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DRILL ME, SERGEANT

SYLVIA FOX

CONTENTS Front Matter Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Cock Me, Pilot Mentor Me, Professor Frisk Me, O cer

Copyright © 2016 by Sylvia Fox All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Sylvia’s Other Titles Drill Me, Sergeant Frisk Me, O ce Mentor me, Professor Cock Me, Pilot ... with more coming soon!

CHAPTER ONE

S now blasts the windshield of my beat-up Sentra and I

flip on the wipers. Not like they’ll help with visibility at all, but I’ve got to do something. The roads are growing more dangerous out here by the minute. I can barely see through the long diagonal streaks my head lights slice through the snow. Apparently not one meteorologist anywhere was expecting this crazy ass blizzard. And who can blame them?

It’s still November. Thanksgiving is just one day away.

My knuckles are white and my back hasn’t touched my seat for the last hour and I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath since I turned o the highway—which was a deathtrap of brake lights and skidding vehicles, by the way.

As soon as I came slipping down the o -ramp, I let out a long breath I’d been holding for the last two hours.

Boy was I ever wrong to think I could relax.

I skid to a stop at every streetlight and stop sign and I lose control every time I turn the corner. Like right now, I’ve got my foot firmly pressed to the brakes and there’s no way I’m going to stop in time for this red light. I’m going to slide right into the intersection, no matter what I do.

My heart starts its own skid, stuttering around like it thinks it can help the situation by going faster than it’s ever

gone in my life. I lean on the horn as I slide through the red light, hoping other drivers will hear it in time to avoid ramming into me. At this point, I don’t even know why I’ve got my foot on the brake anymore. Now that I’m in the intersection, I need out. Like, now. I switch to the gas just in time for another car to slide past me. If the near miss wasn’t so terrifying, it would be fucking hilarious. We slip past each other, staring at one another, both of us wide-eyed and terrified as we pass in a slow-motion version of the Automobile Ice Capades.

While the rest of the drive to my parents’ house is just as tense and treacherous, I make it into their driveway without another incident. The snow is piled high here. It reaches up past the tops of my boots and falls in and melts around my ankles as I tromp around to the trunk of my car. I grab my bag out of the back and trudge through the stu up to the front door. The porch light is on, as is the light in the living room, but no one’s home. Mom and Dad went to pick up my grandparents this morning and are totally snowed in over there.

It’s just going to be me here tonight.

Thank God. I love my parents, of course I do. They can just be a little much at times. Add in my grandparents and their constant pressure on all of us to excel and family gatherings become a bit of a pressure cooker.

My grandpa picks on everything my grandma does.

My grandma picks on everything my mom does.

My mom and my dad gang up and pick on everything I do.

I swear, there isn’t a person in our family who can set the table perfectly enough for anyone else to be happy. I mean, how fucking straight does the silverware really need to be?

The only person I’m really looking forward to seeing is Colt Barrett—my dad’s best friend. He knows how to make

the worst situations seem like smooth sailing. In his eyes, a fork is a fork no matter how close it’s sitting to the knife.

Plus, he’s hot as sin. Like teenage wet dream, late night vibe-fest kind of hot. Sure, he’s older, but that doesn’t matter one little bit because Colt Barrett is a man that deserves his own classification. Older. Younger. He transcends it all.

He’s a Marine. Or, an ex-Marine, really, but the ‘ex’ part doesn’t really matter. Not only does he have the sex-god body and the short-cropped hair that accentuates his skyblue eyes, but he’s also got that confidence that comes from being one of the baddest of all the asses in the country. He’s the shit and he knows it. And there’s no shame in him knowing it because not only is it the total truth, but he’s really cool about it, too.

He’s like, oh you want me to hold up that car with one hand while I rescue a litter of kittens trapped underneath with the other? Sure! No problem. Then he just does it like it’s no big thing and then brushes o the gratitude with a smile that feels like the sun has opened early just for you. It’s no secret I’ve had a pretty massive crush on him since right around the time I hit puberty.

Scratch that.

It’s one hell of a major secret.

No one knows. Not grandma. Not Grandpa. Not Mom. Not Dad. Not my diary. And most definitely not Colt Barrett. I fully intend on keeping it that way.

Using the key my parents wouldn’t take back when I moved out for college, I unlock the front door and let myself into my parents’ house. Snow blows right in with me like it’s just as glad to be inside as I am. As soon as I shut the door, the last bit of tension from the drive melts away. There’s something so good about coming home, isn’t there?

Especially after fearing for your life for the last hundred or so miles.

My boots are caked with snow, so I pull them o and set them next to the door, just like I used to do when I was a little girl. After draping my socks over my boots and hanging up my coat in the hall closet, I drag my bag into the room I called my own for a good portion of my pre-college years.

And then, I head over to my dad’s wet bar and pour myself a drink. Which I never did when I was a little girl.

Okay, scratch that.

I did my fair share of sneaking drinks when I was a teenager. To this day I’m surprised I never got caught.

My parents’ house is gorgeous. One of those towering ordeals made of wood and stone, with dark beams lining the ceiling and recessed lighting set at the perfect angle. Family pictures line the walls, documenting my transformation from gap-toothed girl in pigtails, through the worst ugly duckling phase of all times, to the grinning almost-college graduate I am today.

Colt is in almost as many pictures as I am, flashing that shit-eating grin at the camera like he knows just how beautiful it makes him. There are pictures of him and my dad in their camo, looking young and serious during their first year in the Marines. Pictures of all of us on their first leave, me just a tiny little bundle in my mom’s arms. She was so young when she had me, but powered by optimism like some kind of inspirational Energizer bunny, she never let that bother her. She was suited to motherhood in a way I don’t think I ever will be.

As we all grow older, Colt’s wife Sheila shows up under his arm only to disappear a few years after that. I never knew why they got divorced, but it wasn’t pretty. Looking at the pictures of him during the year she left makes it clear how hard it was for him. His face got leaner, his muscles got

bigger, and the light in his eyes died out. Colt Barrett got hard that year, just in time for fifteen-year-old me to start noticing.

And notice I did.

I take a long drink of the vodka and cranberry I poured for myself and head over to the other set of pictures. God, how could no one notice how hard I fell for my dad’s best friend?

Instead of standing next to my parents, I managed to tuck myself up closer and closer to him in each and every picture.

If I wasn’t in the middle of getting a little drunk and a lot turned on right now, I’d be embarrassed for younger me, being as obvious and desperate as I was.

You know what? Scratch that embarrassment part, too.

Honestly, I can’t remember a time the way I feel about Colt has ever embarrassed me. He’s one hell of a sexy man.

My attraction to him was inevitable the minute I became woman enough to notice.

I used to fantasize about him taking my virginity. It was all totally romanticized and very much the kind of stu a little girl would dream up, filled with sappy music and dramatic confessions of love. But then, once I gave my virginity to someone else in one of those typical, fumbling and awkward experiences, my fantasies about Colt switched over to something a little more elicit.

Nowadays? My Colt fantasies are downright dirty.

Remember how I said he might be the one person I thought I was looking forward to seeing this weekend? I take that back now. I’m not sure I can look this man in the face after the things I’ve imagined him doing to me over the last few years.

You know what I need? More liquor. I throw back the rest of my drink and wander back to the bar to make myself another. Outside, the storm rattles against the windows, the rest of the snowflakes wanting in to join their friends

melting into a puddle around my boots. Maybe it’ll all turn out okay anyway. Maybe everyone will end up snowed in for the whole weekend and I can just go back to Colorado State without having to face the passive aggressive comments that will start flying at me from every direction as soon as my family gets here.

Except then I wouldn’t get to see Colt.

Now that I’m su ciently buzzed, I make a beeline for my favorite picture of all time. This particular picture sits on the long mantel over our stone fireplace and has been the highlight of one too many fantasies since the very moment it was taken. It’s just me and Colt and even though I’m way too old to be doing it, I’m sitting on his lap. I remember the day so clearly. His proximity intoxicated me. His scent enveloped me. His hard angles and strong arms fascinated me. But most importantly, I was totally and completely aware of his dick and just how close it was to my ass.

If you know what you’re looking for, you can see it written all over my face, but that isn’t all there is to see. The thing I love most about this picture is that I swear Colt was just as aware of me as I was of him. We’re both smiling at the camera, but there’s something so sexually charged about the way he’s holding me, the way I’m leaning in…

Just staring at it now makes me hot. I down the rest of my drink and set the empty glass on the mantel. My hands move on auto-pilot, one squeezing my breast and tweaking a nipple while the other slides into my pants while I stare at the hard line of Colt’s jaw in the picture. I close my eyes and imagine Colt’s hands on me, his tongue on my clit, his dick pressing against my pussy.

My breath quickens as I draw little circles on my clit and I swear I’m about to have one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of the last year when the front door swings open. A blast of cold air jets into the living room and I yank my hand

out of my pants and spin as someone walks through the door, looking down as they stomp snow o their feet.

And by someone, I mean the one and only Colt Barrett.

CHAPTER TWO

C olt runs a hand over his head, brushing the snow out of

his now slightly longer than it used to be hair. “Well, hey there Nadine.”

His eyes sweep over me and I swear he can see the shame and embarrassment written on my face. I was totally just masturbating to this man. Like, staring at a picture of him and me from when I was a teenager and pretending that my hands were his hands and they were all over my body and now here he is. Yeah, totally not awkward. Not at all.

“Hey, Colt.” I swipe my empty glass o the mantel and head back to the bar. Not only does this situation call for a little liquid courage, but this also gives me a moment to turn my back on him and get a grip. “You want a drink?”

It’s totally fine, I tell myself. He didn’t see anything. Just play it cool. It’s not like you’re going to be trapped in the house all alone with the man of your dreams or anything.

Colt shakes his head as he pulls o his coat. “When did you get big enough to start o ering me drinks?”

His voice does amazingly terrible things to me. It’s strong and gravelly and goes on a one-way trip from my ears to the throbbing need that’s just moved in between my legs. I was so close to coming just now.

So. Close.

“Since I’m twenty-one and all grown up.” I try not to cringe. I was going for a little bit of sultry mixed with a whole lot of teasing, but instead, I just sound very much like the little girl he thinks I am.

Colt lets his gaze wander my face and I swear he lingers a little longer than he should. “Ain’t that the truth. You’re not my little Cuddle Bug anymore, are you?”

Oh, I’ll be your Cuddle Bug. Holy shit, Nadine. Get a hold of yourself.

I swear, I must be as red as Ronald McDonald’s hair right now and probably look just as childish. All my words are stuck behind a big old lump of what the hell am I doing, so I just brandish an empty glass and raise my eyebrows at him.

Colt nods. “After that drive, I’d say a drink is in order.”

He smiles and winks at me and that just about does me in. As if I’m not wound up and turned on enough as it is, he’s got to go and do sexy shit like that.

