BUFF (26 page)

“Colt,” she breathes in a warning, not sure who she is speaking to.

The back of his knuckles slowly trace across the span of her skin, each knuckle, rough and weathered, ignites a flame underneath in its leave.

“Can you…” Her full mouth opens then shuts.

“Becky.” His eyes close and his other hand tightens over her chin. “I can make you forget.”

Arching her back and leaning up to meet him, the dark desire that is swelling inside her echoes in his words, rushing at him, intoxicatingly. Helpless against his power she lets him kiss her, long, soft and deep. He kisses her with care, with unleashed recklessness. Discovering and frantic, their gasps mount over one another, each one more stunned and destroyed than the next.

Wrapping his arms around her whole back, Colt lifts her off the seat and her legs lock around his tight torso. Their kisses never break, never retire from their starving pace of need as they feed off one another, get so lost and so tangled, that somewhere along the way, without their knowledge, they find themselves in one another.

*     *     *

SHE UNDERSTANDS NOW.

Her whole life has been a prelude to this moment.

Wrapped up so tight in the warm safety of arms and legs, breath and hands, small figments and fragments that all piece together, Becky frees herself.

It’s always in those quiet rumbling seconds where he first touches her that always sends her excuses away, never to be seen again. Now she revels in their departure; happy for once that her brain ceases from its rampant upheaval, easing her soul and letting her banquet in the glory of this fanciful-like dream.

It’s raining outside. But neither of them have noticed. Neither of them care to even step out of the sweet enclosed space of the living-room. Life and time have come to a stop, obliging their need to just be. Damning their futures, the inevitable breaking of their hearts, they pretend nothing else exists but this enclosed break of time. This is their life, right in this second of kissing and hot murmurs. Everything else can wait.

They’re lying on the couch. Practically Naked. Becky, in only her jeans and him, in just his.

Colt is over her, into her; his body, his skin, a patchwork of his and her flesh. He kisses her, hard, deeper, ordering for further access that Becky isn’t sure is possible to give. She remains shaky under him, still in awe to his large masculine form and how his vast presence compromises all her goodness.

Colt's hand dashes out, cups her head that’s laying on the pillow behind her and draws her to him, crushing her face to his, suspending her face and his in midair, like they’re frozen together, locked in that sensation and moment.

His enduring need for her seems never-ending. Nothing is able to satisfy or sedate it. The man is wild. A vessel of white-hot lust. Insatiable. The past twenty-four hours only being filled with kissing, intimate touches, whispers, only breaking for food and minor necessitates. Colt has become her world, filling her vision, the start and stop of every thought. It scares her, excites her.

It shakes her to the very root of her soul.

Her moan turns urgent, “Colt...” His mouth is greedy as it delves, sinking into her with open kisses that suck the breath from her lungs, sending her back down to the couch and taking him with her.

Her whole body flowers open, inviting him in. Her legs trap around his, the heels of her feet dig into the back of his knees. His hands glide between her face and body, going back and forth as though both feel too good to choose.

Her head shifts from the side, facing him, taking his mouth in hers. The tip of her tongue traces the outlining of his bottom lip then the open space of his mouth, lapping out in a roll that calls for him but finds empty. She stretches up farther, gliding her tongue across the bottom row of teeth then the top, waiting for him to meet her blatant proposal.

She feels his body hold off a bit, linger, as he watches the begging state of her body groaning. Being servant to his will, her fingernails bury themselves into his scalp and the back of his neck. Becky is half-crazed, her brain melting with desire.

Patiently, with intentional exaggeration, his tongue, coarse and slick, finds hers, conquers hers down from her fumbling pause into her mouth and drinks from her. First in slow, soft strokes, then in arrogant strokes that heighten the sensations in her to the point of total submission; until all she feels is the wetness between her legs, the shake of her shoulders and the brush of fiery wings low in her belly.

His right hand slowly drifts down, melding her breast; the mass of his hand swallows the round jiggling flesh. The pad of his thumb lands right on her nipple but he doesn’t skim the aching bud, just stays planted there, waiting, burning a hole with the weight of his finger as Becky arches her back and moans into his mouth.

He squeezes, possessively. “You make me wanna do things I’ve never thought of before…”

Instead of continuing in his taunting clutches, his hand skates down, the weathered tips of his fingers brushing across her naked tummy like a rocket of fire, before continuing the journey down, unbuttoning her jeans in one, quick jot.

Awaiting and careful, his hand glides across her stomach, setting the touch of him on her skin in its place. His fingers slip between the crease of her jeans, in and out, touch and go, breezing like electric feathers over her body. She bites her lip and Colt looks down, entranced, like a spectator, as though darkly curious at how her face will look if he’s inside of her, embedded so deep, she’ll be sweating and gasping under him.

“Colt,” she whimpers in her throat, “please."

The diving exploration of his kiss freezes and breaks. Colt doesn’t move, doesn’t back away like Becky expects. He remains just as close as if he’s kissing her. But he isn’t. His breathing becomes ragged as it falls across her still open mouth.

“Colt.” She licks her lips, making him groan as his forehead leans into hers. “Take me.”

His eyes close, hers stay open, watching his confliction openly. The battle within shades his color in an exerting red, his skin rippling against the strain of need for her.

He wants her.

She wants everything with him.

Her hand comes up, sheltering his cheek with it, wanting to comfort him, but not knowing what it will take to release him of his commitment to maintain a certain distance between them.

“Colt.” She kisses the corner of his mouth. “It's okay. I know now… what I want."

His head waves, dismissing her sentiment and the unconscious incitement that it carries beneath it. “You don't know what you're saying."

