by Meghan Quinn
A little shocked by my tone, she sits back and assesses me. “You don’t have to get so angry, Colby.”
“It’s two hundred people, Sage. Why do we need that many people at our wedding? I don’t want a bunch of strangers watching us get married.”
“They’re not strangers to me,” she answers meekly, and I feel like a giant ass.
I drag my hand over my face and let out a long, frustrated breath. “I’m sorry, it’s just that . . .” I pause, feeling like an idiot. “I really don’t have any family, all right? It’s hard for me to understand why you’re inviting so many people when I won’t really have anyone there besides my closest friends. It’s just a reminder of everything I’ve lost.”
Realization dawns on her and before I know it, she’s climbing on top of my lap and gripping my shoulders, her warmth immediately defrosting my cold exterior.
“I’m such a fool. I never even thought about that. I’m so sorry. Forget about the invitation list. We’ll keep it really small. Just best friends and family.”
Now I feel like a dick. There is going to be a shit ton of compromising when it comes to our marriage, especially on Sage’s part. She’s going to have to put up with my hectic schedule, long nights without me, deployments, TDYs, and the multiple bases we’ll have to float between, never really being able to create a home until after I retire. She’s going to be the one sacrificing; I should be able to give her the wedding she wants.
Relenting, I shake my head. “No, you’re going to be giving up a lot being with me, so if you want to invite two hundred people, that’s fine.”
“Not if it’s going to make you uncomfortable. It’s your wedding too, Colby.”
I cup the back of her neck and bring her closer, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. “I know, but I want you to be happy. If this is important to you, it’s important to me.”
“Really?” she asks, bouncing on my lap.
I slow her hips down. “Sage, don’t fucking do that unless you want me stripping those pajama bottoms off you in seconds.”
She rolls her eyes. “We don’t have time for sex, Colby, we have planning to do.”
“Uh, there’s always time for sex.”
Now that she mentions it, when was the last time we had sex? Should that be an actual question I ever need to ask? This is the first night in a while that we’ve actually spent together since we’re living opposite schedules right now, our missions being focused on night training.
How could I not realize that?
Shit. A week. What the?
I’m lost in thought, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me—and this situation—when Sage mumbles something about Ryan I don’t quite catch.
Shaking my thoughts out, I say, “What?”
“Oh, just that Ryan and I were supposed to meet tomorrow morning, but she just texted me and she won’t be able to make it until later. I told her we could do a quick lunch date if she can meet me on base. Waiting to hear back from her. We’re going to talk about some wedding things.”
“Why can’t she meet you in the morning?” Ryan doesn’t work in the mornings, and even though she says she’s fine, I’m still keeping tabs on her, especially because of the weight loss. That scares me. She doesn’t really have any more weight to lose, and from what Rory has told me, Ryan has the tendency to act like everything is perfect on the outside when in reality, she’s desperately hurting on the inside.
Lighting up, Sage wiggles her eyebrows at me. “She’s on a date tonight, and it sounds like things are going well.”
“She’s on a date?” I practically shout, not meaning to sound so loud.
“Yeah, with a guy Leah set her up with.”
My mind immediately goes back to a conversation I had with Ryan. Leah has been trying to hook her up with this guy for a long time, but I’m almost positive it seemed like the guy was kind of a douche and she didn’t want to risk going out with another dud.
So why is she going out with him now?
“Did she say his name?” A quick Google search will help me learn a whole bunch of shit about this guy.
“Nope,” Sage says with a pop, turning to a notebook that she starts to flip through. “Just that she was going out with this super hot guy and will probably be out late so asked if we can move the get together to lunch.” Absentminded, Sage continues while writing something in her notebook. “I’m excited for her. Since I’ve known her, she hasn’t gone out on a date. She needs to get out there.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I counter, growing irritated.
“Yes, she does. She’s settled with her new job, so it’s time to start dating.”
“You don’t know her like I do,” I say a little too quickly, grabbing Sage’s attention. “What I mean is that she hasn’t had the best of luck in the past with guys. She needs a good one, not some douche—”
“You don’t know he’s a douche, because you don’t even know his name.”
“If it’s Leah’s boyfriend’s friend, he’s a douche. Have you met Tyler? The dickhead only hangs out with guys who have asshole tattooed on their foreheads. Ryan doesn’t need an asshole.”
Sage studies me, tilting her head to the side. “So let me get this straight. You won’t let Ryan date Rowdy, Rocky, Bent, or Colt, nor will you let her date Leah’s boyfriend’s friend. Is she allowed to date anyone, Colby?”
My immediate reaction is to say no—not until she’s completely confident and comfortable in her skin, which she is not—but I also look a little overbearing. That doesn’t paint me in a good light with my fiancée, so I answer, “Yeah, but she needs someone who’s going to respect her, someone who’s going to be a solid force in her life. She has a damaged heart, and I think she needs someone who can sew it tightly back together and keep it that way.”
“You really care about her, don’t you? I mean, I know she’s your friend, but you truly care about her.”
