Page 65 of Colton's Last Resort

She felt his breath on her ear. Then the bite of his teeth on the lobe, light and quick. “Laura?”

She shuddered at the sound of her name. “Yes?”

“In our game of Twenty Questions, I never asked you the most important one.”

She tilted her cheek against his as he drew her closer still, his lips grazing her jaw. “What’s that?”

“How do you like to be touched?”

The breath left her. It bolted. She felt the flush sink into her cheeks. It sank lower, deeper. And it turned darker, more shocking and satisfying.

Take what you want, Laura, she told herself.

She touched the back of his hand. Raising it to her breast, she brought it up to the ache, snug beneath the heavy curve. Spreading her fingers over his so that he mirrored the motion, she let her fingertips dig into his knuckles and encouraged him to grasp, take.

He obeyed. Her mouth opened on a silent cry as he molded her, kneading her through her sports bra.

“Don’t be a lady,” he told her. “Don’t be quiet.”

She swallowed, the sounds clawing up her throat. “You...you want to know my secret?”

“All of them,” he said, brushing his thumb over the unmistakable outline of her nipple. “I want to know every last one of your secrets, Pearl.”

A bowstring drew taut between her legs. Urgency quivered there. “I hate when you call me that,” she said. “And I think about you even when I shouldn’t.”

“When?”

He is so good at this, she thought, arching back as the kneading quickened. “All the time.”

“When?” he said again, the note dropping into his chest as his hold tightened.

“I think about you when I work,” she rattled off. “I think about you when I’m with others, when I’m alone. In bed. In the shower.”

He groaned. Turning, face-to-face, she saw the answering heat and need behind it. “I think about you kissing me...touching me...”

“Is that what you want?” He was close, but he pulled her closer, so his mouth brushed her own. “You want my hands on you? My mouth?”

She heard herself beg, “Please.”

His eyes closed but not before she saw his relief. “As you wish,” he whispered before taking her mouth in a decisive kiss.

He didn’t kiss softly. He took, and she clung. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

His hands spanned her waist. They cruised, flattening against her ribs, as he licked the seam of her lips, encouraging. She parted for him. One hand rose to the back of her head as he plumbed, touching his tongue to hers.

Her body bowed against his. Every inch of him was hard and fine. She spanned her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, looking for purchase.

There was none. With him, there was nothing but that slippery slope of want and need, and she was going under.

She felt the pool tiles on the wall at her back. Pinned, she felt her excitement focus, sharpen. It arrowed toward her center.

With a harsh noise that sounded almost angry, he snatched his mouth from hers. He cursed, placing his hands safely on either side of her head.

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth. It stung. The tip of her tongue tingled.

His jaw muscle flexed. It was rigid. His eyes were alive, knife-edged, electrifyingly tungsten. The hands planted against the wall clenched in on themselves. She felt him go back on his heels and grabbed him by the arms. “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “I’m no good for you.”

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