Chapter Eleven

"—and it was a great book, don't get me wrong, but now I can't step foot in an Ikea without being consumed by the thought that some seriously shady shit probably goes down after dark, you know? Closed big-box stores are, like, the mother of all liminal spaces. At the very least, unauthorized employee sleepovers must be happening. I mean, all those beds? And honestly? Why haven't they turned Ikea into a hostel? Or housing for those who need it? The beds just sit empty night after night and—"

Colin's fingers circled her wrist, grip gentle but firm. "Truly?"

She stopped walking, only a few steps shy of the vine-covered gate that kept her building mostly obscured from the street. She held her breath, pulse racing beneath his fingers. "Hm?"

"I'm not making you nervous, am I?"

Nervous? Her? Ha.

Yes.

The thumb resting over her pulse smoothed over her skin and she shivered, gulping quietly. "Why would I be nervous?"

"Maybe because you haven't stopped talking since we started walking?" The corner of his mouth curled up. "Not that I didn't find your take on the secret evil goings-on inside Ikea fascinating."

"Well, I'm not." Her heart sped and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he could feel it, thumb pressed to her pulse like a human lie detector. "I'm fine. I'm—I'm peachy."

"You're peachy," he said, hand finally dropping to his side. It took an inordinate amount of self-control to not reach out and grab his hand, smack his open palm against her wrist like a slap band, and tell him not to let go. "So, you're not avoiding talking about what you said back at the bar?"

Her shoulders sagged. Was she that obvious? Or was Colin just that skilled at reading her?

She rubbed her wrist, her fingers a poor substitute for his. "We can talk about it. If you want. I'm just—" Terrified because this didn't feel like much of a baby step anymore. But she didn't want to take one step forward only to take two back. She wrapped her fingers between the rusted iron bars of the gate and pulled. "I don't know where to start."

Colin followed her into the dimly lit courtyard where weeds sprouted between cracks in the pavement and sweet-smelling clematis climbed the trellis outside her window. Her apartment complex was small—a single-story building comprised of six units, each with its own separate entrance off the shared courtyard, like town houses. A rarity on a street dominated by buildings five, six stories tall.

"We could get straight to the part where you confessed to wanting to work up a non-platonic sweat with me."

She fumbled her keys.

"Or we could talk about flowers."

The weak amber bulb above her door flickered as she shoved her key in the lock and turned, facing Colin. "I like amaryllis and camellias. Cornflowers and dahlias. Dogwood and edelweiss. Hawthorn and lily of the valley are nice, too."

"You're killing me," Colin croaked. "You know that?"

She slumped back against her door. "I'm killing you?" She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes until starbursts appeared behind her lids. "Flowers? Really, McCrory? You think I actually want to talk about—"

She pitched forward with a gasp, words dying on her lips as Colin yanked her against his chest, trapping her hand between them.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

His fingers abandoned their hold on her wrist to tuck her hair behind her ear. The rasp of his fingertips against the soft, vulnerable skin of her throat made her dizzy. "Not talking about flowers."

His mouth came crashing down on hers, swallowing her gasp, capturing her lips in a kiss.

And dear God, what a kiss.

He tasted citrusy sweet and just a little tart, like the slice of orange that had come with his beer. She surged forward, rising on her toes, chasing the flavor, knees all but buckling when he nipped at her bottom lip, his tongue soothing the sting.

"Jesus, you taste like cherries." He mouthed at her throat, teeth scraping the juncture of where her jaw met her neck. "You know that, Truly?"

Her name sounded like a benediction, whispered against her skin. All she could do was pant.

His thumb traced the swell of her bottom lip, smearing what little was left of her lip gloss. "You drive me so fucking crazy, I—" He broke off with a chuckle, hiding his face against her shoulder. "Fuck. I can't say it."

"It's a little late to be getting shy on me." Hand still splayed against his chest, she let her fingers drift, finding and tweaking his nipple. Colin swore under his breath and something hot blossomed inside her when he jerked. "Tell me."

"Jesus. Okay." He dropped his forehead against hers. "You want to hear about how I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the moment I met you? That I've stripped my cock raw for the last three weeks, obsessed with—with wondering what you taste like?" Words tumbled off his tongue. An avalanche of confessions. "Is that what you want to hear? That the first time I met you, you were wearing an engagement ring and I still wanted you? I wanted you the minute I saw you and—fuck, who wouldn't? You're so fucking gorgeous you broke my goddamn brain."

