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I quickly finished my bath and drained the tub. I gripped the edge of the counter and finally let out the tears. I cried silently, wishing Grammie was still alive. Not because misery loved company, but I just wished there was someone on this earth who’d once loved me unconditionally. I had Shelly, but it wasn’t the same.
When I finally felt in control of my emotions again, I swiped at my cheeks, making sure all the tears were gone. My eyes were red and the scratch on my face was noticeable, but I was a warrior. I’d survive this too, just like I’d survived Mom dying, just like I’d survived watching Grammie get sick and die, just like I’d survived everything life had thrown at me. I’d get through this mess with the Iron Horsemen and then I’d leave Waco—and Colt—behind, forever.
I opened the door with the intention of walking out into the hallway. I didn’t open the door with the intention of running face first into Colt’s chest.
“Ow.”
“Shit,” Colt muttered, his hands reaching out to steady me.
My nose had crunched and I gently reached up to touch it. “That really hurt. What are you made of? Granite? And why were you loitering outside the bathroom door?” I tilted my head back to glare at him. “Why is this becoming a habit? Do you like to lurk outside bathroom doors? Do you like me running into you?”
He was smiling down at me, his eyes filled with tenderness. It instantly gave me pause.
“I own this bathroom. It’s not loitering if you own it,” he explained. “I didn’t mean to give you another injury to add to your list of bruises.”
“My nose is fine.”
He clearly didn’t believe me because he reached up and gently touched me. His large hands cradled my face as we stared at one another.
I remembered I was wearing nothing but a towel and made a hasty grab for it to ensure it didn’t open, but my body hummed at the idea that it might fall.
Colt dropped his hands from my face but made no move to step away. “And I—ah—came up here to apologize.”
“Why?”
“Because I was an ass.” He ran a hand across his stubbled jaw. “I haven’t lived with a woman since Joni. I’m not used to having someone in my space, not used to having someone ask me a bunch of questions.”
I looked down at the ground so he wouldn’t see the emotion that was still lurking just below the surface. “I’m sorry too.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” he asked, his tone turning gruff.
“It was presumptuous of me. Just because you told me things about your past doesn’t make us friends. It doesn’t make us—well, anything more than what we are.”
“And what are we?” His voice was whisper soft now and I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down my spine.
“Two people who can’t stand one another.”
His low chuckle caressed my skin. It took all of my courage to look up and meet his gaze.
“I think that would make us both liars, don’t you think?” His mouth slammed onto mine, holding me prisoner. His tongue was demanding and needy and it stroked against mine with insistent yearning.
He lifted me up and pushed me against the wall. I tried to open my legs, wanting to cradle his hardness, but the towel got in the way. He tore his mouth from mine, but only so that he could draw in a ragged breath, and then his lips were on my neck, biting and nipping.
My core throbbed and I was ready to lose the towel and beg Colt to take away the ache between my legs, to fill me up so I didn’t feel lonely.
I ran my fingers through the hair at his nape, marveling at the silky feel of it.
“Colt,” I whispered.
“God damn, Mia.” He pulled back. “Shit, did I hurt you? Your wrist.”
Shaking my head, I licked my lips, wanting to get his shirt off him so I could trace his ink with my tongue. I’d start at his knuckles and work my way across the entire canvas of his body. I wanted to spend hours drawing the lines and patterns, getting to know what made him tick, what made him lose control.
His eyes were glazed with desire and I was sure mine looked the same.
“I don’t pity you. You get that, right?”
“Hard to get that straight when you make me feel like a charity case,” I told him.