I pour myself another drink, going a little heavier on the vodka than I probably should, and pour Colt a couple fingers of whiskey.

“Here you go.” I finally decide that I can come out from behind the safety of the bar and cross the living room to hand Colt his drink.

He looks down at it and then smiles at me in surprise.

“Damn girl, you didn’t even have to ask what I want. A man could get used to that.”

“You’ve only had the same thing every time you’ve been over here for like, the last decade or something.” His fingers brush mine as he takes the glass from me and my breath catches in my chest. I swallow hard and force myself to meet his eyes despite the blush I feel working its way across my

cheeks. “It only takes a little paying attention to know you’re a whiskey man.”

He’s so close I can feel the heat coming o his body.

Smell that familiar scent of aftershave and whatever it is that he wears that makes him smell like the most delicious and manliest of men. It’s grease and gun oil, sweat and hard work, all wrapped up in cologne and body soap. I could stay this close to him all day and a-ok.

Shit. Let’s be real. I could get even closer than this and be so fine.

So. Fucking.

Fine.

Colt clears his throat and steps back. Sips his drink and eyes me like I might be dangerous. Or crazy. Or, you know, like I’m his best friend’s little girl who just got a little too close and creepy. I back o and cross the living room to sit down on the couch.

“Your dad texted and said he won’t be able to make it home tonight.”

“Yeah. I got the same text just about the time I got o the highway and realized I might actually make it here without dying.”

Colt laughs and shakes his head. “Between you and me, I’m glad you skipped the dying part of the trip.” He jerks his chin towards the fireplace. “That thing work?”

I follow his gaze and, of course, my eyes go straight to that damn picture on the mantel. The picture. He has no idea just how fucking well it works. Guaranteed to wet my panties every damn time. I bite my lip and turn back to Colt. “I think so. Dad usually has a pile o wood stacked on the back porch.”

“Sounds like Jim. Always prepared.” Colt disappears out the back door and gets to work building us a fire while I do

everything I can to get myself under control. If it’s going to be just me and Colt here alone tonight, I cannot keep acting like a stupid little girl with a crush. It’s kind of important that I pull my shit together and start acting like everything is normal and fine or this is going to be one hell of an awkward weekend. Or, at the very least, I’m going to have to change my panties so frequently I’ll either have to do laundry or go buy some more to make it through the next couple days.

While Colt builds us a fire, I head into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” I call out to him, glad to have some space between us so I can think without being so damned distracted by all the things that make him who he is.

“Ravenous,” he calls back. There’s something in his voice that sets my nerves on edge. Why does everything feel like innuendo with him? “Mandy always has something delicious waiting for us, so I came hungry.”

Or, maybe it wasn’t innuendo. Maybe the man just skipped dinner.

I dig through the fridge, looking for something to snack on. With tomorrow being Thanksgiving, the thing is stu ed full of food, but none of it is of the ready to eat variety. After a little investigating, I find a cheese and meat tray hiding under stacks of pies Mom pre-made so they’re ready to pop in the oven tomorrow. I lean into the pantry, certain there’s a box of crackers hiding in the back. Which there is, thanks to Dad and his need to always have non-perishable food items on hand. It’s not exactly a culinary masterpiece, but it’ll do.

Hands full, I whirl and come face to face with Colt. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and I swear, I mean, cross my heart and hope to die, he was staring at my ass. I gasp and step back, stumbling over god knows what. Colt lurches into action and grabs my shoulders to keep me from falling while I do my best impersonation of

a juggler to keep from spilling the cheese and meat all over myself and the floor.

“Whoa. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice is low and those fucking masterpieces of erotic art he calls eyes burn into mine.

Even though I’m not falling anymore, Colt keeps his hands on my shoulders and it’s like all of my sensory input has collapsed to focus solely on his touch, an implosion of thought and sensation. I am nothing more than two points of feeling, his hands on each of my shoulders. My eyes go to his lips, lush and full and slightly parted, surrounded by a thin field of stubble I just know will feel like sin on my inner thighs. My gaze darts to his eyes and I find him staring at my mouth. I lean in and I swear, he does too. His grasp on my shoulders softens. He’s not holding me upright any longer.

Fucking hell, he’s pulling me close.

And then, he blinks and pushes away. Clears his throat and licks his lips. His hands are gone from my shoulders and there is a very deliberate amount of space between us.

“You good?” he asks, his voice gru . He steps back another step and starts to walk away before he turns towards me again, his eyes focused somewhere over my head. “Here, let me take those things.” He takes the meat tray and the box of crackers out of my hands and disappears into the living room faster than I can think.

As I head back into the kitchen for some plates and napkins, joy radiates from my chest. I mean, it’s like a fucking bolt of golden light emanating from my heart and pooling all warm and moist in my panties. I do a little victory dance as soon as I know I’m out of Colt’s line of sight. Can’t help it and wouldn’t want to if I had to. I’m just that ecstatic about our little moment just now.

There’s no way I imagined all the electric energy between us. I know what it looks like when a man wants a woman and

Colt Barrett was just as interested in kissing me as I was in being kissed. It was just like that picture above the mantel.

Both of us aware of the other in a way neither of us should be.

Just five minutes ago, having to spend the night alone with Colt felt like a curse. Now? It feels like an opportunity I’d be a fool not to take advantage of.

CHAPTER THREE

A s the snow piles up outside and the fire snaps and pops

in the fireplace, Colt and I drink more than we should.

We flirt more than we should.

We touch more than we should.

His hand on my knee. My fingertips on his forearm. A brush of his leg against mine. There’s no way I’m imagining this. There’s no way this is wishful thinking. This is a man who wants a woman and a woman who wants a man. It’s as simple as that.

Well, as simple as it can be when the man is your father’s best friend and nineteen years older than you. So like, not simple at all.

Throughout the course of the night, we’ve gone through the whole gambit of small talk. He knows college is going well and I know he’s enjoying his early retirement more than he thought he would, even though he resents the hell out of the injury that got him his honorable discharge. The small business he started—a personal security firm that gives exmilitary people a place to find work that makes good use of their unique skills—is growing by leaps and bounds and it doesn’t look like it plans to stop anytime soon. We’ve moved onto real topics and for the first time in my whole life, I feel

like I’m getting to know the man I’ve been wildly in love with for years.

“You have a boyfriend?” Colt takes a swig of his whiskey and stares at the fire like the secret to life is hidden inside.

“Nah.” I shake my head and run a hand through my hair, gathering it over my shoulder and letting my gaze rake over the hard planes of his face. “No one’s really caught my attention out there yet.”

No one except you, that is. God, if I could roll my eyes at my own inner monologue, I so would.

“Well good.” Colt hits me with a look that’s somewhere between smoldering and seething and it’s a miracle I don’t combust on the spot.

“What about you? Any Mrs. Barretts on the horizon?” I try to keep my tone conversational so as to hide the fact that if he says yes, I might have to get her name and go homicidal on her ass.

Colt makes a face I can’t quite untangle. “Nah. That didn’t work out too well for me the last time.” He looks at me so deeply I swear he can see all the way into my tiny fluttering heart with its deep, dark secret hidden inside. He can see that I want him. That I’ve done nothing but fantasize about him since before I was old enough to know what I was doing.

That I’m two seconds away from hopping into his lap and grinding my hips into his dick until I finally get to come while staring into his eyes.

“Besides.” He licks his lips. “I’ve only had one person on my mind for the last few years.”

It’s like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room because I know he’s talking about me. I know it the way I know my name is Nadine Michelle Hill.

“And who is that?”

Colt leans in so close his forehead nearly touches mine. I meet his gaze and tilt my head, angling my mouth toward

his.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asks, his lips brushing mine as he speaks. He pulls back, laughing, those bright eyes sparkling with merriment.

I slap his arm and make a face. He wants to get mean in his flirting? Well, two can play at that game. I climb into his lap, straddling him, and ever so slowly lower myself until his cock is crushed against my pussy.

“I would very much like to know,” I say, letting my eyes tell him that I very much already know.

Colt’s face gets serious. “Nadine…” His voice is thick and I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh.

I tilt my head and part my lips, grinding my hips against him. “Tell me who’s been on your mind.” I let my voice purr and lilt.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I don’t let it do anything.

I’m so turned on right now everything is just happening all on its own. I’m not some sexual mastermind. I’m operating on instinct. Driven by my need and a vodka-fed fearlessness I’m sure to regret in the next few minutes, I run my hands up his chest and holy fuck! I have never felt a pair of pecs this hard in all my life.

“Tell me, Colt.”

And just like that, his hands come to my waist, pulling me down against his dick. I moan through my parted lips.

“You,” he says. “I haven’t been able to get my mind o you.”

That’s all the invitation I need. I lean down and kiss him while his hands travel up my back and into my hair. I’m lost in the sensation of our tongues dancing and our hips rocking. In his taste and his scent and the rough brush of his skin against my ribs as he lifts my shirt and cups my breasts.

“Oh, shit Colt.” I tilt my head back and rock my hips forward. “I’ve wanted this for so many years.”

His lips graze my throat and my jaw. “I know.” He nibbles on my earlobe. “I’ve known for years. I saw it in how you looked at me. How you spoke to me.” His voice rustles in my hair and I let my head drop back, inviting him to take more of me, all of me. He kneads my tits through my bra and I reach down to pull my shirt up over my head.

Colt grabs my wrists and pushes them into my lap while he pulls away from me so far, his head drops onto the back of the couch. “Nadine…” Confusion tightens the space between his eyes. It’s not a look he wears easily. Uncertainty is unfamiliar to a man as confident as Colt. “We can’t…”

He trails o , unable to even finish the sentence.

“Yeah we can,” I say as I watch Colt battle with himself.

He grabs my waist and lifts me completely o his lap before depositing me on the couch and standing up. He leans his forearms on the mantel and drops his head to his arm.

My instinct is to go to him, to drop to my knees, drag down his zipper, and suck his cock until he comes on my face. Just get it over with. Be the one who makes all the moves so he doesn’t have to wrestle with his guilt. But I know better than to chase a man. If a man walks away, it’s best to leave him alone until he’s ready to come back.

But you better believe the very second he turns back around, I’ll have his dick so far down my throat he won’t remember his own name.

After just a few silent seconds, Colt lifts his face and stares at the picture of us on the mantel. “I’ve always been shocked your parents put this one up,” he says, more to the empty room than to me.

“Why?” “Because.” Colt takes the picture in his hands and turns.

He’s facing me, but not looking at me. “Can’t you see how

much I want you?” His eyes are glued to the image in his hands. “How can they not see it?”

I stay silent, waiting for him to be ready to hear me again because there’s no way I’m letting Colt slip through my fingers. Not now. Not after that kiss.

His eyes finally meet mine and that’s all I’ve been waiting for. “And can’t you see how much I want you?” He can think I’m talking about the picture or he can think I’m talking about right now. It’s true either way.