"More." She reached up, scraping her nails against his neck, watching enthralled as faint pink lines rose along his skin. Heat pulsed between her thighs. "Keep talking."

He panted against her neck, breath hot and sticky. "I left work last week and I—I couldn't even make it home." He laughed, ragged and frazzled. "I fucked my fist in the bathroom thinking about you. I fell to my knees on the floor of the public bathroom inside the courthouse." He huffed against her collarbone. "Do you know how desperate you've got to be to kneel on that floor? It's disgusting and I did it. I did it thinking about you." He mouthed at her throat, teeth scraping her skin over her pulse. "I spilled over my knuckles thinking about my tongue up your cunt, licking you out until you came all over my face. I thought about you dripping down my goddamn chin and—fuck if I didn't come so hard I saw stars behind my lids in a public courthouse bathroom." His teeth scraped against her jaw. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Holy shit.

The image of Colin hunched over, fist stripping his cock was so vivid inside her head it was like she was right there, watching it happen. She could practically hear the slap of skin against skin, and it made her drip, underwear drenched.

"More." She buried her fingers in his thick chestnut-colored hair and tugged. Colin choked on a noise that was half gasp, half groan, one hundred percent unreservedly filthy. His hands slapped against the door on either side of her, a groan spilling from his lips. "Tell me more."

He pressed her against her door, hands on her waist, damn near respectable until he ground against her. The rigid line of his cock pressed against her hip, unmistakably hard.

"I think it's obvious what I want." His hands migrated to her hips and then lower, palms cupping her ass. "I'm far more interested in—finally—hearing what you want."

Everything south of her navel was hot, panties ruined, thighs damp. Drenched and Colin hadn't even touched her underneath her clothes. "Isn't it obvious?"

He turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against the fragile skin of her wrist. "Maybe I want to hear you say it."

She trapped her lip between her teeth, trying not to smile. "Well, I haven't gotten myself off in any public restrooms while thinking about you, if that's what you're asking. My bedroom, on the other hand..."

"Jesus." He groaned. "Are you trying to kill me?"

She arched against him. "I'm kind of attached to coming before you die. What you do after is your business."

Colin laughed, low and broken. "What a fucking way to go out. Here lies Colin Beyn McCrory—"

"Bean?" She giggled. "Your middle name is Bean?"

"No, Beyn. It's a family name. Means life in Gaelic. Now hush, I'm eulogizing myself." He cleared his throat. "Here lies Colin Beyn McCrory, he died doing what he loved most—eating pussy."

Truly whacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up."

"Not classy enough for you?" Colin grinned. "Okay, how about... he suffocated between the thighs of the prettiest, smartest, funniest, bitchiest girl he ever had the pleasure of knowing."

Better. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Everywhere?" He reached down, fingers flirting with the hem of her dress. "Will it get me between your thighs?"

Her breath stuttered inside her chest. This was happening. It was really happening. She was going to have sex with Colin.

God, when was the last time she vacuumed? Dusted? God, she better not have left her laundry lying on the floor or she was going to kick her own ass into next week.

She rested her hand on the doorknob. "I mean, admission isn't exactly free but—"

One second Colin was standing, and the next he was on his knees in front of her, kneeling on the "I Knew You Were Trouble"doormat she'd purchased off Etsy.

Talk about providence. Because Colin McCrory? Was the definition of trouble.

And he looked damn good on his knees.

He smoothed his palms up the outside of her thighs, stopping at the hem of her dress. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, looking up at her through his lashes. "You have no idea, Truly. No fucking clue all the things I've thought about. Licking your pussy until you screamed. Until you fucking creamed." Colin bent forward and licked the stripe of bare skin above her knee. "Can I?" He pressed a kiss against the dimple at the top of her knee. "Please?"

No one had ever begged to—to fuck, eat her out before. Justin had done it, but only after she'd showered and he'd always expected a blowjob in return. Which, hey, Truly liked the weight of his cock against her tongue so it was hardly an imposition, but she'd never liked how... how transactional it felt. Justin had never gotten down on his knees and pleaded, never looked up at her with pupils blown. Never sounded like he was starving for it. For her.

