Part 7 (edited)

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EXTREME SMUT WARNING
I've realized two things: up until now I've never truly felt alive; I've never known the feeling of what it's like to genuinely have an understanding of breathing, of the feeling of a human's touch, of listening to the sound of a beating heart. But with Colby, his eyes heavy with yearning for me, I can hear distinctly without question the beat of a human's heart. I can feel the air I breathe pass through my lungs and pump through my veins, and the contact of skin against skin has never felt so real, so authentic, so utterly transparent. And secondly, what is about to transpire between Colby and me will forever change me from the woman I am today. I know the minute he buries himself deep inside me, the familiar colors of this world will change, alter in a way that I will forever see differently. It's inevitable with a man like Colby Brock.

And even though I'm scared of this change, of the transformation I'm about to embark on, I wouldn't back down for anything. Not for my friend, not for the protection of my heart, and not for the shelter of the imprinted marrow that runs deep within my bones. Because for the life of me, I can't say no to this beautiful man, to his damaged eyes, to the carved jaw that ticks with his emotions, or the heart that beats quickly under the palm of my hand.

I want him.

I hope he wants me.

I want him to alter my life.

Does he want me to alter his?

I want him to change the colors of my world into a kaleidoscope of tangible, prickly, all-consuming awareness.

I hope he wants to be a part of me and my life of color.

"Emma." His voice is husky, on the verge of breaking.

"Take me upstairs, Colby." Please.

His hands quickly button up the button that rests between my breasts, and then in one swift movement, he scoops me into his arms and takes me upstairs, leaving our little dinner party behind without a second thought.

With each creak of the stairs leading to his bedroom, my heart rate picks up. I'm excited. I've never felt this need, this . . . rightness. What will he feel like inside me? Will he be tender? Will he be rough and demanding? Will he compare me to . . . her?

No, I can't think about Sadie right now. I can't begin to think about what they might have had together. As attracted adults learning more about each other, this is different. What is between Colby and me is different and I'm going to revel in the disparity.

When he reaches his bed, he relies on the light in the stairway to cast the only brightness in the room, leaving the area dim. To me, it feels romantic.

He places me on the ground in front of him and takes a small step back. Eyes still trained on mine, he reaches over his head to his back where he grabs his shirt and quickly tugs it off. I watch in fascination as each and every one of his chest muscles flex in the process, leaving me panting for a redo.

I've never seen a more gorgeous man in my life. From the messy style of his hair, to the thick scruff on his perfectly defined jaw, to the powerful, corded muscles that twist and twine over his athletic chest, he weakens me at the knees. I'm dizzy with lust.

Still looking me in the eyes, he unbuckles his jeans but leaves them on. I glance down for a second to catch a small trail of trimmed hair that leads to the waistband of his black briefs. I want to lick a path down that trail to what he's hiding beneath those dark wash jeans.

When I return my eyes to his, the smirk on his face almost splits me in half. There's no denying my attraction to him. He probably noticed that within the first two weeks we were living together. I've never been good at hiding emotions, most notably it seems when it comes to Colby and his ruggedly handsome features.

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