Page 19 of Broken Cedar

A small smile pulls at my mouth. “I think you know me well enough to answer that.”

The corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. And that almost breaks me more than anything else. Because there he is. The Colt I remember. The one who always understood me. The one who still does.

He shakes his head slowly. “You’re trouble.”

I smile. “You always said that.”

“Because it’s true.” Then he reaches for me. Slowly. Giving me every opportunity to stop him.

I don’t. His hand settles at my waist, and for one last second, we just stand there. Two people who know exactly how bad this idea is. Two people choosing it anyway.

Then he backs me against the workbench, his arms caging me on either side. His body is warm, solid, and the scent of him—leather and hay and something just Colt—fills my lungs.

“We really shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs, his mouth inches from mine.

“Good thing no one will ever know, huh?” I say, pressing myself against him.

His hand slides under my shirt, warm and rough against my ribs, and I nibble on my bottom lip. He undoes the buttons of my shirt, one by one, before shoving down my bra. His fingers find my nipple, catching it between them, and the sensation is so sharp, so immediate, that a moan escapes before I can catch it.

“Mmm. It’ll be our dirty little secret.” He pinches, hard, and pleasure spikes through me.

Then his mouth is on mine, and the kiss is nothing like last night’s desperate collision. This is slow. Hungry. His tongue strokes mine, and I moan into his mouth, my hands finding his waist, pulling him closer.

He lifts me onto the workbench like I weigh nothing, and his hands are at my jeans, working the button, sliding them down my hips along with my underwear. The cool air against my exposed skin makes me shiver, my nipples pebbling. His hand traces lightly against my inner thigh, making my clit throb in response.

Colt’s mouth finds mine, and he kisses me hungrily, his fingers grazing my inner thigh. The first stroke of his fingers against my wet heat has be gasping into his mouth. He does it again, before spearing two fingers inside me. My head snaps back, a sound tearing from my throat that would embarrass me if I had the capacity for embarrassment right now.

“Fuck,” he breathes against my neck. “Already so wet for me.”

“Please,” I gasp, because begging is all I’m capable of, apparently. His fingers curl, and my hips buck against his hand. “Please, Colt, I need—”

“What do you need, Hallie?” His voice is rough, dark with want as his fingers still inside me. “Tell me.”

“Your cock. Please.” I breathe. “In my mouth. I want to taste you.”

His breath catches. When he looks at me, his eyes are black with desire, and the sight of him undone by the mere suggestion of my mouth around him sends a fresh pulse of heat straight to my core.

“Please,” I whisper again.

He steps back, gazing at me intently. Then he nods, and slowly works his jeans open, pushing them low on his hips to free his cock. It’s thick, flushed, already leaking—and the sight of it makes my mouth water.

God, he’s so big. So fucking perfect. He reaches down, giving himself a long stroke, his eyes on mine. My pussy clenches at the sight of him touching himself. I hook my hands into his waistband, pulling him closer, and he lets me, his hands finding my hair.

I run one hand down his stomach, over the ridges of his abs, wrapping the other around the base of his cock. It’s hot in my palm, pulsing, and when I lean forward and lick the tip, tasting the salt-sweet pre-come, the groan that rumbles through his chest vibrates against my lips.

“Fuck, Hallie,” he breathes. “Just like that.”

I open my mouth again, laying the tip on my tongue, and take him deeper. His hand tightens in my hair, and the combination of his cock filling my mouth, his gentle grip of my hair, has me moaning around him, the vibration making him curse. My other hand finds my clit, circling, desperate for some attention. Anything to take the edge off.

“That’s it,” Colt says, his voice wrecked. “Fuck, don’t stop, just like that—”

I’m moaning, my mouth full of him, my fingers working faster, and the pleasure builds and builds until it crests and a sudden, sharp orgasm ripples through me, my pussy clenching around nothing, and the intensity of it makes me cry out around his cock.

The sound pushes him over the edge and I feel him pulse, hot and thick against my tongue. I swallow, taking every drop, my hand still moving on myself, drawing out the aftershocks until I’m trembling.

“Fuck, Hallie.” He pulls back gently, his thumb brushing my swollen lower lip. But he’s not done. His eyes are still dark, still hungry, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with intent. “I want to do this properly this time.”

I nod and he takes my hand, helping me slide off the workbench. He leads me to the ladder in the corner—the one that goes up to the loft, the space I haven’t been in since I came back. I try not to think about that. Try not to think about anything except his hand in mine.