“But it’s wrong, Nadine.” Colt lets a long breath out through his nose, his eyes sliding closed while he slowly shakes his head.

“Why?” I ask.

His eyes lock on mine. “Why what?”

“Why is it wrong?”

Colt puts the picture back on the mantel, lips pursed into a tight little line. “Do you really need to ask that?” When he turns back to me, the bulge of his rigid cock pressing against his jeans tells me everything I need to know.

I slide o the couch and drop to my knees in front of him, looking up as I tug the button free. “I’m a woman. You’re a man. We’ve wanted each other for years. I don’t see anything wrong with finally getting what we want.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares down at me with that muscle in his jaw pulsing so I free his dick from his pants and suck the little drop of precum o the tip.

“Fuck. Nadine.” Colt growls. “This is wrong.”

“No, Colt. This is good.” I lick along his shaft, swirl my tongue along the crown of his dick and then take him deep into my mouth.

Colt groans and I widen my legs, so fucking hot that I hate my clothes right now. If it weren’t for the thick fabric of my jeans, I’d slip a finger into myself and run it along my

clit until I come, quivering with my own orgasm as he shoots his cum down my throat.

But I am wearing jeans and there’s no way I’m stopping what’s happening right now in order to take them o . I’ve waited too long to have this man’s dick in my mouth.

Colt takes a fistful of my hair and pulls back so I’m looking up at him. “Is this really want you want?”

I nod, smiling. “More than anything.”

“Then damn it. We’re going to do it right.”

CHAPTER FOUR

C olt helps me to my feet and kisses me. It’s long and slow

and deep, like sipping whiskey instead of shooting it. I reach between us to grab his cock, desperate to have him naked and inside me, so eager to be drunk on him that I’m ready to speed things along myself. Colt takes my wrists in his hands and pulls them away.

“Slow down, sweetness,” he says in his slow-motion drawl as he pins my wrists behind my back. “There's more to this than my dick in your pussy.”

“But, I really really want your dick in my pussy.” I pretend to struggle against the grip he has on my wrists. Colt tightens his fist and it becomes quite clear that I couldn’t get away if I wanted to. And that knowledge sends a surge of dampness between my legs.

Colt stares down at me, his eyes hooded with lust. “I’m going to teach you the joys of going slow.”

I’ll play along with him for now, because there’s no way I’m doing anything to mess this up, not after fantasizing about this for most of my life. But after finally getting a taste of his cock, I can’t think of anything else. I want it inside me.

Now. I don’t have much patience for this going slow bullshit.

Colts releases my wrists and grabs the hem of my sweater. He slides it up and pauses while the fabric is covering my face and pinning my arms up over my head.

While he holds the sweater with one hand, his lips travel down my neck and across my tits. His tongue dips beneath the lacey edge of my bra to torture a nipple before he works his way back up along my collar bone and pauses near my ear.

“I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t go another day without thinking about my cock.” His voice rasps through the fabric of my sweater and sets me on fire.

There’s something about knowing he's in complete and utter control of what happens next that just leaves me senseless. Wasted. I've never not been in control of a sexual experience. It's always been on my terms and at my speed.

And up to this point there hasn't been a man who wasn’t ready to go just as fast as I am. I've never had a relationship, just a steady stream of hookups. A dick in my pussy, ramming and sliding and slipping. I moan and sigh until he cums and then I gather my stu and leave.

Something tells me I’m in for a whole new experience for with Colt He finishes pulling the sweater over my head and lets it drop to the floor. Ever so carefully—but with just enough force to prove who’s in control of the situation—he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifts my face to his.

“After I’m through with you, you'll never forget my name, sweetness.”

Even as moisture pools between my thighs, I stare at him and laugh. “Like I could ever forget your name,” I say. My eyes lock on his and the rest of the world disappears. The snow storm isn’t raging outside the house. I'm not in my parents’ living room. It's just him and me, our bodies

pressed together outside of time and space and the energy of our connection consumes us both.

“I've never come without seeing your face,” I say as I stare up at him. “I close my eyes and there you are. How could I ever do something as silly as forget your name?”

Colts face softens, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He bends down and in one swift motion he hooks one arm underneath my knees and wraps the other around my shoulders, cradling me. Without hesitation, he carries me down the hall to my childhood bedroom, pushes through the door and pauses, staring wide-eyed at the boy band posters and pale pink walls. At the twin-sized bed and its purple paisley quilt.

I’m afraid it might be too much for him, fucking me here amidst all the remnants of a teenaged me that my mom isn’t ready to get rid of. But with a wry smile, he stretches me out on that small bed, slides my pants down o my legs, and tosses them carelessly on the floor.

His gaze travels hungrily over my body. “Holy fucking shit Nadine. Are you kidding me right now?”

He stares down at my black lace bra and panties, the ones I carefully selected with the tiniest hope there was a possibility of this very thing happening. I've never come to a family gathering without making sure I had my best lingerie.

That my legs and pussy were clean shaven. Colt and I were inevitable and I’ve known it for years.

“Do you like it?” I ask. “I chose them just for you.”

“For me?”

I bite my lips and stare up at him. “Just in case.”

There’s this moment of him staring down at me and I swear he’s about to say something. But then, he drags his shirt over his head and steps out of his pants, freeing his cock to strain towards me. With him standing naked in my bedroom, I finally have the chance to truly appreciate the

masterfully crafted specimen of masculinity that is Colt Barrett. His penis is beautiful. Shapely and wellproportioned. Long and thick and begging me to wrap my hands around it. My lips around it. My pussy around it. And knowing that I just had it in my mouth, kneeling in front of the very picture that has tantalized me for years, knowing I'm about to have it nestled between my legs, holy shit. I’m so wet I’m dripping.

He climbs up onto the bed, spreading my legs and kissing up my thighs. His stubble burns and tickles my skin just the way I imagined it would. When he gets to the thin swatch of black lace covering my pussy, he hooks a finger underneath the elastic and looks up at me. I can't tell you how many times I've imagined this, looking down to see his face buried between my legs. Let me be the first to tell you nothing could have prepared me for the reality of this moment.

I'm ready for him to tear my underwear o and throw them across the room. To plunge his dick so deep inside me no other man will ever be able to satisfy me ever again. But he doesn't do anything like that. He kisses his way across my stomach, licking past my navel. His hands trail across my ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I arch my back, my impatience raging and tumbling inside me and I growl in frustration.

He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. Pulls the thing away slowly and nuzzles between my breasts. He kisses and sucks and licks and bites and tortures my nipples until I think I might come from the sensation alone. Never have I been this turned on. Never have I been this desperate for release.

“Oh fuck, Colt.” My voice is molten and my clit throbs and pulses with heat.

“You like that don't you, sweetness?” He captures a nipple between his teeth and bites down. I cry out, panting.

On the edge of falling into an orgasm and he hasn’t even taken o my panties yet. Colt looks up at me. “I have so much to teach you.”

He turns his attention back to one breast, sucking and biting and licking while pinching the other nipple between his fingers, rolling it back and forth. The combination of pain and pleasure is so much. I don't know what to do with it. I don't have enough vocabulary to name all the sensations rocketing through my body. My pussy throbs and clenches and he adjusts his stance, bringing his thigh up and bumping his knee against my clit.

And that, my friends, is that. I go o like a rocket, rubbing and rolling my hip against his thigh. The fine lace of my panties creating an extra layer of friction and I cum loudly, humping his leg as Colt sucks a red mark onto my tit.

As I quiet, he lifts his face. “You're too easy, sweetness. I didn't even get your panties o yet and you’ve already had your first orgasm.”

I push up on my elbows. “That means it’s your turn. I want your cock in my mouth.”

“I promise you’ll get your fair share of sucking my dick, but tonight I'm going to make that pussy sing.”

With that, he actually does rip my panties o me. One movement and they're gone. I widen my legs, desperate to have him fill me. Instead of his dick, Colt slides a finger inside me, first one, then two, then, oh holy shit, three. His eyes burn into mine as he slides his hand into me, using his thumb to work my clit.

“You're so wet, sweetness. I bet I can make you squirt.”

My eyes go wide in a combination of shock and horror.

“That's not a thing,” I manage before he pushes his finger to my clit and I drop my head, moaning.

“Oh, it's a thing and it's hot as fuck. You think you’ve come hard before? Just wait until I get that juice squirting

out of you.”

And with that, his hand is back, thrusting into me over and over, his thumb slipping and sliding over my clit. I can feel the dampness gathering between my legs and rolling down my ass crack to soak the quilt beneath me. My eyes roll closed as my hips buck and roll.

“Please,” I say, breathless.

“Please what?” Colt pulls his hands out of me and slaps my clit, hard and fast.

“Fuck. Please. Your cock.” I lift my head from the pillow and stare him down. “I want your cock in my pussy. Now.” I expect him to press his crown against my opening and thrust into me, hammering away until he cums, but Colt surprises me again. He flips me over and helps me up onto my hands and knees. And then, finally, at long fucking last, I feel the pressure I've been waiting for. His dick slides into me, so slow and tantalizing, stretching me in a way I’ve never experienced before. He’s so long and so thick and just having him inside me is almost too much. My muscles clench around him and I drop to my elbows and bite my pillow.

“God damn girl. You're so tight.” Colt’s voice is primal.

Raw. And then he's moving. Slowly. Torturously. I push my hips back into him begging him to go faster. But it only slows him down. I can feel every delicious inch of him pressing against my inner walls. I don’t know how to handle his restraint. Every man I’ve been with in the past has hammered into me. Faster. Harder. Chasing his own orgasm, leaving me to rub my clit myself in order to find my own release. Not so with Colt. Every stroke of his cock is designed to send me spiraling out of control.

He slides into me, rolls his hips, and then pulls back far enough to slip completely out of me, the tip of his dick tickling my lips. The more I moan, the slower he goes.

And then, just when I think it couldn't get better—or worse I'm not even sure, that’s how much his pace is torturing me—there's pressure against my asshole. I whip my head over my shoulder. I can feel the shock on my face, eyes wide, lips parted. Colt smiles.

“I have so much to teach you, little girl.” To my complete and utter shock, he spits on my ass and then slides his finger into me, opening me in a way I’ve never been before. He pauses, letting me get adjusted to being this full. Any trepidation I had dissolves into utter pleasure. He pulls his finger out and slaps my ass. I cry out, arching my back, his red-hot handprint singing to me as he strokes his cock inside my pussy. He spreads my ass and spits again and I disintegrate. All the things that make me Nadine shift and readjust, making room for this new and elicit pleasure. Here I thought I knew what I was getting into. That I was in control of this situation. But as Colt slips a finger into my ass and rolls his hips into me, all I know is I'm screaming, filling up my parents’ house with the sound of my adulterated orgasm. I come and I come and I come and my dampness slides down my legs and gathers around the base of his cock.

