Page 100 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

“It’s weird, that’s why.”

Colin cupped her jaw, cradling her face in his hands, giving her little choice but to look at him. Gone was the teasing glint in his eyes, replaced with absolute sincerity. “It’s not weird if we both like it.”

She swallowed hard, heart hammering. “Yeah?”

He leaned in, nose brushing hers sweetly. “Yeah, baby.”

When he kissed her, there were faint traces of copper still on his lip, his tongue when he swept it inside her mouth. She didn’t let herself think; she fisted her hands in his shirt, sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and worried it between her teeth.

His hips jerked. Heat unspooled inside her belly, and she pressed against him, trapping his cock between their bodies. Close wasn’t close enough; she wanted to climb inside him.

He tore his mouth from hers and groaned. “Fucking hell, Truly.”

“Take this off.” She tugged on his shirt, then stepped back to strip her dress over her head.

Wearing just his briefs—light gray except for where the fabric had darkened over the head of his cock—Colin pressed her down against the bed.

His hand dove beneath the lace waistband of her underwear, his fingers finding her sopping. “Christ. How’d I get this lucky?”

“If memory serves”—her breath stuttered when he circled her clit—“you insulted me and then begged for my forgiveness.”

Colin chuckled. “That’s how, huh? I think you might be forgetting several keys steps along the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, we were both there.” She reached for the band of his briefs. “Now stop teasing me and take these off.”

He slapped her hand aside. “It’s called foreplay.”

“Don’t need it,” she argued, bucking her hips. “I’m ready. I’m ready, just—”

She palmed his cock through his briefs, making him swear.

“Okay, shit. Hold on.” He hooked his fingers in the waist of his briefs, shucking them and tossing them across the room.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she pressed against the sun-warmed skin of his shoulder and knocked him off-balance. He landed on his back with a surprised laugh.

Moonlight streamed through the open blinds, casting slanted shadows across his face. He was so pretty it hurt, a physical ache blooming inside her chest and in the spaces between her ribs. Splayed out on his dark green duvet, his mole-splattered skin looked paler than it was, his mussed hair fanned against his pillow.

He wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it twice, staring up at her with dark eyes. “Get up here.”

She grabbed his wrists and pressed them against the duvet, earning an incredulous look. “Not until you tell me what it is you like. Don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding the question.”

A scarlet flush stained his cheeks. “Truly.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not bad.” He chuckled and she didn’t fail to notice that he hadn’t tried to move his hands. “I already told you.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to play nice with you.”

Her heart crashed against her sternum. “Do you want me to be... mean?”

His lips quirked. “Little bit. If you want.”

Uncertainty gnawed at her, warring with the heat from the memory of his lip streaked with scarlet. “What does that even mean?”

“Just be you. I’m sure it’ll come naturally.”

“Jerk,” she said, without any heat.

“See, you’re a natural.”

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