“Molly…” I shake my head, my own frustration building as I drag a hand down my face. “You don’t understand the depths of what I’ve been through. The ways that I’ve been broken and the things that I saw behind bars. I’m emotionally stunted. Numb. I’ve been in therapy for five weeks and the only thing I’ve started to feel is anger—rage—and that’s only because of the shit with Jenni, Maverick, and your father.”
My voice softens, and I take a step toward her. “Listen to me,please. Do you see how bad that is? That I’m a grown man with little to give to the people around me? Theonlytime I feel something besides rage is when I’m with you. And do you know what that means?”
“What?” she asks as I step closer until my hands are holding hers again.
“It means that I might be using you as a crutch. A guide to getting back to my emotions. I don’t want to use you, Molly. Can’t you see that? Your friendship, our relationship, it means everything to me. You’re the only person I care about. The only person I think about. And I don’t want to use you. You mean too much to me. You don’t deserve that.”
She sucks in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t understand,” she says.
My hands move up her arm and back to her hair where I tug gently. It’s always been the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen on a woman. Healthy, thick, and I like that she’s never worn it short. I imagine what it’d be like to wrap it around my wrist and pull on it while I take her from behind. I wonder what she’d look like stretched around my cock when she comes.
My fingers trail down her cheek then to her chin, cupping it gently as I hold her there, studying her eyes. I know what I want to tell her, that I need her in my life. That I can’t breathe without her. That since I got back, she’s been the only person I’ve looked forward to seeing. That I’ve opened up to her in more ways than I ever could with my family.
That when I’m with her,I know what I’m feeling is love.
“I mean that I want you to help mefeeleverything, Molly. I want to feel the red-hot burn of desire in my chest. I want to feel the white simmer of attraction. I want to feel the black, bottomless pull of love. I want to feel it all—withyou.” I pause, the fear clawing its way up my throat. “But what if I can’t? What if I’m too emotionally blunted? What if I disappoint you? This isn’t just sex for you—there has to be an emotional and mental connection for a relationship to thrive. Something that goes beyond the physical. And what if I can’t give that back to you?”
The air between us is charged with energy. Slick droplets of water fall down my neck and back cooling the heat of my skin. My fingers itch to hold her and kiss her but I hold back. Her arms come around me, gentle fingers brushing the back of my neck as she pulls me closer until our bodies are pressed together.
“Colt,” she whispers, her voice soft but steady. “Don’t you see? You’vealwaysbeen connected to me emotionally. You’ve supported me in ways no one else ever has. You did it earlier today with Maverick. You’re doing itright now.”
She presses her forehead to mine, tears sparkling in her eyes.
“I’m not scared of you falling short, because you’ve already given me more than I ever thought I could have.”
“Molly…”
“Kiss me, Colt.Dammit.Please,” she begs. Her blue eyes are locked on mine, shining with heartbreak and hope, and even though fear still grips my chest, I know I want this just as badly as she does.
I lower my head, dragging my nose from her ear across the silk of her cheek, stopping just above her lips. I can feel the warmth of her breath. Her fingers curl tighter behind my neck, her nails scraping just enough to make me shiver.
“Fuck it,” I growl, the last fraying edges of my control snapping all at once as my lips seal over hers.
Chapter 30 - Colt
I grab her by the hips and toss her over my shoulder like she weighs nothing, my hand gripping her thigh possessively as I stalk toward the RV. Her breath catches with a surprised laugh, but it turns into something softer, needier, when I kick open the flimsy plastic door and carry her inside.
The rain-slick scent of earth still clings to her skin as I make my way to the back, where the wide bed takes up most of the bedroom. I drop her onto the mattress with a little bounce, and she lands sprawled and breathless, her hair fanned out like a dream.
I’m on her in the next breath, my hands moving with urgency and reverence. I kneel at her feet, fingers curling around the heels she wore to the funeral—black and elegant, like she’d dressed for war.
One at a time, I slip them off and toss them over my shoulder.
Then come the nylons.
Slow. Deliberate. I drag the sheer fabric down her thighs, watching the way it clings to her damp skin before peeling free. Her breath hitches as the cool air brushes over her, andgoosebumps rise in their wake. I smooth a hand over the path I’ve just uncovered, needing to feel every inch of what it’s like to touch her.
She watches me, her chest rising and falling fast, her blue eyes darkened with heat, pupils blown wide. There’s a flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the temperature.
“Lean up,” I murmur, my voice rough with the control I’m hanging onto by a thread.
She obeys instantly, sitting forward so I can reach around her and drag the zipper down her back. The sound is loud in the tight space, like a promise. I ease the dress off her shoulders, letting my knuckles graze her bare skin, then guide her back down to the mattress.
I peel the dress from her, slow again, savoring every second as it lifts over her hips and off completely—until she’s lying there in nothing but a black bra and matching panties.
Damn.
“This body…” I whisper, drinking her in like she might vanish. “You hide it under cargo pants and those baggy police uniforms, but it’s fucking criminal how beautiful you are.”
