As Colt draws closer, my heart slams around.

“What if Sebastian hears us?” I whisper.

“The TVs already on.” He gestures toward the baby monitor I’m holding. “And I don’t hear him making a sound because of that. We’ll just have to keep ourselves on low volume too.” He comes to the back of the couch and braces his hands on it. He looms above me, muscle and man, raw and gorgeous in his tee shirt and jeans. “Can you stop yourself from getting real loud when you come for me, Cookie?”

Just the thought of it sets me on fire. I’m not sure I would be able to hold back, because whenever Colt touches me, it’s all bang and boom and loud fireworks.

He lazily moves from the back of the couch to the side of it, and my pulse starts to piston. As a nervous giggle wells up in me, I hold the baby monitor to my chest. The growing, anxious laugh only gets more frantic as I take in that starved look in his eyes.

“We should establish some rules,” he whispers as he comes closer. “No yelling out my name. No begging for me to fuck you harder and harder.”

Then he’s on me, scooping me into his arms and burying his face in my neck as I kick my legs and fight a squeal. He carries me to the bedroom, pausing to shut the door behind us just before he takes the monitor from me and tosses me onto the bed. As I bounce, the springs squeak, and we both freeze, watching each other.

No sound from the baby monitor, and I let out a long, trembling breath.

Colt still doesn’t take his gaze off me as he moves to the night table next to the bed. He sets down the monitor next to his phone and a blue camera. An instant camera, I realize.

“What’re you up to?” I whisper.

He only gives me that danger-boy grin, then picks up the camera.

“Polaroids?” I laugh softly. “Isn’t that pretty old school?”

He whispers back. “Old-school pictures can’t be hacked on my phone. Believe me, Cookie, we don’t want this to go viral.”

I gulp. “What exactly do we not want to go viral?”

He rests a knee on the bed, and when he takes a picture of me, the flash makes my vision swim. The metallic buzz of the film coming out of the slit in the camera seems so loud that I hold my breath again, hoping the sound from the TV outside covers it.

Sebastian still doesn’t make a peep on the monitor.

Colt removes the photo and waits for it to develop. “If I can’t have you with me every hour of this coming week because we’re still hiding from your family, I want at least a little part of you.”

My pulse is liquid heat, splashing through me. “You’ll always have me, Colt.”

He gives me one of those greedy looks, and something in my chest feathers around, then drifts lower, ruthlessly tickling me the whole way down. He props the still-developing picture against a lamp on the nightstand as the image of me on the bed appears: my auburn hair is spread over the quilt, and my red sweater and blue jeans make me look like a wholesome girl next door—the kind of girl that those comments on those tabloid sites said I was after I got caught with Colt in that Portland bar.

The colors become bolder in the picture. As Colt gazes at it, he wears the same expression he used to get whenever he would look at the photos I would take whenever we were together at the lake. It’s the same expression he would get before he launched into a story.

“Once upon a time,” he whispers, “there was a beautiful girl who stole hearts.”

I laugh, and so does he. But my laugh is still nervous, not because I think Sebastian will hear it, but because I think I know where this might be going, and I’m already starting to get high.

Pictures…a bed…us in that bed…

Colt sits on the mattress, and my blood feels like electric static bursting through me. He reaches over to me, touching the first button on my sweater. Then, with a deft hand, he begins to undo my clothing.

He continues the story. “The girl in that photo had the most perfect fucking tits in existence.”

Oh God. He’s going to kill me slowly, isn’t he? And as he parts my sweater, exposing my lacy bra, I shift on the bed. I press my thighs together, already feeling how moist I am, already beating for him. He runs his fingertips down the skin over my ribs, my waist, then nonchalantly drags them to my belly, stroking me there. I moan as something inside me flips, then I close my mouth, pressing the sound back, adding it to the collection of my thudding heartbeats.

He coasts up from my belly over my stomach, then toward the clasp at the center of my bra. When he undoes that, I squirm, allowing the cups to fall away from my breasts.

