Page 158 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

My eyes grow heavy, and I nod, exhaling a shuddered breath. “I guess you better make this shot, then.”

Colter raises his brow and curls his lip into a devious smile, turning toward the table. His eyes take in his options before he bends down and lines up his cue to make his shot, banking the ball into the left-center pocket.

“Would you look at that…?” He leans his cue on the side of the table, then stalks toward me, wrapping his arm around my waist until I press against him. “I think you’re my best win yet.”

He moves with me as I take two steps backward until I bump against the table. His warm breath feathers against my skin as he trails a path of kisses up my neck toward my ear.

“Colter,” I whisper, putting my hand on his chest, and he hums in response.

“You didn’t call your shot.” He pulls away, not believing me. I drag my lip between my teeth, fighting the urge to smile.

His mouth drops open before he snaps it shut again, knowing what this means.

“Looks like I win.” This time, there’s no holding back the grin that takes over my face.

He mutters a low “fuck” under his breath before he wraps his hand along the side of my face, using his thumb to lift my chin until my eyes meet his.

“Turn around and put your hands on the table, Ava.”

My breath catches in my throat, and he steps back, nodding for me to follow his orders.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he kneels on the ground behind me, reaching for the button of my jeans before jerking them down my legs.

He presses his large palm along my spine, moving me to arch my back and forcing my ass out toward him. He stares between my legs, a hungry look taking over his face.

His firm tongue swipes over my clit from behind, and my legs go shaky.

A low moan rumbles from deep in his chest before he says, “Calling the shots.”

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