Their Boy (The Game 2)
What was wrong with me? I couldn’t fucking function whatsoever.
“I’m not gonna ask what you’re afraid of.” His voice was low and warm, carrying a hint of the Texas drawl. “I have a feelin’ you wouldn’t wanna answer.” He was definitely correct. “I’ll tell you what I want instead.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, causing me to startle, and his mouth twitched. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I’m sorry.” I flushed, embarrassed by my stupidity. I wasn’t freaking Bambi.
He shook his head minutely, and then he took off his ball cap and threw it on the couch. He then returned his hand to my shoulder—or, no, he shifted both hands down my arms, and I did my damnedest not to freeze up again. God, his touch—I wanted nothing more than to draw pleasure from it. I shuddered and forced myself to swallow before my throat dried out.
“My grandfather used to tell me that the best way to get to know someone was to see how they acted in conflict.” He watched me intently and slipped his hands to my sides. “When someone strips you of safety and security, it’s only a matter of time before you’re willing to change your beliefs in order for the safety to return.” He paused, and he drew small circles along my ribcage with his thumbs. “It’s the sole reason why you can’t push someone too hard in an interrogation. Once you cross that line, they’ll tell you whatever you wanna hear, whether it’s the truth or not.” His green eyes glinted with dark amusement. “But that’s a kink for another day.”
Kink? No. I didn’t believe him at all. The way he reeled me in, with quiet conviction and experience in his eyes, I knew it came from elsewhere—his years in the service. I was sure his knowledge had provided him the best tools to further himself as a Sadist, but I had the strongest gut feeling telling me BDSM was not the platform he’d used for learning.
“Now,” he murmured with half a smile, “the situation wasn’t as dire the day you ran into me at the munch. You didn’t fear for your life, and our interaction wasn’t serious.” That was the moment he chose to close the distance between us further and bring my hands to his chest. My breath got stuck in my throat, and I stared straight ahead. “That feels nice.” He dipped down and rested his forehead to mine. Heat spread across my entire body, and I felt my fingers twitch. Christ, he was solid. Sturdy, broad-shouldered, bordering on stocky. In slow, tentative strokes with my fingers, I traced the muscle underneath his tee. I couldn’t help it.
He was perfect. Not all muscle; there was flesh on this man. And chest hair.
“You were intimidated by me, though.” His voice came out as a low rumble, and he gripped my hips firmly and pulled me flush to his body. I sucked in a sharp breath, and my gaze shot to his. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. He wasn’t even hard, and I could still feel the outline of him against my lower abdomen. “I frightened you,” he whispered. “And despite that, you held your ground. You spoke of the superiority of an F-22 even though you were almost shaking from nerves, and that’s how you got my attention, Kit. That’s how you got my interest.”
I couldn’t respond. He had me captivated by his presence, and I was swimming in wants.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered quietly. My pulse skyrocketed as I complied. Locking my hands around his neck, I noticed both how clammy I was and that I was trembling. Colt drew in a deep breath through his nose. “You’re also the sweetest little shit I’ve ever seen—sexy and adorable—with a brat buried somewhere inside of you just itchin’ to be unleashed.” He was fucking killing me. “Now you know why I want what I asked, so I’ll ask you again. That corner over there—wanna sit there with me?”
Utterly defenseless and seduced, there was only one answer I could form, and it left me in a stuttered rush. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Great response.” Rather than letting me go, he slipped his hands to my ass and hoisted me up. I let out a yelp and held on tighter, and he wrapped my legs around his hips. “I think we’ll stay like this for a bit. Get to know one another a little better.” He walked us over to the couch and sat down in the corner. My stomach flipped at the impact, and I could barely believe what was happening. I’d just been carried.
After reaching for a blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch, Colt scooted in farther and got comfortable, me never leaving his lap. The only thing that changed was that I adjusted my legs to not be around him. Then he draped the blanket around me, the soft material sending a shiver through me. Since the accident, I’d replaced everything from blankets and lawn furniture cushions to sheets and pillowcases. All fabrics had to be soft for my scarring, or I’d start to pick nervously at anything that wasn’t impeccably smooth.