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The first time that Colin Bridgerton got a glimpse of Penelope Featherington’s underwear was when she was sixteen. The whole incident had been an accident, of course.It was an unusually hot summer day in the English countryside, and he very casually yet suavely (or so he thought) offered to help her carry her luggage into the cottage where she’d be staying with his family over holidays. Earlier in the day his brothers had teased him, saying the reason he still didn’t have a girlfriend was because he didn’t know how to talk to girls. Penelope arrived a few hours later, her smile big and bright when he greeted her, and he thought ruefully, at least I know how to talk to Pen.He dutifully helped her carry her two suitcases into Eloise’s bedroom. Neither of them had been aware of the faulty zipper on the smaller of the two cases, and Colin certainly hadn’t expected the thing to rip open almost violently when he pushed it to the corner of the room.Unfortunately, that particular suitcase housed Penelope’s more intimate belongings — aka, her knickers. Obviously he wasn’t a pervert, especially not when it came to Penelope who was his little sister’s best friend, so if he stared at the bra that came tumbling out onto the rug, it was simply because he was shocked by the entire accident and nothing else.Penelope, who seemed to have sensed a disturbance in the force (Colin’s panic must have telepathically conveyed itself to her), came to see what had happened.“It broke,” he explained lamely, feeling the heat of the midday sun on his face and neck despite the barrier of the cottage walls.Penelope, too mortified to speak, simply nodded—Colin heard his brothers’ imaginary laughter in his head, and quickly fled the scene, losing all semblance of coolness he had been practising.It wasn’t a big deal or anything. It was just… he’d still been a virgin when he saw Penelope Featherington’s bra.Seeing any girl’s bra at that point would have been tantalising. It was just his luck that the bra he’d happened to see had belonged to Penelope, who was very well endowed. Quite possibly the most endowed of any girl he knew… so really, who could blame him for thinking about it? He thought about it quite regularly for a good two weeks after the incident, and then semi-regularly, and then just once in a while.He didn’t like to admit it, but the truth was he’d always had a thing for her boobs. It started a couple of years before the Yellow Bra Incident, back when Penelope had just turned thirteen and started growing them. Which, of course, coincided with Colin, at the time fifteen-going-on-sixteen, becoming obsessed with breasts. Not hers in particular, just breasts in general, but… well, Penelope was a little plump. Which meant her budding breasts were a little plump as well. She had developed earlier and faster than his sister, who remained a beanpole for many years yet.He was very good at compartmentalising, it turned out.Pen was his little sister’s bestie, yes; but Pen’s breasts were an entirely different thing altogether.He wasn’t proud to remember how he’d coveted them, constantly sneaking peeks when she was around, and how sneaky he’d been about it—insisting that Pen play the stupid old fashioned croquet game their family had made a tradition out of. His Dad had inherited a very old set of mallets, some antiques from the reign of Prince George. Every summer at the cottage they gathered and played, and it would get so hot on the lawn that the boys would strip down to just their shorts. He hardly remembered what his sisters wore but Penelope had this high-necked pink tank top thing that she wore under her loose t-shirts. Colin thought it was pretty cute. It clung to her breasts nicely, which was the main thing. Once or twice he’d caught Benedict casually checking her out, which made him feel a bit better because that meant he wasn’t the only one.So they would play Pall Mall (that was what Mum said it was called) and he and Eloise would drag Pen onto the lawn. When they inevitably started sweating buckets because of the sun beating down on them, Pen would forget about modesty and remove her tee. Colin would then strive to hit his ball in ways that would put him in proximity with hers, so that he could look at her in that pink tank top from various angles. He lost whenever the tank top came out because he couldn’t pay attention, but he didn’t care.It was the only time he ever saw Penelope wearing anything remotely form-fitting. She had been so intensely shy and insecure about her looks growing up. Her mom had her on constant diets and strict exercise regimens. Colin thought she was fine the way