becky shakes her head, pulling back from him as if to ward away the immensity of his power. When she draws away from the security of his warm body she is torn to shreds within.

  “Now…” With greater care than she has ever seen anyone move, Colt skims the side of her bruised cheek; his fingers trace the curve and dip of the shape. “…is all we have, Becky."

  “What if that's not enough for me.” She feels her soul slipping between the cracks. The blue staring back at her crystallizes, brilliant and undiluted.

  “I can’t have what I want.” He clears his throat. “I’ll only drag you to Hell.” The begrudging statement of his next words comes out strangled, “All I have is right now—if you want it. I can’t make that promise of forever."

  “Tell me what you want?” She wants to—needs to—know. To know every inch of him, inside and out.

  Her breathing tumbles, staggering while his grows to an audible rasp. “You."

  “Me…?” Her voice fades, the residual lace of self-doubt echoing between them.

  “You,” he repeats, “just you.” Somehow the distance between them evaporates, diminishing her grasp on what he’s just said, making her lose ground as he nears her, overshadowing her world.

  “What could I give you?"

  “Let me take away the pain I caused… for awhile.” He scoops her face in between his hands. “Whatever you want… whatever you need… Anything."

  The urge to give in and crumble, to lean on him without inhibition—all of it is spinning around in her brain at warp speed.

  “Colt...” She licks her lips, winces a bit at the sting it causes. “I've been fighting it for a long time but… I want you. Have since the day you saved me. But all this, it’s confusing me. I don’t know if I can do this and just walk away. Pretend I never had you, like this… I just don’t know if I can."

  “I'm not asking you to pretend. I'm asking you to let me wash away my sins with you.” He finds her hand that lays over her knee. “Here. Right now. Becky. Let me."

  “I can't… I need…” She stumbles up to a standing position and this time he doesn’t move to stop her. “I just need some time. Is that okay?"

  His tone is rich and thick in understanding as it washes over her, “Okay.” He stands slowly, growing over her like the warm shade of a tree. She backs away a few inches, head down, eyes filmed by her pervading thoughts, then walks around him. She feels off-balanced. “Let me help you."

  “No,” she quickly counters, shaking him off with a faint smile and turning back to watch where she’s going. “I'm fine.” She steps into the kitchen, face to the side, a wall of tears in her eyes.

  Silence falls. Deeper.

  Her thinking, her thoughts now, are louder than any shouting or cries she has done with him. Becky has spent most of her life hiding the way she really feels, but Colt sees it all. It’s wreaking havoc on her, makes her feel like her skin is on a rack and being stretched without mercy.

  “Wait." The one word, hushed and growled, stops her in her tracks to escape him.

  He enters the kitchen, grabs for something in his back pocket, turns it over in his hand a couple of times. His hand is so large and whatever he’s holding is so small it takes her several seconds to actually see what it is.

  “Here.” He reaches for her hand and she lets him, cupping the back, the heat of his palms scorching her knuckles under his touch. She looks at him.

  Colt clears his throat. “I'm going to press send. When the man on the other end picks up, tell him who you are and he'll give the phone to your dad."

  “Dad… you mean I can talk to him?"

  “At least I can do this for you. But not long. This is an untraceable phone. I'm dumping it once everything’s over but I don't wanna take any chances. Five minutes tops."

  “Colt… I…” Scarce for words, her head shakes from side to side. “Thank you,” she gently lets out.

  He releases her hand and backs away, but his eyes never let go of her. “Remember…” The tiny lift of the corner of his mouth tilts. “…Anything."

  * * *

  THE LUMP IN HER THROAT INFLATES, blocking her already tensed breaths. "Dad, I love you."

  She can see him in her mind smiling on the other end of the phone. “I love you, too, Pumpkin."

  “Tell Mom and Toby I love them so much and miss them every minute of the day."

  “I will. Look after yourself. See you soon, Pumpkin.”

  His voice is gone, disappearing just as quick and out of nowhere as it had appeared, like an apparition of her making.

  “Yes… soon...”

  Clicking the flap shut she fists the phone in her hand, the first of her tears falling against both her cheeks. Repeating her words she whispers into the dimly lit room, “Soon...” And then her face falls forward into her cupped hands.

  Her cries come unhindered and she’s a little alarmed by how much the tears rack through her body. Her shoulders bounce uncontrollably and the burning tightness in her stomach spreads, making her feel numb.

  Becky tries her hardest to remain as quiet as possible, muffling the involuntary anguished moans. She misses her family so much, everything is spinning inside her. The heartache tears at her.

  The heel of a palm, hard but soothing, works its way up and down her back. Not wanting to but unable to stop herself, she freezes, her defenses up. She wipes her wet nose and then her cheeks, apologizing before she even turns. “I'm sorry."

  “Hey,” he says, brushing the veil of hair so he can see her face better. “Little Bit."

  When her head remains down he comes closer, twisting the seat so that she’s completely in front of him. She can’t hide from him.

  “I was just upset... It’s no big deal."

  “Stop."

  Her eyes peer up at him. “Stop what?"

  He skims his thumb down the side of her forehead to her cheek, resting comfortably on the edge of her chin. “Stop pretending you're not hurt."

