I could not speak.
The words lodged in my throat like stones.
But my body answered for me—my hips moved, a tiny instinctive push against the air, and my head dipped in a nod.
Colt's eyes went dark.
His hand moved all at once under my tank top.
Soft, calloused fingers brushed the soaked skin of my belly, and I whimpered.
"Don't worry," he said, his voice low and rough in the dark.
"I'll take care of you."
The first touch of his fingers on my bare skin made me jerk.
He pressed his palm flat against my s*x, and I cried out.
He covered my mouth again, muffling the sound.
"Quiet, sweetheart."
I trembled under his hand.
He parted my folds with his fingers, slid one digit inside, and I moaned against his palm.
"You're dripping wet," he observed, his tone almost clinical.
"So ready
