Can't Fight It (Fair Lakes 3)

When he pulls into the driveway, I notice my car is completely unrecognizable. It’s so covered with snow, you can’t even tell what color it is. “Stay there. I’ll help you out,” he says before shutting off the truck. He grabs his duffel bag from the back seat before meeting me around to the passenger side. I take his offered hand and carefully hop out of the truck, wishing like hell I had purchased a pair of snow boots today. The cold, wet snow quickly seeps into my tennis shoes as we scramble for the back door.

Colton lets us in, and we both stomp our feet and shake off the snow. I toe off my wet shoes and set them on the mat by the door to dry. My fingers find my coat zipper as I start to remove my layers of warmth. When I glance at Colton, I find him standing there, his own boots off and his coat in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, he tosses his coat onto the dryer and reaches for mine, throwing it on top of his. Then, he moves, pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the washing machine.

His lips are eager and firm, his hands roaming my back and sliding down to cup my ass. He lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist. Colton wastes no time in moving us through the house to his bedroom.

The moment we cross the threshold, I’m assaulted by his familiar scent. It wraps around me warmly, and full of familiarity, the same as his body is with me in his arms. He continues to move until I’m lying on the comforter, his body pressed into mine. That recognizable ache bubbles to life as he rocks into me, his erection firmly between us.

When he slows the kiss, I use the opportunity to pull my lips from his and slide them across his jaw. The bite of his stubble is like a bucket of gasoline to an already raging inferno. I have no control over my body, over my mouth, which is why it’s so shocking when I say, “We’re wearing too many clothes.”

I’m never the bold one.

His blue eyes burn even darker. “I do believe you’re right.”

He stands up beside the bed and lifts his shirt up and over his head in that crazy, sexy one-handed way that men can do. His chest is chiseled to perfection with a smattering of dark blond hair. I get an unobstructed view of the tattoo on his left arm. It’s some sort of military design with two names underneath.

“Franks and Tonner,” he says, tapping just below the bold names. “My brothers who were killed eight years ago in a roadside bomb.” He swallows hard. “The moment we got back to the US, we all went together and got them in memory of our brothers.”

“That’s beautiful,” I whisper through my tight throat.

Colton pushes his workout pants down to his ankles, revealing tight black boxer briefs that make my mouth water. I sit up and pull my long-sleeved workout shirt up and over my own head, tossing it onto the floor. I wore my best bra that’s somewhat supportive, yet isn’t a sports bra, and I’m glad I did. Nothing’s sexy about a flat chest in a workout bra.

Just as I reach down to slide out of my pants, a text message notification fills the room. At first, Colton pays it no attention. His eyes are greedily drinking their fill on my exposed chest, following the delicate curves of my breasts against the light blue satin. But when it chimes a second time, he startles and reaches for his pants.

“Shit,” he says when he pulls his phone from the pocket. “It’s my mom. She wanted to give me a quick update on Milo.”

I give him a smile and nod as he dials the phone. “I’ll just slip in the bathroom quickly,” I tell him, pointing to the hallway.

“Hey, Mom. How’s my little guy doing?” I hear him say as I step behind the door and turn on the light.

Inside, I glance at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. My cheeks are rosy and my lips swollen. There’s the slightest hint of redness on my neck from where he dragged his scruffy jaw along the column of my neck. I can’t stop smiling as I gaze at the woman in the mirror. She’s come a long way since she was in California. She relocated and started over in a new city, a new house. She’s stronger than she thinks she is, that’s for sure.

I slip off my pants and wet socks and set them on the counter. When I turn around, I see the toddler seat in the tub and the yellow rubber ducky on the ledge. There’s a small blue washcloth with Superman on it sitting beside men’s shampoo. Axe bodywash sits beside a bottle of Johnson’s Baby Wash. A wide smile breaks out on my face as I think of that little boy who is quickly worming his way right into my heart. And his father?