I say in a firm voice, “Colt, wake up.” I turn on the bedside lamp and try again. “Colt, time to go.”
He opens one eye and groans. “What time is it?”
“It’s time for you to go, that’s what time it is. Come on, Mr. Biceps, get up.”
Colt’s hand moves at lightning speed, and he grabs my wrist. “Come back to bed, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Ahh… sorry, I have work tomorrow, and I need you to leave.”
Colt sits up and stares at me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “You want me to leave? Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Mr. Biceps is catching on… and yes, tomorrow is Saturday, but I have to prepare for next week.” I bend over, pick up his clothes and shoes scattered on the floor, and put them in his lap.
“But… I’m Colt Anders…” Again, it’s said like I should know who he is.
“Yes, I know you’ve told me, and I’m Skye Hadley. Nice to meet you,” I reply with a laugh.
Colt stands, his eyes are blinking rapidly as bewilderment covers his gorgeous face. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“Nope! But I do know it’s time for you to go.”
In a daze, Colt stands wearing only briefs and nothing else.
I wonder when he put them on?
“I could stay… make you breakfast?”
“I have plans tomorrow. Well, today, but maybe another time?” I smile as I push him back toward my front door.
“Sugar, we had fun, right?” Colt’s grinning at me. He’s so cocky, so self-assured.
“Yes, we did.” I reach around him and open the front door. “But now it’s time for you to go.” I give him a final shove, and he’s on my front porch.
Colt looks around, his clothes and shoes are still clutched to his chest. “Come on, Skye, let me stay. It’s late.”
“That’s right, it is.” I lean in and kiss him. Honestly, this man is so good with his hands, but that tongue alone is enough to melt my resolve. I break away and step back into my home. “It was nice meeting you.” I shut the door in his face.
“Come on! You’re kidding, right?” Colt shouts to my closed door. “I’m Colt Anders.”
I yell back at the closed door. “Good night, Colt Anders.”
His laughter filters in through the closed door, and I hear him say, “This isn’t over.”
I count to sixty and peek out through the curtains—Mr. Biceps is gone.
Smiling to myself, I go back to the bathroom. I plan on taking a long shower before sleep claims me again.
COLT
The minute I saw her at the bar, I knew she was different. I like to spend time there as everyone knows me, and it’s easy to pick up a little something.
Normally, when I talk to a woman, their eyes glaze over with lust or dollar signs as they realize Colt Anders, quarterback for the New England Warriors, is talking to them. But with Skye, there was nothing, no recognition, no awareness, just nothing. She simply liked what she saw, and she wasn’t after a payday. It’s been a long time since a woman has wanted just me and not the football star.
I watched Skye as she went back to her date, and even from a distance, I could tell he was more into her than she was him. I was looking for a reason to talk to her, and he gave it to me by grabbing her ass on the dance floor.
Now, after a fantastic night of sex, she’s booted me out in my underwear. I’m standing behind a bush, hiding, attempting to get dressed. The weather has turned cold, and my thought process is all about Skye and what the hell just happened.
Skye threw me out.
Me!
I’m Colt-fucking-Anders!
I don’t understand.
No one has ever done this to me before. I’m always the one looking for an out, not the ladies I meet. Shaking my head as I try to pull on my jeans, I trip and land ass first in a bush.
Great.
Just great!
Crawling out, I manage to put on the rest of my clothing, hoping I don’t get arrested for being a peeping tom or indecent exposure by anyone who could be out in the early hours of the morning. I am sure that would make the NFL happy.
Stepping out from behind the shrubbery, I trip and land face-first onto a cobblestoned path, the same path that leads to Skye’s red-painted door. There are no lights on, so she must have gone back to bed.
Un-fucking-believable!
The street lights cast their dull