“How do you know what time I went to bed?”
“I dunno, maybe it was the slamming door at midnight that tipped me off. Or maybe it was your headboard banging against my wall until the wee hours. I got tired of it around one a.m. and listened to my iPod.”
“But Blake finished—”
“Huh-uh. I don’t wanna know about Blake’s big finish because I had enough of the pre-game.” Colt sidestepped her.
“You think I slept with him.”
He shrugged, determined not to let it show how much her horizontal mattress mambo with his cousin bothered him.
“Hey.” Her hand circled his wrist and India yanked him around to face her.
Colt looked into her angry eyes. “What?”
“You are a judgmental jerk, Colt McKay.”
“Me? I didn’t pass judgment. I just pointed out the obvious.”
“Hell, I didn’t even mention the candles and soft music and the laughter that preceded all the bedroom noises.”
“Magnanimous of you.”
“I thought so.”
“Hah! You thought wrong.” India’s finger drilled him in the chest. “And it pisses me off that you think so…lowly of me.”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“That there’s a logical explanation.”
He laughed. “For havin’ a man in your bedroom? After midnight? With the bed slamming against the wall? Sugar, sex isn’t the logical answer, it’s the only answer.”
“Not all men have sex on the brain twenty-four hours a day.”
Tired of her baiting him, Colt crowded her. “Any man with half a f**king brain, who is lucky enough to be in your bedroom at any time, ain’t thinkin’ about nothin’ but how perfect it’d feel to have your hot little body under his. Or on top of his. Or in front of his.
Over and over. And if it’d been me? Twenty-four hours would be the minimum amount of time I’d keep you in my bed.”
India stared at him. “Is that what you were thinking about, Colt? Us having sex?”
Yes. Goddammit, that was all he could think about. Why in the hell couldn’t she see it?
When he didn’t answer, she blurted, “I didn’t have sex with Blake last night, or any other night. Those banging noises you heard? Was him hammering—”
He actually heard himself growl.
“—my headboard back together. The last time I moved my bedroom furniture, the bed frame snapped from the headboard base and I asked him to fix it—”
Colt pushed her against the wall and smashed his mouth down on hers, taking the hot, wet kiss that he’d been dying for.
God. The softness of her lips. The feel of her fingers twining in his damp hair. The taste of her was as potent and intoxicating as he’d imagined. The warm wetness of her mouth, the eager touch of her tongue to his was like a drug. Colt was half-afraid to open his eyes and find this was a damn dream.
India wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, opening her mouth for total access.
His hands moved from her shoulders to caress her neck. He feathered his thumbs along the length of her jaw, still kissing her senseless, sucking her soft, sexy moans into his lungs like air. His c**k was already straining at the waistband of his sweatpants and he’d barely begun.
She placed her hands on top of his, breaking the kiss to say,
“Touch me. God, put your hands all over me.”
Colt was captivated by the sight of her smaller hands guiding his bigger hands down her body. When the base of his palms reached the barrier of her robe, India slid her fingers beneath the lapels and ripped it open.
Sweet Jesus, her ni**les were pierced. With little silver hoops that accentuated the rose-colored tips. His mouth watered. His c**k twitched. He groaned and bent his head to taste, helpless to resist.
“Oh. Yes.” India arched into him, her hands dropping to squeeze his hips.
Her skin had warmed the metal. He traced the tiny ring with the very tip of his tongue, then drew the beaded nipple into his mouth.
With his each rhythmic suck, she dug her fingernails deeper into his skin.
As Colt kept nuzzling her br**sts, kissing a line up her bared throat, using his teeth and his tongue and his lips, somehow one of India’s hands had moved to his groin.
His breath stalled and he groaned.
She took that as a positive sign and she went from rubbing the length of his shaft, to curling her fingers around the base and stroking upward.
The softness of the fleece beneath the heated grip of her palm felt good, too damn good, because it’d been too damn long since he’d experienced a woman’s touch. She had to stop.
Colt attempted to knock her hand free, but she’d latched onto his hip with her other hand and held him in place.
That tingling sensation started and his balls tightened.
No, no, no, no. Too soon. He couldn’t blow this fast. He couldn’t embarrass himself by shooting within a minute of her hand touching his cock.
Before Colt so much as said her name, he began to come.
Hot spurts shot out the end of his dick, soaking the waistband of his sweatpants. He froze, mortified by being so quick on the trigger. He didn’t even enjoy the first orgasm he’d had in years that hadn’t been brought about by his own hand.
Luckily it didn’t last long. Colt jerked away from her, ignoring the pain in his ass as he spun around.
Fuck. Way to be a loser.
He didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Why? Are you sorry—”
“That I came in the blink of an eye? Yeah, I’m really goddamned sorry.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Save it.” He struggled to slip on his right boot without bending over, by bracing his hand on the wall.
Then India was in his face. “Don’t do this.”
“What? Embarrass you and myself? Too f**kin’ late.”
“Do I look embarrassed?”
Colt’s gaze traveled the length of her body and back up to her face. “No, you look beautiful. Jesus, you always look so beautiful.”
Her eyes softened. “Talk to me.”
He shook his head. He should’ve been hanging his stupid head in shame. Somehow he’d managed to get one boot on. He switched his stance, trying to block her out.
But India wasn’t about to be deterred. She ducked under his arm so she was closer than before. His determination to ignore her was temporarily sidelined when he noticed the gap in her robe had widened, granting him an even better view of those exquisitely pierced ni**les.