What the hell am I doing?It’s the question I’ve asked myself no less than ten times in the very short span since Colt texted me back, agreeing to come over. Why would I invite him over? What good will come from that? It’s nearly midnight. Nobody comes over this late for anything innocent. When he started flirting with me through text, making comments about how he’d like to taste my kiss again or how if he were in front of me, he’d prove how much I wanted him, I should’ve ignored them.
Ididignore them for a while.
Until I couldn’t anymore. It's like I lost my ability to think rationally. I lost all self-control as I was sitting on my bed, trying to read—try being the opportune word here—and the unanswered text was calling to me from where it was sitting on the nightstand. It was a siren call; something I’m clearly notstrong enough to deny. And responding felt simple enough. It’s over the phone, so it’s easy to pretend it’s not asreal. Easy to pretend there would be no consequences from it. But now he’s here, because I told him to, and I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to send him away once I lay eyes on him. Colt ignites something fierce inside of me, something I have a hard time ignoring.
It's wrong, and I should be the responsible one, and put a stop to it, but why? Why shouldn’t I get to be a little reckless? Why shouldn’t I give in to what I want every once in a while? It’s one night. My father and I went to visit my mom’s gravestone earlier, and being there reminded me that life is too damn short to deny yourself what you want all the time.
His truck parks in the driveway, and I pull away from the window, resting my back against the wall as I force myself to take deep breaths. The buzzing sound of my phone vibrating in my hand is deafening in this otherwise quiet hallway. It’s him, obviously. I could always ignore the message. Pretend I fell asleep after I sent the original invite. Sure, it would be a dick move, but it would ensure I didn’t do something I really shouldn’t tonight.
Could I do that, though? Ignore Colt, leave him outside waiting for me? No. Of course not. That’s not who I am. I’m fucking polite to a fault; it comes from years as a physician. But it’s not even that, is it? If I’m being honest with myself, the real reason I couldn’t ignore him is because I don’t want to. There’s an overwhelming part of me thatwantsto see him. Thatcravesthe way Colt looks at me. The way he flirts with me so damn shamelessly. A part of me that has to see this through, regardless of the consequences, because the sexual tension is there between us, and I’m certain ignoring it won’t make it justgo away.
Blowing out a breath, I unlock my phone, finding a text from Colt telling me what I already knew; he’s here. With my heart in my throat, as quietly as I can, I flick the deadbolt on the door, twisting the knob, and pulling open the door. I step out onto the porch, noting how warm it is tonight. Colt rounds the front of his truck, signature backwards hat on his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips, and I can’t help but check him out for a moment. Sinfully tight Wranglers, a pair of boots, and a sand-colored t-shirt, the front of it tucked into his jeans showing off his belt buckle. He walks with swagger and confidence, something I really shouldn’t find as attractive as I do.
“Evening, Doc,” he drawls as he casually strolls up the steps. As soon as he’s in front of me, I notice the toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and there’s something so damn hot about that. I can’t explain it. His usual citrus and leather scent envelops me as he comes to a stop in front of me, the smell intoxicating me more than the whiskey ever could.
I tip my chin. “Colt.” Suddenly, everything feels awkward as a rush of uncertainty takes over my nerves. This was a mistake, inviting him here.
His smirk grows, like he knows exactly what’s running through my mind. “You going to invite me in, or are we going to stand out here on your porch all night for all of your neighbors to see?
Clenching my jaw, I step aside, letting him pass by me into the house. Like he’s been here dozens of times, he toes out of his boots, setting them by the shoe rack. As I’m locking the door, I feel him come up behind me. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence is blaring.
“Barefoot,” he rasps. “Kind of sexy seeing you like this.”
Doing my best to school my features, I turn to face him, saying nothing about his comment. “Would you like something to drink?” I offer, keeping my voice hushed to not wake my father.
Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, Colt watches me from beneath his lashes as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good, but thanks, Doc.”
What are wedoing?
I’m so out of my element, and I hate it. My heart is galloping and my blood is on fire, exhilarated by Colt standing in my entryway in the middle of the night. I haven’t felt this way in far too long.
It’s dangerous, all of this. Having him in my house. The desire burning inside of me. The heated way he’s looking at me. I pride myself on being a good man, a man with morals and a clear conscience. Yet, here I am, about to do who knows what with my best friend’s son.Again.
Colt breathes out a chuckle. “You know, as fun as it is standing here with you, maybe we could…” He gestures around. “I don’t know. Go somewhere more private.”
Standing tall, I mirror his stance, hands finding the pockets of my pajamas as I gaze at him head on. “Where would you like to go?”
Lips ticking up on one side, he shrugs. “Give me a tour of the house.”
“You’ve been here before. You don’t need a tour.”
Colt takes a single step closer, my breath getting caught in my throat. “Yeah, but that’s down here.” His voice is like velvet. Like melted butter. “You haven’t shown me the upstairs.”
A wave of lust rolls through my veins, and my mouth goes dry. I clench my jaw, not knowing how to respond to that. Whatis there to even say? The insinuation is clear. This is where I’m supposed to put a stop to it. This is where I’m supposed to regain the rational side of my brain, the one that isn’t being controlled by testosterone and the rasp of Colt’s voice.
I know full well what I’msupposedto do.
Do I do that? No, of course not. That part of my brain is apparently already asleep for the night, as should the rest of me, but here I am, facing down temptation and crumbling beneath it. Without a word, I start down the hall, feet carrying me toward the staircase. I don’t need to look behind me to know Colt’s following me; I can feel him like a force. A force I’m not strong enough to withstand.
Each step I take up the stairs, I’m sealing my fate, digging myself deeper into trouble. By inviting Colt over tonight, I made my bed, and like hell am I getting out of this without lying in it first. Consequences be damned. It’s one night.
One night to let go.
To give into my desires.
To repeat what we started two years ago.
One night couldn’t hurt.
