“Rylee.” He rasps out a tortured breath. “My turn.”

My eyes flicker up to meet his, lids weighted with desire as I drag my fingertips over my clit one last time before pulling them away. His lips part in reaction to the moan that escapes between my lips and then curve in a wicked smile that has me arching my back, begging for more of his touch. His eyes hold mine as he leans down. I feel the gentle draw of his warm mouth on my aching hot spot and once again he drowns me. His passion swallows me whole.



We lay on our sides facing each other, our heads propped on pillows, our bodies naked, and our current desire temporarily sated. Craig David plays softly through the speakers in the ceiling. I drink in Colton, our eyes speaking volumes despite our lips remaining silent. So many things I want to say to him after what we’ve just exchanged. It wasn’t just sex between us. Not that it ever has been for me, but tonight especially, the connection was different. Colton has always been a more than generous lover, but how he was tonight—his slow, worshipping touch—has left me in a state of blissful daze. I find myself becoming so lost in him, so blanketed by everything that he is, that in a sense, I have found myself again.

I am whole again.

“Thank you.” His words break our silence.

“Thank me? I think I’m the one who’s just come multiple times.”

The crooked, cocky grin fills me with such happiness. “True,” he concedes with a nod of his head. “But thank you for not pushing earlier.”

“You’re welcome,” I tell him, feeling like the smile on my face is a permanent fixture.

We fall silent again for a bit before he murmurs, “I could look at you for hours.” I blush under the intensity of his stare, which is funny considering I should be blushing rather in regards to all of the various things he just did to please me. But in this moment I realize that I am blushing because I am completely naked to him—stripped, bared, open—and not in just in the literal sense. He is looking at me, seeing into my eyes and through the guard I have lowered to reveal the transparency of my feelings for him.

I shake myself from my thoughts. “I think I should be the one saying that,” I tell him, the dancing flames from the fire bathing a soft light across his dark features.

He snorts at me and rolls his eyes. Such a childish reaction from such an intense man that it softens him, makes my heart stumble that much more. “Do you have any idea how much crap I got as a kid for being so pretty,” he says with disdain. “How many fights I got in to prove that I wasn’t?”

I reach out and run my fingertips over the lines of his face and then down the crooked line of his nose. “Is that how you got this?” I ask.

“Mmm-hmm.” He chuckles softly. “I was a senior in high school and had the hots for the football captain’s girl. Stephanie Turner was her name. He wasn’t too thrilled when the school rebel snuck out of a party with his girl.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was...I had quite a rep back then.”

“Only back then?” I tease.

“Smartass,” he says, giving me that bashful smile. “Yes, only then.” When I roll my eyes at him, he continues. “Anyway, I was quite the hot head. Got in fights constantly for no reason except to prove no one had a say in what I could do or how they could control me. I had a lot of anger in my teenage years. Because of that, the next day he got his buddies to hold me down while he beat the shit out of me. Broke my nose and fucked me up pretty bad.” He shrugs. “Looking back, I deserved it. You don’t touch another man’s woman.”

I stare at him, finding his last comment oddly sexy. “What did your parents say?”

“Oh they were pissed,” he exclaims before continuing on to explain how they reacted. We talked like this for the next hour. He explained what it was like growing up with his parents, filling in little stories here and there that had me laughing at both his rebellions and his shortcomings.

We fall back into a comfortable silence after a while. He reaches out and pulls the covers up my back after noticing I’ve become chilled and tucks an errant curl behind my ear. “I’m proud of you,” he says softly, my drowsy eyelids opening fully in question. “You walked into that storage closet tonight and didn’t freak out.”

I look at him, awareness seeping into me that he’s right. That I didn’t think twice about it. With him beside me, I was able to forget my fear. “Well I didn’t actually walk into it…I believe I was coerced. It’s the Colton effect,” I tease. “You had my thoughts focused elsewhere.”

“I could do that again right now if you’d like?” he suggests.

“I’m sure you could, Ace, but...” I stop and stare at him, Tawny’s bathroom conversation seeping into my thoughts. Curiosity melds with insecurity and it gets the better of me. “Colton?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his eyes drifting closed as his fingers draw aimless circles on the top of my hand.

“Do I give you what you need?”

“Mmm-hmm” The nonchalance of his response tells me that either doesn’t understand my question or is lost to the clutches of sleep.

Her words echo in my head. “Do I satisfy you sexually?” I can’t help the break in my voice when I ask.

Colton’s body tenses at my words, his fingertips become motionless on my skin, and his eyes open with deliberate slowness and confusion. He stares at me as if he is looking straight into my soul, and the intensity of it is so strong that I eventually avert my eyes to watch my fingers pluck at the sheet. “Why would you ask me such a ridiculous question?”

I shrug as embarrassment colors my cheeks. “I’m just not very experienced and you—you most definitely are so I was just wondering…” My voice fades off, unsure how to ask what is in the forefront of my mind.

Colton shifts in the bed and sits up, tugging on my arm so that I have no choice but to follow suit. He reaches out and tips my chin up so that I’m forced to look into his eyes. “You’re just wondering what?” he asks softly, concern etched in his features.

“How long until you’re bored with me? I mean, I’m—”

“Hey, where is all of this coming from?” Colton implores as he brushes his thumb gently over my cheek.

How is it I can let this man have his way with me sexually, but right now, confronting him about my lack of experience makes me feel more naked than ever? Insecurity clogs my throat when I try to explain. “It’s just been a rough night,” I say. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Uh-uh, you’re not getting off that easy, Rylee.” He shifts in the bed and despite my protests, pulls me so that I’m seated between his thighs—face to face—my legs astride his hips. I have no choice but to look at him now. “What’s going on? What else did I miss tonight that you’re not telling me?” His eyes search into mine looking for answers.

“It’s silly really,” I admit, trying to downplay my feelings of inadequacy. “I was in the bathroom stall and overheard some ladies talking about what a God you are in the sack.” I roll my eyes for good measure not wanting his ego to get any bigger than it already is. “...And how it’s obvious that I’m more than inexperienced.” I look down and focus on his thumbs rubbing absently back and forth on my thighs. “How you’re going to take what you want, chew me up, and spit me out. They said you don’t do predictability and—”