“You can make it right.”
His shoulders sagged and his eyes were still welling with emotion, and it was the first time I’d seen him like this, the first time I’d seen him looking like he was anything but completely in control. His normal cockiness and easy arrogance were gone, replaced with a tremulous vulnerability.
He reached for me, pulled me toward him and back down onto the bed, his mouth on mine, kissing me, slower this time, but with that same hungry intensity.
He wrapped me back up in the blanket, our legs intertwining under the covers.
We were silent for a long time, and I thought he’d fallen asleep.
But then he spoke. “You’re right,” he said softly.
“What?”
“About making it right. I’m going to put a stop to it.”
My head was against his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and I knew he was telling the truth.
I wanted to tell him I would be right there with him, that I would stand by him, that I would help him and support him in whatever way I could.
It made no sense to make a promise like that. And yet I had never meant anything more in my life.
But I was afraid he would tell me no, that he would refuse, that he would tell me I needed to stay away from him again.
So I stayed quiet.
A moment later, he was asleep, and after a while, so was I.
Colt held me tight through the night.
I stirred once at around 3 am, and he woke up, too, and kissed me softly on the lips. “You okay, baby?” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.
I nodded and he pulled me even closer. I snuggled into him, and I’d never felt so safe in my life. The only reason I even woke up in the first place was because I couldn’t believe the way I felt. It was so foreign to me, this feeling of peace – it seemed as if my body wanted to keep waking me up just to make sure it was still there.
In the morning, he was gone.
There was a note on the bedside table.
At the gym. ~C
I got out of bed, then showered quickly and dressed in a pair of jeans and a black V-neck sweater that Kendra the housekeeper had picked out for me.
Then I went to the living room and sat down.
It was weird being in the apartment alone, without Colt, and the safe feeling I’d had last night felt suddenly precarious, as if it could be yanked away from me at any moment.
My body was wired with nervous energy, and the silence was setting me on edge. I was just about to turn on the tv when Colt came back.
He had that sexy slightly sweaty thing going on that guys got after they went to the gym– the messy hair, the muscles seemingly more defined even though you knew that was impossible after just one work out.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly inexplicably nervous.
“Sleep well, Princess?” he asked, his cocky swagger back. He walked to the kitchen and I followed him, watched as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out his water bottle.
“I did, actually.”
“You kept waking up.” He tipped his head back and took a swig from his water bottle. His t-shirt clung to his biceps and I remembered how his arm muscles flexed as he was poised on top of me, pushing into me, his cock rock hard.
I shivered.
He finished his water and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “Hungry?”
I nodded. “Starving.”
“Breakfast?”
“Depends on what you’re making.”
“No, I mean, go out to breakfast.”
“With you?” I asked, shocked for some reason. The thought of going out somewhere with him, just the two of us, seemed somehow foreign and outside the realm of possibility. It seemed like a date.
“No, by yourself,” he said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Yes, with me.” He reached down and pulled his sweaty t-shirt off, and my body flooded with desire.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to shower and then we’ll go.”
“Sounds good.” I was trying to play it cool as he walked down the hall, but I couldn’t contain my excitement. I hadn’t been out to breakfast in years, hadn’t been in a restaurant in God knew how long, except to sneak in and use the bathroom or that time last year when I spent two hours in a Denny’s nursing one cup of coffee because it was freezing outside, praying they wouldn’t kick me out.
Twenty minutes later, Colt appeared again, dressed in a leather jacket and dark jeans, his hair still messy and damp from the shower. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and there was stubble on his strong jaw.
I immediately wanted to kiss him, to feel his stubble brushing against my cheeks as his tongue pushed into my mouth, wanted to feel his stubble against the inside of my thighs as he moved higher.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and began to follow him out the door.