He pulls his finger out of my ass again and I miss it, oh holy shit I miss it. Using both hands he grabs my hips and pulls me back into him, ramming me so hard I can feel him banging against my cervix. It’s that hot edge of pain meeting the sweet edge of pleasure and I never knew it could be this good. Never knew I could feel this alive. I cry out, screaming his name, and just like that he explodes inside me. His fingers dig into the flesh at my hips and his body strains with the power of his orgasm. Stars dance in front of my eyes and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that nothing in my life will ever be the same.

CHAPTER FIVE

M y bedroom is on the back corner of the house and has

windows on two walls. The way the house is angled, I’ve always had the first dose of the sunrise, streaming through both sets of windows at the same time. I used to love it, getting up with the dawn. Mom always wanted to buy me a set of blackout curtains so I could sleep in, but I always told her I was happier when I woke up early. Today, however, is a slightly di erent story.

I stretch and discover all the ways I ache. Little leftovers from my night with Colt. It all still dances along that fine line of pleasure and pain, but now it comes with a healthy dose of anxiety. There was no way both of us were going to fit into this bed to sleep, and when Colt got up and announced he was going to sleep in the guest room, I didn’t ask to follow him. It seemed to presumptuous. He kissed me and said goodnight and left me to fall asleep on my own.

Last night, it seemed fine. Natural, even. But now, I’m stuck somewhere between thinking it was the best and worst idea of my whole life. Not just our sleeping arrangement, but the whole night in general. How do we come back from that?

The dirty sex? The admission of my lifelong crush on Colt and his admission of his own desire for me? I gave myself to

that man last night. What if it turns out he doesn’t really want me?

Oscar Wilde once said that everything in this world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power. Never in my life have I given someone else power over me. But wouldn’t you know, last night, I gave all that power to Colt. It was amazing, but now I’m terrified.

I’ve never been out of control during a sexual experience.

Everything always happens on my terms. It never happens with any kind of admission of things like feelings and it most definitely never happens with any talk of an encore performance. I’m a one and done kind of girl. But something about my night with Colt tells me I’m not going to be done after one.

And, since we’re spending Thanksgiving trapped in this house alone, that means I’m going to have to go out there and face him. I can’t just run away and disappear. The moment I get out of this room, he’s going to be there. The most wonderful, awfulest, best, most worst thing that ever happened to me in my whole life.

Oh my god. What the fuck have I done?

I yank the covers up over my head and roll over. Maybe, if I just pretend to be asleep for the whole day, I can avoid the inevitable awkwardness and uncertainty of a morning-after with my dad’s best friend. Holy fucking shit. It’s one thing to imagine stu like this, but actually living it? I am so not prepared for this.

The smell of something sweet and familiar wafts under the crack of my door and sneaks under the worn fabric of my purple paisley quilt. It brings memories of years and years of Thanksgivings right along with it. My mother, laughing and joking while she whisks around the kitchen, wrapped up in a silly apron and a smile. The smell is warm and welcoming and ohhhh no…

It’s my mother’s apple pie.

Fuck! When did they get here? Oh, please, please say it was after my last screaming orgasm. The one where I screamed Colt’s name so loud there wasn’t a place in this house that didn’t hear it.

Horror creeps through me. My shirt is still in the living room. My underwear is a frayed mess on the floor. God only knows what other dirty little leftovers we’ve left trailed throughout the house for anyone to find. It’s one thing to figure out how to navigate an awkward post-sex morning with my dad’s best friend. It’s a whole di erent thing to figure out how to navigate a post-sex morning with my dad’s best friend, with my dad in the room.

Throwing back the covers, I leap out of bed and dig through my suitcase, throwing on the first mostly matching set of clothes I find. I take a moment in the bathroom to brush my teeth and make sure none of the little hickies Colt left on my breasts are visible, and then, after throwing my hair up into a messy bun, I bound down the hallway towards the kitchen.

It’s either going to be one of two things. Deny, deny, deny, or an Emmy award winning conversation filled with fake smiles and a careful avoidance of what everyone knows happened last night.

“You made it!” I say as I turn the corner into the kitchen, smiling widely.

I expect to find my mom, bending over to check the pie in the oven while my dad sits at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of co ee and staring at her ass. While someone is definitely peering into the oven, and someone else is definitely staring at one hell of a fantastic ass, it’s not my mom or my dad.

Colt straightens, grinning at me. He’s fully dressed in his typical no nonsense outfit, but he’s also wearing my

mother’s oven mitts, her flowered apron tied around his waist.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” he says, brandishing one of my mom’s pre-made pies. “Lord knows I worked up quite an appetite.” He puts the pie down on the top of the stove. “At first I thought I’d make an omelet, but when I opened the fridge to investigate the ingredients situation, I saw those pies.” He sucks his lips into his mouth and slides the oven mitts o . “They were just begging to be eaten.” He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and his gaze is focused somewhere just over my head.

“Kind of like you,” I say, although I’m not really sure what I mean. A little sexual innuendo seemed like the way to go to break the tension and that was the first thing to come to mind even though it’s not exactly appropriate.

His eyes lock on mine. “Nadine…”

I step into him, standing so close I can feel the heat of his body along mine. I gave him control last night. Today? I’m taking my power back.

“Don’t you dare feel bad about what happened last night,” I say, running my hands up his arms. “I don’t.”

Colt clears his throat. “That’s the thing. I don’t either. But I feel bad for not feeling bad.”

“Don’t.”

He stares at me, his gaze bouncing back and forth across my face. He’s struggling with something up there, but he’s not going to bring it up until he’s had his chance to untangle it all. That’s just the way Colt is and it’s part of what I love so much about him. He’s not just strong physically, he’s strong emotionally as well.

We work our way through breakfast and while I never ask him what he’s thinking, I do make sure to be in constant contact with him. I keep it light, not aggressive, but definitely sexual. A hand on his thigh. My fingertips across

the back of his neck. I don’t have to look down to know he’s fighting an erection, but I do anyway because I love seeing the bulge of his hard cock and knowing it’s because of me.

After our breakfast of pie and sexual tension, Colt announces that we’re going to go ahead and cook ourselves a Thanksgiving dinner.

“Do you even know how to cook a turkey?” I ask.

“Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“I know my way around a kitchen. Besides, that’s what’s Google is for.” He pours me a cup of co ee and goes to work, giving me simple tasks like slicing and boiling potatoes to mash up later. I live o a lot of takeout and more than my fair share of cereal. I’m almost always having to pluck a dirty plate out of the sink to wash before I can eat because my roommate is a slob and I swore o cleaning up after her lazy ass a few months ago.

Working with Colt is soothing. He cleans as he goes and stops to teach me the the how’s and why’s of what he’s doing. We dance around each other, exchanging little touches, his hand on my waist, my hand on his lower back.

His hand on mine as he shows me how to slice a carrot— something I obviously know how to do, but with him leaning around me, whispering his instructions in my ear, there’s no way I’m going to remind him of that and make him stop doing what he’s doing.

Somewhere around the time we baste the turkey for the fifth time and I do a google search for a good green bean casserole recipe, Colt pours us some wine. And then, somewhere around the time he pours our third glass of wine and I realize how fantastic this day with him has been, he pulls me in for a kiss. It surprises me and I freeze for the tiniest fraction of a heartbeat before I melt into him. It’s like I’d been holding my breath all day and his kiss is the oxygen

I needed. My body comes alive, pulsing and throbbing and I whimper against his mouth.

“I needed that,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Me too.”

“I can’t get over how right this feels.” His breath moves in the bits of hair curling at my forehead. “It shouldn’t feel this easy with you.”

I pull back and stare up into his face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re Jim’s little girl. Because this is wrong…”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Nadine. I’m nineteen years older than you.” Colt takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“It would have been wrong when I was fifteen and you were thirty-four. I’ll give you that. But I’m not a little girl anymore. There’s no shame in this. And it’s something I’ve fantasized about for years. I’m not about to let you walk away from me now.”

I press into him, letting my breasts squish into his chest as I run my hands down his back to squeeze his ass.

“I never said I was walking away, sweetness.” He presses his lips to mine, sucks my lower lip into his mouth and captures it between his teeth.

Not ready to relinquish my power to him, I reach between us and squeeze his dick through his pants. He thrusts his hips into my hands and moans, the sound liquefying my body.

“Tell me your fantasies, Nadine. What do you want me to do to you?”

Nearly a decade’s worth of daydreams come welling up from inside me. Simple ones from my adolescence twirling around dirty ones from my adulthood. “I’ve imagined you throwing me over your knee and spanking me.”

The words come out in a rush, the first time I’ve ever voiced one of my most favorite of fantasies. I don’t know

why it turns me on so much, the thought of being stretched out over his lap, his hand alternating between stinging my ass and sliding into my pussy, but it does.

“What else?” asks Colt as he trails kisses along my jawline.

“I’ve imagined you jerking o on my face while I finger myself.”

He growls, a low sound, deep in his throat. “What else?”

“I’ve imagined you coming in my ass.” My voice is low and tight, heat flaming across my cheeks. These are words I’ve never spoken. Truths that have never left the confines of my mind. I feel raw and exposed and utterly and completely turned on.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?”

I look up through my lashes, afraid to find him staring down at me in disgust. He’s staring down at me alright, but disgust is the last thing he’s feeling.

“I want to be your dirty little whore.” The words leave my lips and I recognize the truth in them. Heaven help the man who said that to me without my permission, but Colt has my complete and utter consent. I wait, breath held.

“You’re my dirty slut?” he asks, his eyes burning into mine. “Mine and only mine?”

The heat of his gaze burns up my words and all I can do is nod. He has no idea just how ‘his’ I am. The more I try to keep the upper hand, the more I discover that I like it better when I give it to him.

“Well, then sweetness. Let’s see just how dirty you really are.”

CHAPTER SIX

W e burn the turkey while we test each other’s limits in

my bedroom. Colt doesn’t just live up to my expectations, he exceeds them mightily. He starts by jacking o on my face, ordering me not to waste one drop of his cum. He watches while I scoop it o and suck it from my fingers, but when I miss a spot on my chin, he throws me over his knee and spanks me, each stinging stroke of his hand punctuated with three long fingers sliding into my pussy and hooking over my G-spot. I come so hard I get dizzy and then, while I’m still recovering, Colt tosses me onto the bed and fucks my ass, using my juices to keep things lubricated. I scream in pleasure until I’m hoarse and when he finally shoots his seed into me, I collapse on my bed, limp with pleasure.

I want to thank him. I want to tell him that nothing could have prepared me for that experience. That I have a whole list of dirty fantasies I want him to work through with me, but I never get a chance. First, my cellphone starts shrieking at me from my purse. As I stare in its direction, trying to decide if I care enough to answer it, Colt sits upright, brows pursed, scenting the air. Then, the smoke alarm goes wild.

