by Emma Slate
Colt talked about marriage like it was nothing. He wasn’t gun shy. We hadn’t even slept together yet and he was tossing the word around like it was just a formality, which I guess for men in his world, it was.
He’d never said he loved me. But he was ready to make me his Old Lady.
“I have to make some calls,” Colt said, setting down his keys on the table in the front hallway. I placed my keys and phone next to his.
“Will you Saran-wrap my cast? I want to shower.”
We went into the kitchen and Colt pulled out the plastic wrap and a rubber band. He leaned down to peck me on the lips. “Shower in my bathroom.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the good bathroom. Trust me.”
After he wrapped my cast, I left him to his phone calls and headed upstairs. I gathered my toiletries and a clean towel and took them into Colt’s bedroom. The furniture was solid oak, the walls a soft dove gray. The bed was huge, big enough for Colt—and me. I shivered in anticipation. I knew what would happen when we finally got together. It would be explosive and dynamic. It would make me feel everything that I’d been missing from my life.
It would bind me to him in a way I’d never been bound to another person. It would make me emotionally vulnerable, something I hadn’t allowed myself since Grammie’s death.
The bathroom had a long white counter with a sink, and there was a separate glass shower from a Jacuzzi tub. I envisioned us in that tub, surrounded by candles and bubbles.
I turned on the water in the shower, waiting for it to heat. It steamed up quickly and the water pressure was strong. I let it rain down on me, closing my eyes and turning my face into it. Halfway through washing my hair, I heard a quick knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening.
“How’s it going in there?” he asked.
“Going,” I replied.
“Was I right? About my bathroom being better than the guest one?”
“Maybe. I thought you had calls to make,” I replied.
“I finished them.”
He waited.
I knew what he was waiting for.
“You’re killing me here.”
I inhaled a shaky breath. “You’re welcome to join me.”
I heard the thump of his boots and didn’t bother holding back a smile. A moment later, there was a cold draft of air as Colt stepped inside behind me. I turned around so I could look at him. Ink covered his tan arms, but I hardly noticed the work as my eyes drifted lower, taking in his size and breadth. Though we’d been in bed just this morning and things had happened between us, seeing him in all his nude glory was different.
He could see me, too.
All the teasing and flirting was absent. The desire that been on a simmer was now cranked up to a rolling boil.
But before I could say anything, Colt said, “Turn around.”
I did as he commanded. His hand skated up my side and the curve of my waist until he got to my neck. He brushed my wet hair off my back and trailed a finger across my shoulder blades and down my spine.
I shivered.
A few moments later, I felt him spread bubbles along my skin, working slowly and gently as he cleaned me. I wanted to moan, but I bit my lip to stifle it.
“Selfish,” he muttered.
“Who? Me?”
“Me. Shoulda let you go. Shoulda gotten you out.”
“Richie tried to disappear,” I reminded him. “Look what happened to him.”
“Might’ve been different if he’d had the club to help him out.”
“None of that matters now.”
His hands moved from my back down, down, down. He rubbed circles on my thighs, his touch soothing.
“You don’t owe me anything, darlin’. You know that, right?”
I looked at him over my shoulder. His gaze was dark, but I caught the tiniest measure of vulnerability. It made my lip wobble with emotion as I thought of all that Colt had gone through alone.
“I needed you,” I said softly. “I just didn’t know I needed you.”
He sighed, taking a step closer to me and wrapping me in his arms. “Babe,” was all he said.
One day, Colt would need me too. He’d come to me, needing my touch, needing the embrace of a woman to wash away the heaviness that came with being president of a motorcycle club.
“She told me,” I admitted. “Joni.”
“What did she tell you?” he asked, brushing his lips across my shoulder.
“She told me you were worth it. That if I wanted to be with you, you’d never make me regret it.”
“When you need a rock, I can be that for you. You won’t believe me until something happens and you’re forced to lean on me. Richie’s death doesn’t count. He wasn’t someone you loved.”
“I don’t think I’d survive losing someone else I loved,” I murmured. “I’ve lost enough.”
“Yeah, darlin’. We both have.” He paused. “But life happens. And you get through it with family.”
I turned in his arms and pressed my lips to his left pectoral with the dates of his parents’ deaths. He’d never told me that’s what they were for, to honor and remember them, but he didn’t have to say it.
We understood each other without words and that was something that couldn’t be replicated or replaced.
I ran my hands up his wet, naked body, enjoying the droplets of water on his honey colored skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered, reaching for the soap to lather him with bubbles.
“I’ve got scars. You’re the one who’s beautiful.”
My fingers traced one long, thin mark that marred his shoulder. “We’ve all got scars, Colt. It’s just…some of them aren’t visible.”
“You’re killing me. You know that, right?” His hands went to my hair and gently tugged my head back so I was forced to look at him. His lips took mine in a hot and hungry kiss that left me breathless. “I need you. I need to be inside of you. I can’t wait any longer.”
