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When I don’t say anything, he does that thing with his head that causes me to refocus on him. “I need you to answer me. I’m not going to do anything unless you tell me it’s okay.”
My head nods on its own, my body betraying the thoughts in my head.
Colt sits the food and drinks on the table by the door, never breaking eye contact. “Libby, use your words. I need to hear you say that it’s okay for me to come closer to you, to help you.”
He wants to help. And I’m too weak to say no. “Yes… it’s okay.”
Relief washes over his face as he takes up the distance between us in one long stride. His hand gently cups my chin, tilting it up, forcing me to look at him. His eyes search mine and I swallow down the thickness forming in my throat.
“What do you need from me?” It’s a simple question. One I’ve never been asked. One I don’t know how to answer. I need to gain some type of control, but I don’t know how to do that at this moment, and I refuse to tell Colt.
“Okay,” he says when he realizes I’m not going to give him an answer. Slowly, he grabs my hand. His touch is a whisper, but it’s enough to set my senses on fire. He’s touched me before, but those felt different. Those were times of lightheartedness, playfulness, flirting, fucking. This, however, him slowly wrapping his hand around mine and pulling me toward him, while keeping his focus on me, is more timid.
Colt gently places my hand on his chest, keeping his on top of it. “Eyes on me, Libs.” I look up to see his eyes boring into mine. “Be here with me.” He taps his fingers on top of my hand twice.
My breath is still shaky, but I try to do what he says. “It’s just you and me. Focus on us. Let everything else go.” I close my eyes, trying to follow his instructions. He leans closer. I can smell his scent and feel his breath on my face as he speaks. “Feel me. Here.” He doubles taps on top of my hand again and I focus my attention on it. The warmth of his chest, his muscles under his shirt, the rhythm of his breathing, and the beat of his heart — strong and steady.
In for four, out for four. I melt into him.
“Good. Now come here.” Colt wraps his other hand around the back of my neck and pulls me even closer. Moving deliberately, he doesn’t stop until my head is resting against his chest and slides his hand into my hair. Between the loud thumping of his heart, his scent filling my nose, and the heat of his body, I’m no longer able to focus on anything else. The world disappears. I’m completely wrapped up in Colt Gibson.
Colt rests his chin on the top of my head. I can picture how we must look, the image doing something to my chest that I can’t place. It feels like agony. Like adoration. Like falling — into oblivion. Removing his hand from mine, he slides it down my arm, stopping at my elbow. Sensing his hesitation for the first time, I nuzzle into his chest more, hopefully letting him know that this is making things better.
He drops his grip from my elbow and slips it around to my back, pulling the rest of my body closer. My stomach bursts with butterflies. Touching him like this makes me feel alive. I follow his lead, wrapping my arms around him. His back muscles flex under my touch and I inhale while squeezing tighter. A low rumble comes from his chest. Is that… a laugh?
My eyes snap up to his. They’re heavy and inviting. Polar opposite of how I feel right now. In a moment of vulnerability, he laughs at me?
“Are you trying to crawl inside my skin?” He asks with a lazy smile. But I pull away, thoroughly embarrassed that I let my guard down.
Colt tries to hold me tighter. “Oh, no you don’t.” He drops his hand from the back of my head and places it on the side of my face. My body betrays me, and I lean into it. His thumb strokes my cheekbone, coaxing me to look at him. After a few seconds, I gave in. “I wasn't laughing at you, Libby. I’m laughing at myself.”
That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he laugh at himself? I thought he was trying to get me to relax. What’s funny about that?
“I’ve tried to keep myself from touching you so many times today. I didn’t want to make the wrong move and cause you to run in the other direction. So imagine how pleasantly surprised I am when I’m finally able to hold you and you seem to want it as badly as I do. Or at least that’s what your body is telling me.” Heat travels up my neck and across my chest. Colt runs his thumb against my cheek again. “I’m just a lucky bastard, Libs. Sometimes none of it feels real.”
He has no obligation to my happiness. I want to give into the strength he’s willing to hold me up with, but it’s too big of a risk. Nothing in life is free, and eventually he’ll want me to repay him. Just like everyone else. This time when I pull away, he doesn’t stop me. I need to put enough distance between us so that I can focus on what I need to say.
“I can’t.” I can’t seem to do a lot of things, including making eye contact with him. “This is too much. I shouldn’t have agreed to let you stay. We shouldn’t be doing any of this. This was a mistake.”
Colt puts his hands back in his pockets, but stays silent.
“I’m sorry for being rude.”
“You’re not being rude, Libby. You’re saying how you feel and I appreciate it. I would rather your words sting than for you to lie to me.” He leans his head to the side until I look at him. “I mean it.”
I feel it in my bones that he’s telling the truth. But I can’t stop my brain from assuming the worst. This could all be for show. I want to trust him. But I’ve been burned too many times.
“I think you need to go.”
His jaw ticks. “You think, or you know?”
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. I need him to go because I have no control over my feelings whenever he’s near me. My mind and body give into him willingly, and I can’t afford that. But I also want him to stay, because despite the lack of control, there is something about him that makes me feel more free than I ever have. But that’s a scary place to be. For someone to have that much power.
He must realize I’m not going to answer, so he continues. “I’ll go if you want me to go, but you have to tell me that you do. I need to hear you say it.”
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “I want you to go.”
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