His hands slid to her hips, and when she raised them, he pushed her back down, the thrust hard and unyielding. She moaned, immediately raising her hips again to repeat the motion. Again, and again, she rode him, lifting her hips to meet the upward thrust of his. He felt so good slamming into her body—and without the condom on, she felt even more. His fingers squeezed her ni**les, the hard tips tightening, and her body jerked in response to that jolt.
He groaned, no doubt feeling it all the way down to his body. His thrusts became harder, and though she had initially started out in control, he’d quickly taken back over again—that was fine with her—she loved his control in bed, his mastery of her. When his hands slid back down to her hips to slam her down on his cock, her hands moved to her ni**les, tugging at them as he rocked into her over and over again.
She came a moment later, tensing and crying out his name. He gave a fierce jerk underneath her, and then she felt the wash of his cum inside her. She leaned over him, tracing her fingers over his face, his mouth.
He pulled her close and gave her a hard, fierce kiss. “Thank you for being there for me today.”
“Always,” she whispered, and meant it.
Colt couldn’t tell her.
He’d wanted to while she’d slept next to him last night. He’d f**ked her hard that morning, too, but he’d been unable to make the words come out of his mouth. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself.
That douche bag Allan was his brother. It made his skin crawl at the thought. And if he told her that and mentioned that he’d lied to her about that first weekend? She wouldn’t understand.
He’d tell her. She needed to know. Just…not yet. Not while he was raw with it himself.
He was quiet as she’d driven him back to the hospital. He knew she was concerned, but she’d simply kissed him and told him to call if he needed her.
“Hey, Dad,” he said as he entered his father’s room. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Much better,” Henry said with a smile. “I’m surprised you came back after what I told you yesterday.”
Guilt flashed through him. “Nah,” he said. “You’ve always been my father. Always will be.”
Henry squeezed Colt’s hand. “I’m glad. I’ve missed you.”
He’d missed his father, too. Seeing him had made him realize that even though he didn’t agree with the way Henry Waggoner had lived his life, he still loved the man. Colt cleared his throat. “How you feeling this morning?”
“Just fine. Nurses say they’re going to keep me one more day just for observation. I can go home tomorrow.”
Colt shook his head. “You’re not going back to that dump. It’s not safe. The entire thing should be condemned and the yard cleaned out.”
His father began to protest. “There’s lots of money in that scrap metal—”
“And you owe even more in fines to the city than it’s worth. I’m going to have to clean it up.”
His father set his jaw, mulishly. “It’s my stuff.”
“You can’t clean it up. You’re sick, and your leg is messed up. Let me take care of it.” He was sure Dane—and maybe even Grant—would help with the cleanup. And if they wouldn’t, he could always hire someone to haul trash. Either way, he was cleaning out that property. “I already talked to Grant. We have an extra cabin next to Brenna’s and I’m moving you in there.”
Henry’s jaw set stubbornly. “I won’t be a parasite on your finances.”
“You won’t be,” Colt lied. “Just the other day, Grant was talking about how he needed someone to maintain the lawns around the houses and tune up the ATVs and handle the paintball guns. I’m hiring you for the job if you want it.”
Of course, he’d have to run it past Grant, but Grant wouldn’t care. The only reason the man was so invested in their damn business was because he’d go crazy with nothing to do. They could bleed money for years and Grant wouldn’t give a shit—he was loaded.
His father gave him a skeptical look. “How much does this job pay?”
“Minimum wage,” Colt drawled. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” his father said. “If you think I’m needed.”
He’d have Brenna break the equipment every week just to give his dad something to do. He clapped a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Absolutely. Leave the rest to me.”
She had no customers. Beth Ann stared at her empty salon chair, trying not to feel depressed and like a failure.
She couldn’t even run her own business. She was a failure. She was a very broke failure. Her savings was tapped out. She had just enough to pay her rent that was due in two weeks, but that was it.
Colt would loan her the money, if she asked. She didn’t want to ask, though. She didn’t want to depend on anyone. If she couldn’t do it on her own, then what was the point? Her phone rang, and she leapt to answer it. “California Dreamin’!”
“Hey, girl, it’s me.” Miranda’s voice was cheerful. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.” She sighed, fighting back depression as she stared at her empty salon. “Just working.”
“Oh.” Miranda sounded sad. She knew Beth Ann was struggling. “I could use a trim on my bangs. Can I come by?”
“Of course, honey,” she said, her mouth twisting in a wry smile. “But I cut your bangs last week.”
“Oh. Well. Maybe a new manicure? I thought I might go for something in red.”
She smiled. “You can’t single-handedly save my business, Mir. It’s sweet, but you should probably save your money for your wedding.”
Miranda groaned into the phone. “Don’t remind me. I think Dane’s mom is going to be a bridezillla. Momzilla. Whatever. I got a package from her the other day and it was a box full of bridal magazines. God. Dane took one look at it and ran out of the house.”
Beth Ann laughed, moving to the window and peeking at the shop across the street. Still full of people. She didn’t understand it. How could the other salon be so much better than hers? She’d never had complaints before.
Something wasn’t adding up.
“So anyhow,” Miranda said. “I got Dane to volunteer for the dunking booth. We’ll set up in town square, and he promised to wear a hockey helmet and a jersey. It’s for a good cause, right?”