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Colt’s arm was thrown across my waist, his face pressed into the pillow. I knew by the sound of his breathing that he was awake, but we didn’t say anything to each other.
Somehow I managed to prop myself up in bed. I reached for my cell on the nightstand. Shelly had texted a few hours ago, saying that she’d left. I shot back a reply and asked if she was hungover too.
I set my phone aside and tried to get out of bed, but Colt’s fingers gripped my thigh. “Where are you going?”
His voice was gravelly and deep, and it made me think of when he’d come to me last night, needing to slake his pleasure. He’d used me in a way that hadn’t made me feel used at all.
Need erupted between my thighs, but I knew I couldn’t stay in bed and let him make me forget everything I had to face.
“I need coffee and Aspirin. And a shower,” I added as an afterthought. “Preferably in that order.”
“Yeah. Definitely a shower. I can smell the tequila coming out of your pores.”
I pulled a pillow from behind my back and swatted him with it. He tried to roll over to protect himself, laughing when I caught him in the stomach. He retaliated and easily got the pillow away from me. Before I knew it, we’d changed positions and I was on the bottom, breathing hard.
“I know a good cure for a hangover,” he said, his smile wicked, his eyes languid.
“Do you?” I murmured.
His fingers sought the place between my thighs and I winced.
“I hurt you last night.” Colt’s expression was contrite. “I’m sorry.”
I let my legs fall open. “Don’t be.”
“You sure?”
“It’s a good kind of hurt.”
“I’ll be gentle this time,” he promised.
Twenty minutes later, after a very satisfying wake-up call, we both managed to get moving. I stumbled to the shower as Colt reached for his toothbrush.
By the time I was done, I was feeling marginally better. I dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a black tank. I threw my hair up into a messy bun and paraded barefoot out of Colt’s clubhouse room.
“You look like hell, darlin’,” Boxer said in way of greeting. He was lounging on a couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table.
“I showered. Don’t tell me you can smell the booze coming off me?” I asked. With a sense of familiarity, I grasped his mug of coffee and took it for my own.
“Nah, I was referring more to the fact that you’re pale and your eyes are bloodshot.”
“You know, you’re like the older brother I never wanted.”
He grinned.
Colt poured himself a cup of coffee and then took a seat in the recliner. He patted his leg and I perched on his lap, happily sucking down Boxer’s coffee.
“Is no one else awake?” I asked.
“No. I mean, the kids are. They’re downstairs in the theater basement watching movies and eating cold pizza for breakfast.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Where are Darcy and Gray?”
“Still conked out.”
“I want to take Mia out back to the range. I want to see her shoot. You in?”
“Hell yeah I’m in. Just as long as she doesn’t use me as target practice.”