"Here?" she squeaked. In the open, where anyone could see? "Outside?"

He mouthed at her thigh. "You got a problem with that, St. James?"

Okay, so her front door was tucked inside a deep alcove. No one walking past could see, not unless her front door was their destination. But the thought that someone could potentially stumble upon them, Colin on his knees and Truly with her dress hiked up around her hips?

"No," she breathed. "No problem at all."

Colin's thumbs sneaked beneath the hem of her dress, inching the fabric up her thighs. His fingers hooked around the sides of her panties and dragged them down her thighs, keeping her steady as she stepped free.

He held them up, bubblegum lace drenched dark pink.

"I'm keeping these," he said, pocketing her ruined panties with a grin.

Truly buried her face in her hands.

They weren't even her best panties, for Christ's sake. The elastic was all stretched out and she was pretty sure there was a rip in the lace.

"Don't be getting shy on me, St. James," Colin goaded. "Now, do me a favor and spread your legs."

She could feel his breath, hot and damp against her, the night air cool by contrast as he spread her open with his thumbs. He swore softly. "You're dripping down your thighs. This all for me?"

His tongue darted out, licking a hot stripe up her cunt, making her gasp.

"Harder." Truly rocked against him and mewled, pulling hard against his hair.

Colin curled an arm under her leg, wrapped his hand around her thigh, and hiked it up over his shoulder, spreading her open. He licked up her center, and if she weren't so delirious with desire, she might've been embarrassed at how wet she was. He didn't seem to mind; two of his fingers slid lower, circling her where she was dripping before slipping inside, thicker than her own and so good she could cry.

"God. I'm so—I'm so—Colin," she babbled, incoherent pleas tripping off her tongue as she shook, insides fluttering, stomach tensing, and knee trembling. She slammed a hand against the frame of the door and whimpered.

She was so close she could taste it.

He lifted his head and she bit the inside of her cheek, stifling a sob.

"You're close, aren't you?" He looked up at her from beneath his lashes, pupils swallowing up the brown of his eyes. His chin and the lower half of his face were slick, smeared with her up to his cheeks. "I can feel your cunt fluttering around my fingers. You gonna scream for me, Truly?"

"Shutupshutupshutup." She yanked on his hair, trying to drag him back.

Colin nipped the inside of her thigh.

"Rude," he scolded, soothing the sting of his bite with a filthy kiss, painting her skin with her juices.

Her eyes slammed shut, desperation making her dizzy. If she didn't come soon she was pretty sure she'd do something mortifying like cry. Her bottom lip was already beginning to wobble. "I swear to God if you don't make me come, I'll show you rude, McCrory. I'll be so rude it'll make your head spin."

He moaned against her knee, low and broken, trailing off with a laugh that made her shiver. "Don't threaten me with a good time, baby."

There was no warning, just Colin sucking on her clit and his thick fingers curling inside her and—

Bright pinpricks of light exploded behind her lids as she fractured, pulsing hard around Colin's fingers, biting her lip to muffle her cry.

Colin gentled her through the aftershocks with kisses that eventually turned into him just breathing, panting against her pussy. She pried her eyes open, blinking dazedly up at the sky. Because outside. They were outside, for Christ's sake, and holy shit—she'd just come all over Colin McCrory's face outside. She giggled, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Something funny?" Colin kissed her hip bone. "Or are you just one of those people who laughs when you come?"

"Hush." She shoved him gently. Mostly because she felt as weak as a kitten and a little because she wasn't actually mad. Amused, to be honest, because no, she was not one of those people, but wouldn't it be funny if she were? If she snort-laughed through orgasms? God, she felt drunk. Drunk on Colin's fingers and his tongue, loose and lax and warm all over even though her dress was still hiked up around her waist, exposing her bare lower half to the cool Seattle night air. "You just made me come. In public."

She whispered, which was sort of hilarious because no one was around to hear her. Even if they were, if someone was scandalized to hear her say the words? They would've had a heart attack looking at her.

