“Honestly, no,” she admitted, and managed to keep a straight face.
“I did. The first thing they told me was that I was an asshole who had a problem.”
“You paid money for that? I gave you that advice for free.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I stuck around for what came after. They helped me talk about my past. About my dad. About my mom leaving. About everything. About the need I had to reinvent myself. They helped me deal with a lot of shit that I’d just buried and hoped that I could eventually forget about. I- I was serious about it. I haven’t been with anyone… I- I realize I was using people in the worst way. That I was using myself, too. Training myself not to feel. Not to hurt. Not to be human. I stopped all of that. I’ve stayed focused. The entire time- I- I thought about you.”
“And that contract?”
“No. Just you.”
He dared to meet her eyes and she met his and everything stopped. It felt like they were the only people in existence. Colette looked at him the same way she had that very first time he’d ever had her alone. Truly had her attention. Like she could see right through him, but this time, she didn’t glance away.
“So, tell me then,” she began, her tone lighting with every word. “How was it? Living in your ass for all those years?”
“Dark and smelly,” he shot back as he twisted their fingers together.
“Hmm. I imagine. I’d also think that it was a little bit nice. You have- you have the nicest ass I’ve ever seen. I used to think about what it would be like to bite you there.”
“Hmph.” He couldn’t hold back the stunned sound. “Seriously?” he managed. “The prim and proper Colette who hated the dirty talk?”
“I didn’t hate the dirty talk,” she admitted. “I just hated how you used it like a shield and a weapon at the same time. I- if you wanted to- if you wanted to try it again, maybe I’d be more open to listening.”
“And biting my ass?”
Her cheeks flushed adorably. “Maybe that too.”
“How hard are we talking?”
“Hard enough to leave a mark.”
“I like it. Keep going.” His eyes dropped to her mouth, to the fullest set of red lips that he’d ever encountered. The softest, most responsive lips. He’ll never be able to forget how those lips felt against his. “You have the most beautiful lips,” he murmured before she could say anything.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Can I kiss you there?”
“O-okay.” Her response was raspy and her breathing hitched. When he dipped his head, she let out a squeal and tugged on his hair. “You really are a lovely asshole, Blaze Hanson?”
“Blaze Hanson? Who the hell is that?” he deadpanned.
She smacked his hand and then twined both of hers around his neck, tugging him down to her. “I waited a long time for this,” she rasped right before his lips crushed hers.
He was hungry, but so was she, and they ate at each other’s mouths. The fire he felt spreading in his stomach, warming him, was exactly what he’d experienced with her before. Her and no other person. He’d kissed quite a few, and never, never felt a single thing. Until her.
Until the woman who pulled him up from the depths of his darkness and saved him. She pulled him to safety, and she let him fight for himself. She let him want to be better. She waited for him to, like she said, get his head out of his ass.
She’d waited.
She was here.
He wasn’t letting her go. Ever. Again.
He’d once said she was his and he made that true. He ate at her moans and swallowed her whimpers. When she shifted, grinding below him, he let her create the friction she needed. She was so hot she could dry hump him all night long. Well- maybe not all night.
When her hand strayed up his denim covered leg and gripped the bulge straining against his fly, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He nipped at her lips while she worked him through his jeans, while she ground her pelvis down against his knee. He thrust his tongue through the seam of her lips and she shamelessly battled with him, warring and moaning, writhing and bucking, biting back when she needed to.
He couldn’t take it. He stripped her sweater away and then her black tank and when he got to her bra, he ripped it away so enthusiastically that she let out a breathless moan that was half pain, half lust. She opened her mouth, probably to complain about the bra he’d just destroyed, but he silenced her by taking her dusky, raspberry sweet nipple into his mouth and sucking until all her scolding words evaporated. He reached over with his other hand and palmed her other breast, rolling the nipple roughly between his fingers, just so it wouldn’t feel left out.