I just grab the front of his jacket with both hands and yank him down to me.
"Zoey—"
Our mouths crash together, and two years of me being untouched, and a decade of him going unseen, all of it collides between us. My hands fist in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, and the sound he makes against my mouth is something between a groan and a growl.
"Don't talk." I drag my mouth across his jaw, his neck, anywhere I can reach as we stumble in the awkward space. "Just kiss me, Colt.Kiss me."
He drops down to meet me, knees hitting the bench on either side of mine, and suddenly he's caging me in against the back of the stall. I lean into him, pressing every inch of myself against the man I've been refusing to admit I wanted for too damn long.
His hands slide down to my hips, gripping hard, before slidingunderthe hem of my sweater.
I gasp into his mouth.Skin on skin contact.
The first real touch in two years, and it's his calloused palms spreading wide across my back, hot and hungry, fingers digging into me like he's afraid I'll evaporate.
"You feel so fucking good," he growls against my mouth. "You have no idea what you've been doing to me."
His tongue rolls over mine and I whimper. Actuallywhimper, like I'm twenty-three again instead of thirty-four with a kid andbills and a million reasons not to do exactly what I'm doing right now.
"Every morning in that bakery. Watching you. Your hands. Yourmouth."
His hand slides higher up my spine, dragging my sweater with it. Cold air kisses my lower back and I don't care, I don'tcarethat we're right here, exposed in the locker room where anyone could walk in and see us.
"Colt—"
"I've thought about this every night," he breathes against my throat, nibbling, biting and sucking his way down. "About what you'd taste like. About what sound you'd make when I—"
I moan and reach for his belt, but the second I do, his whole body locks up.
"Zoey. You sure?"
I press my forehead to his, panting. "Your team is on the ice with my daughter. I have approximately three minutes to feel like apersonbefore I have to be a mom again. So yes, Colt.Yes."
He doesn't argue as my fingers fumble at his buckle, popping the button on his jeans. Warmth floods my body as I slide the zipper down with hands that are shaking. He watches me the whole time, those blue eyes black with need.
I slip my hand inside, past denim, past cotton, and—oh.
He's hard. So hard it nearly knocks the breath out of me.
I curl my fingers around his cock and the sound he makes isunholy. A guttural groan that bounces off the lockers and floods the heat building between my thighs.
"Fuck, Zo—"
I tighten my grip, dragging my hand up the long, hot length of him, feeling every ridge and vein beneath the silk-soft skin, and his hips jerk forward into my palm like he can't help it.
"This okay?"
His head drops to my shoulder, his hand braces against the stall behind me. "Yeah, baby, that's so fucking okay."
I stroke him slowly, watching the way the muscles in his arms tighten with every pass of my palm. His mouth finds the soft skin beneath my ear andsucks, and a—
A—
Asobbreaks loose from my throat.
Not a moan. Not a gasp.
Asob.
