My mouth gapes open and I sputter a nervous laugh as Colton stops and slowly slides my body down every firm inch of his until my feet touch the floor. The impish gleam in his eye causes me to wonder if that’s yet another something Colton might be into that’s never crossed my mind before. I’m so lost in my momentary thoughts and the quiet calculation in his eyes that I miss the fact he’s set me down on the private, second story terrace.

And when I realize it—when I notice my surroundings—I’m shocked once again … but this surprise is one that melts my heart.

“Oh, Colton!” The words fall out of my mouth as I take in all of the preparations around me. A portable movie screen has been set up on the far end of the patio and the chaise lounges have been arranged in theater style seating, draped in several layers of none other than sheets. A smile spreads over my face and warmth permeates my soul as I take in the little touches, little things that let me know he cares: a bowl of Hershey’s kisses, a bottle of wine, funnels of cotton candy, lighted candles sprinkled everywhere, and clouds of pillows to lie back on.

I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes nor do I care when one slips over and slides silently down my cheek. The thoughtfulness that went into everything that sits beautifully in front of me leaves me at a loss for words. I turn back to face him and just shake my head at what I see … because if what’s behind me robs my words, the beauty inside and out of the man before me steals my heart. He stands there naked— unshaven, hair mussed and, not including the shaved patch, in desperate need of a haircut, and a look in his eyes that reinforces the words he said to me downstairs.

“Thank you,” I tell him with a broken breath. “This is the sweetest thing …” My voice drifts off as he takes a step toward me and brings his hands up to cup my cheeks and angle my head up so I can meet his eyes. “The best kind of night out. A movie with my Ace and sheets … nothing between us but sheets.”

He smiles that shy smile that undoes me and leans in for a whisper of a kiss before pulling back. “That’s exactly right, Ry. Nothing between us but sheets. Nothing between us ever again but a set of sheets.”

His words stagger me, move me, complete me, and all I can do is step forward and press my lips to his—feel his heart against me, the scrape of his unshaven jaw against my chin, see the love in his eyes—and say, “Nothing but sheets.”

CHAPTER 18

The heat of the morning sun warms my skin, chased by the cool blow of the ocean’s breeze. The stereo we forgot to turn off last night plays Matt Nathanson’s voice just barely audible above the noise of the surf. I snuggle in closer to Colton, so content with the unexpected turn our lives have taken when we more or less crashed into one another that I swear my heart hurts from the enormity of it all. With the second chances we’ve both been given—that we’re both slowly accepting—that a year ago we could have never imagined.

I squint my eyes, thankful for the trellis above that blocks the sun from where we fell asleep last night on the bed of chaise lounges. I don’t even bother to suppress the sigh of a more than satisfied woman as I reminisce making slow, sweet love to him under a blanket of stars and in a bed made of possibilities.

I recall rising over him, sinking down onto him, and watching the unguarded emotion flow through his eyes. How the soft and slow with Colton is just as mind blowing as the hard and fast. How a man used to showing no emotion—used to guarding his heart at all costs—is slowly opening up, moving each brick one at a time, allowing the key to turn in the lock.

I smile softly as I lift my head and look at all the reminders of last night. How sweet the gesture was from a man who swears he doesn’t subscribe to the notion of romance, when everything around us screams just the opposite. What man calls in a favor from his dad to get a copy of his not-released-yet but soon-to-be-blockbuster movie so he can have an uninterrupted date night with his girlfriend? And even though I came to find out he had Quinlan’s help, it was all his idea … the little touches here and there, because it’s the little things that mean so much more to me than the extravagant ones.

I raise my head up from where it rests on his chest and watch him sleep, let my love for him warm the parts of me the breeze has cooled. “I can feel you watching me,” he says groggily with a curl of his lip even though his eyes remain closed.

“Mmm-hmm.” I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Whose idea was it to sleep out here? It’s too damn bright.” He shifts, eyes still closed, but brings the arm that rests behind his head down to pull me closer to him.

“I believe the words were, ‘Your voodoo pussy has worked its magic and stolen mine. I have no energy to move,’” I repeat, not hiding the smug look on my face or the pride in my voice.

“Nope, definitely not my words,” he says before cracking open an eye and looking over to me, that salacious smirk I love displayed proudly. “I’ve got magic in spades, baby, it must have been some other guy your voodoo sucked the life from.”

I fight back the urge to laugh because that gravelly morning voice and those sleepy eyes are the perfect combination of sexy, making it extremely hard to feign nonchalance. “Yeah, you’re right. Remember, I don’t do bad boys such as yourself.” I shrug. “It was that clean-shaven guy I see on the side. The one who gives me what you can’t,” I taunt as I lift the sheet resting over our hips and peek under it, my eyes roaming greedily over his impressive morning hard-on. My muscles, slightly sore from last night, immediately clench in welcome anticipation of more to come. I close my eyes to hide the desire I’m sure clouds them and make a satisfied moan.

“See something you like? Something he can’t give you?” I love the playful tone in his voice.

I make sure my voice is even when I speak because all of this bantering foreplay is making me crave what is beneath my fingertips.

“No worries.” I force the words out as I look up from beneath my eyelashes to find his eyes dancing with humor. “This woman is more than satisfied. No need to experience your magic when that man can drive his stick down the homestretch like you wouldn’t believe.”