I gently pushed him back under the spray so that he could rinse off while I stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off.
Colt shut off the water and snatched a towel from the hanging rod.
My skin prickled with goosebumps of anticipation.
It was all happening so fast with Colt, and yet it seemed inevitable.
I strode into the bedroom with Colt not far behind me. His damp skin glistened as his hungry gaze raked over me.
“Gonna lose the towel?”
Arching an eyebrow, a grin spread across my face. “You first.”
He dropped his towel and my gaze dropped with it. Colt was perfectly made, like a marble statue carved by Michelangelo himself.
And he was mine.
My hands went to my towel and I unfastened it, letting it fall to the floor.
Colt’s stare was hot as he sauntered toward me. He placed his hands on my arms, taking us down onto the bed. My back fell against the comforter with Colt looming over me. His mouth descended to take my lips in a ravenous kiss and his hands wove their way through my wet hair.
He kissed my mouth and then my neck before moving down to my breasts. His hands caressed and teased my nipples, making them ache, making me want him to lavish me with his mouth.
But he didn’t stop to worship them; he dotted kisses down my flat stomach and belly button. And then he looked up with an arrogant smile, and continued to kiss his way downward.
He spread my legs and just stared for a moment. It made me uncomfortable and I tried to close my thighs, but Colt’s hands prevented me.
“Stop,” he said softly. His eyes lifted to meet mine. “Why are you embarrassed?”
“You’re hanging out down there. It’s…weird.”
He chuckled. “This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I gotta take a minute to enjoy it.”
I smiled at him. “You’re not at all how I thought you’d be.”
He arched a brow. “How’d you think I’d be?”
> “I don’t know. Rougher. Unable to wait.”
His fingers inched across my skin to tease my folds. “Told you when I had you in my bed, I’d take my time. And that’s what I’m doing.”
Colt’s tongue slid across my aching flesh making me shudder and spread my legs wider.
He chuckled against the juncture of my thighs and continued his ministrations. He held nothing back, licking and sucking with abandon. Like a starving animal that had been lying in wait to feast.
Colt was relentless, unyielding. He gripped my hips to keep me stationary while his tongue devoured my essence.
“I knew you’d be sweet,” he murmured. “I know you’re close. I wanna hear you moan.”
He gently sucked me into his mouth and when my back bowed toward the ceiling, I came with a cry.
As I shuddered and shivered, Colt slid up my body, taking my lips with his. I tasted myself as he kissed me, and it only made me want him more.
He reached over to the bedside table and fiddled with the drawer. In a few quick motions, Colt was sheathed and his hand was on my knee, bending it so that it rested against the bed.
Colt poised at my entrance, looming over me. Eyes on mine, he slid into my body.
Even though I was slick with want, it still took a moment for me to adjust to him. And then I felt him everywhere. My nerves were on fire.
Colt’s gaze was bright and resolute. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded.
He skated his hand underneath me, bringing me closer to him.
“Oh God,” I moaned as another spark danced between my legs.
Colt’s thrusts were gentle at first, but then it was nothing but heat and chaos. I felt him in places I didn’t know I had. The pressure and intensity was so overwhelming that my eyes rolled back into my head.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, increasing his pace. Thoughtful desire gave way to mindless thrusting and our bodies intertwined like we were animals in heat. He growled low in my ear and when I looked down to see where our bodies connected, I saw him sliding in and out of me.
“I’m close,” he muttered.
I bucked against him and with his pelvis perfectly angled I detonated again, clenching around him hard.
With one final thrust, Colt shouted. He shuddered, his release pumping out of him.
He collapsed on top of me, our breathing ragged, our hearts ready to gallop out of our chests.
I felt like I’d been broken apart, and was only now beginning to piece myself back together.
Colt lifted his head to stare down at me. His eyes were glazed and his skin was flushed. He pressed his lips to mine and didn’t say anything as he gently pulled out.
I noticed the loss of him immediately, wincing at the tenderness between my legs.
I’d been ridden hard and fast, but damn if I didn’t feel like a woman.
He went into the bathroom. I heard the sound of him washing his hands and then he came back to bed. Colt lay down, his gaze languid and drowsy, his hand gently tracing the contour of my hip.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
I shook my head, my tangled hair brushing across my shoulders. I leaned over and skimmed my lips over his and then cuddled against his chest.
We were content to stay there for a moment, but then I finally rolled over to get out of bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked with a grin.
“To clean up. And then I plan on making some food.”
“You’re ready to eat again? After those enchiladas?”
“I didn’t eat them all,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, good point. What are you making?”
“I wanted to make pancakes, but I don’t know if I can whisk with my left hand.”
“I’ll whisk them for you.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
I went to one of his dresser drawers, rooting around for a T-shirt. I found one and slid it on before heading to the bathroom.
“I like you in my shirt, darlin’,” he said gently.
