Page 139 of Right Number, Wrong Man
His directness lights my face on fire. “M-marriage? Isn’t this a bit sudden?”
“No matter your answer, I’ll never stop loving you, but I need you to decide right now. It’s yes or no. Not maybe. Sixteen years, Spitfire. I can’t wait any longer.”
Colt is right. This isn’t sudden at all. It’s overdue.
Then why am I hesitating?
I want him, but I’m scared, too. Scared of falling without him there to catch me. Scared of trusting and having my heart broken again. Scared of being lied to and betrayed.
“Convince me that you’ll do it right,” I demand.
Colt lets out a gentle laugh. “I always wondered what we’d be like together. If we’d be happy. But I know that fairy tales ain’t real life and we’ll have days where you hate my guts cause I said somethin’ stupid or got a bad temper over nothing. But that’s what love is. It ain’t all roses and sunshine. To grow, we need the rain, too.”
Colt kisses me and my heart jumps from my chest at the brush of his lips. It’s a slow kiss like he’s still waiting for me to change my mind.
Waiting for permission to love me.
“Real love ain’t pretty and painless. It hurts like hell and leaves you scarred,” he whispers against my lips. “I can’t promise you a perfect relationship cause I’m not a perfect man. But I can promise that I’ll never cheat and I’ll never stop trying to be better for you. And if I make you angry because I’m a jaded, cynical asshole, I’ll be on my knees beggin’ for your forgiveness.”
“Deal. But if I catch you lying?—”
“I’ll never lie to you but if I do, I’ll let you shoot me again.” He takes my hand and presses my index finger and middle finger to his forehead. “Right here. Between the eyes.”
Colt winks and kisses me again. Harder now. I open for him and our tongues dance, his hand on my ass pressing my hips into him. His cock grows against me, awakening a throb between my thighs as his hands wander, undoing my blouse and sliding it from my shoulders. He tugs down my skirt and I kick off my sandals.
When he’s made short work of my bra and panties, it’s my turn. I pop the button on his jeans, open the zipper, and he wriggles his hips to step out of his pants and underwear at once.
“Shit, I gotta tell Cody to stay away!” he curses with a smirk. “I’m gonna be busy with the love of my life.”
I blush. “What an upgrade for me, getting promoted from personified headache to the love of your life.”
“You were always both and you still are. I wouldn’t have it any other way, my favorite headache.”
Colt picks up his jeans and takes out his phone, tapping away. When he’s done, he leaves it on the table.
“I forgot something, too,” I say, grinning. “Where is your stupid hat?”
“My Stetson?” His voice trails off and his head cocks in confusion, but he points to a rack by the door.
I march over and grab his hat. “I looked up that ominous hat rule and found like a million of them. Never put your hat on a bed. Never wear it backwards. Never wear your hat at the table, et cetera and so on. But one rule stood out to me. To say it in the language of your grandfather’s cowboy traditions…” I plop the Stetson on my head and his jaw drops. “I’m yours.”
Colt rushes toward me and sweeps me off my feet. If I didn’t know he was injured, I wouldn’t catch how his breath hitches when he cradles me in his arms.
I put a hand on his chest. “You’re still hurting and you don’t have to?—”
“Shut your mouth, brat,” he cuts in and my pussy weeps at his steely tone. “I ain’t letting some stupid little bullet wound stop me from takin’ my future wife to bed.”
Colt carries me upstairs and lays me on the bed. The hat falls off me and I laugh when he takes it and hangs it on the bedpost.
As he smiles down at me with that dimple showing, I know without a doubt:
Thisis what love is meant to feel like—wild and imperfect, yet easy like summer rain.
53
COLT
For the firsttime in my life, that bone-deep ache in my chest is gone.
