He’s quiet for a beat, kissing my temple and pressing his face to the side of mine so that I can feel him swallow in response. “Nothing of significance,” he says then falls quiet again. “Do you surf, Rylee?” he asks, and I’m not blind to the subtle change of subject.
“Nope. Do you, Ace?” I take a sip of wine as he murmurs in assent.
“Ever tried?” he asks, the rasp of his voice in my ear.
“Uh-uh.”
“I should teach you sometime,” he offers.
“Probably not the best thing to do for someone like me who’s scared of sharks.”
“You’re kidding, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues, “Oh come on, it’d be fun. There aren’t any sharks out there that’ll bug you.”
“Tell that to the people who’ve been chomped on,” I challenge and despite the fact that he’s behind me, I cover my face in embarrassment when I timidly speak my next words. “When I was little I was so scared of them that I never swam in our pool because I used to think they’d come out of the drain and eat me.”
Colton laughs, his deep tone reverberating into me from his chest at my back. “Oh, Rylee, didn’t anyone ever tell you that there are much more dangerous things on dry land?”
Yes. You.
As I try to think of a witty retort, my ear catches the song playing over the speakers and out of reflex I murmur, “Great song.”
Colton still as he listens to the music and I can feel his head nod against the side of mine when he recognizes it. “Pink, right?”
“Hmm-hmm, ‘Glitter in the Air,’” I respond, distracted as I listen to the words of one of Haddie’s and my all-time favorite songs. Colton quiets behind me and runs his hands up my arms and starts to knead the muscles atop my shoulders. His hands are powerful and add just the right amount of pressure. “That feels like heaven,” I breathe as my already relaxed body turns to gel beneath his skillful fingertips.
“Good,” he whispers. “Just relax.”
I close my eyes and hand myself over to him, humming softly to the song. Colton runs his fingers down the line of my spine and rubs my lower back, my head lolling to the side at sublime feeling.
“Here comes the best part,” I say, realizing that I’ve spoken aloud the words I always tease Haddie for when she announces them at the bridge of the song. The lyrics come and I sing along as the words wash over me, moving me as they always do, bringing goose bumps to my flesh. “There you are, sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee, calling me sugar. You called me sugar.”
“I don’t get it,” Colton says, “Why is that the best part?”
“Because it’s the moment she realizes that he loves her,” I muse, a soft smile on my face.
“Why, Rylee, you’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” he teases.
“Oh, shut up,” I shift to swat at him, embarrassed at my candor. Colton grabs my wrist, preventing my hand from connecting, and pulls me into him. His lips slant over mine and makes languid sweeping pass over them before licking into mine. He tastes of chocolate and beer and everything that is uniquely Colton. He cradles my head with one hand while the other runs aimlessly over my bare thighs. Fingertips graze softly without urgency or specific attention to any one spot. I could sit in this moment forever, the unexpected veneration in his actions unraveling me inside out.
Colton brushes a kiss on the tip of my nose before resting his forehead to mine, his hand still cupping the back of my head, fingers still knotted in my hair, his breath fluttering over my lips. “Rylee?”
“Hmm-hmm, Ace.”
He flexes the hand in my hair. “Stay the night with me,” he exhales quietly.
I still, holding my breath. Oh. My. I can feel the emotion behind his request and can sense the difference from the last time he said it to me. He’s not saying it out of obligation but rather because this is what he wants. Does this mean that maybe he feels an inkling of what is coursing through me? My silence belies the truth of how I feel and he mistakes it for hesitancy at his request.
“I’ve never said that before and truly meant it, Rylee.” His voice is a hushed plea that tugs at my heart and confirms my assumptions. He wraps his arms around me, cradling me in his lap, and pulls me with him as he leans back in the chaise, fingers playing in my hair. I remain silent, trying to clear the emotion from my voice before I speak.
“Hmmm, I don’t think I could move even if I tried,” I murmur.
“You’ll stay?” The eagerness in his voice surprises me.
“Yes.”
“In that case,” he muses, “I might have to take advantage of you again.”
“Again?” I laugh. His response is to grab my hips, lift me up and drag me astride him and his unmistakable readiness. He situates me on him so that our bodies fit together perfectly, each movement from him traveling through my thin panties and hitting me in just the right spot.
He sits up and kisses me forcefully, his tongue plunging between my parted lips, his hands pressing my body to him possessively. I grow dizzy wanting more of everything from him.
“I. Want. You. So. Much. Rylee.” He pants between kisses down my neck. I bring my hands to his face, fingers touching coarse whiskers, and draw his head up to meet my eyes. “You’re addictive.”
“I know,” I whisper, telling him with my eyes I understand the depth of that desire. That I feel it too. The muscle in his jaw tenses momentarily before he crushes his mouth to mine, the connection between us a necessity like air.