Page 30 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
I grab onto West and let him drag me from the shitty bathroom. In the main bar, all hell has broken loose with patrons beating the crap out of each other with anything they can lay their hands on. And right in the thick of it?
Yep.
"Colt!" Weston barks, ducking under a swinging pool cue and snatching the back of Colt's shirt in his free hand. He must have dropped the pipe somewhere, but who cares? We don’t need it anymore. Time to move our asses.
Not stopping to try and break up the fight, Weston drags both Colt and me out of the bar and hauls us across the parking lot to his fancy car.
"Get in," he snaps at us both, but I need to physically shove Colt into the passenger seat and sit on top of him. He's protesting and growling at me, cursing someone called Hank and threatening all kinds of violence.
Weston slams his door and guns the engine without even bothering to do up his seat belt. "Shut him up, would you?" he suggests, sounding a whole lot calmer than a few moments ago. "I should have warned you: Colt and tequila don't mix."
Blame it on my overactive libido, but when Weston tells me to shut Colt up, only one thing springs to mind.
Reasoning with him.
Hah, I'm joking. I totally kiss the living shit out of him.Chapter 7NataliaColt groans into my mouth, his hands gripping my hips as my tongue demands his full attention. Our teeth clash as we maul one another while Weston mutters pained curses from the driver’s seat. But he told me to shut Colt up, so he has no one to blame but himself.
Someone moans—maybe me—and Colt shifts me around until I'm straddling him, my head squished against the roof of the car and my cunt grinding against his erection.
"Colt …" I gasp, when his hands find the waistband of my pants and fumble for the button. He's drunk as shit, but that doesn't seem to be hindering his game.
Until it does.
"Colt?" I pull back as far as the tiny sports car will allow, frowning at the sudden limpness in his body. His hands just fell away from my pants and his head lolls to the side. "What the—"
Maniacal laughter from Weston confirms my suspicions.
"I can't believe he just passed out," I exclaim, patting Colt's cheek a couple of times and getting no response other than a throaty snore.
Stunned, I shuffle back around until I sit sideways on his comatose lap and fold my arms over my chest. "No one's ever passed out on me mid-hookup before," I grumble, feeling the weirdest sense of rejection flooding through me. Am I that much of a shitty kisser?
Weston shoots me a dark look, but quickly returns his gaze to the road. "As badly as I want to be a cunt and let you think Colt's not that into you ..." He shakes his head with a sigh. "Trust me, Natalia. It's nothing to do with you and everything to do with how badly tequila fucks him up. That, and the fact that he’s not supposed to mix alcohol with his medication."
I grimace, bringing a hand to my mouth. "He's still on meds? Why the fuck was he drinking?"
Weston gives a rolling shrug. "He's Colt. No one tells him what to do." He pauses, shooting me another quick look. "Except, you know, Hawke."
Frowning, I inspect Colt's sleeping face. Damn he's one pretty man, even with the new haircut and prominent scarring. There's something oddly intimate about watching him sleep, too. Despite the fact that I've fucked all five of my new colleagues, I haven't really slept with any of them. That would imply there was so much more going on than just sex.
Then again, isn't that what the new game is? To make me love them?
"What are you thinking?" Weston asks, his voice cutting through the dark thoughts in my mind. "Your whole body just tensed up and you look like you're going to stab Colt in his sleep. What just happened?"
I startle, not realizing I was projecting my emotions so clearly. If Hawke had seen that, he would have made me run ten miles as punishment.
Shaking my head, I sigh. "Nothing. Just occurred to me how little I really know you all."
Why I choose to admit that truth, rather than bullshit something about needing to get my clit flicked, I have no idea.
Weston is quiet some moments after I say this, then when he slows and pulls into the driveway outside our hideout, he places a hand on my knee.
"You might think that, Natalia," he tells me in a serious voice, "but I'd venture to say you know us all better than we know ourselves these days."
What the fuck he means by that, I don't get a chance to ask. Weston exits the car, then comes around to the passenger side and helps me scramble off Colt's lap.
