Page 66 of Colton's Last Resort

“I don’t care,” she blurted. When he opened his mouth to protest, she reached up to cover it. “You’re not Prince Charming? Fine. But I want this, and you want this.” She replaced her hand with her mouth, skimming softly in a gliding tease.

His hands dropped to her shoulders and latched as she lingered. He drew a quick breath in through the nose.

She broke away and saw the ardor on his face. “I won’t run from you tomorrow or the next day. I’m here.” She kissed him again, deeper. “Take what you want,” she invited.

He winced. “There’s nothing you could ask me that I wouldn’t give. That scares the hell out of me. I don’t care what those other fools told you. You’re not ice. You’re a four-alarm fire. And I’m burning, damn it. I can’t afford this. I can’t afford you or what you do to me.”

“I’m not going to run,” she whispered. She thought of Allison, his mother... “I won’t be gone tomorrow.”

His hands still clutched her shoulders, firm, but they were no longer keeping her at arm’s length. They pulled her into his circle of danger and heat. His muscles were still rigid, his grimace unbroken. But she felt him give... With her hands sliding from his waist to the backs of his hips, she angled her mouth to accept his.

It wasn’t an onslaught this time. His tongue flicked across hers and he nibbled her lip, but the clash took on a different hue. She ached with it, the ball of need inside her roughening. It grew diamond bright.

“Tell me again,” he instructed. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Fitting her palms to the backs of his, she used them to sweep her body from throat to thighs. She slowed the motion down as they followed up the seam of her legs where her thighs came together, up her belly, over her breasts, cheeks, hair...

He raked his fingers through the damp strands, then did it all again on his own. His hands slid firmly down her torso, teased her inner thighs before putting on the brakes, slowing the motions, skimming the folds of her sex so that her hips circled and she sought. She clamped her hand over the back of his, encouraging.

He didn’t whisper so much as breathe the words again. “Show me. Show me exactly how to make you come alive.”

Her touch worked urgently against his, demonstrating.

He caught on. “Like this?”

She nodded, then stopped when he increased the rhythm. She gulped air.

His hand slipped beneath her underwear. She moaned and churned.

This would break her, she decided. That was his endgame. He wanted to watch her come apart one molecule at a time. The flames inside her raced and leaped as she climbed the ladder fast.

She came, biting the inside of her lip.

“Let it go, Pearl,” he bade. “For Christ’s sake.”

She couldn’t leash it. A cry wrenched from her, unpolished and visceral. Everything he made her feel.

“Yes,” he encouraged, his mouth on her throat.

She shuddered as she came down off the high, messy and resplendent. Something bubbled up her throat. It crested, escaped. A sob, she heard, distressed. “Oh, God,” she uttered. She felt rearranged and so sparkly and sated, she thought she could taste stars.

“Hold on,” he said, tossing one of her loose arms around his neck, then the other. Grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her out of the water.

She fumbled over the ledge of the pool, coming to rest on her hands and knees. Every limb felt like a noodle. “Oh, sweet Lord,” she said, then snorted a laugh. Quickly, she covered her mouth, wondering where it had come from. When he didn’t follow, she asked, “Coming?”

He swiped his face from brow to chin, gave a half laugh and glanced down at his waist.

Understanding gleaned. He may have slaked her need, but not his own. Looking toward the wicker cabinet where she kept towels and a robe, she dragged herself to her feet.

She retrieved two towels, the long ones that wrapped around her twice. She folded herself into one, knotting it beneath her collarbone.

Behind her, she heard a splash and turned to see him emerging from the water. He passed a hand over his head as he turned from her, slicking the hair back away from his face.

She went to him. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he said and reached for the towel.

She pulled it away, trying to compress the sly impulse to smile.

---