She did, slowly and deliberately this time. She rolled her hips against his, and Colin’s vision went hazy at the edges.
“Maren.” His voice came out wrecked. “If you keep doing that, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
“How fast is embarrassing?”
“About thirty seconds if you’re not careful.”
She laughed and God, he loved seeing her like this. Playful. Present. Not running from anything.
“Then maybe we should slow down,” she said, even as her fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged. “I want this to last all night.”
Colin caught her hands. “You sure?”
“I already said yes, didn’t I?”
“I need to hear it again.” He held her gaze. “I need to know you want this. That you want me.”
Maren pulled one hand free and touched his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
“I want you, Colin Hale,” she said quietly. “I want you so much it scares me. But I’m choosing it anyway. I’m choosing you.”
His heart skipped. “Okay,” he managed. “Okay.”
He pulled his shirt over his head, hyper-aware of her eyes on him as she took in the muscle and the scars, the evidence of his years in the Rangers.
“You’re—” Maren’s hand landed on his chest, right over his heart. “God, you’re?—”
“Old? Worn out?”
“Gorgeous.” She looked up at him. “I was going to say gorgeous.”
Colin felt his face heat. “I’m not?—”
“Shut up.” She kissed him to prove the point. “You are. Let me have this.”
So he did.
He let her touch him. Let her map the lines of his shoulders, his arms, his chest. Let her trace the scar on his ribs from a training accident in his early twenties and the newer one on his shoulder from a bullet that had come too close.
When she pressed her lips to that one, Colin’s breath stopped.
“Your turn,” he said roughly.
Maren sat back, her gaze a little shy. Then she grabbed the hem of her own shirt and pulled it over her head in one quick motion.
Colin inhaled sharply.
She was wearing a simple cotton bra but the sight of her, flushed and wanting, was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
“Okay?” she asked, uncertainty creeping into her tone.
“More than okay.” Colin ran his hands up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are.” He kissed her collarbone, the notch of her throat, the spot just below her ear that made her gasp. “And I’m going to spend the rest of the night proving it.”
“The rest of the night?”
