The Consequence of Loving Colton

God, I could still hear Mrs. Thompson’s shrill voice in my head. “It’s not going to fall off if you don’t touch it!” Then she’d smack the desk with her giant-ass ruler and start talking about the pitfalls of herpes.

Mrs. Thompson was wrong.

She was probably going to burn in hell too.

For lying.

To teenagers.

That was a sin somewhere, right? You shouldn’t lie to people under the age of eighteen. They’re minors! You’re forming the minds of children, for shit’s sake!

I was past panic.

Sweat started to seep out of every pore on my body—I was trying that hard not to go all vampire on her and bite Milo’s neck, then tear every last shred of clothing off her body in an attempt to alleviate the ache that had started over twenty-four hours ago.

Men are supposed to go to the ER if they have an erection that lasts longer than four hours, so honestly—I had every freaking right to be panicking.

“Colt?” Milo touched my arm. Damn it! Stop groping me. For real, if she didn’t stop I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. I was going to screw her in front of the receptionist and go to prison.

Prison. Hell, I’d be a sitting duck. I was too pretty for prison, unless Max came with me; then I’d just switch spots and let him get dominated.

Dominate.

Poor word choice.

“You look flushed.” Milo felt my forehead.

I smacked her hand away and swore.

“Colt?” Her eyebrows pinched together. “Are you sick?”

She traced her lips with the tip of her tongue.

How had I never noticed how damn sexual her mouth was until now? How her lips were the perfect size, bottom and top, damn she’d feel good on me. “S-sick.” I coughed. “Yeah, I, uh . . . stomach.”

Okay, so it was a little lower . . . same thing.

“Just sign here.” The receptionist grinned and handed over a pen and paper. I signed as fast as I could, mentally cursing all pens and paper everywhere. And forced a smile.

“Is that it?”

“Of course!” The lady pulled out a pair of old-fashioned keys and handed them over. “You’re in room number two.” She sniffed and held out a small map, circling the lobby. “We’re here, if you just walk down this hall to your right.” She drew an arrow.

Okay, either she thought I was stupid or she was doing it on purpose. I wasn’t blind! I could see the room numbers! I could follow arrows!

“And take another right.” She circled the room number.

Holy shit. I was actually contemplating stabbing her with the pen. I mean it would be a flesh wound and all—I wasn’t that crazy. Or was I?

“Now if there’s anything else I can do for you—”

“Nope!” I interrupted and grabbed the map. “But thanks, we appreciate it.”

Milo gasped as I dragged her down the hall, right, and another right.

“Aha!” I shouted once we found room two. I was like freaking Lewis and Clark; I would have blazed my own Oregon Trail.

Screw maps!

“Colt?” Milo cleared her throat. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting funny ever since we were kissing in the car and—”

“Say ‘kissing’ again.” I slid the key into the lock just as she laughed and said, “Kiss,” only the ss of kiss sounded more like a hiss and no worries I’m a dude so it wasn’t lost on me that I was putting the key in the lock. In the lock, people!

“Shit.” I pushed the door open and almost collapsed on the floor.

“Aw, is it your stomach?” Milo came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my middle and laying her head on my back. The door shut quietly behind us, blanketing the room in darkness.

“Yeah. I may need help.” I sighed heavily as I took a few calming breaths. “You know, getting out of my clothes and all.”

“Oh!” She released me. “Sure, Colt, I mean, anything.”

Damn, her innocence was incredible.

I kind of loved her more for it.

She truly thought I needed that kind of help.

Surprise.

“Turn around,” Milo whispered.

I did as she said, and tried desperately to make out the lines of her face. Where were the damn lights? I was torn between wanting to see her—all of her—and wanting to reach out and touch her. Patience was officially my least favorite word in the dictionary—right next to anything with the word Max in it.

“We don’t have to . . .” I felt Milo’s shrug under the edges of my fingertips, and I know it sounds crazy but just feeling her, just touching her, knowing the door was locked, knowing that it was just me and her, took away my panic as well as my urgency.

I had Milo.

And we had our entire future.

And yeah, I might have been slowly dying.

But I had Milo.

Under my fingertips.

I could feel each breath she took like it was my own . . . It was finally how I’d always dreamed it would be. So instead of panicking and slamming her against the nearest wall or dipping her body over a chair like I was some sort of sex-crazed maniac, I touched my forehead to hers and kissed her mouth.

Her arms snaked around my neck as her body arched into mine.

Amazing how when you kiss the right person everything seems to suddenly fit together. I think that’s how life works—we’re all missing pieces of a giant puzzle, and then when you find your match, it hurts like hell not being able to join with them.