Page 53 of Right Number, Wrong Man

HAILEY

Colt’s eyes drop. “Halloween when you and Mike… your first time—” His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “No, wait here. It’s easier to show you.”

He sprints up the stairs, rummages around in the dresser and comes back down, holding a sealed plastic bag.

“The man behind the mask was me. I took your virginity,” he says. “I didn’t even open the bag once cause I wanted to preserve your scent. To you it’s just underwear, but to me it’s a holy relic.”

I’m stunned out of words as I stare at the pink panties behind the plastic. Of course I recognize the lingerie.

I should feel used. I should get angry again, because this isn’t just another lie. It’s a willful deception he’s kept up for half our lives, and that might really be worse than pretending to be Jax.

But I can’t be mad. There’s only relief.

Relief that I didn’t give my first time to Mike, a man who disrespected me, shamed me for my fantasies, and cheated on me .

Relief that I wasn’t crazy when it felt like a different man took my virginity. Because it was .

For twelve whole years, he desperately held on to the one piece of me he possessed and treated it like a treasure. Preserved it. Cherished it. It’s obsessively romantic in the most psycho stalker, filthy pervert way—and so perfectly Colt-coded, I bite back a giggle.

He huffs a heavy breath. “My folks had asked me to bring Mike home and when I found him at the Halloween party, we got in an argument. He put his mask on my head to mock me, but then he passed out and I saw your note. I just meant to tell you that he wasn’t coming to the guesthouse.

But you stood there looking so soul-shatteringly beautiful, I couldn’t stop myself. ”

I raise my hand and put it on his bare chest. The heat of his skin sears my palm, his pulse thundering beneath my fingers.

“Until I met Jax, that was the best night of my life,” I admit in a whisper.

“Mine, too. After we became one, I never felt whole again without you. I left my heart with you that night and wandered this earth as a hollow shell of a man. You always carried a part of me with you, even if you didn’t know. Even if you didn’t ask for it.”

Tears rise in my eyes, blurring his handsome face, but I smile anyway.

All this time, our hearts spoke different languages and the meanings were lost in translation. But finally, I understand.

“I couldn’t let Mike take your firsts,” Colt continues. “I wanted to be the first man to split your sweet pussy with my cock and brand my scent into you. It was wrong to pretend, but for one night, I wanted to own your body, even if I couldn’t have your heart. ”

I gather every ounce of courage inside me and ask, “What if I said you can have both?”

Colt puts the panty bag on the table and his hands frame my face. Tears spill down my cheeks faster than his thumbs can swipe them away.

“Then I’d tell you that all the longin’ and the pain and the heartache was worth it.”

My brow furrows. “But your career?—”

“I love what I do, but I love you more. A life with you is all I ever wanted and for a shot at that, I’ll gladly stay.”

His expression shifts suddenly, growing harder. Withdrawn.

“But?” I ask.

“But you don’t know what you’re gettin’ into. I ain’t a good man. Far from it.”

“If you mean your black ops work, I don’t care what you’ve done on your missions. And Justin… I think he had it coming.”

“ I killed Mike,” Colt blurts out.

My heart skips a beat. “You what?”

“I murdered my brother for you and made it look like a robbery. He deserved death for cheating on you. If you expect me to feel bad about what I’ve done, you better forget it cause that’s the kind of man I am, Spitfire. I’m cruel, cold, and calculating… and hopelessly in love with you.”

I swallow, dazed.

His confession should send me running.

Things were different with Justin because the guy was an actual serial killer. It should be terrifying to know that Colt is capable of slaughtering his own brother in cold blood, but my heart dances and my belly tingles.

He loves me so much, he killed for me. Twice .

“You ain’t runnin’ yet… can I take that as a good sign?” Colt asks.

I nod, still processing the information he threw at me.

