Page 94 of Friends Don't Kiss

“Fuck it, babe, you feel so good,” he says as his back bucks under my hands.

My breathing hitches. “Ohmygod, Colt. Yes. Just let go with me. Please.”

With a groan he lifts himself slightly off me and makes eye contact, his gaze never leaving mine as his strokes become more and more powerful. He stills and throws his head back with a groan as heat fills me and I buckle under my own orgasm, gripping his shoulders.

Tremors seize his body, his forearms holding him right above me. “You okay?” he whispers.

I clutch his nape to bring him down on me. “Never been better,” I whisper back.

His heartbeat resonates through my whole body while he gently strokes my hair. He drops a kiss on my temple. “Don’t move,” he says, pushing himself off me. He disappears into the bathroom, the water runs for half a minute, then he comes back with a warm washcloth and runs it inside my thighs. “Does it still hurt?” he asks as he gently runs the soft side of the cloth over my folds.

I smile so big my cheeks hurt. “No,” I whisper, drawing him closer.

He drops the cloth on the floor and pulls me against his chest. “You know what I love the most about you?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

“Mm?” I ask back, stroking his hair.

He cups my hip with one hand. “You’re such a bad liar.”

I chuckle softly against him. I’ve got nothing to say to that.

We stay quiet for a while, until he breaks the soft silence. “Can I ask you a question?” he says, stroking my hair.

I brace myself. “M-hm?”

“Why did you bake me cupcakes for my dates?”

I lift my shoulder and continue to trail his chest hair with my finger. “To be nice.”

His face tilts down toward me. “You wanted to be nice to my dates?”

“I wanted to show them that…” The vision of Colton showing up at a date with a box of cupcakes pops into my brain and I chuckle. “What would they say?”

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you? To scare them off?”

I swat his chest. “No!”Maybe, to be honest. But not in a conscious way.

“What would they say?” I repeat, now curious as hell.

“Babe, I didn’t bring them your cupcakes.”

“No?!” I push myself up, pretending to be offended.

He brings me back against him with one effortless contraction of his bicep. “Not gonna waste pure perfection on some random chick I’ll never see again,” he mutters.

What?! My mouth stretches in a smile despite myself, and my center warms at the confirmation that none of these dates meant anything to him. “Colton Harper, did you eat them all by yourself?”

He tilts his head down at me. “Sure did. Each one of your cupcakes. Thinking about you first thing in the morning isn’t all that bad, let me tell you. Last thing at night, either.”

Is he saying he thought about me after his dates? My mouth dries up, and so does my brain. I have no follow-up question to this, not even something to confirm whether I heard him right or just made something up.

He groans, shifts to the side, and runs his calloused hand alongside my torso, the pad of his thumb barely grazing the curve of my breast. When he reaches my waist, he dips down to cup my hipbone and gives it a squeeze. “But the best goddamn cupcake is right here between your legs,” he mutters, moving down the length of the bed to place his mouth at my entrance.

“You did not!” I half giggle, half moan as he nuzzles my labia.

“Did not what?” The vibration of his voice against my intimate parts is almost untenable.

“Compare my vajayjay to a cupcake.”

---