A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (55)

“Take this off,” he ordered.

Yes, sir. She wiggled to sit up, reached behind her, and unhooked her bra. And then his hands replaced hers, sliding both her shirt and the black lace from her body before tossing them both somewhere. With a gentle push, he sent her onto her back once again, and his exploration began anew. His palms rolled atop her nipples. Gretchen arched into him, seeking and finding. He played with her, toyed with her, flicking his thumb over the taut nubs, rolling them between his fingers.

“Colton,” she moaned, covering his hands with hers, “either put your mouth on those or stop before you kill me.”

“So demanding,” he chuckled. But finally, he gave her what her body craved. His tongue flicked her nipple, followed quickly by a nip of his teeth. Every nerve ending in her body sparked to life.

“Colton.” Her voice came out a tortured groan. She gripped his head and directed his lips to her right nipple. She wanted it hard. He gave it soft. The tip of his tongue traced her, licked her, teased her. Her body acted on its own, arching into him again, and he moved to the other nipple, tormenting her again with his restraint when all she wanted from him was rabid.

She couldn’t wait a second longer. If they were going to do this, they were going to do this now. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it from his jeans, and after that it became a scramble of frantic disrobing every bit as hurried and clumsy as when they’d stumbled into his hotel room after Mack and Liv’s wedding. What was this between them? What force of nature made one body, one person, crave another long past the point of desire until it was something simpler, something urgent, something primal?

Colton rose on his knees and lifted his T-shirt over his head. Then he grabbed her hands and brought them to his stomach. She scratched the coarse hair that covered the lean outline of abs. God, she remembered this, what his skin felt like.

His eyes fluttered shut. “God, Gretchen,” he rasped. “You have no idea how often I dream about you touching me.”

He fumbled with the button of his jeans. Hands shaking, she did the same with hers. He swore twice as his fingers slipped from his zipper, but finally he freed himself. His erection strained, and all she could do was stare. She wanted him so bad. She wanted him now.

Gretchen lifted her hips and shimmied her pants down, and, fuck, as she did, his hand came around his erection and he began to stroke himself lightly.

“Only you,” he rasped. “You’re the only person who does this to me.”

Gretchen tried to free one leg from her jeans. Just one leg. That’s all she needed to get out. His hand worked himself as he gazed at her breasts. It was the single most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

A sound made them both freeze.

He blinked. “What was that?”

And then they heard it again. A door closing. Followed by footsteps. And then a voice. “Hello?”

“You have to be kidding me,” Colton growled.

Her fucking parents were home.

And this was the problem with getting naked with Colton Wheeler. If kisses scrambled her senses, letting him touch her boobs made her lose her entire goddamn mind. She’d been one pant leg away from having sex with him in her childhood bedroom.

Colton uttered a quiet Fuck as he reached for his shirt where it was draped off the end of the mattress, nearly invisible amid the disheveled pink frothiness of the comforter. He lost his balance, though, and tumbled to the floor, barely missing a collision with the corner of the end table. He dropped three more consecutive F-bombs and scrambled onto all fours.

Gretchen threw him his shirt and sat up, hands over her breasts. “Where’s my bra?”

He pulled the shirt over his head. “I don’t know.”

“You took it off me! Where’d you put it?”

“I don’t know. I was a little distracted by your boobs.” He winked suddenly. “Which are spectacular, by the way.”

Growling, Gretchen scanned the area around the bed.

“Here it is,” Colton said. He crawled to where both her shirt and bra were snagged on a branch of the Christmas tree.

Outside, her parents’ voices grew louder as they entered the living area.

“I don’t know whose car that is,” her father snapped.

“Should we call the police?” her mother asked.

“It’s a Porsche, Diane.”

As if that automatically ruled out any criminality. Even when they thought they were being robbed, her parents managed to be snobs.

“Got it,” Colton whispered, crawling back. Gretchen grabbed her clothes from him as he rose on his knees to zip his jeans. He winced as it dragged over his still-massive erection.

Gretchen shimmied into her bra and swore under her breath as her fingers slipped from the clasp. It took two tries before it finally caught. The footsteps approached the hallway leading to her bedroom just as Gretchen began rebuttoning her shirt. Shit. Shit.

Colton stood quickly, running his hands through his hair to smooth it back down. Gretchen pointed at his crotch, eyes wide. He looked down, swore again, and started breathing slowly in and out.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Picturing the lunch lady at my high school. It’s not working.”

“Oh my God,” Gretchen groaned. “This is my nightmare.”

Her mother’s voice rang out, just feet from her bedroom door. “Hello? Evan, is that you? Did you get a new car?”