Page 20 of Broken Cedar

We climb the ladder in silence. The loft is exactly as I remember—dusty and hay-scented, with an old couch against the far wall and windows that let in just enough moonlight to see by. Colt guides me to the couch, and then we’re undressing each other, properly this time. His hands are slow on my skin, reverent almost, and when he pushes my shirt down my shoulders and his mouth finds my breast, the sound I make is embarrassingly honest.

I get his shirt off. His jeans. His cock is hard again, and when he backs me onto the couch and sinks into me—slow, so fucking slow—we both moan, the sound filling the small space.

“Christ, Hallie,” he breathes against my neck. “Your pussy is perfect. So tight around me.”

He begins to move, and it’s better than last night. Better because we’re not rushing. Better because every thrust is slow and measured, and the way he fills me has my nails digging into his shoulders.

Then he stops and pulls back. “We need to switch,” he says, his voice strained.

“Why?”

“I’m about to come.” He groans. “I don’t want to yet.”

“You don’t have to hold back,” I tell him breathlessly. “You can come without me.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and then we’re moving, shifting as he flips us, and I’m on top, straddling him, taking him deep. His hands find my hips, guiding me, and when he thrusts up into me, the angle is perfect, hitting that spot that makes my vision blur.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, feeling him fill me completely with every upward thrust.

One of his hands moves between us, finding my clit, and rubbing small circles. I didn’t think I could come again so soon but I’m close, so close, and when he rubs just right, my rhythm falters, my thighs shaking.

“Colt—I’m going to—”

“Come,” he says, his voice rough with want. “Come on my cock, Hallie. Let me feel it.”

His encouragement is all it takes to tip me over the edge. A wave that starts deep and rolls outward, pulling a cry from my throat that echoes in the loft. My inner muscles clamp around him, and I feel him pulse inside me, his hips bucking, his own release following mine with a groan that sounds almost pained.

I slump forward, my forehead on his chest, breathing hard. His hand gently strokes my back, and for a long moment, neither of us speaks. The only sound is our ragged breathing.

I lift my head and look at him. His eyes are soft, his expression open in a way I’ve rarely seen. I smile before I even realize I’m doing it. A real smile. The kind that starts somewhere deep and spreads before I have time to stop it.

Colt looks down at me, and something in his expression softens. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I know.”

His thumb brushes slowly along my cheek. And for a few seconds, neither of us talks. We just stay there. The barn has gone quiet around us—the occasional creak of wood settling, the wind moving through the open doors, the soft shift of horses in their stalls.

It feels impossible that the world is still turning. That tomorrow will still come. That I am still the same person who woke up yesterday planning to leave. Because right now, with Colt’s arms around me, I feel lighter than I have in years.

“This is a terrible idea,” he says eventually.

I laugh softly against his chest. “I know.”

“You agree?”

“Completely.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Good. Means I’m not the only one making bad decisions.”

I laugh again, and the sound surprises both of us. I can’t remember the last time I laughed with him like this. Not because something was funny. Not because we were remembering something from when we were younger. Just because being here with him feels easy. For a moment, I let myself pretend. Not forever. Not even longer than a week. Just this. Right now.

Colt’s hand moves slowly over my back. “You okay?”

I look up at him. The question is so Colt. Never asking for more than I’m willing to give, just making sure.