A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (59)

“I don’t invite just anyone into my life,” Colton added. “They have to be someone I trust. They have to be someone special.”

He was talking about her. If the words alone weren’t clear enough, the way he looked at her was. And everyone in the room knew it.

“We really need to go.” Gretchen stood up. She couldn’t do this anymore. And she wasn’t talking about the discomfort of being around her family. If she didn’t get him alone soon, she was going to drag him back to her pink bedroom.

Colton took his time unfolding from the love seat. He picked up his glass and casually shot back the remaining whiskey. This time, he didn’t hiss.

He lifted the now-empty glass in her father’s direction. “Thanks for the drink.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Evan said, standing.

“No need,” Colton said. “I’m sure Gretchen knows the way.”



* * *



? ? ?

Gretchen made it all the way to the car before she threw herself at him. He’d just opened her door and turned around to let her in, and she did it again, just like in the elevator. She threw her arms around his neck and smashed her lips onto his.

And just like in the elevator, he immediately took charge, backing her against the cold exterior of the car. They kissed and clawed at each other and moaned into each other’s mouths until the need to breathe finally brought them apart.

An entire conversation passed between them in silent, heavy gazes. He cupped her jaw and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Your place or mine?”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


His was closer.

But it was still more than twenty minutes away, and that was too long. “Can’t you drive any faster?” Gretchen whined. She crossed her legs, but nothing eased the throbbing ache.

“Geez, you’re bossy when you’re horny.” His tone was teasing, but he was white-knuckling the steering wheel, and there was just enough light from the dashboard to illuminate the unmistakable proof of his own urgency behind the zipper of his jeans. He was dying too.

“Just drive,” she said, banging her head against the seat.

By the time he careened to a stop in front of his house, she was ready to straddle his lap right there in the car. Even taking the time to go inside was too much. For him, too, apparently, because when he shut off the car, he leaned across the console, palmed the back of her head, and brought her mouth to his. It wasn’t until the windows fogged up that they finally wrenched apart again. He was sweating and shaking when he ordered her to get out of the car.

His hands trembled as he unlocked the front door, and when he tossed his keys onto the table by the closet, he missed. They clanged to the floor, and that’s where they stayed. Because he was busy driving her crazy again. He kicked the door shut, dragged her against him, and backed her toward the stairs.

“Wait,” he breathed at the bottom step. Then he bent and scooped her up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” she panted.

“Carrying you to bed. It’s supposed to be romantic.” He grunted, though, through the first three stairs.

“It won’t be romantic if you fall down and I have to spend the rest of my life as the woman who killed Colton Wheeler.”

“But what a way to go out, amirite?” He made it one more step. “Okay, you’re right. This is dangerous.”

He set her down and instead began backing her up the stairs, pausing to kiss and paw and swear at the buttons on her blouse. She stumbled on the top step and went down on her butt.

“This is far enough,” Colton said, bending his body over hers with another breath-stealing kiss. His knees rested on the top stair between her splayed legs, and he grabbed one ankle to spread her wider beneath him. She clung to him with greedy hands, tangling her fingers in his hair so she could force him closer, closer, until all their best parts collided in a grinding, desperate pursuit of pleasure.

Oh, God, he was so hard against her, so hard and hot. The expanse of his back flexed beneath the fabric of his shirt, and the biceps bracketing her head strained and popped with every dip and dive of his mouth into hers. Suddenly, one of his knees slipped from the stair, sending his full weight down on top of her. With an oomph and a muttered curse, he regained his balance but rose from her. “I’m too old for this,” he panted with a nod to the end of the hallway.

“We’re the same age,” she protested.

“And we’re both going to regret it if we pull a goddamn muscle while trying to fuck on the stairs.”

“We’re not that old.”

He stood fully and stripped off his fleece. He tossed it without paying attention to where it went. “Let’s go, woman.”

“And you think I’m bossy when horny?”

“Bedroom. Now.”

She rolled onto all fours, intending to scramble to her feet. But then he let out a reverent breath behind her. “I will give you anything you want if you’ll do that in bed.”

She smiled over her shoulder. “Anything?”

“Yes. Anything.”

She wiggled her butt. “I want a ham sandwich when we’re done.”

“You can have the entire goddamn pig. Now, move it.”

So apparently she was also a sucker for being bossed around. Her legs were weak, her knees wobbly, but she found the strength to stand again. She turned around, planted her hands on her hips, and bit her lip. “Tell me what to do.”