“The turkey!” We shout in unison and Colt barrels out of my room, totally naked, while I pull my phone out of my

purse and race after him.

I wouldn’t answer the phone, except it’s my mom, so as I grab the oven mitt o the table and fan the wailing smoke alarm, I press the button to accept the call.

“Hey Mom,” I say as I stand on tiptoe, waving the oven mitt in the air beneath the wailing device.

“What in the world is going on?”

“It’s nothing. Colt and I burnt the turkey.”

“The turkey? Colt’s there? What the hell is happening?”

I finally get the smoke alarm to be quiet and stand there, naked in the kitchen, explaining to my mom how Colt and I decided to go ahead and cook Thanksgiving dinner while his cum leaks out of my ass.

“I’ve been texting you all day,” says my mom, hurt and disappointment coloring her voice and activating the guilt button they had pre-installed in me at my birth.

“My phone was in my purse.”

“And your dad was trying to get a hold of Colt. We thought you guys were dead and frozen on the highway somewhere. Why didn’t you think to call us and let us know you were okay?”

Uhhh. Because I was busy seducing the one man who has occupied every naughty fantasy and spending the day as his dirty whore? Somehow that answer doesn’t seem like it would pass muster.

“I’m sorry. We just got preoccupied with figuring out how to cook this dinner.”

I raise my eyebrows as I meet Colt’s gaze. How the hell am I supposed to navigate this conversation?

“You still should have called us.”

After a su ciently groveling apology on my part, Mom informs me that the roads will be clean by tomorrow morning and that she and dad will be coming home with my grandparents in tow.

“I was going to get there early and cook us a late Thanksgiving dinner, but it sounds like you two have been busy making sure that’s not going to happen.

Oh, we’ve been busy alright. But again, that doesn’t seem like the most appropriate response at the moment.

“Everything else is okay. It’s just the turkey that’s a little worse for wear,” I say instead.

Mom chuckles away her disappointment, as is her way.

“Well, we’ll figure something out. We’ll be home first thing in the morning, doll face.”

“Okay, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving.”

The absurdity of the situation is almost too much for me.

The turkey, burnt and smoking on the stove. The pie, mostly eaten and surrounded by di erent parts of a Thanksgiving meal, all in di erent stages of preparation. Colt and I, naked, staring at each other in shock while his cum leaks out of my ass.

“Well,” he says, after I relay the conversation to him.

“Looks like we have our fair share of work to do.” And with that, he snaps into the military precision drilled into him by the Marines. We get cleaned up and pull on our clothes, finishing the dinner without ever discussing what we just did in my bedroom.

W e sleep in separate beds again because to my parents,

‘first thing in the morning’ means they’ll be here before the sun has even thought about getting up. I wake to the sound of activity in the kitchen, the low hum of conversation, the deep rumble of my father’s laughter and the spine-tingling growl that is Colt’s voice. I can’t make out words, but all I know is that all the people I love are out there and I don’t want to be left out. I pull on some clothes and bolt down the

hallway, burst into the kitchen, and wrap myself up in one of Dad’s bear hugs.

“Hey, Kitten,” he says, pulling me tight. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Mom finishes stirring something in a big pot on the stove and wipes her hands on her apron before sneaking in under my dad’s arms. It’s a big Hill family hug and it’s exactly what I needed.

“Where are Grandma and Grandpa?” I ask.

Mom pulls back to check on the stove and Dad pulls out a seat at the table, gesturing for me to sit next to Colt. “They opted not to come, considering we’d have to turn right around and take them back tomorrow,” says Dad as I grab a cup of co ee before taking a seat.

I’ve been totally aware of Colt’s refusal to look at me since I walked into the kitchen which absolutely will not do.

After pouring myself a cup of liquid energy, I plop down into the seat next to him and drop a playful hand on his thigh.

“Come on now,” I say. “Be honest. Grandma and Grandpa aren’t here because Colt burned the turkey.”

Colt turns to me, his eyes wide. “I think you had quite the hand in what happened to that poor bird. It wasn’t just a me thing. It was definitely an us thing.”

He’s back to not quite looking me in the eye again and as soon as he finishes speaking, he excuses himself for a co ee refill, choosing to lean against the sink rather than come back to the table and sit next to me.

The rest of the day should be wonderful but it’s not.

Instead of enjoying the time with my family, the inside jokes, the good food, the warmth and comfort of being with people who understand me better than most, I’m busy worrying about Colt. As often as I take steps to be next to him, he takes steps to put distance between us. When I ask him a question, he gives me a one word grunt for an answer

before he lobs the conversational ball over to one of my parents.

Whatever it is that’s bothering him, I refuse to let him block me out because he’s feeling a little uncomfortable. I get it. It’s not exactly traditional for us to be hooking up. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something special between us, something as unique as we are. It’s weird and it’s wonderful and it’s worth way more than two hot ass night’s and one awkward Thanksgiving meal.

Most of what he and I cooked yesterday is completely edible, so after a quick run to KFC to put a little poultry on the table, we sit down to eat. I very purposefully sit across from Colt, making it impossible for him to look away from me without looking a little weird. Dad does his traditional ‘We Are Thankful’ speech and I smile sweetly, careful to completely avoid looking at Colt for the rest of the dinner.

One thing I know about men, they love to chase rather than be chased. It doesn’t take long before he’s busy asking me questions and seeking out eye contact. I spend the entire dinner in a wonderful conversation with my parents about the life I envision after graduation, giving Colt a few single worded answers to the ever more pressing questions he asks me.

After dinner—which was impressively delicious if I do say so myself—I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and lo and behold, Colt’s waiting for me in the hallway when I come out. He grabs me by the waist and pulls me right back into the bathroom, turning on the fan and locking the door behind us.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asks, his hands heading south to squeeze my ass.

“Just following your lead.” I purse my lips and shrug.

“Thought you needed some space.” I smile up at him, unable to be anything but happy when I’m this close to him.

“Fuck, Nadine,” he growls. “I don’t know what I need.”

“That’s funny because I know exactly what I need.” I run my hand up his thigh and across his sti ening cock. “And it looks like it needs me just as much as I need it.”

“What am I going to do with you?” There’s laughter in his voice, a sense of wonder, a softness I don’t know what to do with.

“I can think of more than a few things,” I say, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss those lush lips.

T

he rest of the weekend passes quickly, although Colt and I decide not to push our luck and spend the night in our own beds without so much as a goodnight kiss. Sleep takes too long coming, my mind and my body both crying out for Colt, bringing up all the memories of this weekend together.

I finally give in and slide a hand into my panties, rubbing my clit while remembering the sting of his hand on my cheeks, the pressure of his cock in my ass, the surge of fluid flowing from me when he fucked me senseless. Apparently, he made good on his promise to ruin me for other people and I can’t even manage to get myself o . I resign myself to falling asleep frustrated.

We do manage to find time for a proper goodbye. He kisses me deeply and I savor the feel of his body against mine, his rough hands grazing my cheeks, his scent wrapping around me like a protective cloak. He promises to call and I promise to text and I make the drive back to Colorado State fighting tears the whole way.

The funny thing is, not once during the whole weekend did I realize our time was severely limited. That as soon as Monday rolled around, he’d be at his house and I’d be in my apartment and there’d be hundreds of miles separating us.

All I ever thought about was finally getting everything I ever

wanted. I never once stopped to wonder what life was like beyond that. How do I come back from a hot weekend with my dream guy? How do I go on, knowing he’s there and I’m here? How do I survive with this giant ache in my belly? The hole in my heart? Whoever thought the end of this fairy tale could look this bleak?

CHAPTER SEVEN

I ’m not even two feet into my apartment when my phone

starts buzzing in my purse. I know without looking that it’s Colt. I drop my bag on the floor and kick the door shut behind, crinkling my nose at the unusual smell coming from the kitchen while I dig into my purse for my phone.

“Hey,” I say, cradling the phone between my chin and my shoulder.

“Hey yourself.” I can hear the smile in his voice and it makes my toes tingle with little jolts of happiness.

I grab my bag and peer into the kitchen as I pass, trying not to gag on the smell. “How was your drive?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Lonely.” I answer without thinking and instantly wish I could take it back.

“Yeah,” says Colt. “Lonely sounds right.”

I pass Veronica, the roommate from hell who is stretched out on the futon, eyes glazed, staring at the TV. “What’s that smell?” I ask her, moving the phone away from my mouth, “Huh?” Her eyes focus on me and she wrinkles her forehead in confusion. “I don’t smell anything.”

Colt’s voice comes rumbling to me through the phone.

“What smell?”

Veronica’s already zoned out on the TV again so I just shake my head and wander back to my bedroom. “The apartment smells funky,” I explain. “Of course, my roommate doesn’t smell anything but that’s probably because it’s coming from her.”

I flop on my bed while Colt laughs. We spend the rest of the night talking about everything and nothing and it’s not until I head back to the kitchen to make myself a drink that I find the source of the smell.

“Oh, gross,” I say, interrupting the story I’m telling him about the time I watched a kid tripping his balls o , trying to steal a doorknob because he thought it was a mu n.

“What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“There is literally rotting food falling out of the trash can and drying to the floor. How does she live like this?” I pour my drink, trying to decide if I can stand to leave it until tomorrow.

“The more important question is how can you stand to live like that,” says Colt.

“I can’t. Not really. But I just keep telling myself it’s only for a few more months and then I’ll be all graduated and hopefully able to find a job that pays me well enough to a ord an apartment without the stinky roommate.”

There’s no way I can go to sleep knowing this mess is in here waiting for me, so I gather the trash up and take it out to the dumpster and then spend the next hour on the phone with Colt scrubbing the floor. By the time I’m done, we’re both stifling yawns, but the smell seems to be gone. We say goodnight and I fall into bed, happy.

The next few days are a whirlwind of classes and Skype sessions, of sexy texts and, yes, I even talked Colt into sending me a dick pic. A penis that beautiful deserves to be immortalized. Veronica continues her bid for worst

roommate in the history of roommates and I swear, she’s going to win by a landslide.

By the time Friday rolls around, I’m pretty damn exhausted, although my whole being lights up when my phone buzzes with an incoming text from Colt.

7:26 pm Colt: 762 Cherry Tree Lane 7:26 pm Colt: Be there in 20 7:28 pm Nadine: No way, cowboy. I’m pooped.

7:30 pm Colt: That’s an order, sweetness 7:32 pm Nadine: Did you forget? I only take orders in bed I wait for him to respond, leaning against the wall near the door, afraid to take too deep of a breath in case the smell is back again. When my phone buzzes again, I can’t help but laugh.

7:39 pm Colt: Tick tock Smiling, I pull my coat back on and grab my purse o the hook by the door and plug the address into Google maps. It’s about a ten-minute drive and by now, Colt has my curiosity piqued. The Sentra rattles and bumps its way across the streets and I say a quick prayer to the gods of all things automotive that she lasts me another couple years at least. I so do not have room for a car payment in the budget right now. When I pull up to the address Colt texted me, I find myself in front of a small but quaint house. The porchlight is on, spilling warmth onto the porch. As I climb out of the car, someone stands up from what a porch swing and makes his way down the steps.

