Page 89 of Oathbreaker

He’s been doing that every night since he found out West and I broke up.

But tonight is going to be different.

I’m…ready.

So, I go to my dresser, pull out a nightgown I never thought I would wear—one that I bought with the man who stole my heart as a teenager and never gave it back in mind. One I knew he would love…if he was alive.

Which he wasn’t.

Except he is.

I slip into my bathroom, wash my face and brush my teeth, then step into the shower to run my razor over my legs, my bikini line, under my armpits.

Then I lotion up, brush out my hair, spritz myself with perfume.

And through it all, I don’t rush.

I have time because Frankie is going to request that he read her multiple books, and he’s going to give in and read them to her. Then he’ll sit with her until she drifts off.

So, I fuss with my curls and oil the ends. I make sure the tight burgundy lace clings in all the right spots.

And only when I hear the bedroom door open and close do I feel nervous.

But I just suck in a breath, hold it for a second, and exhale.

Then I step out of the bathroom.

Colt is at the side of the bed, emptying his pockets onto the nightstand, plugging in his phone. “She’s out,” he says. “And I only had to read three extra?—”

His head lifts, words cutting off.

The look on his face…God, I’ll never forget it.

Heat and desire blaze through his expression, scorch me from behind his sapphire blue eyes.

Then it all goes soft.

“God you’re beautiful, baby,” he rasps.

I nibble at my bottom lip, those nerves making a reappearance. “My body has changed since having Frankie.”

Half of his mouth turns up. “Mine’s changed too.” Guilt ripples through me, and I open my mouth to apologize. But he keeps talking. “Come here, baby.”

“I— Colt?—”

“Fuck it,” he says, prowling toward me. “I’ll go to you.”

And he does.

One moment, he’s across the room. The next, he’s right in front of me.

He doesn’t speak, just runs his hands reverently over my body—down my arms, my side, my hips, pausing where the material bisects my thighs, then back up my front, dragging the material with them, slowly baring my skin, inch by inch by inch.

His eyes are fixed on me as he pulls it free, drops it to the floor behind us, and my breath hitches. Because the heat is back, growing in intensity until it’s the fiery blue inferno.

And I willingly jump into the flames.

I grab the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it up, drawing it over his head, tossing it aside.