Page 155 of Friends Don't Kiss

Kiara

Coltonrushesustothe hotel, and my feet seem to fly over the sidewalk as we dodge office workers rushing home, school children holding hands, and dogs pulling on leashes.

In the tiny elevator, I get drunk on Colton’s scent, inhaling him deeply as I close my eyes and lean against him. He finds my lips with his, and seals us together again, and in this moment, I’m certain of it.

He’s my home.

His taste is the only one I need. His smell makes me vibrate, and is one I can’t find anywhere else. The deep rumble of his voice calms me, his laughter brings me up. His moods are mine and I know mine are his; we’re more than just together. We’re one. That’s why being apart is so… unnatural.

He lets me inside the hotel room first, drops the backpack in a corner, shucks his jacket off, and rolls the sleeves of his flannel up his forearms. Then, hands on his hips, he says, “Before we tear off each other’s clothes…” He runs his palm on his chin, and darkness clouds his gaze. “You got any offers you’re accepting?”

My stomach bottoms. We haven’t talked about that—ever. I’ve emailed Annabel about possible jobs, more out of courtesy to her, and also interest on my part. But talking with Colton about moving out of Emerald Creek for good is something I couldn’t bring myself to do.

“I just need to know what I’m in for, sweets. Last three months were hell, not saying that to influence you, but you gotta understand. I need to know if this is another goodbye.” He reaches for my hand and draws me to his chest, and I’m grateful this hides the tears pooling in my eyes. The last three months were hell for me too, and I felt weak for feeling this way.

I run my hand under his shirt, my fingers catching on ridges that are harder than I remember them, bones where flesh used to be. I dip my face inside his shirt while unbuttoning it, my tongue licking its way down, making him hiss.

His lips skim the top of my head as his voice echoes in my own heart. “Don’t get me wrong, this is the sweetest goodbye and one I’m ready to have over and over and over again. Even looking forward to it. I just need to know.” He loosely strokes my back, a comforting touch he feels necessary to allow me to open up. “Just need to manage my expectations, yeah? How’s the next few years gonna look like for us.”

I tilt my head up and our gazes lock. “You’re my home, Colt. From the day you knocked on the window of my car. It’s been a long time coming, and I resisted pretty much every step, every hand you held out for me.”

He kneads the back of my head. “You had every reason to do it. And I understand you want a career. I told you I’d—”

“Stop being so fucking nice to me, baby. What doyouwant?”

His erection pokes my belly as he pulls me against him. His fingers tug my hair, exposing my throat. “I want to drag you back home,” he says in a low growl, “put a ring on your finger, and wake up next to you every morning, my mouth eating your cupcake, my babies in your belly, my car in your driveway. That’s what I want, and I want it now.”

My center clenches. I want to climb him and get us both naked and on top of each other on the small bed, but I can’t help myself. I hear myself say, “Is this your way of proposing?” Which, really isn’t so nice and why—

Any coherent thought is erased as he rips my top off me, pushes me on the bed, and leans down, suckling on my nipple to the sound of his belt unbuckling. He yanks the rest of my clothes off, his eyes feasting on me. “Not sleeping one more night without you—ever,” he growls. He nibbles on my earlobe. “Missed you so much, you have no idea.” Then he licks his way down my belly as my legs open for him. “Need to taste you.”

I moan at the rasp of his stubble against my inner thighs, then arch my back when he takes an inhale right against my center.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice caressing my clit. “That’s my girl. Greedy for me, are you?”

“Take me, Colt. Please.”

He licks my folds, then suckles on my clit as I rake through his hair for purchase. The pleasure is intense, but I want more. “Take me and don’t ever let me go again.”

He lifts his head up, his irises two dark pools I want to drown in. In one motion his body is covering mine and he’s inside me, filling me so completely I almost blabber. My legs wrap around his hips, my heels find his ass.

He sets a punishing rhythm for us, pumping in and out of me, his bulging biceps caging me, his torso shining with fresh sweat. “Fucking love the way you pull me in, Kiara. You missed me?”

My nails rake his back. “I missed you, babe. Missed youso much.”

He growls, gives two more pushes, then flips me over. “Pretty little ass you got there,” he says and gives it a slap.

I tilt my hips up, missing him already. “Colt…”

“Here you go, babe, take it.” He pulses inside me, hisses, then pumps in and out, his strong hands setting the movement.

I clutch the bedsheets, abandoned to Colton’s whim, letting him control my orgasm with his cock, a flick of his finger against my clit, then a pinch on my nipple. What does me in is when he lowers his front against my back, and I can feel his heat and the faint brush of his chest hair and his breath against my neck. “You’ve always been mine, Kiara. And I take care of what’s mine.”

fifty-nine

Colton

Thenexttwodays,Kiara has her final exams, so I spend my time visiting vintage car repair shops. At first I’m hesitant, seeing as I speak absolutely no French, but the mechanics I meet seem excited to meet me, and between their knowledge of English and translation apps, we make it work. The vintage car community has this love for making old things work, it’s like we’re speaking the same language already. I show them photos of repairs I’ve done at the garage, and I’m surprised how much they know about American cars. “Films. James Dean,” someone tells me. I nod. They show me photos of 2CV they’ve done work on, as well as a Traction Avant. One of them shows me his pride and joy, photos of a Bugatti type 35 that he worked on. One thing leading to another, we start talking about races.

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