Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(86)

“No.”


“Thank you. That was…” He sighed. “Words fail me. I didn’t invite you over, expecting that, India.”


“I know. That’s why I had such a fantastic time blowing your expectations all to hell.”


“Blowing me to heaven and back is more like it.”


She released the catch on the recliner. When they were horizontal, she snuggled into him and whispered, “Aren’t these cooking lessons going great? I think I’m a natural.”


Chapter Eighteen


Lovers Week Four


It was another crappy, boring day.


Damn rain meant India couldn’t ride her bike. No tattoo customers had braved the lousy weather. No Sky Blue customers either. She’d been stuck inside for four lousy days. She was sick of her own company.


You’re sick of staying away from Colt.


True.


India kicked the door shut and bobbled the box of lavender soap when she saw him leaning against the doorjamb, looking pretty as you please. Dark hair tousled and damp from the wind and the rain. Stubble coating his jaw. Trouble in his eye.


Crap. She could never resist him when he looked all gorgeous and scowly.


Go on the offensive.


“Colt? What are you doing here?”


He patiently returned her cool stare. “I’m here to ask why I haven’t seen you.”


She dropped the soap on the counter and pointed to the boxes scattered around the showroom. “I’ve been busy.”


Colt gave her that you’re-full-of-shit eyebrow lift.


“And you were out of town.”


“I was in Guernsey for two lousy days, India, two days in which I didn’t hear from you once.”


“Hey, bucko, the phone lines run both ways.”


“Is that so?” Colt began to stalk her. “I thought we were beyond this fightin’ just so we can make up stuff.”


“But it’s so fun.”


He growled.


“Besides, didn’t we talk about not spending every waking minute together?”


“You talked. I listened. And I disagreed.”


India’s pulse doubled. He’d used that matter-of-fact tone before he’d stripped her, boosted her against the tile in his shower and screwed her until the water ran cold and her vocal cords shorted out from shouting his name in rapture.


Thinking about showering with him and experiencing his hot, naked male stamina is not helping you retain the upper hand, India.


Right. And she so had the upper hand when the man had her in full retreat until her spine hit the wall.


“Got nothin’ to say?”


“Fine. What do you want?”


“You,” he said tersely, slapping his hands on either side of her head. His mouth swooped down on hers in a kiss that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t meant to soothe, but to chastise. His mouth punished, forgave, and seduced—all at the same time.


It was a kiss that smacked of ownership.


It was a kiss that knocked her for a loop.


It was a kiss that was four long days overdue.


After he’d thoroughly scrambled her brain cells, Colt whispered, “Sweet Jesus, you piss me off sometimes, but I missed you, Indy. Come home with me tonight so I can show you how much.”


She ducked under his arm. “I can’t.”