They crashed to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Colby crushed her to his chest and rolled with her so she was writhing beneath him.
He scissored his legs on the outside of hers, immobilizing her lower half. He encircled both her wrists together in his large hand and pinned them above her head.
Colby’s free hand slid between them. He plunged two fingers inside her wetness. He coated his shaft with her juices, guided his c**k to her entrance and drove in.
Channing groaned. Yes. This is what she wanted, what she understood about this man. The primal need.
Body to body, forehead to forehead, he thrust into her. Long, hard deep strokes. Not fast, not slow. Just strong and steady and true.
“Why haven’t you ever let me love you like this? Face to face? Heart to heart? So I can look in your eyes while I’m makin’ love to you?”
Because it’s not lovemaking, it’s just sex.
“What are you afraid of?”
That you’ll see my feelings for you and cut and run.
“Look at me, Channing Kinkaid.”
She angled her chin up an inch.
“What I said the other night? I meant it. Maybe it was crudely put instead of poetic, but I meant every damn word.”
Play it cool, play it dumb. Breezily, she said, “Oh. Remind me again what you said. I don’t remember.”
A calculating look came into his eyes. “Oh I’ll remind you all right.”
Channing realized she’d made a huge mistake baiting him.
“I told you that you are mine. You belong to me. Remember now?” He rocked his hips with short, precise thrusts.
Her body softened for his, yet her mouth remained clamped shut as a rusty well cover.
“Maybe I should repeat it. Then you can say it back to me so I know you understand. And remember.”
God. He was relentless.
“Say it. Say you’re mine.”
Channing blinked as he thrust. In. Out. In. Out. In a compelling rhythm as exotic as it was arousingly familiar.
She couldn’t believe he was doing this. Pushing her emotions as he pushed her body to the limit.
“You’re mine. Say it.”
She stared at him, pretending a detachment she didn’t feel.
No change in his expression. No change in the solid motions of his thrusts. No change or concession in the words he demanded from her.
“Say you’re mine.”
Channing turned her head away.
With his chin he forced her face back level to his and peered in her eyes. “Goddammit, Channing. Say it.”
She watched him warily. Physically, she wasn’t scared of him, but at some point in the last hour, on an emotional level, he’d set out to conquer her. Completely. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he had her total surrender. And she was teetering on the brink of submission.
Channing shook her head, wanting to distract him with her hands.
Her mouth. Anything. But she was totally under his control.
“Say it. Say you’re mine.”
She found her voice. “Why?”
“Because you are mine and you’ll damn well admit it. Say it.”
“You can. You will. Say you belong only to me.”
“Damn you, Colby. Why are you doing this?”
“You needed a reminder, remember? Say it.”
The repetition of his words say it say it was stuck in her head. The repetition of his body plunging in and out of hers stuck her pleasure center like a thousand needles.
“Say it. Say you’re mine.”
“Say it. I won’t stop f**king you. We’ll be here in this bed, locked together until you admit to me out loud what I see in your eyes, Channing Kinkaid. What I feel in your body whenever I touch you. So say the words to me so I can say them back to you.”
Was she prepared to give in to him? Especially when he hadn’t clarified if he meant that she belonged to him only for the rest of the night? Or did he mean forever?
Maybe she should take a chance and find out.
Channing locked her gaze to his. “I’m yours.”
Fire danced in his eyes. He set his jaw and rocked into her harder.
“Yours.” That tingling pressure for release began to build low in her belly.
“Whose? Say my name.”
Sweat dripped down his temple. “Who do you belong to?”
“You. Colby McKay.”
“Goddamn right you belong to me.”
She arched her hips, wordlessly begging for more.
Colby f**ked her with a ferocity that left her breathless. Helpless.
Like nothing else that had ever happened to her before that moment mattered. Staring into his heated blue eyes, she saw his determination.
His need. His discipline of possession. His utter obsession with her. But she didn’t see love.
“Mine.” He thrust hard. “Mine.” Another pounding thrust that knocked the bed frame into the wall. “Only mine, Channing. I’ll kill the next man who so much lays a hand on what’s mine.”
The orgasm caught her off guard like a summer storm and burst through her with the elemental power of lightning and thunder.
Colby didn’t yell out his release or miss a stroke as he came silently.
She felt the hot bursts of se**n inside her pu**y and then warm liquid seeped out from where they were still joined.
He simply said, “Again. Another reminder so you don’t forget.”
Colby had taken her at her word; they’d f**ked it out. He f**ked her until the pleasure was too much, until her body shuddered and quaked, until her brain overloaded on bliss and she passed out in his arms.
Channing woke up. Naked. She rolled over and groaned.
Colby’s side of the bed was rumpled and empty, except for the ticket on the pillow and a note, which read:
Today, we talk it out. C U after the perf. Love, CWM
She glanced down her nude body, expecting another set of his marks of passion. She saw none. They were all internal. Mental. But definitely permanent.
After a quick shower she gathered her stuff and headed for Gemma’s campsite. She opened the door and a swell of heat blasted her. It’d be blistering hot in Cheyenne today.
As she turned around, Channing bumped into Carson McKay, who wasn’t exactly thrilled to see her sneaking out of Colby’s room.
“Umm. Morning, Mr. McKay.”
His eyes narrowed to pinpoints. “Hey. I know you. You’re that friend of Gemma Jansen. A friend of Colby’s, too.” Carson gave her a once-over.