Page 65 of Mr. Wrong Number

I ran my hands up his pecs, and then things ignited. It was like we both got greedy for everything we weren’t doing yet. I pulled off my shirt and he was toeing off his shoes, and then his hands were unsnapping and mine were unbuckling.

As opposed to some drawn-out exploration of each other’s bodies, this was a race to the main event. We needed to feel and had no time to spare for half measures like foreplay. Hands were everywhere. Mouths were fused and unwilling to part.

I whispered into his mouth, intending to say,Are we sureabout this?but instead saying, “Condom,” to which he muttered something in the affirmative that required his hands to go rummaging while I continued sexually dominating his mouth with my own.

Could a person die from this? I felt like I was going to die as my heart raced and my breath hitched and my every molecule was buzzing with electricity and writhing and attuned only to Colin Beck. He grunted when I used my heels to pull him closer to me, and he cursed into my ear when I bit his shoulder.

And then—finally—he was there, hot and tense and so unbelievablyrightinside me that I unintentionally dug my nails into his shoulder blades. I’d always thought the fingernail thing was cliché, but in that moment, I was physically incapable of retracting my claws.

I forced my eyes to stay open so I could look at him. His nostrils were flared and his jaw was clenched, those rowdy eyes glued to mine as his body made me feel unbelievable things. It was so unreal—so deliciously good—that the kitchen, the apartment, and the entire world disappeared. Time dropped away as we caught fire on the granite countertop, and I wasn’t sure if seconds or hours passed as Colin made me burn. My entire existence was right there, where we were together, and nothing else mattered.

“Oh, holy fuck, yes, Liv,” Colin rasped as he breathed against my mouth, “Come on—”

I said through gritted teeth, “Don’t rush me.”

Which made him chuckle and growl into my ear, “I would never rush you, Marshall. Take all the time you need, because I could stay in here for fucking ever.”

His words sent me tumbling, which clearly affected Colin because he groaned something that sounded a lot likeholyshitmotherfuckingfuckinto the space between my neck and shoulder and squeezed my ass so hard I was sure there’d be marks.

When he finally lifted his head, he gave me a crooked grin. “Did we just christen your new kitchen?”

“We did.” I grabbed my shirt from where it was dangling on the faucet and said, “Someday, when my mother swings by without calling first and sets her purse on this very spot, I will smile, knowing just how upset this scenario would make her.”

Colin

What in the holy shit have I just done?

I opened Olivia’s fridge and grabbed one of the three remaining cans of beer from moving night and tried to stay cool, but the truth was that I was freaking the hell out.

I had sex with Olivia Marshall.

I hadsexwith Olivia, Jack’s annoying little baby sister.

What had I been thinking? Jack was going to kill me, and it was the absolute right thing to do. I felt like the world’s biggest asshole. I’d been determined tonotcome down and see her new bed, but somehow, after work, my dick had convinced my brain that I could drop off bedding and then just leave.

Idiot move right there.

As soon as Olivia came out of the bathroom, I was going to convince her we’d made a huge mistake, beg her to keep quiet, and get the hell out of there.

Shit.

Maybe I should move. To another country.

I was mid-chug when she came out and I nearly choked.

Because...shit.

She was wearing just her tank top, which hit right at the top of her thighs, and her long, dark hair was a mess. She absolutely looked like she’d just climbed out of bed, and she kind of took my breath away, especially when she gave me a total Olivia smirk.

“We need to talk, Beck. Let’s get some air.” She turned her back to me and walked toward the living room, so I dutifully followed. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt as I forced my eyes to stay up, looking at the back of her head—instead of her perfect ass—as she walked.

“I’m glad you said it,” I muttered, trailing after her as she opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the dark balcony.

As I closed the door behind me, she leaned on the railing and looked out at the city. I denied my discipline and let my eyes dip, but it was too dark to really see anything other than the curve of her backside.

Shit.

“I don’t know what we were thinking in there,” she said, her voice a little gruff in the darkness, “but I’m sure we both agree that it was a huge mistake.”

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