Page 32 of My Addiction
“How am I yours?” he whispers.
“In every way.” I kiss him again before he can respond.
His lips part beneath mine with a soft sound, and when I trace my tongue along the seam of his mouth, he opens for me immediately. The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, until I can’t tell where one breath ends and the next begins. When he moans against my mouth, something possessive flares hot inside me.
I need him to understand. Need him to know exactly what he means to me. Reaching beneath the desk, I hit the button that locks the office door.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless.
“Explaining myself to you,” I murmur against his lips. “Erasing any doubt about where you belong.”
I lift him onto the edge of the desk and step between his knees, caging him in without actually trapping him. My hands brace on either side of him while I lean in close enough to feel the hitch in his breathing.
“Tell me, Colton,” I say softly, brushing my nose against his neck before pressing a kiss just below his ear. “What is it that you want?”
“I don’t, umm, oh God, I… I don’t know.” He stammers out.
“Yes, you do.” I bite at the column of his neck as he tilts his head.
“I want someone to care about me. To give a damn if I sleep enough or if I’ve eaten. I want to be wanted,” he sobs out.
The sound tears through me. I tighten my hand against his throat just enough to keep him close, my forehead falling to his.
“You are wanted,” I tell him, the words coming out rough and fierce. “More than you understand.”
His eyes squeeze shut, his breath shuddering out of him.
“I care if you sleep,” I whisper against his skin. “I care if you eat. I care if you’re scared or hurting or carrying too much by yourself.” I kiss the corner of his mouth.
“I care about all of it.”
His fingers twist in the front of my shirt, holding on tightly.
“And Ollie?” he asks, his voice breaking.
“And Ollie,” I promise.
I brush my thumb over his cheek, catching the wetness there.
“You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Chapter 16
Colton
God, I want that. Not flowers or grand speeches or any of the soft, romantic things people talk about in movies. I want him. I want his hands on me, steady and sure. I want the weight of them on my shoulders, my waist, my throat. I want him to look at me the way he is right now, like I matter, like I’m something worth protecting. For so long, everything has been on me. Every decision, every fear, and every responsibility is mine. And standing here with him, pressed between his body and the desk, I want something I have never let myself want before. I want someone to carry some of that weight with me.
“You don’t need hearts and flowers,” he murmurs against my skin like he already knows. “You need someone who stays.”
A shiver runs through me. Because he’s right. I don’t want pretty words. I want him to stay. I want to stand beside him and help him, to give him whatever he needs from me, but for once I don’t want it to all be on my shoulders. I want Ronan to mean it when he says he’ll take care of me. I want to believe him. For the first time in my life, I want something just for me. And I think maybe that something is him.
His hand stays at my throat, warm and firm, while his mouth drags over my jaw again, softer this time.
“Yes to all of that.”
“What?” Please don’t tell me I just said all of that out loud. I can’t think straight with his mouth on me.
“I’m going to take care of you. And you will be by my side.”
