A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (61)

Sweetness was her undoing. She could meet him toe to toe when he flirted and charmed and teased. But when he looked at her like this, with his heart in his eyes, she was as disarmed as a cornered rabbit. She’d fled from him like one before, and it took all her willpower to not let the same fear kick in now.

He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers. “Do you need anything?” he murmured.

She rolled toward him. “Just you.”

Colton slid his hand over the curve of her hip and around to her stomach until his fingers met hers. Between their bodies, the urgent press of his erection was the only reminder that she alone had found release. Because even though he sucked in a sharp breath as she shifted closer, he made no move to roll her over or seek the same pleasure for himself that he’d just given her.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, trailing a finger along the length of him.

His eyes darkened, but still he didn’t move. “Just let me look at you for a minute.”

“I get shy when I’m looked at too long.”

“Well, you better get used to it, because I could lie here and look at you forever.” He ran his knuckles across her cheek. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

He was going to be the death of her if he kept being so damn nice. She closed her fingers around him and began to pump up and down, slowly, circling his tip with her thumb. He shuddered and closed his eyes, and finally his restraint snapped. He rolled her onto her back and covered her mouth with his. They kissed in a tangle of arms and legs until his breathing grew ragged and rough, his movements shaky and frantic. He rose quickly, sheathed himself in a condom, and returned to her arms.

He entered her slowly and then quickly, adjusting and readjusting, remembering and reacquainting, until they moved in sync, giving and taking, whispering incoherently, panting feverishly. She lifted her legs to take him in farther, and the tension built again. Pulsing and searching. Faster and faster. He pressed his forehead to hers, begged her to come.

And once again, she obeyed. With a muffled cry, the dam broke again. She stiffened as the waves crashed again and again. When he withdrew from her suddenly, she grabbed for him, protesting.

But he wasn’t done with her yet. “Roll over,” he whispered.

She could’ve orgasmed again from his voice alone. Gretchen did as he asked, lifting her butt in the air. Colton pressed against her, his hands rubbing and squeezing her butt cheeks. Then he reached between her legs, toyed with her some more. She couldn’t help herself. She moved her hips in time with his fingers. “Please,” she moaned.

He buried himself inside her again with a hard thrust and a guttural oath. “Fuck, Gretchen.”

She didn’t know if it was an exclamation or a command, but she was going with the latter. She moved against him, taking him deeper, harder. And when he grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin to hold her steady against his thrusts, she was gone. She came in a sudden burst of white-hot waves, and he swore again and joined her over the cliff. His body spasmed and stiffened behind hers before he collapsed on her back, panting into her neck. Her legs gave way, and together they flattened against the mattress. She had to turn her head to keep from suffocating, but the feel of him atop her, spent and weak and sweaty, was worth the struggle.

Time floated. It could have been thirty seconds or five minutes. Her eyes had just drifted shut when she felt his breath hot against her cheek. “You are all of my dreams come true.”

Dammit. He was going to kill her.

Colton rose from her back and kissed a line down her spine and up again. Finally, he nuzzled his nose against her neck. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him through heavy lids as he padded to the bathroom. A moment later, he returned, knelt by the bed, and brushed the hair from her forehead. “You still want that ham sandwich?”

She rose on her elbows. “Feed me.”



* * *



? ? ?

“By the way,” Gretchen said ten minutes later as she watched him slather a piece of sourdough with mustard. “You can say it. I know you want to.”

He looked up and licked the knife. “I don’t like your family very much.”

“Now you know why I don’t live there.”

Colton layered ham onto the bread. “They always treat you like that?”

“My whole life.”

“I’m sorry. You deserve better.” He put half of the sandwich on a plate and slid it toward her, keeping the other half for himself. “You can tell me more, if you want, but I’m not going to push you to talk about something until you’re ready.”

She would probably never be ready, but he deserved to know the full truth about her if they were going to keep doing . . . whatever this was. “I was a bit of a handful as a teenager.”

He chomped out a massive bite and spoke around it. “Everyone is a handful as a teenager.”

“I was worse than most. I ran away a lot.”

“Like, literally ran away, or like, packed a backpack with some granola bars and a teddy bear and walked up the road before coming home?”

“I made it all the way to Michigan once.”

He coughed and set down his sandwich. “What?! How? How old were you?”

“Sixteen. I had just gotten my driver’s license. Blake was home for Christmas, and I took his car. He was so pissed. They reported the car stolen the next morning when they discovered it was gone.”