I smiled as I closed the door.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Colt said as he pushed away his empty plate.
I grinned. “I’m a decent cook, but I have two specialties: guacamole and pancakes.”
I finished off the last bite of my own short stack and then got up from the kitchen table to take the plates to the sink.
“Why are those your specialties?” Colt asked.
“When Grammie got sick, she lost her appetite. Pancakes and guacamole were the only things she could stomach. So I got really good at making them.”
While I loaded the dishwasher, Colt put away the maple syrup and then wiped down the kitchen table. I’d noticed he was someone who preferred his space tidy. He didn’t have clutter or a stack of mail by the door or magazines on the coffee table.
If I hadn’t seen the photos on the wall, I would’ve thought he was renting the house.
“You any good at laundry? Or cleaning the house?” Colt asked, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out two beers. He popped the tops with a bottle opener from the silverware drawer and handed me one.
“What are you really asking me, Colt?” I demanded.
“Nothin’. Just trying to figure out if I should give my housekeeper a raise.” He winked. “Since there are two of us living here now.”
“You have a housekeeper?”
“Damn right I do.”
“My, my, aren’t we spoiled?”
“I hate all that shit. Better off paying someone to handle it for me—and now you. I like cooking, but that’s because I grill mostly. But it’s nice coming home to a stocked refrigerator and clean sheets.”
“Yeah, I could see how you’d get used to that,” I agreed with a grin. “But I’d like to address something you just said.”
“Can you do it on the porch?”
I waved at him to lead the way. He opened the back door to the patio and we sat out in the spring afternoon. It wasn’t even close to sunset yet, but I doubted I’d be awake for it. I was exhausted; having run the gauntlet of emotions, not to mention the intimacy we’d shared earlier had my eyes drooping.
“What is it you wanna talk about?” He sat down on one of the patio furniture chairs and patted his leg.
I perched on his thigh, feeling like we were a couple that had known each other a lot longer than ten days.
Ten days? How had it only been ten days?
“You said now that we both live here.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Colt, I don’t live with you.”
“You do right now, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah, because of what’s going on. But what happens when all that’s over.”
“You still planning on getting out of dodge? Leaving town?” He took a sip from his beer, his brown eyes on me.
My gaze fell to the column of his throat and then lower to his bare chest. He was wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt, so his ink was on full display. I was riveted by his artwork. The massive Blue Angels logo on the underside of his left forearm, the modest Scottish flag underneath the dates of his parents’ deaths.
“No, I’m not leaving town,” I said slowly. “But I do plan on moving back into my house when the Iron Horsemen are no longer on my ass.”
His hand stole underneath the shirt I was wearing to rest on the small of my back. “You scared of tattoos?”
“Why are you changing the subject?”
“Don’t like the idea of you moving out of my place, that’s all. So, tattoos?”
“Never really thought they were for me.” I shook my head. “Does anyone call you James?”
“Never,” he said. “How’d you know my given name anyway?
I grinned. “Joni told me. What about Jamie? Anyone call you that?”
He snorted. “Fuck no.”
“What’s wrong with the nickname Jamie? I think it’s cute.”
“Cute enough to get it inked on you
?” His smile was devilish and just a tad hopeful.
It was my turn to snort. “Yeah, right. Like I’d let you brand me.”
“I’d get your name on me.”
“But that’s permanent!”
“Kinda the whole point.”
I shook my head. “You’re insane.”
He laughed.
“I wonder if I’ll ever get used to your way of life.”
Colt leaned over and set his bottle of beer down before standing, lifting me in his arms and carrying me inside.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he made his way to the stairs.
“Distracting you from thinking so much,” he said with a rueful grin.
We entered his bedroom, and he placed me in the center of his bed. The next thing I knew, I had a large biker’s body covering mine, and for the next few hours he found a way to pleasurably distract me from all my thoughts.
Chapter 13
A scream tore through my throat as the hazy nightmare held me hostage. Hands gripped my arms and I instantly tried to fight them off, but my limbs felt like they’d been filled with sand.
“No,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Mia!” the voice called through the mist. “Mia, darlin’, wake up.”
I forced my eyes open. Warm lamplight spilled across Colt’s clover-honey colored skin.
It took my body a moment to realize I was safe. I collapsed against the pillows as my surroundings came into focus.
His eyes rested on me, searching my face for answers. “What did you dream about?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted slowly. “It was one of those dreams where I couldn’t see, but knew I was terrified.”
“Yeah, I know you were terrified,” he rumbled. “You screamed in your sleep.”
“I did?”
He nodded. Colt settled back down and pulled me into his side. I lay my head against his chest and breathed him in, enjoying the comfort of him.
“Think you can go back to sleep?”
“I don’t know, I’m still pretty shaken.” My fingers swirled across his chest and then began to inch lower underneath the covers to find Colt hard.
I loved that he slept in the nude.