  Nodding she says, “I'm fine."

  “Don't believe you.” His other hand comes up, cupping her shoulder. Colt's expression mirrors her own, lost, but peacefully hungry in that state.

  “Sorry.” Her tongue sweeps across her lower lip, the flesh begging for moisture from the cold.

  Colt's gaze strays lower, shadowing in a haze of distant want. “Don't be sorry."

  Becky's effort to keep her head straight from swimming is half-hearted. “It’s just hard hearing his voice… It brings back all this pent up… stuff."

  “I promise it’ll be over soon."

  The promise subsides the storm of emotion inside her, pressing it down until nothing is left but a whisper. “I know."

  “It’s me who should be sorry."

  The magnitude of his stare brings her to the edge of her seat. She leans closer, her forehead grazing his. “Don't be. You saved our lives. You saved mine... again."

  His eyes smile down, twinkling like stars over a velvet moonlight. “That's not what you said before."

  She can’t smile, can’t even breathe to make herself think. All she understands is that the pain inside her is vanishing and is being replaced by something violent, overpowering, plowing everything else aside. “Things change."

  The whirlwind sweeping through her reflects in his stare, overtaking him like he’s as much a victim to the magnetic pull between them as she is. “Yeah, they do."

  “Colt,” she breathes in a warning, not sure who she is speaking to.

  The back of his knuckles slowly trace across the span of her skin, each knuckle, rough and weathered, igni
tes a flame underneath in its leave.

  “Can you…” Her full mouth opens then shuts.

  “Becky.” His eyes close and his other hand tightens over her chin. “I can make you forget.”

  Arching her back and leaning up to meet him, the dark desire that is swelling inside her echoes in his words, rushing at him, intoxicatingly. Helpless against his power she lets him kiss her, long, soft and deep. He kisses her with care, with unleashed recklessness. Discovering and frantic, their gasps mount over one another, each one more stunned and destroyed than the next.

  Wrapping his arms around her whole back, Colt lifts her off the seat and her legs lock around his tight torso. Their kisses never break, never retire from their starving pace of need as they feed off one another, get so lost and so tangled, that somewhere along the way, without their knowledge, they find themselves in one another.

  * * *

  SHE UNDERSTANDS NOW.

  Her whole life has been a prelude to this moment.

  Wrapped up so tight in the warm safety of arms and legs, breath and hands, small figments and fragments that all piece together, Becky frees herself.

  It’s always in those quiet rumbling seconds where he first touches her that always sends her excuses away, never to be seen again. Now she revels in their departure; happy for once that her brain ceases from its rampant upheaval, easing her soul and letting her banquet in the glory of this fanciful-like dream.

  It’s raining outside. But neither of them have noticed. Neither of them care to even step out of the sweet enclosed space of the living-room. Life and time have come to a stop, obliging their need to just be. Damning their futures, the inevitable breaking of their hearts, they pretend nothing else exists but this enclosed break of time. This is their life, right in this second of kissing and hot murmurs. Everything else can wait.

  They’re lying on the couch. Practically Naked. Becky, in only her jeans and him, in just his.

  Colt is over her, into her; his body, his skin, a patchwork of his and her flesh. He kisses her, hard, deeper, ordering for further access that Becky isn’t sure is possible to give. She remains shaky under him, still in awe to his large masculine form and how his vast presence compromises all her goodness.

  Colt's hand dashes out, cups her head that’s laying on the pillow behind her and draws her to him, crushing her face to his, suspending her face and his in midair, like they’re frozen together, locked in that sensation and moment.

  His enduring need for her seems never-ending. Nothing is able to satisfy or sedate it. The man is wild. A vessel of white-hot lust. Insatiable. The past twenty-four hours only being filled with kissing, intimate touches, whispers, only breaking for food and minor necessitates. Colt has become her world, filling her vision, the start and stop of every thought. It scares her, excites her.

  It shakes her to the very root of her soul.

  Her moan turns urgent, “Colt...” His mouth is greedy as it delves, sinking into her with open kisses that suck the breath from her lungs, sending her back down to the couch and taking him with her.

  Her whole body flowers open, inviting him in. Her legs trap around his, the heels of her feet dig into the back of his knees. His hands glide between her face and body, going back and forth as though both feel too good to choose.

  Her head shifts from the side, facing him, taking his mouth in hers. The tip of her tongue traces the outlining of his bottom lip then the open space of his mouth, lapping out in a roll that calls for him but finds empty. She stretches up farther, gliding her tongue across the bottom row of teeth then the top, waiting for him to meet her blatant proposal.

  She feels his body hold off a bit, linger, as he watches the begging state of her body groaning. Being servant to his will, her fingernails bury themselves into his scalp and the back of his neck. Becky is half-crazed, her brain melting with desire.

  Patiently, with intentional exaggeration, his tongue, coarse and slick, finds hers, conquers hers down from her fumbling pause into her mouth and drinks from her. First in slow, soft strokes, then in arrogant strokes that heighten the sensations in her to the point of total submission; until all she feels is the wetness between her legs, the shake of her shoulders and the brush of fiery wings low in her belly.

