Page 76 of Oathbreaker

I still.

Then realize that’s dumb.

That I’ve given away too much.

“West and I are none of your business,” I tell him.

“It damn well is.”

I open my mouth to snap back, but I don’t get so much as a single syllable out.

Because his hands are wrapping around my wrist and he’s yanking me up to my feet and—oh my God…

He’s kissing me.

This is insane.

He’s insane.

I’ve spent the last hours alternating between crying myself out and engaging in enough self-flagellation that I may start turning toward BDSM.

And now the man I fell in love with as a teenager and then again as a woman is here. In my bedroom.

And he’s kissing me.

I don’t think.

I don’t keep lashing myself with guilt, scalding my cheeks with tears.

I just…react.

My lips part and my body melts.

Colt groans, one arm banding around my middle, his other hand diving into my hair, tilting my head back and deepening the kiss. His tongue slips between my lips, sliding into my mouth, tangling with mine…

I moan.

And things explode.

My hands are ripping at his T-shirt, tugging at the hem, trying to yank it over his head.

But since he doesn’t end the kiss, it just bunches up between us. Still, I take advantage of that bared skin, sliding my fingers over his torso. Hard and male.

Mine.

He tears his mouth from mine, gets rid of the tee and then he’s working at my pajamas, shoving down my shorts, pulling up my tank top, tossing it to the side.

Leaving me in just my underwear.

And not a pair that covers very much.

“Baby,” he rasps, his eyes dragging down the length of me—my face, my naked breasts, those skimpy panties, my legs.

Which are shaking.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

He is too. Strong and lean and a survivor. I want to kiss the scars on his chest, make them disappear. I want to hold him, stroke him, feel him inside me. “Honey, I?—”