Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
"Colt, please—"
"Please what?" He slides one thick finger inside me, and my back arches off the couch. "Tell Daddy what you need."
"More," I gasp. "Please, more."
He adds another finger, stretching me, his thumb working my clit in slow circles that have me panting his name.
"That's it, baby girl. Let me hear you. Let me know how good Daddy makes you feel."
I'm already close, wound tight from his touch and the way he's looking at me like I'm everything he's ever wanted.
"Come for me," he growls, curling his fingers inside me. "Come all over Daddy's hand."
I shatter, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through me. He works me through it, murmuring praise against my neck until I'm boneless and shaking in his arms.
"Such a good girl," he whispers, pressing soft kisses to my throat. "So perfect for me."
“I have to go,” I moan.
"Actually," he growls, stepping between my thighs, "I think I'll have dessert first."
Before I can respond, he's pushing the shirt up and dropping to his knees. His tongue finds my still-sensitive clit, and I cry out, my hands fisting in his hair.
"Colt, I can't—I just—"
"You can." His voice is muffled against me, vibrating through my core. "Give Daddy another one, baby girl. I want to taste you again."
He works me with his mouth and fingers until I'm sobbing his name, coming apart on his kitchen counter while he holds my thighs open and devours me like a man starved.
When I finally come down, he's looking up at me with such hunger that it steals my breath.
Every touch sends sparks through me, and by the time we're done eating, I'm squirming against him.
But then, in the quiet moment after, reality starts creeping in.
What am I doing? I have a three-year-old son at home. I made myself a promise after Legend's father—no men, no relationships, not until Legend was older and could understand. Not until I was sure someone wouldn't just walk away when things got complicated.
And Colt... God, when I asked about kids, he said "hell no" like the idea was repulsive. What kind of mother am I, getting involved with someone who clearly doesn't want children? Legend is my whole world. He has to come first.
But then Colt's hand trails up my spine, and his voice is soft against my ear. "What's going on in that head of yours, baby girl?"
I look up at him—this big, protective man who carried me up his steps in the rain, who makes me coffee exactly how I like it, who holds me like I'm precious. The same man who leaves emergency supplies in my car and insists on following me home.
"Just thinking," I whisper.
Maybe I misunderstood what he meant about kids. Maybe "hell no" meant not with anyone else, not no way ever. And maybe... maybe Legend needs this too. Needs to see what it looks like when a man takes care of someone. Needs a strong male figure who won't disappear.
Besides, this is just physical, right? Just this overwhelming need between us. It doesn't have to mean anything more.
"Needy little thing," he murmurs against my ear. "Can't get enough of Daddy, can you?"
And just like that, rational thought disappears under a wave of pure want.
Damn it, I'm a woman with needs. I haven't had sex in almost four years—not since Legend's father. Four years of being nothing but "Mama," of putting every desire on the back burner, of telling myself I didn't need anyone.
But I do need this. Need him. My body is screaming for his touch, and I'm so tired of being responsible all the time. So tired of denying myself everything.
This doesn't have to be forever. It can just be... this. A fling. A few stolen moments where I get to be Emery instead of just Legend's mom. Where I get to feel wanted and desired and completely claimed.
My hormones have officially hijacked my brain, and for once in my life, I don't care.
"No," I admit breathlessly. "I can't."
"Good." His hand slides up my thigh, fingers finding me wet and ready again. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."
This time he takes me right there in the kitchen chair, his fingers working magic while I ride his hand and fall apart in his arms over and over again until I'm sobbing with pleasure.
By the time we're finally sated, it's past eight in the morning and the storm has completely cleared. I'm thoroughly wrecked and wearing nothing but his flannel. My body feels like liquid, every nerve ending singing with satisfaction.
"I should go," I say reluctantly, checking the time on the phone he finally returns to me. "I have patients scheduled, and you probably need to get to the station."
"Probably," he agrees, but his hands don't stop their lazy exploration of my thighs. "Sheriff duties and all that."
"Colt—"
"I know." He sighs and finally pulls away. "Real world's calling."