Crashed(book three)(106)

“Who needs a room?” I say before my lips crash back against his, hands fisting in his hair, hips grinding into his as his erection rubs against me with every step.

Laughter rings out followed by catcalls, but they’re only background noise to the freight train of desire bearing down on us. “Hurry,” I tell him in between desperate kisses.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he tries to find an open door at my back without wanting to take his mouth from mine.

“Oh, you better plan on it,” I reply as I pull back so he can find the handle. He belts out a laugh as my tongue glides to his neck, the taste of salt on my tongue, the vibration of his laughter beneath my lips.

We’re on the move again, up a set of stairs in a darkened corridor, and I have no clue where we are. I hold on for the ride, laughter bubbling up, relief flowing through me as my body tenses with the anticipation of what’s to come.

We’re suddenly bathed in a muted light, and I turn my head and blink my eyes to take in our surroundings. We are in one of the luxury boxes on pit row: plush couches, a concessions bar on one side, a table spanning the length of the wall of tinted windows that looks down on the track, where his crew is tinkering with his car.

That’s all I have time to take in because Colton’s lips find mine again, his mouth a toxic concoction of need and lust. My legs fall from his hips, feet dropping to the ground, as we move toward the counter in a clumsy choreography of steps. We reach the lip of the counter, and I lean my hips back against it, as Colton’s hands roam down my torso, before I feel bare hands beneath my shirt on my ribcage.

And I’m not sure if it’s the heightened arousal from the adrenaline of the race track, or our reconciliation, but I feel like I can’t get enough of him—his touch, his taste, the sound in the back of his throat, my name on his lips. I reach up and unfasten the Velcro against his throat so I can pull his zipper. And even this small action pains me because I have to pull away from his lips. But the minute I yank the zipper down, my mouth meets his again. Our hands unfasten, arms pull out of our sleeves, fingers shove down my shorts and underwear, clothes thrown haphazardly to the floor, our mouths never leaving one another’s.

“Ry,” he says between kisses, one hand gripping my hair tightly while the other tests my readiness for his entrance. Foreplay isn’t an option right now. We’re so pent up, so desperate to right the wrongs of our last conversation that without speaking, we both know we need this connection. Talking will come later. Cuddling and niceties later. Right now desire consumes, passion overwhelms, and love takes hold. “Fuck, I need you right now.”

“Take me.” Two simple words. They’re out of my mouth without a second thought, but within a second of saying them, Colton has me flipped over, hands braced on the counter, his hands gripping my hips, his throbbing cock lined up at my entrance from behind. He rests the crest in between my folds and then slides it up and back causing my body to tense and a moan to fall from between my lips.

And there’s something about this moment, about Colton on the precipice of taking me without asking, that has every part of me aching for release, begging for more of his touch. “Please. Now,” I pant as my sex quivers with need, body so in tune to his every action that my body automatically responds, opens, invites.

I rear back and try to take him on my own, trying to demonstrate the need spearing and spiraling throughout my every nerve, robbing my rationality, and making my senses crave more. “Behave!” He chuckles out a laugh of pure male appreciation as one hand fists in my mane of hair as his other lands smartly on the left side of my ass. The sting shocks my head back but has nothing on the assault of sensation that occurs as he enters me in one slick, earth-shattering thrust. I can’t help the hitched breath followed by a soft sigh that falls from my mouth as sensation ripples and my walls convulse around him.