  His right hand slowly drifts down, melding her breast; the mass of his hand swallows the round jiggling flesh. The pad of his thumb lands right on her nipple but he doesn’t skim the aching bud, just stays planted there, waiting, burning a hole with the weight of his finger as Becky arches her back and moans into his mouth.

  He squeezes, possessively. “You make me wanna do things I’ve never thought of before…”

  Instead of continuing in his taunting clutches, his hand skates down, the weathered tips of his fingers brushing across her naked tummy like a rocket of fire, before continuing the journey down, unbuttoning her jeans in one, quick jot.

  Awaiting and careful, his hand glides across her stomach, setting the touch of him on her skin in its place. His fingers slip between the crease of her jeans, in and out, touch and go, breezing like electric feathers over her body. She bites her lip and Colt looks down, entranced, like a spectator, as though darkly curious at how her face will look if he’s inside of her, embedded so deep, she’ll be sweating and gasping under him.

  “Colt,” she whimpers in her throat, “please."

  The diving exploration of his kiss freezes and breaks. Colt doesn’t move, doesn’t back away like Becky expects. He remains just as close as if he’s kissing her. But he isn’t. His breathing becomes ragged as it falls across her still open mouth.

  “Colt.” She licks her lips, making him groan as his forehead leans into hers. “Take me.”

  His eyes close, hers stay open, watching his confliction openly. The battle within shades his color in an exerting red, his skin rippling against the strain of need for her.

  He wants her.

  She wants everything with him.

  Her hand comes up, sheltering his cheek with it, wanting to comfort him, but not knowing what it will take to release him of his commitment to maintain a certain distance between them.

  “Colt.” She kisses the corner of his mouth. “It's okay. I know now… what I want."

  His head waves, dismissing her sentiment and the unconscious incitement that it carries beneath it. “You don't know what you're saying."

  “Yes. I do." His body seems to be stuck on her, craving the taste and feel of Becky and her only.

  “Becky. I won’t do this.” His swollen mouth lingers over hers. “I can't."

  “Why? I want to.” Becky's graceful caress seems to burn his thinking, almost banishing his steel restraint. “I'm not a… you know this won’t be my first—”

  “Shssh.”

  He kisses her, the center of his mouth puckering out to press gently against hers. Then he is up and away from her. His warmth gone, vanishing, leaving only the raging ghost of his penetrating self. She breathes a few deep breaths.

  “I thought you wanted this… wanted me… I thought…"

  “I do.” He leans in her direction, his arm coming up to lay around the back of the couch. His voice is deep, a caving mystery. “I do, Little Bit."

  She sits up leaning on her elbows, peering at him through filmed eyes. Using her elbows she voyages the rest of the way up, her bottom sliding up as her arms circle her bent legs that come to rest against her heaving chest.

  “Then why are you holding back from me?"

  His eyes stab truthfully into hers. “I'm not."

  “You're afraid."

  A playful, almost sinful smirk tugs at his lips. “The last thing I feel around you is fear."

  “Then what is it?” His silence pushes more distance between them. “This can’t be forever, I get that. I can live with that, Colt, but I don’t want to die wondering." Her insecurity claws for release as heat stampedes her cheeks. “Unless… I know I'm not as experienced as the other women you've been with…"

  He doesn’t
say anything. He doesn’t have to. Suddenly she can read everything he is feeling. His hurt, his anger, the direct hit she’s just slapped across his face.

  “You think that?” he accuses, but speaks the words as a question.

  “I don't know what to think,” Becky explains, weakly. “Why are you holding back?"

  “I don't want to hurt you, is that so wrong? For once in my goddamn life I'm trying to the right thing."

  “Right thing…? How? I want to be with you. If this is our time, if we only have one chance then—”

  “That's not a good reason! You don't jump into something just because you think it might be gone the next minute."

  “But it will be! All this will. There is no ‘if’.” Her voice echoes hollowly in the air. “I don’t want to hide from you, Colt. Never with you.”

  The silence gathers and escalates between them, parting them in two separate directions. Head hung, Colt looks away from her, but as though the rise of his emotions has a mind of its own, they finally break and bridge the small gap.

  “I want you,” he confesses, under the breath of his words. She hardly hears him, but it feels like he’s screaming it to her. “I want you so bad it’s killing me inside.” She can feel his body trembling, crumpling beneath. “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve you.”

  Lustful agony scorches through her skin at his poignant want. “Colt—”

  “There. You satisfied?” He stands, but Becky for once is faster, shooting up and blockading his attempt to escape her.

  “No."

  “What?” His hands come up, agitated, but his usual icy-blue eyes look like they’re made from glass.

  Tears.

  Tears that haven’t fallen yet.

  Colt Lawson, the cold-hearted killer of a mob boss… bleeds for her.

  “No.” Becky gulps, laying her hand in the middle of his bare chest and pressing her fingertips where she can feel his heartbeat—erratic, like a wild drumbeat against her skin. “No, I'm not satisfied. Only you can satisfy…" Her fight is a lost one and she hesitates, tipping her head up as she moves closer. “…me.”