Within a heartbeat Colton has flipped me on my back and hovers over me, weight resting on one elbow, and his other hand cuffing my wrists above my head. His face is inches from mine, smirk locked in place, and eyebrows raised in challenge. “I believe my words the other day were a long, fucking time,” he says, pressing his erection at my apex. “There’s the long, sweetheart, now we just need to fulfill the fucking time part of it.”

I start to belt out a laugh but it ends in a pleasurable moan as he sinks into my willing body. I’m not fully ready for his entrance, and although this would normally hurt, it doesn’t. Instead it adds the perfect amount of friction to awaken every nerve possible, including any he might have missed last night.

“Sweet fucking Jesus, you feel like Heaven woman,” he murmurs into my ear as his hips pull out and slide back forward, his one hand still pinning my hands above me. In an oddly intimate action, he lowers his face and rests it just beneath the curve of my neck so each time he withdraws and sinks back into me, the scrape of his stubble and the warmth of his breath teases my skin. And maybe it’s because of his face being so closely positioned by my ear or just that we are so in tune with one another again, but there’s something about the sounds he makes that are such a turn on. Grunts turn into moaning sighs, audible satisfaction.

I try to move my arms but his grip holds me still. “Colton,” I pant as my body starts to quicken, warmth spreading, the desire coiling so tight I’m waiting for it to spring free. “Let me touch you.”

“Hmm?” he murmurs, the vibration of his mouth against my neck rolling through me. He moves again, grinding his hips in a circular motion, cock hitting hidden nerves, before he pulls back out and angles up so he rubs against my clit adding a pleasurable friction that has me forgetting all thoughts about needing my hands to be released. He chuckles, knowing exactly what he’s just done. “That feel good?”

“God yes!” I moan as he does it again, my thighs starting to tense and my skin becoming flushed as the tidal wave of sensation surges in preparation for its final assault on my body.

“I know I’m good, baby, but God might get a little jealous if you start comparing us.”

The playful tone, the lazy lovemaking, because this is making love for us—he may call it racing, but this … murmured words, utter acceptance, complete knowledge of the other’s body, comfort—is most definitely him showing me how he loves me.

I can’t help the carefree laugh that falls from my mouth any more than I can help the arch of my back and the angling of my hips on his next thrust in his slow, skillful rhythm. “Well … be prepared to get jealous in turn,” I taunt, causing him to lift his head from his position on my neck and scrape his whiskers purposefully across my bare nipple causing unfettered need to mainline straight to where he is manipulating so expertly between my thighs. He raises his eyebrows at me in amusement, trying to figure out what exactly I mean as his hips rotate again within me, and I’m lost.

To the moment.

To him.

To the orgasm singlehandedly ripping through my body and drowning me in its overwhelming sensations.

To the, “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” that falls from my lips as wave after wave surges through me.

And I succumb to the haze of my desire but I hear him chuckle when he realizes just why I thought he might be jealous. My body is still pulsing around him, still coming, when he leans down into my ear, his morning rasp adding a soft tickle to the violent sensations reverberating through me. “You may be calling his name now, sweetheart, but in a minute you’re going to be thanking me,” he says as he nips my shoulder with his teeth before my hands are released and the warmth of his body leaves mine.

I’m so lost in riding out my climax that the warmth of his mouth on my already sensitive flesh has me calling out his name, hands fisting in the hair on his head positioned between my legs, tongue sliding along the length of my seam. “Colton!” I cry as his tongue licks into me, drawing out the intensity of my orgasm, prolonging the free fall of ecstasy. “Colton!” I say again, starting to squirm my hips against his mouth as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear.

He licks his tongue back up again and this time keeps going, drawing a line of open mouth kisses and licks up my belly, chest, and neck to my mouth so when his tongue pushes between my lips, I can taste my own arousal. His mouth on mine absorbs my gasped moan as he enters me once again and begins to chase his own orgasm.

When he pulls back from my mouth and sits back on his knees, holding my legs apart as he starts to move within me, he grants me that lightning flash grin I can never resist. “I told you, it would be my name you were calling in the end.”

I start to say something but he grips my hips and rears back and thrusts into me. The start of a punishing rhythm that has my hands gripping the sheets and his name becomes a pant on my lips as he takes us to the edge together.

* * *

“What’d Becks want?” I ask Colton as I walk into his office and lean my backside on the desk to face him. If it weren’t for my positioning, I would have missed the uncertainty flicker through his eyes before he grimaces.

“Is it a bad one?” I ask of the headache I can tell he’s trying to hide.

“Nah, not too bad. They’re getting fewer and farther between,” he says falling silent as he unbends the paperclip in his hand with fierce concentration.

“Becks?” I prompt, sensing that something is wrong.

“He uh, asked if I wanted to reserve some time at the track since they book out far in advance. To make sure I had some time if I wanted it.” He averts his eyes and focuses on the paperclip he’s unfolding with his fingers. “He thinks I should get back in the car.”

Fucking Beckett!

I want to scream at the top of my lungs but settle for chastising him silently. Okay. I’ve gotten my unfounded anger out at him for doing what I agree is right, but it still doesn’t mean I like it … at all. I’d feel a whole hell of a lot better if I had a punching bag too because I’m still terrified by the thought of Colton suited up and behind the wheel, but the question is, is Colton?