Bring It On - Kira Sinclair Page 0,47

to marry him?”

“Because he was there. Because he was good and decent—or at least I thought so at the time. Because we could have had a perfectly satisfying life.”

“You mean boring.”

“I mean normal. We would have bought a house together. Had a couple of kids. Chaired the PTA and sat on the bleachers together at T-ball games.”

Colt spun the bottom of his glass around and around between his hands. Lena’s gaze was drawn, to their strength, the single scar that ran diagonally from the corner of his thumb up over his wrist.

“And that’s what you want,” he finally said.

She stared down into the bottom of her own glass. The frozen concoction had melted, the yellow and orange mingling together. The drink had looked bright and happy before. Now it just looked sad.

Without realizing what she was doing, Lena opened her mouth and told Colt the truth.

“I don’t know what I want anymore. I’m so confused.”

“Do you have to decide tonight? Who said you had to have all of the answers all of the time?”

“But I hate being…directionless. I hate not knowing where I’m going and how I’m going to get there. I like being in control.”

Colt smiled, a sort of sad twist of his lips. “I know, but life doesn’t always work that way. If there’s one thing I’ve learned traveling the world and seeing different cultures it’s that life throws you curveballs. You show your character through how you deal with them.”

Character. She didn’t even know what that meant anymore. She’d dealt with plenty of curveballs in her life. By herself. She was tired and wondered when it would be enough.

She realized Colt was just trying to help. And the things he’d dealt with made her issues seem somehow petty in comparison. Unfortunately, he was part of the problem, and his inability to realize that made the entire conversation a little difficult. Rather than have it go in a direction she didn’t want to deal with, she decided to lighten the mood.

“Great pep talk, Yoda,” she groused, leaning her body into his and knocking him sideways on the stool.

“Hey.” He pushed back. “I’m wise beyond my years and you should listen to me.”

“Please. If I did that you’d have talked me into jumping out of an airplane so that I could prove to myself I have the strength to get through this.”

“Don’t knock the power of the adrenaline rush until you’ve tried it. Besides, there’s something about facing fear head-on that reminds us we can handle more than we think.”

“I am not going skydiving. I don’t care what argument you use.”

They sat together in silence for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts.

Lena realized that on some level Colt was right. She’d deal with the aftermath of Wyn’s betrayal because she had to. And maybe knowing she’d never really loved him would make it easier in the end.

“If I can’t convince you to skydive, can I at least persuade you to come to bed?”

And she’d handle their parting, as well. Because she had to—there was no other choice. But in the meantime, she had two days left to enjoy. And there was no reason not to make the most of them.

“I’m sure something can be arranged,” she said, sliding off her stool. Anticipation buzzed through her blood. It was always there, just beneath the surface, waiting.

Colt followed her as they weaved through the undulating bodies and steamy heat of the bar. She threw a teasing glance behind her and relished the way his eyes sharpened.

She managed to keep people and tables between them so that he was several steps behind as she reached the beach exit. The minute she stepped outside, she broke into a sprint.

Calling behind her, she taunted, “But you’ll have to catch me first.”

COLT CAUGHT HER halfway down the path. He spun her in his arms, his mouth was rough as it claimed hers, but she met him thrust for thrust. They rushed together, groping mouths and urgent fingers.

His thigh wedged between hers and the exquisite bolt of awareness that rocketed through her sex almost sent her to her knees. His commanding hold on her was intoxicating. Every step he took forward drove her relentlessly back toward their bungalow and the rising passion building inside her. That passion was quickly becoming the easiest thing between them.

She couldn’t help but be aware that their retreat echoed that of the dance she’d sorely butchered. Out here, alone with him, it was effortless. She didn’t have to think, to