Page 24 of Ride Me Reckless
I leaned back slightly, letting him look—letting him see the mess he made of me. My hair stuck to my neck, my skin flushed and glistening, my breathing uneven.
He tightened his grip, hips rising to meet mine.
Then—smack—his hand landed on my ass, sharp and sure.
I gasped. Loud.
And then—God help me—I sobbed.
Not from pain. Not from regret.
From the way it cracked something wide open.
I didn't even know I'd been holding it all in until it flooded out—hot, raw, unstoppable. Tears slipped free as I moved faster, harder, chasing that edge like it was the last lap and the finish line was fire.
"You're beautiful," Colt rasped, voice fraying at the edges. "Messy, wild… God, you always did wreck me."
I bit down on my lip; a sob lodged in my throat. "Don't say that."
"Why?" he asked, gasping. "Because it's true?"
I couldn't answer. Not with words.
My body did it for me.
Pleasure snapped through me like a whip, sharp and all-consuming. My vision blurred. My pulse vanished into the thunder in my ears. I curled forward, forehead to his shoulder, clutching at his shoulders like the world was tilting.
He held me through it. Steady. Silent.
A few seconds later, he let go too—buried deep, a grunt pressed to the side of my neck, arms locked tight around my back like I might disappear again.
We stayed like that for a long time. Intertwined and trembling. His heartbeat slowing beneath my palms.
I wiped my cheek against his shoulder and whispered, "Sorry."
"For what?" he asked, one hand still stroking up and down my spine.
"For crying. For falling apart."
He shook his head, lips brushing my temple. "You didn't fall apart. You finally let go."
And maybe he was right.
Maybe I'd needed this more than I knew.
Not just the sex. Theconnection. The weight of someoneseeingme. Touching me like I mattered. Like I was more than a name stitched on a racing jacket or a girl with gas station dinners and maxed-out cards.
I shifted, the sweat cooling on my back. "Colt?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm starving."
He laughed softly and kissed my collarbone. "Let me feed you, Reckless."
And for once, I didn't fight it.
Colt tugged on his jeans and padded barefoot to the little kitchenette like we hadn't just made a mess of each other on a vinyl bench.
