The Introvert's Guide to Online Dating (The Introvert's Guide 1)

Luckily for Colton, he could do other things with his mouth.

There was a click, followed by the door opening after what felt like forever. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I was on the phone.”

I shoved him out the way and stepped inside. “Colton, if we agree that I’m coming over, I expect the door open right then. You told me to come at ten.” I pulled the hood down and popped the collar back so it was no longer hiding my face. “If anyone finds out now, I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

Colt stepped aside, wearing little more than sweatpants and damp hair. My fucking kryptonite, thank you very much.

“I know, I know, but Kinsley wouldn’t stop talking about Grandpa’s birthday party. I told her I had to go but it’s fuckin’ ten o’clock at night, Tori. It’s not like I have a place to be that’s a plausible excuse for getting her to shut up.”

“You told me to come here!”

He locked the door behind me and ran his fingers through his dark hair, pausing to run his eyes the length of my body in a slow, almost delectable way that made a shiver dance down my spine.

Not that I would ever let Colton Lane know that a mere look made my body respond to him.

No, thank you.

No, siree.

That was a very dangerous precedent to set, as far as I was concerned.

The less Colt knew about how I felt, the better.

“Whatever. Next time, text me and tell me not to bother. I’d rather not walk around town wearing basically no clothes unless I absolutely have to.”

“No clothes? What are you not wearing under that coat?”

I stalked into his kitchen, leaving him behind me. I knew there was wine in his fridge because it was my wine, and while I didn’t make a habit of spending any time here that I didn’t need to, I needed a drink.

“No socks,” I retorted smartly.

“And.”

“That’s it. No socks. I’m feeling naked.” Like I’m not wearing stockings held up by a belt. God.

I rescued the bottle from the fridge, grabbed a glass down from the cabinet, and poured myself a drink.

“It’s like you want me to come over there and rip it off to find out for myself.”

“No. If you rip it off, you’ll rip off the buttons.” I turned and stared at him. “If you do that, I’ll punch you.”

His lips pulled to one side in an infuriatingly sexy smirk. “You’re not wearing pants, are you?”

“Or a shirt.” I sipped my wine. “Or a sweater. So I’m cold.”

He walked across the kitchen and stood in front of me, leaning forward to rest his hands on the counter either side of me. “I can help with that.”

“Mhmm.” I took another drink. “I’m sure you can. But since you’re the reason I’m cold, it’s a moot point.”

“If I’m the reason you’re cold, it seems like the perfect excuse to let me warm you up again.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips against my jaw.

Despite the rush of warmth that went through me, I sighed.

Colton pulled back. “What’s wrong? Are you that mad at me?”

“No.” I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s been a long day. I’m sorry. I should have texted and canceled.”

“You talk to your mother this afternoon, didn’t you?”

Well, that was a mood killer.

“Victoria.”

“Do not call me Victoria,” I ground out. “Yes, I spoke to my mother, and no, I do not want to talk about it. I should go.”

I set the wine glass down and pushed away, but Colton grabbed my wrist and twirled me back into him.

“Oh, no.” He pinned me against his body. “If you’re going to come here dressed like that, you’re not leaving here until I say you can.”

“I have whiplash.”

“You will when I’m done with you.”

“Colton—”

He pulled my mouth to his, crushing his lips against mine. It was nothing but pure force, a hard, almost angry kiss that I knew was designed to make me let go.

I knew him annoyingly well, and I knew this was an angry fuck.

Not because I was angry at him.

But because I was angry.

He knew me too well, as I did him, and I hated that he knew that an angry fuck was what I needed right now.

It was either an angry fuck or a hysterical ugly cry.

At least I got something good out of the sex.

I dug my fingers into his bare shoulders, holding him against me. There was nothing romantic about this kiss in the slightest, but there wasn’t a part of me that gave a damn.

I didn’t want romantic.

If I wanted romantic, I’d be at home, sobbing over The Notebook or some shit.

I fell into Colton and let him take full control. I’d never been happier to give it up than when I was with him, and that was because he had a way with my body that made me feel freer than ever.