Colt’s eyes burn with need, and he lifts the camera again. After he takes another picture, the buzz of the emerging photo seems to dig in to me, only heightening my arousal.

He removes the picture from the camera, then gently brushes it over one of my nipples. It tightens into a bud, and he drops that photo to the bed, then takes another snap.

My chest rises and falls with the labored breaths I’m taking, anticipating his next hot move, adoring the way he watches me, as if he owns me and I own him…

He props the most recent photos against the lamp beside the first one, and when he puts down the camera, his whisper is ravaged.

“Sit up, Serena.”

I do as he says, and he peels the sweater and bra from me, then tosses them aside. His fingertips linger wherever he touches, sending fiery rays through me that burn straight down to my pussy, priming me.

As he looks into my eyes, he undoes the top button of my jeans, then pulls down the zipper. Together, we work off the rest of my clothing, then he turns me over on the bed so I’m lying on my stomach. Naked and pounding, I lean my head on my bent arms, watching him as he takes another photo, then removes it from the camera.

“To continue the story,” he says quietly, “the girl who stole hearts also had an amazing ass. Soft, curvy, plump, delicious…”

He puts the latest photo down next to me as it develops, but it only goes hazy in my gaze as Colt rests his hand on my thigh, then trails it up to my bottom. He skims over my cheek, then kneads me there. I bite my lip and hold back the moans as they build inside of me. It only gets worse when he slips his fingers between my thighs to nudge them apart.

“Oh God, Colt…”

“Shh,” he says. “Just spread for me, Serena. Show me that gorgeous, wet cunt.”

He’s never used that word with me before, and the rawness of it has me parting for him with a damp sound.

The flash on the camera goes off again, then the whir of the picture.

“Fuck,” Colt says on a choked whisper. “That girl in the picture… Dammit, she creamed so easily for her guy. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“That girl and a million others,” I say into my arms.

“Serena Warner is the only girl who matters.”

He traces the photo up my thigh, my bottom, then my back. After trailing it off of me, he places it near my face, and when I raise my head to look at the image coming into existence, I gape. I’ve never seen myself like this—my pussy up close from the back, stimulated, juiced, and pink—and my clit aches and pulses more.

“Touch yourself for me,” Colt whispers. “Give me more to look at when I’m not with you.”

I slide my hand beneath my body and to my sex, arching my hips and stroking my fingers through my sopping folds. I hear a strangled sound from Colt as the flash goes off again, then another whir.

I’m really getting off on this, my heart hammering, my skin feverish, my pussy drenched as I keep rubbing myself. Another picture flashes and whirs, then I feel Colt standing up from the bed. I hear him taking off his clothes, and when he returns to me, I can sense the heat from his skin even before he touches me.

I roll over with my hand still between my legs, and the sight of him sitting on the mattress still holding the camera makes me gush even more. He’s so tanned and buff, so lean and massive. I feast my eyes on his chiseled chest, his cut abs, and then when I get to his erect cock, I gasp.

“See how goddamned hard you make me?” he grits.

Something wild bursts loose in me. “I want to touch you now. I want to…”

I wet my entire hand with my pussy juices, and suddenly the girl next door is the slut who can’t get enough. I sit up, come to my knees, and go to him, wrapping my fingers around his huge shaft.

He tightens his jaw and closes his eyes. As I start to stroke him, he growls low in his throat. Encouraged, I slowly feel him up and down, then pick up the pace. When he growls again, I plant my other hand against his granite chest and urge him down to the bed.

On his back now, he curses roughly, knowing what’s coming. And I don’t disappoint as I bend to him and lick the head of his cock. He threads his fingers through my hair as I swirl my tongue around him, going down on him, sucking him off, then doing it again. I hear a click and whirl as the camera goes off in his hand, and that only makes me hotter. I keep using my mouth and tongue on him, slipping my fingers to his balls, gently touching him there.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

The sounds of my mouth on him as well as the low, turned-on moan he’s making as his fingers tighten in my hair are pummeling me, getting me closer and closer to coming for him. But just as I think he’s as hard as he’s ever going to be, he sits up, drops the camera, and aggressively pulls me to him. I see the savage look in his eyes and hitch in a breath and—

He lifts me by the hips, then brings me down on his cock, impaling me, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders. The feel of him—all of him—inside of me without anything between us just like it used to be by the lake blows my mind, and I start churning my hips, taking him in deeper than I ever have before.