“I do.” I link my hand with Sage’s and kiss her knuckles. “I want her to have what we have. I think she’s been used too much in previous relationships, and she needs someone who’s going to take care of her and help her be the best side of herself.” The left side. I don’t say that though, because I don’t think Sage would understand, and I don’t feel like explaining something so close to Ryan’s heart. Ryan was very broken when she shared that with me. So real. It’s not my place to share her inner battle.
“Maybe one of the two hundred people we invite to the wedding would be perfect for her. I have some real respectable cousins.”
Back to that . . .
“They’re not douchebags?”
She twists her lips to the side, thinking about her answer. “Well, maybe one of them is. He spends a lot of money on shoes, Air Jordans, because he says they’re his life.”
“That’s not douchey. That’s just a waste of money.”
“And spending money on model airplanes isn’t?” She laughs before going back to her notebook, thumbing through it and making a couple notes. My mind freezes, and my skin prickles with a kind of anger I’ve never experienced with Sage.
She doesn’t know. I’ve never told her about my planes and why they’re so important to me, the connection they provide me to my dad and my grandpa.
And maybe that’s something I should have told her a while ago, something I should have shared with her, but for some reason it’s never come up. I never thought about bringing it up.
Next to me, she hums a little song to herself, caught in her own little world, unaware of the anxiety rolling around inside me.
I stand from the couch and walk to the kitchen where I grab myself a beer. I pop open the cap and lean against the counter, watching her thoughtfully. If I told her right now how much her comment hit me hard in the chest, she would feel so incredibly guilty and upset that we would spend the night going through my past and the shitty stuff I had to endure. And, I’m not in the mood.
Hell, I’m never really in the mood to relive some of my worst experiences. I’
d rather keep things easy and relaxed.
Instead of going back to the couch, I stay in the kitchen and take my phone out of my pocket, sending a quick text to Ryan even though she’s on her date. A part of me hopes she texts me back.
Colby: Sage told me about your date. You better catch me up tomorrow.
Returning my phone to my pocket, I brace myself and try not to think about the night Ryan is having. He better be fucking good to her.
Chapter Six
RYAN
The door clicks shut behind Donovan. His hand travels over the swell of my ass as he passes by, leaving me in a wake of chills from his touch.
I watch him shrug off his jacket and lay it across the couch; the expensive hotel suite matches everything about him. Clean lines, dark colors, smooth surfaces. It’s like this room was modeled after him. As he makes his way to the wet bar, I walk to the expanse of windows and take in the skyline I now call home.
Growing up with the mountains always to the west, I never thought I would stray away from Colorado, let alone move to Las Vegas, but here I am, in a hotel suite, with a very powerful man who has his eyes set on one thing and one thing only: sex.
It vibrates off him in his touch, in the deep tone of his voice, in the way his eyes continue to take me in, raking me up and down. He wants me.
It’s a look I’ve received many times in my life. I’ve striven hard to earn that look from men, the kind of look that is supposed to make me feel better, make me feel wanted. Sadly, for some reason, it’s never alleviated that deep hole inside me. Nothing had.
Until Colby.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing him to leave my mind. Not here. Not now.
He’s marrying Sage. He’s moving away. He’ll never be mine.
Tonight might be an act equivalent to falling back into old habits when it comes to men, but I can’t think of any other way to tamper this burning pain inside my chest every time I think about Colby.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Donovan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Without turning around, I shake my head. “I’m good.” Reminding myself to be present, I add, “This is such a beautiful view. Is this your personal suite?”
He comes up behind me, wrapping both arms around my waist; one of his hands holds a short glass of amber liquid. His nose brushes against my hair before his lips fall to the curve of my neck. “It is,” he answers before moving his mouth across my skin. Goosebumps break out over my body. “But it isn’t my permanent residence, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Ah, so his fuck pad.
I should be offended, insulted really, but I’m not. I don’t care enough about the situation to be offended. I’m probably one of many he takes to his fancy restaurant, feeds food to, and then brings here to fuck.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been used.
The difference tonight is I feel as though I’m using Donovan more.
Turning in his arms, I bring my hands to his chest where I slowly back him into the couch. He takes a seat, legs spread, tumbler resting on his knee.
His eyes blaze a trail of need up my body as they land on my breasts. He is ready, wants me, is waiting for my next move, and even though a small voice in the back of my head is telling me to walk away, I block it out.
Release. I need some sort of release from this confined heartache that’s consuming me. I need him—pleasure—and the feel of another man’s touch to erase the feeling of Colby’s.
Reaching behind me, I take my zipper and slowly undo my dress until it falls to the ground, pooling at my feet. In just a black thong and heels, I straddle Donovan’s lap and grip his shoulders, enjoying how hard he is underneath me already.
His teeth pull at his bottom lip as I start to slowly grind on top of him. Leaning forward, pressing my breasts against his chest, I nip at his neck, making my way to his jawline. “What do you want me to do first?” I ask, feeling the length of him between my legs, enjoying every wave of my hips.
“I want you to turn around.”
I hear him finish his drink and set the glass down as I turn around, my back to his chest.
“Lean back,” he demands.