I recognize that swagger instantly and rush up to meet Colt. He wraps me up tight and swings me around before putting me back down and locking his lips to mine. This is no chaste kiss. This is electric, so erotic it’s probably indecent and I worry about the owners of the house looking out and getting a show before I go inside and meet them.

“What are you doing here?” I ask when I can finally breathe again.

“I missed you too much to stay away.”

I lean my head on his shoulder as he leads me up the front steps. “I didn’t know you had friends this close.”

“I don’t,” he says as we come to a stop in front of the door.

“Then where are we?”

“Home.” Colt hands me a key. “Or your home at least.

Until you get that job that pays well enough for your own apartment.”

I stammer out a few random words while I process what he just said.

“Open the door, love. I’ll explain inside.”

My hands are trembling, but I manage to get the door unlocked. We step into the house and it’s so cute I don’t know what to do. Small and simple and clean and apparently fully furnished.

“I don’t understand,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure I understand completely. I just haven’t figure out what the appropriate response is when a man presents you with a house.

“I can’t stand the thought of you living with the roommate from hell a minute longer. You deserve better than having to scrub the kitchen floor at one o’clock in the morning. Plus, there’s no way I can give you multiple screaming orgasms in a smelly apartment. It’s just not happening, sweetness.”

“So what’s this?”

“It’s a house, Nadine,” he says, raising his eyebrows and scanning the living room. He goes on to explain that it’s a rental and that it’s mine until I find something better.

“I can’t a ord this,” I say, stepping back towards the door.

“You don’t have to. This is on me.”

This little glimmer of excitement is building up in my belly but I refuse to let it loose yet. I’m still not sure I can let him do something like this for me.

“All the furniture?” he asks as he takes my hand and leads me into the living room. “That’s yours though. I bought it for you and I know you were raised well enough to know it’s rude to turn down a gift.”

I stop in my tracks and turn to him, holding out my hands, ready to put up a fight. There’s no way I can accept something like this. Before I can say anything, he puts a finger to my lips.

“Don’t be rude, Nadine.”

I stand there, dumbfounded, until that little glimmer of excitement finally takes o like a rocket and I jump up and down, clapping my hands. “Oh my god, thank you!” I manage before I take o through the place, squealing at all the perfect little touches.

“And here’s the best part,” he says as he leads me into the bedroom. “The bed is big enough for both of us.”

And with that, he pulls me down on top of him and goes about showing me just how much he missed me. I show my appreciation by having not one, but three screaming orgasms and then falling asleep curled up in his arms. It’s the first time I’ve ever slept beside someone I’ve fucked. The first time I’ve ever stuck around long enough to cuddle in close and drift o to sleep, wrapped up in the warmth of his body. As I cross the line into sleep, I realize that this should be important. That I should pay attention to this thought, only to fall asleep before it makes too much sense.

The next day we go get my clothes from the stinky apartment and I’m not even sure if Veronica is awake enough to care. He lets me wander the house, exploring all the little bits and pieces of furniture, the matching

silverware in the kitchen, glass plates and cups without chips in them. It’s like a real, grown up place to live and just being here sets my soul at ease.

“I didn’t realize how much living with Veronica was wearing on me,” I say as we fall asleep side by side Saturday night. “Thank you for this. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

He rolls over, nuzzling into my neck, his dick lengthening and hardening against my leg. “Why don’t you start by telling me another one of those fantasies of yours?”

T

he weekend passes too quickly, just a little blip of happiness in an otherwise tedious monotony of days. I go to school, I go to work, I study, I call Colt, I go to sleep. Living in this house has been such a blessing. I buy myself treats and don’t have to worry about Veronica eating them and my love of Ben & Jerry’s is putting just a little bit of extra pudge around my middle. I keep telling myself each pint is the last one, but lo and behold, I have a new one waiting in the freezer the very next time I go to the store.

December marches by in a steady stream of long days and sultry nights. Colt tells me about his ex-wife and all the reasons they didn’t work. Her need for chaos and his need for order. Her need to stay young and his need to grow up. I listen closely, trying to hear the little places where our relationship will stumble and those last words really rock me. Colt wanted to grow up and she didn’t. How long until he realizes that I have a lot of growing up to do? How long before the nineteen years that separate us become big enough that they actually separate us?

I keep my fears to myself though. What good would it do to bring it to his attention now? He’d laugh and tell me I was silly, then ask me a dirty question and tell me to put my

hand between my legs and make myself come. And I’d do it because he’s right. Worrying about all that is pointless because now? Things are good. I’m talking, like, sappy Hallmark card kind of good. The only way things could get better is if I didn’t have to wait so long to see him. He shows up most weekends, using his copy of the key to let himself in and make himself at home.

Somewhere along the way, I fall in love with Colt.

Somewhere along the way, I stop caring about sex and power and who’s in control. When we’re together, all I care about is us. I want to make him as happy as he makes me. I want him to feel as special and wonderful as he makes me feel. The only time I’m complete is when I’m with him and that should scare the ever-living shit out of me but it doesn’t. It makes me smile. It makes me think that we were made for each other, our lives forging us so that we were the perfect matching pair. I have new fantasies now. They’ve expanded out of the bedroom and swirl around us laughing in the kitchen as we cook meals together. Waking up in a tangle of sheets and limbs, his scent a permanent feature in my bed.

Growing closer with each passing year. My fantasies include a diamond ring and promise of forever, even as I know that he doesn’t believe in marriage anymore.

CHAPTER EIGHT

D ecember happens and I barely notice. My parents invite

me to spend a week with them, but for the first time in my life, I tell them I’d rather stay home. I haven’t been feeling very well and all the travel and excitement sounds exhausting. Last week, I bought myself a little tree and decorated it with a few cheap decorations. For some reason, I cried when I hung the last little red ball from a branch and I’m still now sure if it was because the thing is so pretty or because I’m going to spend my first Christmas alone.

Shaking my head at myself, I grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer and curl up on the couch, wrapping a blanket over my legs. When I reach across my chest to put my phone on the armrest—Colt is going to call in the next half hour—my breast aches from the pressure. Great. I’m going to be on my period over Christmas.

And then, just like that, my thoughts line up all in a row, little soldiers standing at attention, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. I shouldn’t have my period over Christmas.

I should have had it two weeks ago. I sit up, mouth falling open.

I’m not sick, I’m pregnant.

I’m not crying because the tree is so beautiful, I’m crying because I’m pregnant.

My breasts don’t ache because my period is coming, my breasts ache because…

I’m pregnant.

I know I shouldn’t jump to conclusions until I’ve taken a test, but there’s no way that test is going to say anything but ‘hey dipshit! You had sex without a condom and now you’re going to have a baby!’ I press my hands to my tummy and look down, overly aware of what a fucking mess this is. Colt isn’t interested in forever and I’m not interested in children.

My dad has yet to find out that I’ve been boinking his former bunk mate and my mom might just fall over dead on the spot when the story comes out. My quiet Christmas at home has turned into a gigantic question mark. Thank goodness I’m here, alone, where I can work it all out without the pressure of having to put on a show for everyone.

Life is a sadistic bitch sometimes because wouldn’t you know, as soon as I finish that thought, I hear the scrape of a key sliding into the lock on the front door, the grind of the little gears inside as it the tumbler falls into place, and then finally, the door swings open and Colt steps through, a shiteating grin stretching across his face, his arms laden with gifts.

“You put up a tree,” he says as a blast of cold air follows him inside.

I stare at him. Face slack. Eyes wide. Total terror coursing through my veins.

He takes one look at me and concern tightens his brows.

“Nadine?” He’s at my side in an instant, crouching at my feet, peering up at my face. Damn if he doesn’t get all watery and wavery as tears well up and slowly start to slide down my cheeks.

“Hey,” I manage, aware that it’s an insu cient greeting, considering my current state.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

When I was growing up, my mom used to tell me that the answers to life’s questions stopped being as easy as yes or no, that they wouldn’t always be as clear as black and white.

That sometimes, I’d be stuck trying to choose between two answers that both seem equally wrong and right. I always thought I understood what she meant, but looking back, I hadn’t a fucking clue what she was talking about until this moment.

Do I tell Colt I think I’m pregnant and freak him the fuck out? Do I tell him I’m fine when it’s clear I’m not? Do I lie to him? Make up some vague excuse, some childish drama that explains away my tears?

The longer I stare at him, these thoughts ticking away in my head, the more concerned he gets. I can see it in the tiny pulsing muscle in his jaw. His ever-tightening eyebrows. The way his eyes bounce across my face.

I know this, I can’t lie to him. He deserves the truth, even if it’s an uncomfortable one.

“Ummm,” I say, trying to find the courage to say what needs to be said. “I kinda, sorta, a little bit think I might be pregnant.”

The words strike him like lightning and he’s up on his feet and backing away from me. “What? How?” “Well the how is pretty obvious,” I say and then trail o . I watch him suck in his lips and cross his arms over his chest.

His gaze goes to that place right over my head, the spot he stares into when he’s uncomfortable. Rage boils in my stomach, tangles with my confusion and urges me to yell at his silence.

But he deserves better. I’m certainly not handling the news with any amount of grace. I’d be a hypocrite to expect

anything di erent from him.

After a few silent seconds, he takes a long breath and refocuses on my face. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He’s gone all stoic and military on me, hiding his feelings behind his years of training.

“Because I only just this very second realized that my period is late. I mean, I’m talking two heartbeats before you walked in the door.” Two heartbeats. Holy shit. Does my baby have a heartbeat yet?

“So you haven’t taken a test?”

I shake my head. “No.” He stares at me, nodding his head to whatever it is he’s thinking and then he crosses the room to crouch in front of me. “Are you okay?” he asks, his hand on my cheek.

“I haven’t processed it all yet.” I lean into his hand and close my eyes. “I’m scared.” It’s an admission I didn’t mean to give him, but his very presence makes me feel safe enough to say everything I’m thinking.

“Why?” “Aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “A little. Not as much as I thought I’d be.

Honestly? I’m kind of excited.”

“Excited?” I stare into his eyes, fall so deeply into them that I’ll never find my way out again.

“Yeah. Can you believe it? I kind of like the thought of my baby being in your belly.” Colt stands and runs a hand over his head. “You get comfortable. I’ll be back.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re standing in my bathroom, staring at a plus sign in the little window of the pregnancy test he bought at the corner store. “Fuck me,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and drawing me in.

“Isn’t that how we got into this mess?” I mean it to be funny, but the way my voice cracks at the end of the question kind of ruins the e ect.

Colt puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Is that what this is for you? A mess?”

