Uncaged Love The Boxed Set #1-5(145)By: JJ Knight
“He should get a satellite signal,” Jax says, shouting over the whir of the blades, deafening even as far away as we are.
I shake my head, holding on to the brim of the ball cap. “He wants to have some places where no one can contact him!”
Jax nods. “Don’t we all.”
Colt opens the door to jump down.
My heart catches, just like it always does when I see him coming toward me. He’s so broad, so muscular. The extra training he does now that he’s the MMA champion shows in the power of his stride, the width of his thighs in the jeans.
Since we’ve been together, he’s adapted my style of dress instead of expecting me to be like him. So today it’s just a snug-fitted UFC T-shirt and a ball cap from Hawaii, a gift from my half-brother.
When he sees me, he breaks in a big smile. “I see you’re the talk of the town.” He nods to Jax. “Thank you for finding her.”
“Anything for a lovely lady.” Jax salutes us and turns back to his car. “Have a beautiful wedding.”
“You’re coming down for it, right?” Colt calls out.
“They’d have to lock me away someplace very serious before I’d miss it,” he says.
We watch as the sleek car drives away.
Colt tweaks the brim of my cap. “I like this.”
“Jax brought it. Everyone seemed to know who I was.”
He wraps his arm around me. “I know you don’t like that.”
“Hate it, actually.”
He hasn’t arranged for a golf cart, so we start walking toward the black car.
“We’re going to have to go straight to the match,” I say. “You’re going to miss the introductions as it is.”
He pulls me in close. The smell of jet fuel and hot asphalt surrounds us as he leans down to kiss me. His mouth is hot and demanding, and I start to forget the worries of the day. Zero and the bridal shop, and the horrid sausage dress hitting the news.
His hands slide down my back and lift the bottom of my shirt to find a bit of skin. I lurch against him, hot from the contact.
When his mouth starts to move along my jaw, I say, “The car?”
“Mmmm,” he says. “Good thing there are privacy panels installed between the seats.”
We walk the rest of the way to the black Mercedes, and he opens the door. I duck inside and wave to Martin, who gives me a polite nod. “To the Bellagio?” he asks.
Colt sits beside me. “I’d say go about twenty minutes out into the desert, then turn around and take us back.”
He waits for Martin to acknowledge the request, then closes the glass between the seats, then a black privacy panel. Now the only way to communicate with the front is to use the speaker.
“You think the windows are dark enough?” I ask as his hand travels up from my knee to my thigh.
“I think I don’t give a damn.”
His mouth takes mine again. I groan against his lips as his hand finishes its journey between my legs. His fingers work the space between, pressing hard against the seam of my jeans.
The wedding plans are erased. The TV screens. Colt’s father’s edicts.
His other hand slides beneath my shirt. His palm is warm. I’ve gone back to wearing athletic bras, but Colt doesn’t care about that. His thumb slips beneath the band, and I arch against him as he grazes a nipple.
His lips find mine again, urgent and hard. He’s kissed me so many times, but somehow he always makes it seem new. Emotion surges through me as well as desire. I love this man. He’s the only one I ever have.
He presses me down on the seat, and I sink into the luxurious leather. Colt pushes the shirt out of his way and lifts the bra over the crests of my breasts.
“Mmmm,” he says as his mouth leaves mine and goes lower, capturing the nipple. His hat is pushed up and tumbles off his head onto the floor. I laugh a little and run my hands through his hair.
He grazes the nipple with his teeth. I’m flooded with heat and arch up against him. His body is strong and hard over mine. I want everything out of the way and reach between us for the snap of his jeans.
His belly is rock hard, flat, leading to the bumps of his abs. I find the scar from his surgeries, the gun shot wound that almost killed him, and once again thank God for all we’d survived together.
Colt jerks at the waist of my jeans and yanks the zipper down. He’s impatient now, unstoppable, and my breath catches as his mouth moves to my belly button. He kisses along the indentions from my waistband and pushes the jeans away from my hips.
I clasp his hair again as he makes his way down, biting along the path left open by the zipper until he reaches the top of my panties.
With a growl, he shoves my jeans down and away, over my knees and ankles, taking my sneakers off with the force of it.
Before I can take another breath, his mouth is on me, my thighs wide. The panties still separate him from me, but his tongue slides along the crease anyway.
I writhe up against him. He’s too far down for me to touch anymore, so I have to make do with the waves of his hair, his round ears, and his strong shoulders.
His fingers slip inside the lacy edge, his thumb pressing inside me. It finds that swollen nub and I lurch against him, his breath hot and burning through the thin fabric.