“That’s the girl I was talking about,” he says. “That’s my fucking girl…”

I lean back, bracing a hand on the mattress behind me as he slides in and out of me, pumping me with vigorous thrusts. Then, with one push, he lifts my hips until I arch and nearly scream. He has the camera again, and when I look down, I see the most erotic sight of my life: my wet pussy lips around his massive cock.

The flash goes off, and something bangs inside me too. Then he gets rid of the camera and brings me back up to him, grasping me by the hips, fucking me harder and faster until a little flash inside me pulses again. Then there’s another…another…and with one massive flash I come with such a slam that I have to cover my mouth to keep in the scream. Colt drives me down to the mattress, buffeting me as if the feel of his bare, stiff cock in my pussy is blowing his own mind, and when he comes, he does it hard, filling me up with hot spurts that coat me through and through with volcanic heat.

Then he falls to the bed, bringing me on top of him so that we’re pressed against each other. He holds me against his damp skin, and nearby on the mattress, I vaguely see the picture he took of his cock and my pussy, and I get hot and tight all over again.

“That was…” I whisper.

“Yeah. It was.” He presses his mouth against my forehead and holds me closer.

As we come down from our high, he pulls the quilt toward us, then wipes away the cum and juice from our bodies. Afterward, he slowly kisses me until I’m one big throb of ecstasy who wants more and can’t wait until I get it…

A sound breaks through the sensual bubble we created around us—the theme song from Colt’s first film—and his arms tense around me. He curses, then sits up and moves toward the nightstand, probably thinking Sebastian might hear the noise. But if that sweet kid didn’t wake up from what was going on in here before, I doubt he will now.

I sit up too. Colt has his phone in his hand, and I see a name on the screen just before he starts to press a button to ignore the call.

Page.

I give Colt an inquisitive look.

“God knows what she wants,” Colt says, shrugging.

Mischief lights me up. I think it’s mostly because of my horny afterglow. “You can answer it.” I send him a teasing grin.

He glances at me as if maybe I’m only covering up my distrust, and as if to show me that I can believe in him, he answers, putting the call on speakerphone and turning the volume way down.

“Page,” he says.

“Colt!!!” There’s a lot of noise in the background—loud voices, music. “You gotta meet me here!”

She sounds drunk, and Colt gives me a look like, Maybe I shouldn’t have answered.

Her words are almost one long slur. “I’m going to Vegas again with some buddies! Join us pleasepleaseplease?”

“Where are you now?” he asks.

“In a private jet! You gotta meet me! I keep telling these girls how fucking hot you are. Pleasepleaseplease…”

“No can do, Page,” he says, slipping his arm around me. “I’m busy.”

He kisses me on the neck, and I snuggle into him.

“You’re never too busy for me,” J.Page says, her voice going hard. “Never ever. So get your hot ass over to me!”

I pull away from Colt slightly. This conversation is getting weird. She sounds like she knows just how hot his ass is, up close and personal.

But Colt told me that they’re just friends and colleagues. And I still believe him.

“Page,” he says, watching me as I get up from the bed and motion that I’m going to give him some privacy. He shakes his head and gestures for me to come back. “You just have fun without me. I know you’re capable of that.”

“But—”

He hangs up on her, turns off the phone, then tosses it aside. Then he makes a playful dive for me, and I don’t even try to dodge him. We both laugh as he tumbles me back into bed, kissing me hard and tickling me until I break away.

He hauls me back to him, kissing me again, and as we start to slow down and rub against each other, I start to forget all about J.Page and that strange phone call.

At least for the night.