I do exactly that as his head comes forward. His teeth lightly nip along my neck as his hands settle on my hips, his thumbs hooking under the strings of my thong.
“You don’t need this.” He slips it down and I help him the rest of the way, exposing me completely, and even though I don’t know this man, I don’t feel the slightest bit self-conscious naked. His fingers glide up my thighs, to my hips and then my ribs, my body quickly reacting, shivering under his touch. A light ache forms between my legs.
God, I need sex. I need this so badly right now.
“When was the last time you came?” His lips dance across my skin, the scruff of his jaw adding a touch of roughness to his soft touch.
“Months,” I reply, trying not to think about who it was with.
“So you haven’t pleasured yourself for months?” His tongue lightly drags along my shoulder.
Feeling a little breathless, I answer, “No, I’ve pleasured myself.”
“Vibrator or fingers?”
“Both.”
“I want to see.” He bends his head forward and brings his hands to below my breasts. “I want to watch you play with your clit. I want to watch you make yourself come.”
Keeping up the slow, methodic movements of my hips, I say, “And when will you come?”
“When I fucking want to,” he growls, kissing the side of my face, my cheek, close to my lips. Shit, I want his lips on mine, so I turn my head and capture his mouth. It’s soft but demanding, his lips opening, his tongue finding mine. I try to turn all the way, but he holds me in place and tears away, the taste of brandy lingering on my tongue.
Whispering into my ear he says, “Touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”
I move my hand to my pussy where I slide my fingers across my clit, surprised with just how turned on I am. It’s been so long, so I shouldn’t be that surprised, especially since his cock is sliding between my ass, mimicking the feeling of sex. It feels so damn good.
“God, so wet.” I rest my head against his shoulder and melt into his embrace, my finger gliding up and down.
Without saying a word, he moves his hands to my breasts, cupping them, a slew of curse words escaping him. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to touch these all evening. So fucking sexy. And these nipples”—he pinches them, rolling them between his fingers—“so hard and perfect. Do you like that?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, a wave of arousal hitting me hard in the pit of my stomach, my finger starting to move faster.
“That’s it, just like that. I want to watch your finger work your clit. Smooth and fast.”
He pinches my nipples, a groan pops out of my mouth, and then his teeth find my neck where he bites down, sucks, and then soothes with his tongue. It’s rough and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“God, yes. That feels so good.”
“Slow your finger down. I want you to fuck yourself using long, smooth strokes. Go fucking slow.”
I do as I’m told, dragging out my finger, feeling it slide along my bundle of nerves, shooting pleasure all the way to my toes. The feeling of euphoria starts to build in the center of my body, coiling at the base.
“Fuck, pinch my nipples again,” I moan.
He does.
Hard.
“God, yes.”
“Harder. Faster,” he pants into my ear, his erection rock-hard against my ass. I grind into him. His breath becomes as labored as mine, and his hands perform magic on my breasts until I can feel my impending orgasm start to crest.
“I’m going to come.”
“Then come.” He twists my nipples one more time, the pain turning to pleasure as my orgasm takes over, hitting me right in the gut, deadening my legs, making me limp and useless.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, tilting my head back on his shoulder. “That was—
”
“We’re not done,” he growls. “Get your ass in the bedroom and spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you until morning.”
He helps me up and then gives my ass a swat. When I startle and turn to him, he gives me a wicked grin. Sexy. Dominant. Knows how to please me.
Yeah. Tonight was a good decision.
My body aches as I turn to my side, feeling every little bit of sexual action that took place last night . . . this morning.
What time is it?
The room is dark, the curtains drawn, no light peeking through. It can’t be that early, right? I lift my head off the pillow, and my hair falls over my face. I push it to the side and see Donovan still sleeping. His hands are tucked under his pillows, his hair is a wild mess from me pulling on it over and over again, and his bare ass is exposed—tight and so freaking hot.
When he stripped down for me the first time, I had to pick my tongue up off the floor. I wanted to ask him how many hours he spent in the gym, what kind of workouts he did, because he was sporting the same kind of defined six-pack Colby does.
I mean . . . not that I was comparing the two last night.
But hell, it was hard not to.
Both dirty talkers. Both alphas in bed. Both hot as hell.
And even though I came multiple times, one from me and some from Donovan, it still didn’t rock my world like the night Colby and I shared. I didn’t feel anything near to what I feel when Colby smiles at me or gives me a hug. I feel so much more when he gives me a simple look than when Donovan had my ass in the air and thrust into me from behind.
Tearing my eyes off his ass, I glance at the clock on his nightstand. Five in the morning.
I should go.
I’m not good with awkward mornings, especially if this is supposed to be a one-night stand . . . since we’re in his fuck pad and all.
I slip out of bed and pad across the floor to the living room where my dress, thong, and heels were discarded. Being as quiet as possible, I slip everything on, struggling a little with my dress until it’s righted properly. I zip up the back and scan the room for my purse. That’s when I see Donovan walking toward me in his dress pants, unbuttoned, and his palm rubbing his eye, still looking sleepy.