“I haven’t even finished college yet. We’re not even married. You don’t even think you want to be married. What if I get fat and you can’t stand to be with me anymore? What if you get tired of me? What if you realize that I’m too young for you and you’re ready for me to grow up but I can’t?” I would continue, but Colt puts a finger to my lips.

“Sweetness,” he says. “Shut the fuck up for a minute and listen to me. When I said that I was ready to grow up and Sheila was more interested in staying young, I meant that I was ready to start a family and she told me she never wanted kids. She wanted to be able to stay out late and drink on the weeknights. She wanted to be wild and crazy and uncommitted to anything. I’ve wanted a family for a long time now. I want to be a father.”

“Yeah, but do you want to be a family with me? We’ve only been dating for a month now. How can you be sure you want something as permanent as a child with me?”

“Nadine. We’ve only been having sex for a month now, but I’ve known you for decades. I couldn’t think of a better woman to be the mother of my child. I don’t want anyone else, I just want you.” Colt grabs me by the waist and leans down to speak into my stomach. “And you, too. I want you, too, little one.”

My emotions are running wild through me, torrents of happiness and fear twining together and rushing through my bloodstream like some kind of drug. Colt straightens and threads his fingers into my hair, leans down and kisses me as he his life depended on it. As if he could tell me all the things he’s not yet said in this one moment of connection.

“I love you, Nadine,” he whispers against my lips. “I’ve tried for years to ignore it. To ignore you. But I can’t. You got

under my skin years ago and I was a fool to think I could ignore you.”

His words send a jolt of adrenaline through my body. “I love you, too.” Tears well up in my eyes and I brush them away angrily.

“This is a blessing,” he says, his palm flat against my belly. “This is life telling us to stop running away from each other. To stop fantasizing and start being real.”

“Speaking of fantasies,” I begin, thinking mostly of my new ones, my forever ones, but not really intending to bring those up. Yet. “I’ve got a few more we can play with.” Sex is our playground, our comfort zone. If I get him naked, thrusting inside me, I feel like I might find my equilibrium and understand where we are together. I need him to call me his dirty whore, his filthy slut. I need him to put me in my place so I can stop feeling so fucking untethered.

“Leave the fantasies for later,” he says. “Tonight I’m going to make love to the woman I love. I’m going to worship you, Nadine.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the bed, helps me up onto it and then lowers me back onto the pillow. I’m drunk on his kisses, his whispered ‘I love you’s’, I’m drunk on him.

Our sighs and moans of pleasure, the strength in his body as he enters me. The way I wrap myself around him, take him so deep inside me, molding to his shape. We move as one, chasing pleasure and emotion, staring so deeply into each other’s eyes that the world around us comes undone. It’s him and it’s me and our love for each other fills the space and that’s all that matters until we come together, shivering and shuddering and whispering each other’s name.

CHAPTER NINE

D ownstairs, someone’s pounding on the door. Ringing the

doorbell over and over while my phone buzzes away on my nightstand. Colt sits up, blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“What the fuck?” he mutters as I roll over and check my phone.

“It’s my dad,” I say as I answer the call.

The pounding on the door stops as I o er my hello.

“Nadine?” My dad’s voice is walking that fine line of concerned and annoyed.

“Yeah, dad. Sorry. I was asleep.”

“Well, stop sleeping and open the door. Mom wanted to surprise you for Christmas.”

I stare dumbly at Colt, aware that the shit is seriously about to hit the fan. Age may have mellowed Jim Hill ever so slightly, but there’s no ignoring the fact that he’s a Marine, and he’s as protective of his little girl as any father has ever been in all the history of the world.

“Don’t worry,” says Colt as I jump out of bed and search for something to put on. “I’ve got you. You just let me handle this.”

Still not awake enough to fully process everything, I stumble down the stairs after him, stand behind him as he opens the door, and watch surprise blend into understanding on my parents’ faces. The next few hours are ugly. I’m talking Jerry Springer style shit, with accusations and curse words flying from reddened faces. Finally, my dad drags Colt into the other room. My mom and I sit sti y on the couch, side by side, unspeaking, listening to the battle raging in the kitchen.

Dad calls Colt every single name he can think of, even going so far as to call him a pedophile. When Colt reminds him that I’m a grown woman, there’s the unmistakable sound of a punch landing on his jaw. The tumble and scu e of two warriors falling on each other and battling it out on my kitchen floor. Or at least that’s what I think I hear until Mom and I rush into the room and find Dad helping Colt to his feet.

“I refuse to say I deserve that,” says Colt, staring up at my dad. “I refuse to feel bad for loving Nadine.”

Mom turns to me, eyes wide, while my dad stares down the love of my life, the father of my unborn child, and his very best friend in the world. “He loves you?” she mouths and I nod.

The expression on her face softens, changing. It’s one thing to think of Colt taking advantage of me, but it’s an entirely di erent thing to thing about the two of us in love with each other. And honestly? She’s probably known about my crush on Colt since before I even really knew what I was feeling. My mom knows me better than anyone ever has.

Dad looks at me, all stern and sullen, his years in the military showing in the hard lines in his face. The restrained killer in his eyes.

“Mandy,” he says, giving his attention to my mom. “Take Nadine upstairs so I can have an honest conversation with

Colt.”

Mom wraps an arm around my shoulder and leads me out of the kitchen. I’ve barely been awake long enough to know what day it is, let alone know how to handle the shit storm I’ve been in for the last twelve hours or so. As if finding out that unprotected sex really does end up in a surprise pregnancy—who knew?—wasn’t enough for one day, I know get to explain to my parents that I’ve been having an illicit a air with my dad’s best friend. Plus, I’m a terrible liar. The only secret I’ve ever managed to keep is all my Colt fantasies and let’s get real here. I didn’t keep that secret as well as I thought I did.

But, I’ve got one hell of a secret thundering away in my head right now. I’m pregnant. Do I tell my mom? Do I avoid the conversation? That feels like the safest bet, but a lie of omission is still a lie. This whole situation is nothing but murky water and I can’t see my way through to know how to handle myself.

When we get upstairs, I plop down on my bed and drop my head in my hands. Mom perches beside me, running her hand along my back. She’s never been the best in stressful situations. She’s lived this blissful little life, and it’s all pretty much by choice. She chooses to smile through whatever life throws at her, to find the positive in everything and most of the time, her advice comes down to some silly quote she found on Pinterest. And that’s great. It totally works for her, but I guess I’m more of a realist.

“Love is a funny thing,” she says. “It doesn’t see age or color. It doesn’t see right or wrong. It doesn’t see time or space. It just…is.”

I cringe, waiting for her to tell me to hold my chin up high and smile through the hard parts.

“You’ve been in love with Colt for a long time.”

Okay, so we’re not going to talk about fake smiles and boundless positivity, we’re going straight to the limitless honesty. This, I can work with.

I bob my head in my hands. “Yep.” “How come you never talked to me about it?”

I sit up, incredulous. “Because that’s a conversation I’m dying to have with my mom.”

She sighs and shrugs. It’s a tiny little movement, one that is not at all happy or positive. “I just wish I’d been able to help you. Tell you it was okay. That of all the men out there, you could do a lot worse than Colt Barrett.”

“Wait. What?”

“He’s a good guy, Nadine. I don’t see anything wrong with the two of you being together.” A crease appears between her eyebrows and it’s o cially the first time I’ve ever seen my mom look worried. “This is the first time you’ve been together, right? Nothing when you were younger?”

“God, no.” I shake my head, surprised by the direction this conversation is going.

Mom lets out a long breath. “Good. Because then I’d have more of a problem with you guys…” She waves her hand back towards the crumpled sheets on the bed behind us.

I drop my head in my hands. “Oh my god. Kill me now,” I mutter.

“Oh, come o it, Nadine. We’re all adults in this situation.” My mom laughs. “And it’s not like you two have been very stealthy about the whole thing. The man rented you a house. It’s not like we were totally clueless.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just been a very weird twelve hours and I haven’t been awake very long.” I look towards the door, hoping to hear some strains of the conversation in the kitchen. “You think dad’s going to kill him?”

Mom chuckles. “Your dad has to have his chance to say what’s on his mind. But no, I don’t think he’s going to kill him.”

“He might after he hears the rest of the story.” I can’t keep a secret from my mom. I just can’t. I don’t have it in me. “I’m pregnant.”

Mom’s eyes go wide and her lips part. “Pregnant?” The word is barely a whisper.

“Just found out last night. I’m kind of overwhelmed.”

“Pregnant?” Tears well in mom’s eyes and everything about her softens. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“My baby’s going to have a baby?” She sounds more and more excited with every passing second. And then, her hand flies to cover her heart. “Colt’s going to have a baby. After all these years, he’s finally going to have the family he’s always wanted and my little girl is the one who’s going to give it to him.” She gives a little hiccupping sob and covers her mouth.

“You aren’t mad?”

“How could I be mad at something so beautiful? You’ve loved him for most of your life and he’s definitely had his eye on you longer than your dad was ever comfortable with.

And now there’s a baby!” Mom puts her hands on my stomach. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

“But what about school? Graduation? Finding a job?” I run a hand through my hair and it catches in a nest of tangles. “I’ve barely had a chance to start my life yet.”

“Life has a way of taking you where you’re meant to go, despite out best attempts at making a plan.”

“And there it is, inspirational Pinterest quote number one.” I laugh a little and roll my eyes.

“Laugh all you want, daughter, but there’s truth there. All the things they teach you to want? Money, a good job, a strong handshake, a whole network of connections? It’s all just noise, baby girl. You sit quietly long enough and you’ll

see that what matters most in this world is spending time with the people you love.” She puts a hand on my knee and squeezes. “I knew your dad was the man for me because it didn’t matter if he took me to MacDonald’s or Hawaii, I was happiest when I was with him. And then you came along and life hasn’t stopped making that kind of sense since.”

Tears well in my eyes and I swipe them away. I am not a crier and I’ll be damned if I’m going to start now. Mom grabs my hand and pulls me o the bed.

“Come on, Nadine. Let’s go tell your dad the news so he can stop harassing Colt and congratulate him already.”

CHAPTER TEN

W hile my mom was an easy sell on the whole Colt and

me in a relationship deal, my dad wasn’t quite so understanding about the whole thing. Deep down, I can tell that he’s happy for us. That he’s glad his friend is finally getting the baby he’s wanted and that I have a man who takes care of me almost as good as he does. He just can’t quite come to terms with our age di erence yet.

And while I get that to some degree, it’s really time he got over it. Christmas passes in this weird tense limbo where everyone is secretly happy about everything but can’t quite relax enough to be real with each other yet. My parents intended to stay until after New Years, but they pack up and go home the day after Christmas.

Colt and I spend the rest of the day talking and planning.

He’s ready for me to move in with him, but I can’t fathom dropping out of college when I’m this close to graduating.