He steps back and gestures at the door. “If you wanna run, I won’t stop you. I won’t hunt you down. You got nothin’ to fear from me, even if you decide that I’m the type of monster you can’t love. I’ll leave you in peace, I promise.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I’m warnin’ you. If you stay, there’s no way back. I’m gonna make you mine—not just for a night. I want you for the rest of our lives and I’ll marry the fuck outta you.”

His directness lights my face on fire. “M-marriage? Isn’t this a bit sudden?”

“No matter your answer, I’ll never stop loving you, but I need you to decide right now. It’s yes or no. Not maybe. Sixteen years, Spitfire. I can’t wait any longer.”

Colt is right. This isn’t sudden at all. It’s overdue.

Then why am I hesitating?

I want him, but I’m scared, too. Scared of falling without him there to catch me. Scared of trusting and having my heart broken again. Scared of being lied to and betrayed.

“Convince me that you’ll do it right,” I demand.

Colt lets out a gentle laugh. “I always wondered what we’d be like together.

If we’d be happy. But I know that fairy tales ain’t real life and we’ll have days where you hate my guts cause I said somethin’ stupid or got a bad temper over nothing.

But that’s what love is. It ain’t all roses and sunshine. To grow, we need the rain, too.”

Colt kisses me and my heart jumps from my chest at the brush of his lips. It’s a slow kiss like he’s still waiting for me to change my mind.

Waiting for permission to love me .

“Real love ain’t pretty and painless. It hurts like hell and leaves you scarred,” he whispers against my lips.

“I can’t promise you a perfect relationship cause I’m not a perfect man.

But I can promise that I’ll never cheat and I’ll never stop trying to be better for you.

And if I make you angry because I’m a jaded, cynical asshole, I’ll be on my knees beggin’ for your forgiveness. ”

“Deal. But if I catch you lying?—”

“I’ll never lie to you but if I do, I’ll let you shoot me again.” He takes my hand and presses my index finger and middle finger to his forehead. “Right here. Between the eyes.”

Colt winks and kisses me again. Harder now.

I open for him and our tongues dance, his hand on my ass pressing my hips into him.

His cock grows against me, awakening a throb between my thighs as his hands wander, undoing my blouse and sliding it from my shoulders.

He tugs down my skirt and I kick off my sandals.

When he’s made short work of my bra and panties, it’s my turn. I pop the button on his jeans, open the zipper, and he wriggles his hips to step out of his pants and underwear at once.

“Shit, I gotta tell Cody to stay away!” he curses with a smirk. “I’m gonna be busy with the love of my life.”

I blush. “What an upgrade for me, getting promoted from personified headache to the love of your life.”

“You were always both and you still are. I wouldn’t have it any other way, my favorite headache.”

Colt picks up his jeans and takes out his phone, tapping away. When he’s done, he leaves it on the table.

“I forgot something, too,” I say, grinning. “Where is your stupid hat?”

“My Stetson?” His voice trails off and his head cocks in confusion, but he points to a rack by the door .

I march over and grab his hat. “I looked up that ominous hat rule and found like a million of them. Never put your hat on a bed. Never wear it backwards. Never wear your hat at the table, et cetera and so on. But one rule stood out to me. To say it in the language of your grandfather’s cowboy traditions…

” I plop the Stetson on my head and his jaw drops. “I’m yours.”

Colt rushes toward me and sweeps me off my feet. If I didn’t know he was injured, I wouldn’t catch how his breath hitches when he cradles me in his arms.

I put a hand on his chest. “You’re still hurting and you don’t have to?—”

“Shut your mouth, brat,” he cuts in and my pussy weeps at his steely tone. “I ain’t letting some stupid little bullet wound stop me from takin’ my future wife to bed.”

Colt carries me upstairs and lays me on the bed. The hat falls off me and I laugh when he takes it and hangs it on the bedpost.

As he smiles down at me with that dimple showing, I know without a doubt:

This is what love is meant to feel like—wild and imperfect, yet easy like summer rain.