“Yes. I do." His body seems to be stuck on her, craving the taste and feel of Becky and her only.

“Becky. I won’t do this.” His swollen mouth lingers over hers. “I can't."

“Why? I want to.” Becky's graceful caress seems to burn his thinking, almost banishing his steel restraint. “I'm not a… you know this won’t be my first—”

“Shssh.”

He kisses her, the center of his mouth puckering out to press gently against hers. Then he is up and away from her. His warmth gone, vanishing, leaving only the raging ghost of his penetrating self. She breathes a few deep breaths.

“I thought you wanted this… wanted me… I thought…"

“I do.” He leans in her direction, his arm coming up to lay around the back of the couch. His voice is deep, a caving mystery. “I do, Little Bit."

She sits up leaning on her elbows, peering at him through filmed eyes. Using her elbows she voyages the rest of the way up, her bottom sliding up as her arms circle her bent legs that come to rest against her heaving chest.

“Then why are you holding back from me?"

His eyes stab truthfully into hers. “I'm not."

“You're afraid."

A playful, almost sinful smirk tugs at his lips. “The last thing I feel around you is fear."

“Then what is it?” His silence pushes more distance between them. “This can’t be forever, I get that. I can live with that, Colt, but I don’t want to die wondering." Her insecurity claws for release as heat stampedes her cheeks. “Unless… I know I'm not as experienced as the other women you've been with…"

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Suddenly she can read everything he is feeling. His hurt, his anger, the direct hit she’s just slapped across his face.

“You think that?” he accuses, but speaks the words as a question.

“I don't know what to think,” Becky explains, weakly. “Why are you holding back?"

“I don't want to hurt you, is that so wrong? For once in my goddamn life I'm trying to the right thing."

“Right thing…? How? I want to be with you. If this is our time, if we only have one chance then—”

“That's not a good reason! You don't jump into something just because you think it might be gone the next minute."

“But it will be! All this will. There is no ‘if’.” Her voice echoes hollowly in the air. “I don’t want to hide from you, Colt. Never with you.”

The silence gathers and escalates between them, parting them in two separate directions. Head hung, Colt looks away from her, but as though the rise of his emotions has a mind of its own, they finally break and bridge the small gap.

“I want you,” he confesses, under the breath of his words. She hardly hears him, but it feels like he’s screaming it to her. “I want you so bad it’s killing me inside.” She can feel his body trembling, crumpling beneath. “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve you.”

Lustful agony scorches through her skin at his poignant want. “Colt—”

“There. You satisfied?” He stands, but Becky for once is faster, shooting up and blockading his attempt to escape her.

“No."

“What?” His hands come up, agitated, but his usual icy-blue eyes look like they’re made from glass.

Tears.

Tears that haven’t fallen yet.

Colt Lawson, the cold-hearted killer of a mob boss… bleeds for her.

“No.” Becky gulps, laying her hand in the middle of his bare chest and pressing her fingertips where she can feel his heartbeat—erratic, like a wild drumbeat against her skin. “No, I'm not satisfied. Only you can satisfy…" Her fight is a lost one and she hesitates, tipping her head up as she moves closer. “…me.”

He closes his eyes. She doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not, but she fights the instinct to shut down and hide away.

Colt finally opens his eyes with a heavy sigh, placing them fully on her with a focus that a couple of days ago, would have made her squirm.

“You,” he murmurs, with brutal softness, “I'm doing this for you. I don't want you to regret anything."

“I won't."

“Or hate me.” Her strength of desire falls empty on his ears and yanks hard at her heart. He shakes his head as though fighting himself of what he needs. “I can’t be like them…”

“Like who?”

“Another bastard who uses you then walks away. You’re too precious for my world, Becky, I can never live with myself if I… break you."

“I could never—"

“Don't,” he whispers, harshly, capturing her face a little firmer than necessary. “You hated me before.”

“That’s not fair, Colt.” Her hand slips away from his chest and she bends down to pick up her tiny white undershirt, pulling it over her head. “God, I was too stupid to ever think—"

“Becky.”

“I… just… I need some space.” She wraps her arms around her chest, her breasts visible through the sheer fabric of the undershirt.

She steps away from him. He reaches out to grab her, but the effort isn’t enough to catch her. His brow curls, his eyes darken as he swallows and watches her.

“Becky." God, why does he have to sound like that—all guttural? Every word feels like a hook is reaching down his throat and ripping at his intestines. It confuses her. He confuses her.

She shuts her eyes for a second, licks her parched lips. “When am I leaving?"

Clearly unprepared for that swift turn in direction, Colt's mouth slits open, his eyes widening then squinting. “What does that have to do with what we're talking about?"

“I want to know.” Her answer is stiff, holding herself in place inside. Protecting herself. “It's soon right?"

The blue in his eyes ice over. His mouth pinches down as he looks away for the first time and stares out into the meadow on their right. “Two days."

"Good.” His head whips back to her. She falters a step but finds her balance to remember her stance when she looks at the ground. “You know, for everyone involved. Good. You can… and I can… It’s better this way."

She tries to walk around him, giving her body more distance than is necessary so he won’t grab her, but somehow, his hand reaches out and pulls her back, his fingers enclosing around her upper arm as he jerks her to his side.

Bringing his head down within inches of hers, his stare somehow is both chagrined and hurt. “Stop it."

“Stop what?” She peers up at him, playing innocent. Tears fill her vision.

“Becky, don't,” he warns, in a plea that washes over her, almost makes her break her resolve. “Don't do this."

“I'm just doing what's right. For both of us, Colt. We were stupid to think that we could do this and be okay. So I'm following your lead and cutting this short."