Page 112 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

“Get over here,” he growls.

With a soft laugh, I jump onto the bed, and he grabs me by the waist, spinning us around until I’m pinned beneath him. Reaching up, I hook my arms around his shoulders and savor our position. His weight feels good on top of me. Every inch of his skin is pressed against mine as I hold him. Him and all of his broken pieces. The bad boy. The once-upon-a-time hockey star. The supposed backstabbing best friend. I hold him to my chest and breathe him in, knowing how easily I could fall in love with him.

How much I want to.

Spreading my thighs, I drag my hands up and down his bare back and cradle him there. With nothing but his LAU T-shirt separating us, I feel like we’ve never been closer. But I want more. Just like last time. Just like the next time. I need him.

“I want you inside of me,” I whisper.

He kisses my neck and snakes his arm between us, dragging his cock between my folds. I angle my hips and lift myself to meet him, but he pulls back. Teasing me. Tempting me. Driving me insane.

“Colt,” I warn.

“I wanna make this last, Ash,” he whispers, looking down at me. And I know he means more than this moment. More than this sexual encounter. More than this weekend. He wants to make us last.

I smile up at him, my chest pinching at the look in his eyes. “Me too.”

Leaning down, he kisses me again, teasing my clit with the head of his cock until I’m squirming.

“Please,” I whisper when I’m positive I can’t take it anymore.

He thrusts his hips and enters me in one swift movement. With a gasp, I arch off the bed as my fingernails dig into Colt’s bare back.

I’ll never get used to this. The feel of him stretching me. The feel of his weight on top of me. The feel of his breath against my throat. It’s perfect. Incredible. Addictive.

We aren’t frenzied. We aren’t in a hurry to chase our orgasms. We’re here to feel. To be. To connect.

And I’ve never felt closer with anyone in my entire life.

I bite my lip to keep the truth from tumbling out of me as he slowly picks up his pace, causing my breaths to quicken. My fingers bite into his ass, spurring him on. He kisses me again, groaning against my lips the same way I’m moaning against his.

The headboard slams against the wall in rhythm to his thrusts and only turns me on more as he shoves my shirt up, grabs my breast, and squeezes, pinching my nipple into a small bud. Leaning down, he takes it into his mouth.

I gasp. His hot tongue swirls around my nipple, the ache building in my core.

“Please,” I beg. “Colt––”

“Wait,” he growls.

His hand slips between my legs, and he pinches my clit at the same moment he bites my nipple, sending me spiraling into the sweetest oblivion I’ve ever experienced.

And he follows right after, pulsing inside me until we’re both a spent mess on the bed.

As I catch my breath, he rolls onto his side and tugs me closer to him, but I push my hands against his chest. “I should go get cleaned up.”

“Later,” he replies.

“Colt––”

“I like the idea of me dirtying you up, Ash. Let me live a little, will ya?”

I laugh and snuggle against him, giving in no matter how insane his request is. Because I like him dirtying me up too. Actually, I like anything having to do with Colt Thorne. And while I used to find it terrifying, I kind of love it now. Our connection. Our talks. Our sex life.

Somehow, Colt’s managed to slip past my defenses, making me feel cared for and appreciated in a way I didn’t even think was possible.

But I do now.

“You know you’re crazy, right?” I ask.

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