Page 200 of Things Left Unsaid

When his hands bite into my hips hard enough to leave marks later, I shudder and up the pace.

Faster, faster.

Enjoying his grunts and curses and heavy exhalations as I pleasure him. As I take control in a position where we depend on the other for stability.

“So good, too good.”

That’s when one hand lets go of my hips, the other arm bands around my spine for support, and his fingers find my clit.

A couple brushes of the tips to the nub and I’m shuddering like they’re set on vibrate mode. His fingers arenot, however, a sex toy, but they might as well be.

“Colt!” I scream, head tipping back as my climax detonates inside me—against my will.

And he feels every part of it because that old pal gravity has me turning into a vise around him, every one of his inches surrounded by my release.

He groans my name, long and low, but it starts with a hiss and ends with heavy, panting breaths as he comes inside me.

Raw.

I can feel him throbbing and it’s everything I dreamed of and so much more because his forehead rests on my shoulder and each exhalation he makes brushes the upper swell of my breasts.

The peak hits us hard and keeps us locked together for endless moments.

But nothing lasts forever.

Eventually, he leaves me. His arms don’t, though.

He rocks back a couple steps. “Brace yourself.”

Still lost in my daze, I shriek when he tumbles us into the lake. I should have known it was a controlled motion because we don’t collide. We simply slip into the water.

“Jerk,” I cry.

His chuckle is tired as he moves us closer to the shore so that he can plant his ass on terra firma.

When he does, I thought he’d untangle us, but he doesn’t. If anything, he settles back, the warm lake water cosseting us while I act as an unofficial blanket.

I don’t complain, simply tip my head to the side and rest it over his heart.

His pulse turns calm and steady, with only a slight lilt to it that tells me he exerted himself.

I don’t know why but it makes me sad. That union was in the past.Already.

A part of me is scared everything’s in the past with him. We’ve never had a future together, and one certainly isn’t promised…

“I missed you,” I rasp, “and I never even had you.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I know that as soon as I let the words fall from my lips, but he doesn’t shove me away at the reminder of times gone. Doesn’t grow tense.

Instead, he asks, “Will you miss me now that you’ve had me?”

I didn’t expect that answer. “I don’t want to. I want this to be a step in the right direction.”

“I don’t deserve for you to stay. Not after how I treated you.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?”

“You should send me to hell and?—”

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