Page 120 of Fierce-Colson

“Shit,” he said, laughing and trailing after her.

He caught her two steps into her room, picked her up and spun her around, her back hitting the bed, him coming down on top of her.

His weight settled over her, solid and warm, the mattress dipping beneath them as her laughter dissolved into a sharp inhale.

“Working under pressure, huh?” he murmured, bracing himself on his forearms so he didn’t crush her.

“I thrive on it,” she joked, though her voice had already gone breathy. Fun and sexy was what he gave her and what she needed more of in her life.

He looked down at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. Her hair falling from its tie, cheeks flushed, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, her bra the only thing on top, her sweatshirt somewhere in the hallway where she dropped it.

His fingers slid up her ribs.

Not grabbing. Not rushing. Just tracing.

“You’re very sexy when you’re confident,” he said.

“I’ve always been confident.”

“Not like this.”

She didn’t argue. Because he was right.

He was the one who brought her from level one to six, with the top being five.

He made her feel bigger, better, more powerful than ever before.

She reached for him, tugging at the buttons of his shirt with impatient fingers. “You said you loved me. I think that deserves a reward.”

She pushed the fabric off his shoulders, her palms flattening against his chest. He sucked in a breath as she explored him like she had all the time in the world, even though they both knew they didn’t.

“Clock’s ticking,” he reminded her softly, stood up to remove his belt, badge and gun, then peel his shirt off, dropping his pants with it.

“Then stop talking.” She lifted her hips, pulled down her leggings with her underwear and held her arms out for him to join her on the bed again. “I’m on the pill if you’re open to that.”

He nodded his head, went into her arms, went to brace himself on his hands, but she turned and landed on top of him this time.

Her mouth found his, hot and sure. This kiss wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was hungry and claiming and filled with everything they’d just said in the kitchen.

I love you. I’m not leaving. I choose you.

He responded immediately to her move, both hands reaching for her breasts, cupping her, swiping across her overly sensitive nipples, then giving them both a little pinch.

She felt him everywhere. Solid, grounded, wanting.

His touch did things to her that no man’s ever had before.

It didn’t matter where, when, or how. When he touched her, what she felt wasn’t just sexual. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was intense longing smack dab in her heart.

“Colson,” she whispered.

“I know.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his fingers squeezing her flesh as if he was fearful if he let go of her, she might disappear.

No. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“God,” she breathed. “Your touch. Your control. Your lack of control. All of it is everything I need.”