Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(72)

“You’re titanium,” he said, just to her, and another surge of tears streaked down her cheeks. “And I’m glad you met someone you like.”

“And I’m glad you realized you’re strong inside. That you can handle things. That’s what I was telling you at laser tag. You’ve come far, and I’m proud of you.”

He broke the hug and tipped his head to his group of friends. “So, um, I’ll stay at Aunt Camille’s tonight, and you guys can…” He pointed from Colin to his mom, and she got his drift. She was glad he couldn’t say it. She wanted him to be fourteen. To embrace all that it meant to be young. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she said, a wild grin on her face.

He walked off to join his friends, and she returned her focus to the man who stood in front of her at the Skyway roller rink. The music blasted from the DJ booth, the crowds cheered, and the soundtrack of arcade games and pool, of sodas fizzing, and of skates whipping around the oval, surrounded them.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. I went to prison yesterday.”

She arched an eyebrow, not computing at first. Then it hit her. “You did?”

He nodded. “Yes. This woman told me she thought it would be a good idea.”

“Did she?” she asked, playing along now. “Sounds like a smart lady.”

He nodded as he grasped her hips in his hands, curling his fingers into her. “She’s amazing. And she always knows exactly what I need. She pushes me in ways I need to be pushed, and she lets me give to her in ways I want to give.”

“How do you like to give?” she asked as his fingers traveled up her waist, his touch setting her on fire.

He inched closer, molding his body to hers. “I like to give her pleasure. I like to give her love. I want to give her reason to trust that I’m the kind of man she can lean on.”

She laced her hands in his hair. “Oh, Colin. I know that. You are the best man I’ve ever known,” she said, and her heart was full nearly to bursting with a piercing, rich kind of joy. But somewhere in the back of her mind, her worries still lived and they needed to be voiced. They were different, though, than what she first thought they’d be.

“I missed you like crazy. It was only a few days, but I don’t care. The way I feel about you isn’t rational; it isn’t logical. But it’s so real. And it’s so true,” she said, dropping her hands to his chest and gripping the fabric of his shirt. “And I need you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to balance it all. You, and Alex, and being a mom, and work. And not get scared.”

She stopped talking as his lips quirked up, and he simply smiled, just as if he was madly in love with her. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to be fearless all the time. Just be with me.”

“I want to be with you. I want to be fearlessly in love with you.” She tugged him to her, not caring that her team was circling the rink behind her, barely thinking about the crowds around them, only feeling this immeasurable closeness with this man. “And I am.”

He groaned and brought his lips to her neck. Instantly, a flurry of delicious tingles flared over her skin. “I can’t resist kissing you. Pretty soon I’m not going to be able to resist f*cking you,” he whispered.

It was her turn to moan. To murmur. To let him know she wanted his resistance broken down…but not quite yet.

She pressed her hand to his chest. “We should have the place to ourselves in about an hour, if you’d like.”

“If I’d like?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “If I’d like what? Tell me, Elle. What are you asking?”

She shot him a sexy grin. “To celebrate. Celebrate with me.”

He dipped his hand into the pocket of his shorts. “If you wear these, I will.”

He dangled a long pair of socks in front of her. They were red with Vs of illustrated birds on them. “Holy shit,” she said and grabbed them. “Where did you get them?”

“My soon-to-be-sister-in-law knows how to find anything on the Strip. So she found a store for me that sells all kinds of socks.”

She clutched them to her chest. “To some women, giving her socks would be like giving her a vacuum cleaner. I, however, am not one of those women.”

He quirked up his lips and ran his finger along the outside of her thigh. “And I am one of those men for whom socks are a crazy turn-on.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


The disco lights swirled in crazy-eight circles, and Elle raced around the rink, hot as f*ck in her tight T-shirt, short skirt, and red socks. Bon Jovi blasted out of the sound system.

“Catch me if you can.”

Oh hell. There was no way he was backing down from that challenge. He pushed harder and faster on his wheels, and soon enough he caught up with her, grabbing her waist and pulling her to the side of the rink.

Breathless, she laughed in his arms as “You Give Love a Bad Name” echoed around them.

“Hey, you’re not even supposed to be skating for another week,” he admonished her.

“No,” she said, correcting him as she shook her head. “The doctor said no contact sports. Skating itself is fine.”