Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(49)

“What’s with the look?”

“Don’t guys hate girls who love romcoms?”

“I think it’s universally acknowledged that most girls like romcoms.” He lifted the wine bottle from the flowerpot and refilled their glasses. “We put up with it.”

“But you don’t like them.”

Honestly? He didn’t mind romantic movies, and he especially didn’t think he’d mind watching one with her. “They’re okay.”

“But what do you really like?”

“Adventure.”

“Like Indiana Jones?” she asked.

“Exactly. And sci-fi. Some fantasy.”

“Fantasy?”

“You know. Like The Lord of the Rings.”

“Never seen it,” she said, over the rim of her glass. Her cheeks were pink, and she seemed much more relaxed than she’d been fifteen minutes ago. Plus, she was still sitting next to him, which made him ridiculously happy.

“Travesty,” he whispered, shaking his head with a mix of mock disgust and horror.

She laughed. “Is that what we’re watching tonight?”

“No. We’ll save The Lord of the Rings for a long, quiet, rainy day.”

“Then . . .?”

“You like romance and comedy, right?”

“Right.”

“And I like adventure, sci-fi, and a little fantasy.”

“Your TV. Your rules. Adventure, sci-fi, and fantasy it is.”

“Now, wait a second . . . what fun would that be for you?”

“You know what? I don’t really care what we watch. I’m just happy . . .” A deeper blush stained her cheeks and she smiled but dropped his eyes.

“What?”

“To be here.” She raised her eyes. “To be with you.”

His heart reacted to the simple sweetness of her words, and he reached out with his free hand to cup her cheek. “Where have you been all my life?”

“In Camilla, Georgia,” she said, leaning into his hand. Her voice was low when she asked, “What are we watching?”

“The Princess Bride,” he said gruffly, every cell in his body fighting against the instinct to grab her, kiss her, touch her. He’d promised it was her call, but f*ck, it took everything he had to keep himself in check.

She gasped, her face bursting into a stunning smile as she leaned away from his hand in excitement. “I know that movie! I love that movie!”

He chuckled at her expression, then watched her eyes soften as she cocked her head to the side. “You just laughed,” she said.

“I did,” he said, grinning at her.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

“I’m a little out of practice.”

Suddenly she leaned forward, her breasts brushing his lap as she reached over to set her wineglass on the nightstand. When she drew back, she placed her palms on his face and looked into his eyes with such heartbreaking trust and tenderness, his heart swelled. It swelled with something so big and so awesome that he wanted so desperately, he didn’t know how his rib cage could hold it all inside. His breath caught, and he froze. He was utterly helpless as she stared into his eyes.

“Where have you been all of my life?”

“Waiting,” he said softly, closing his eyes as her lips touched down on his.

***

Unlike their kiss on Thursday night, this one didn’t begin in a passionate frenzy of need. Just like Verity, it was gentle . . . and achingly tender.

She brushed her lips against his, nibbling his upper lip between hers before letting it go to love the lower lip in the same way. Her fingers cradled his face, the pads of her palms anchored on his jaw as she nipped, brushed, and nibbled, taking her time to learn the dry, warm texture of his lips, which tasted lightly of wine, and the way the bristles of his five o’clock shadow scraped her tongue just a little when she ran it along the two-point flume that crowned his top lip. These were small movements, light and soft, her way of showing this man—this big, brawny, unpretty man, who could lift all those absurdly large weights on the shelves behind her—that he was precious to her, that he was cherished. That, to her, he was beautiful. That, for her, he was perfect.

As though slowly waking up to her ministrations, he finally reached for her, his hands landing on her waist. She shifted her body and threw one knee over his lap so that she knelt on the bed, straddling his hips, and suddenly the fingers on her waist tightened, yanking her closer, until her breasts were crushed against his chest and her thighs hugged his hips. Intimately pressed against him, she could feel the twitch and swell of his cock as it lengthened and hardened beneath her, pressing up against her body as she swept her tongue into his mouth and swallowed a gravelly groan of satisfaction. His hands on her ass curled, pushing her pelvis flush against his, and she arched her back as she sucked on his tongue, whimpering as he flexed his hips, grinding up into her.

His hands slipped beneath her tank top, the rough pads of his fingers gently scraping the soft skin of her back until he reached her bra. He didn’t ask permission to unclasp it—just flicked it open and flattened his palms flush on her back while he sucked on her tongue as she’d just sucked on his. Her breasts were tight and aching for his touch, so she reached for the hem of her tank top and slid it up her body, hooking her fingers into her bra and dragging both over her head. Pausing mid-kiss, he reached around to the back of his neck and yanked his T-shirt over his head, then fused his lips to hers again. Verity whimpered softly into his mouth as the taut points of her breasts touched the warm, hard expanse of Colton’s chest. Finally skin to skin, it didn’t assuage her longing, but intensified it. She was hungry for the touch of his fingers, the suck of his lips, the teasing swirl of his tongue.