And he’s in a position where he can’t leave his business, at least not until he’s trained someone to run it in his absence.

So the only thing we can do right now is go back to living separately and it’s killing me.

Mom’s words keep coming back to me. She knew Dad was the man for her because it didn’t matter where they were,

everything was better with him. In the past, I would have rolled my eyes and chalked it all up to more of her inspirational bullshit, but ever since Colt and I got together, my outlook has changed. I don’t think she’s forcing a positive attitude anymore. I think she’s just genuinely really happy in her life. When I think of Colt and the possibility of a future with him, I kind of think I could be really happy in my life, too.

December becomes January and my morning sickness gets bad and as January becomes February, it gets worse. I haven’t been to class in three days because I just can’t get out of bed. And while that sounds melodramatic, you’ll have to take my word when I say it’s not. Nothing has stayed down for the last thirty-six hours and now, I’m just throwing up this awful yellow stu . When I stand, the world spins and tilts and twists and in the rare moments when I’m aware of time passing, I’m scared. I called my OB yesterday and she told me to go to the ER. At the time, that sounded ridiculous. Who goes to the emergency room for morning sickness?

But now? As the world spins and tilts and I can barely get to my feet? I wish I had gone. There’s no way I can get behind the wheel of a car and drive. Not now. Not with me being this delirious and I keep being afraid I’m dying. Again, I know that sounds so stupid, but it’s that bad.

My stomach lurches and twists and I stumble into the bathroom, drop to my knees in front of the toilet, and heave and wretch until I’m afraid I’ll never get a full breath ever again. Tears run down my cheeks from the strain of it and when I finally spit a glob of that nasty yellow bile into the toilet, I haul myself to my feet to rinse my mouth. Clutching the edge of the sink, I stare at my face in the mirror. Red spots stand out in the sallow skin under my eyes, little nests of burst blood vessels from all the heaving and retching. I

sag onto the sink, a sob coming from deep primal place inside me.

I need Colt. I haven’t told him how bad I’ve been because I didn’t want to worry him, but I need him to hold me up and make me better. I need him to hold my hand and tell me what to do because things are spiraling out of control.

Running a hand along the wall for balance, I stagger back into my bedroom and swipe my phone o its place on the nightstand. With trembling hands, I pull up his contact information and initiate the call.

“Hey, sweetness!” His voice is warm and wonderful and I start crying the second I hear it.

“Something’s wrong,” I manage.

He rapid fires questions in my direction and I try to answer them the best I can but my tongue has gotten all thick and the world is upside down and the next thing I know is nothing.

I wake once, in the ambulance, jostling and tilting. I’m

awake long enough to throw up some more of that icky yellow stu . The medic leans down, his face swimming in and out of focus.

“Your blood pressure is really low.” His voice comes to me through a long tunnel. Distorted by miles of earth and water. “I need you to stay conscious, Nadine.”

I have a second to wonder how he knew my name and then it’s all gone again. I am weightless, draped in darkness, and then I am nothing.

T

he steady beep of a heart monitor wakes me to the worst rolling waves of nausea I have ever felt. I moan and

roll my eyes closed, begging to fall back to sleep so I don’t have to feel like this anymore. Someone takes my hand. I know it’s Colt by the way he rubs my knuckle with his thumb.

“Nadine?” he asks, his voice pinched with worry.

I drag my eyes open and the heavy florescent lighting glares down at me. I swallow hard, squinting. “I need to sit up,” I manage, struggling to push my hands into the bed and get into a sitting position. I pause when I see there’s a needle in my hand, attached to an IV. “Hold on, sweetness. You just relax. I’m gonna take care of you now.” As Colt pushes the button on my hospital bed and the gears whir, helping me up into a sitting position, relief floods through me. I may be miserable, but he’s right. I can relax because I know he’s got me now.

E ven with Colt here, the next two days are hell. After I lost

consciousness, they gave me a medication to help me keep food down. It’s designed for cancer patients and hasn’t even really been cleared for pregnant women yet, so the fact that they gave it to me without my consent is a bridge we’ll cross when I can get out of bed. The thing with the medicine is that while it has stopped me from throwing up, it hasn’t done anything to abate the nausea. I can’t remember a time I’ve been this miserable and I literally writhe and moan in discomfort.

When I tell my nurse, she looks perplexed and not at all understanding. My doctor puts in an order for something called Phenergan and soon, the nausea is gone and I’m drowsy enough to sleep. The next time I wake up, Colt’s arguing with an orderly, his anger carrying through his hushed whispers.

“What do you mean she can’t have anything to eat?”

“I’m sorry, sir. She’s getting fluids through the IV but until the doctor is sure she’s going to keep things down…”

“Have you seen her? A pregnant woman is supposed to glow. I swear she’s lost ten pounds since I saw her last week.”

The orderly mumbles something else and I clear my throat and shift in my bed, hoping to catch Colt’s attention before he kills the guy. It works because he’s at my side in an instant, dragging a chair over to sit next to me.

“Hey, baby,” he says as he takes my hand.

“It’s okay about the food thing.” My voice grates through my raw throat and a wave of dizziness has me closing my eyes. “I couldn’t eat anything if they wanted me to.”

Colt shakes his head. “How long were you this bad?”

I twine my fingers with his. “I mean, every day is hard.

Like, I’m never not nauseas and I throw up an average of fifteen times a day.” That’s right. I started tracking my trips to the bathroom. “But it got really bad a couple days ago.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t think I’d end up here.” I swallow and close my eyes. “How many women have had morning sickness in the history of the world? I didn’t know it was dangerous.”

“Listen to me, Nadine. I don’t care if it’s a bug bite or a broken leg, if something’s wrong with you, I want to know.”

I smile and close my eyes and before I know it, I’m asleep again.

When I finally talk to a doctor and answer all his questions, he tells me that I have something called Hyperemesis Gravidarum, which is basically morning sickness on steroids. It’s genetic and no one knows why it happens or how to stop it, but it sounds like I’ll be on Phenergan for the rest of my pregnancy. He tells me to stay hydrated above all else, but that I’ll probably spend more than my fair share of time in the hospital getting fluids

pumped into my arm. He jots down a few online support groups, tells me I can start trying to eat what he calls a ‘clear liquid diet’ and leaves.

Mom and Dad show up, brows pursed in worry. Mom can’t get over how skinny I am and Dad thanks Colt for being here with me. They exchange a look that tells me all is right between them and then I succumb to the constant dreary weariness that is Phenergan and drift o to sleep.

I spend another few days in the hospital, enduring the bullion broth and Jello hell that is a clear liquid diet, before they release me out into the wild with nothing more than a prescription and a pat on the shoulder. Colt makes a few calls and gets things covered at the security agency as best he can and moves in without even pausing to ask if I was okay with it.

I am, by the way. Okay with it. The thought of going back to being alone and struggling through my days without him is sad and cold and all the things I’m not strong enough to handle right now. The first few days out of the hospital are great. I go back to class, only throw up a handful of times, and say about a hundred silent prayers, grateful to be through the worst of it.

Turns out the worst is yet to come.

Despite my ever-constant supply of Pedialyte pops and Gatorade, I lose control of things time and time again. Before I know it, the vomiting is back to thermonuclear levels and Colt’s holding my elbow as he helps lower me into his car for another visit to the ER. The online support groups help. It’s nothing more than women sharing their stories and o ering kind words and the bits and pieces of advice that helped them.

Throughout it all Colt is by my side. He picks up all my slack and anticipates all my needs. When I just can’t manage to get to classes anymore, he moves me into his house in

Boulder and promises me we’ll figure out how I can finish my degree when I’m better. Things improve almost immediately once I move in and all I can think of are my mom’s words all those months ago. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in the background, things are just better with Colt.

Finally, our baby arrives. Compared to my pregnancy, labor is a breeze and before I know what happened, I’m holding a tiny bundle of love in my arms. Our daughter.

Within hours of her birth, the nausea dissipates. As if she didn’t already feel like a blessing, her arrival took all that was hard in my life and cast it aside. Now it’s just me and Colt and her, and happiness will forever have a new meaning for me. Mom was right. The best parts of life aren’t in all the noise. It’s not the hustle and bustle of a fast-paced job, co ee in one hand, cellphone in the other. It’s in these tiny moments, blips of the time where I’m surrounded by the people I love.

Mom and Dad filter into the room, arms overflowing with gifts and flowers and balloons. Colt excuses himself and disappears out the door while my parents take turns staring at the miracle that is their granddaughter, Elena Jayne Barrett. When Colt comes back, he’s balancing a pizza in one hand and a thin plastic grocery bag dangles from the other. I recognize a pint of Ben & Jerry’s swinging in that bag and my mouth starts watering instantly. After months of not having an appetite, I finally have one. Leave it to Colt to anticipate that.

“I thought we should celebrate,” he says, putting the pizza on my lap and unveiling the ice cream. “Which do you want first?”

“First?” I ask. “I can’t have them both?”

I eat without a single trace of nausea for the first time in months and maybe I was wrong. Maybe the best parts of life aren’t just the times when you’re surrounded by people you

love, but it’s when you get to eat pizza and ice cream with them, too. As I grab my second slice out of the box, I catch Colt staring at me, a strange look on his face.

“What?” I ask, suddenly terrified that I’ve got pizza sauce on my face and I’m chewing with my mouth open or some other idiotic thing I didn’t know I was doing because I can’t think around how good it all tastes. I swipe at the corner of my mouth the back of my hand and Colt smiles.

“I wanted to do this month’s ago but I couldn’t. Not when you were so sick.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box and drops to one knee beside the bed. “I was going to wait until I knew you were all better. Figure out a way to make it really count. Take you up in a hot air balloon and have a plane write the words in the sky. But I’m too damn impatient. I can’t wait any longer and I guess I figure what better way to do it than with all of us in here together.

Nadine? Will you marry me?”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see my mom’s hand fly to her mouth and a smile stretch across my dad’s face as he rocks my daughter in his arms. I feel like I should say something witty. Make fun of him for proposing while I’ve got dirty hair and pizza sauce on my mouth or tell him I’d rather wait for the balloon ride. But I don’t. Because the only word that wants out of my mouth is yes.

“I’ve only wanted this for my entire life,” I say. “You should have asked sooner, you jerk.”

Turns out my yes comes with a heavy side of sarcasm.

J

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COCK ME, PILOT

I’ve had my eyes on my best friend’s dad for years. Brett’s a pilot, but beyond that, he’s all man.

I’m saving myself for him … even though my fantasies may never be realized. I get o to the idea of us so many times — I’m literally aching for his touch.

But then I need a ride home for Thanksgiving break … and Brett’s in town with his plane.

I finally have a chance to see his cockpit … and damn if I’m not hoping to join the mile high club with this pilot.

I’ll let him fly me anywhere … I just hope he wants to take me away.

MENTOR ME, PROFESSOR

FRISK ME, OFFICER