Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(13)

Colt attempted to knock her hand free, but she’d latched onto his hip with her other hand and held him in place.


That tingling sensation started and his balls tightened.


No, no, no, no. Too soon. He couldn’t blow this fast. He couldn’t embarrass himself by shooting within a minute of her hand touching his cock.


Before Colt so much as said her name, he began to come.


Hot spurts shot out the end of his dick, soaking the waistband of his sweatpants. He froze, mortified by being so quick on the trigger. He didn’t even enjoy the first orgasm he’d had in years that hadn’t been brought about by his own hand.


Luckily it didn’t last long. Colt jerked away from her, ignoring the pain in his ass as he spun around.


Fuck. Way to be a loser.


“Colt?”


He didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the door.


“Where are you going?”


“Home.”


“Why? Are you sorry—”


“That I came in the blink of an eye? Yeah, I’m really goddamned sorry.”


“That’s not what I was going to say.”


“Doesn’t matter.”


“But—”


“Save it.” He struggled to slip on his right boot without bending over, by bracing his hand on the wall.


Then India was in his face. “Don’t do this.”


“What? Embarrass you and myself? Too f*ckin’ late.”


“Do I look embarrassed?”


Colt’s gaze traveled the length of her body and back up to her face. “No, you look beautiful. Jesus, you always look so beautiful.”


Her eyes softened. “Talk to me.”


He shook his head. He should’ve been hanging his stupid head in shame. Somehow he’d managed to get one boot on. He switched his stance, trying to block her out.


But India wasn’t about to be deterred. She ducked under his arm so she was closer than before. His determination to ignore her was temporarily sidelined when he noticed the gap in her robe had widened, granting him an even better view of those exquisitely pierced nipples.


“Fine, you’re embarrassed. So I’ve got nothing to lose by asking you to tell me the truth.”


“Indy—”


“How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”


Thump. His heel hit the floor as he got the left boot on.


“A year?”


Colt laughed.


“Two years?”


“Try three years.”


India stared at him with confusion, then understanding dawned.


“You mean, you haven’t—”


“Had sex since I went through treatment? Nope. I’ve been celibate as long as I’ve been sober.”


“By choice?”


How the hell was he supposed to answer that? “I hardly remember the last time I had sex. I was drunk. Or high. Or both. So I guess you can say I hardly remember what sex is like or what I’m supposed to do besides come in my pants like a teenage boy.”


“Why haven’t you talked about this at meetings?”


“Because it’s not anyone’s goddamned business but mine.”


“Okay. But you could’ve talked to me. One on one. We’re friends.”