"I did." Colin grinned, one of those smiles that creased the corners of his eyes and made her heart thunder inside her chest. No one had any right to be that beautiful and he wanted her and oh God, he still had his fingers inside her. Life was a trip. "And I'm about to do it again."

What.

Colin leaned in and without breaking eye contact, licked her clit and it was a miracle she didn't perish on the spot.

Here lies Truly. She died with Colin McCrory's fingers buried up her cunt.

"You didn't think I was going to let you go with just one, did you?" He nuzzled into the damp thatch of neatly trimmed hair at the top of her mound, breathed deep, and—her cheeks prickled with heat that could give the sun a run for its money. "Truly, I'd live down here if you'd let me."

"I can't," she said and yet, for some ungodly reason, she fisted his hair between her fingers and dragged him closer. "Colin."

He rested his forehead against her hip, fingers working inside her, less a thrust than a relentless crooking against that bundle of nerves that made her breath hitch and her stomach clench. Little electric-like zaps of pleasure rippled up her spine, pressure blooming inside her like a storm.

"One more," he panted, mouth open against her skin, breath hot and damp and—she was wrong. She'd been so sure the sight of Colin on his knees, staring up at her through his lashes, chin sticky with her come, was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. And maybe it had been. But this? Colin's hips working, making shaky, aborted little thrusts, the outline of his cock visible, straining against the denim of his jeans like he was so turned on by eating her out that he couldn't help himself? Fuck. "One more, baby. Please? Just give me one more and I swear to God I can die happy."

Truly whimpered, riding the edge of something so big it scared her. Because she wasn't just going to come, she was going to come apart, unravel at the seams. She knew it, with the level of certainty she knew her name and knew that Colin McCrory was going to be the end of her.

"Don't stop." She tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged his mouth back where it belonged. The scent of her was heavy in the air, musk mingling with the sweet perfume of the clematis crawling up the building. "Don't or else I'll—"

There wasn't a threat on this earth that could properly capture let alone convey her sheer desperation. Not that it mattered. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Colin's mouth was on her, lapping at her hungrily.

She was drenched, dripping down her thighs, the crack of her ass. A filthy slick sound filled the air, making her flush all the way to the roots of her hair as the pads of Colin's fingers pressed harder, quicker, expertly against that perfect, magical spot. Everything inside her drew up tight, so tight, and then, all at once, snapped, pressure releasing rhythmically.

Distantly, she heard Colin swear. Just like she heard herself shout his name. He ignored her wail, kept going, curling his fingers hard against the front wall of her cunt, moaning against her when a sticky gush of fluid soaked the inside of her thighs.

She swatted the side of his face with limp fingers, oversensitive. Colin took the hint like a champ and left her clit alone, pressing messy kisses against her hip, the inside of her thigh, anywhere he could reach. He shuddered against her skin and her heart squeezed.

Down the block, a car alarm blared and Truly jumped. She giggled and leaned back against the knob, twisting her key in the lock with still-trembling fingers, punch-drunk and weak.

"Come inside?" she asked, the double entendre far from lost on her. "Not sure I want to press my luck out here and go for round three. That, and I'm pretty sure the condom in my purse is expired."

He let loose an awkward chuckle. "We, uh, might have to wait for round three."

She frowned.

Colin's eyes lowered pointedly to his lap, where a patch of denim had grown dark. Wet.

Her mouth went dry. "Oh. You—"

"Yeah." He cringed. "I did."

"But I—I didn't even touch you."

He scrubbed a hand over his face, avoiding her eyes. "Not my finest moment, I know. But seriously, Truly, give me thirty minutes and some Gatorade and I'll make it up to—"

"Shut up, oh my God."

Colin stared up at her, eyes wide and cheeks pink. "What?"

"Did you actually think I'd care?" That he'd wanted her that badly? That he'd gotten off on her taste and the sounds she'd made? In what universe was that not hot? "That's the hottest thing I've heard in my entire life."

He stared at her, disbelief giving way to relief even as his blush crept higher up his cheeks. "You're serious."

"You got off on making me feel good." She stepped over the threshold into her apartment, letting the door swing open behind her. "I might not have Gatorade, but I think that at least earns you rights to a glass of water and the use of my washing machine."

Colin stood, rising to his full height, cringing softly as he adjusted himself inside his jeans. "Lead the way."