I get lost in the feeling, the sounds of his body smacking against mine, the feel of his hand possessing my hip, the fall of my name from his lips and without realizing it, I’m there, teetering on my own razor thin edge. I crash into the endless free fall of bliss as my climax overwhelms me, my body an inferno of warring sensations.
“Colton!” I cry, over and over as he slows his pace, sliding his tongue up the plain of my back to help draw out my orgasm.
I can feel my muscles pulse around him still within me, moving slowly, and then a feral cry fills the air as he can’t hold back anymore. His hips thrust a few more times before his arms suddenly wrap around my torso and hold my weight as he pulls me to a standing position, his front still to my back.
In an unexpected move of tenderness in complete contrast to the thorough dominance of my body, he squeezes me back into him and buries his face into the curve of my neck. We stand like this for some time, absorbing each other, accepting the silent apologies.
The silence descends around us as we pull our clothes back on. Now that we’ve had our way with each other physically—now that our bodies are no longer connected—my mind worries about how we’re going to connect verbally.
Because we can’t leave things as is. And we can’t ignore them. Hopefully the miserably lonely time apart has helped us so we can move forward.
But even if we can, where exactly do we go from here?
I steal a glance over at him as he zips up his fire suit and looks through the tinted window at the crew below, and I just can’t get a read on him. I pull my shirt over my head and lick my lips as I try to figure out how to start this conversation.
“We need to talk,” I say softly as if I’m afraid to disturb the blanket of silence smothering the room.
“I’m putting the Palisades house up for sale.” He speaks the words quietly, never once looking my way, and I’m so focused on him and his lack of emotion, it takes a moment for his words to sink in.
Whoa! What? So that’s how we’re going to play this? Classic avoidance?
Even though he’s not looking at me, I know he’s aware of me so I try to visibly hide the shock from the words he’s just hit me with, as well as the ones he hasn’t said.
“Colton?” I say, his name like a question—one that asks so many different things. Are we going to address this? Are we going to ignore this? Why are you selling the house?
“I don’t use it …” he answers my unasked question, sliding a glance over at me, before he looks back at his guys down below. And the way he says it, almost apologetically, makes me feel like this is something he’s doing to tell me he’s sorry for everything that’s happening—Tawny, a possible baby, the space he needs.
When I don’t respond and just watch him patiently, he turns and faces me. Our eyes lock and we stare at each other for a moment, asking unanswered questions without words.
“I don’t need it anymore,” he explains as he watches me for a reaction.
And as much as there is unresolved drama between us, what he’s just said tells me he’s really in this for the long haul. That even with everything thrown at us over the past week that might turn his world upside down, he’s selling the one place I’d vowed never to return to. That I mean enough to him that he’s willing to get rid of a place signifying his old way of life full of stipulations and mitigations.
“Oh …” It’s all I can manage to say because I’m at a loss for words, so we just continue to stare at each other in this room that still smells like sex. I can see him thinking, trying to figure out what to say—how to go from here—so I begin. “What’s on your mind, Colton?”
“Just thinking,” he says, pursing his lips and running a hand through his hair, “about how I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear your voice today out on the track until you came through the headset.”
The gentle sigh of satisfaction comes from every part of me, warming me inside and out, as it weaves its way around the hold he has on my heart. And the old me would have rolled my eyes at his comment and said he’s trying to get on my good side, but the old me didn’t need and miss Colton as much as I do now, didn’t know all he had to offer.
“All you had to do was call me,” I say softly, reaching a hand out and placing it on top of his beside me. “I promised you I’d be here your first day back.”
He emits a self-deprecating chuckle with a shake of his head. “And say what? I’ve been an asshole—haven’t called at all—but I need you on the track with me today?” The sarcasm is thick in his voice.
I squeeze his hand. “It’s a start,” I tell him, my voice trailing off. “We agreed to figure our shit out, get our heads straight, but I would’ve been here in a heartbeat if you’d called me.”
He sighs, angling his head out toward the track beyond. “I’m sorry for what I said to you … the things I accused you of … I was an ass.” Emotion causes his voice to waver, which makes what he’s saying that much more endearing.
I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I have to let him know. “You hurt me. I know you were upset and lashing out at the person nearest to you … but you hurt me when I was already torn apart. We struggle day to day with our pasts, and then something like this happens and … I …” I can’t find the right words to say it, so I just don’t finish my thought.
Colton steps toward me and reaches out to grab my hand, pulling me gently toward him so the only barrier between us is our clothes. “I know.” He draws in a shaky breath before he continues. “I’ve never done this before, Ry. I’m trying to figure it out as I go and fuck, I know the excuses are getting old and pretty soon aren’t going to be excusable, but … fuckin’ A, I’m trying.” He shrugs.