she was, and some obnoxious, teenage boy thoughts whirled around in his head: if she lost weight, wouldn’t other things get smaller too?He knew his mother felt sorry for her, and had even taken Portia Featherington aside to speak to her about putting too much pressure on the poor girl. Apparently that was overstepping and all that came of it, he remembered, was that Pen wasn’t allowed to sleepover for a few weeks until Mrs. Danbury’s charity gala swung around and his mother was in charge of seating plans. Then it seemed the ban was lifted and all was forgiven, and Penelope started coming around regularly again.After that, Colin was swept up into the demands of Year 11 and completing his GCSEs. He was distracted from thoughts of Pen’s breasts until the Bra Incident took place. That caused a bit of a relapse, but then his attention was diverted again by going off to Uni, where a girl from his lectures opted to show him her own bra. When said undergarment was revealed, it was not yellow and lacy… unbidden, he’d felt a tinge of something which he told himself wasn’t disappointment. * Now, at the ripe age of twenty-six, Colin certainly did not think about Penelope’s lacy yellow brassiere anymore. He’d grown out of it, that childish obsession with the most beguiling aspect of the female anatomy. His burning curiosity had been tempered by experience, and Penelope once again was returned to her original place: Eloise’s best pal, the girl next door.After all, eight years had passed. The memory of her yellow bra was long-buried, a relic of his teenage psyche.He was only reminded of it once, last year, when Penelope decided she was sick of living with a roommate and made the leap to living on her own — ‘like a big girl’. She realised right after who she’d said it to and flushed guiltily: Him, the twenty-five year old who lived with his mother and older brother on their family’s historical estate — which, to be fair, could house about twenty people or more. Colin simply grinned at her and offered to help her move her stuff. She took him up on the offer, and agreed to feed him afterwards.Looking back, it kind of felt like there was a pattern. The universe seemed to think it was funny to play tricks on them: whenever Colin helped Penelope with moving stuff, he would find himself in an embarrassing situation involving her underwear, like it was some kind of perverse reward for being a gentleman.She ordered a large pizza with all his favourite toppings (bless). They were halfway through their second slice each when Pen sat bolt upright on the sofa, wiping a smudge of tomato sauce from her chin.“I almost forgot!”She got to her feet, grabbing his arm. He shoved the remainder of his slice into his mouth, and rather rudely spoke around it— “Wha?”He was still chewing as she dragged him down the hall to her new bedroom.“Where did I put it?” she furrowed her brow, thinking. “Should be in one of these.”He felt his stomach do a little lurch when she pulled one of the packing boxes open and he got an eyeful of the sight of silky fabric. It wasn’t her underwear, per se, but it was definitely underwear-adjacent. The silky things strewn in the box were camisoles and pyjama bottoms and robes, some trimmed in lace, some fully made of lace, some black and others brightly patterned. Nothing was particularly saucy. He’d seen much, much raunchier things in his time, but the sheer number of items all collected together like this gave an impression of sexiness that was undeniable. He swallowed, forcing himself to stay focused and not let his mind pursue other thoughts — inappropriate thoughts — like imagining Penelope in these soft garments.Why was he surprised? Why wouldn’t Penelope have silky robes? He was just too used to thinking of her like she had been ten years ago, growing up under his nose with Eloise. If pressed to answer what he thought she went to bed in, he would have said something inane like ‘a mickey mouse t-shirt’. Clearly he was behind the times: she wasn’t a child anymore, but a woman.An image of a yellow bra floated into his mind. He swiped it away, irritated by the flush of heat that came over him at the thought—something he’d long forgotten. Or so he’d thought. The memory seemed to simply be lying dormant, triggered into existence again by the sight of Penelope’s wardrobe.Penelope dug through the pile of camisoles until she unearthed a small bundle wrapped inside a pink nightgown. She placed it in his hands, seemingly uncaring of the fact that she had just given him something she might have worn against her bare skin.“Didn’t want it to get damaged.” A little smile curved her lips, as playful as the light dancing in her blue eyes. “Go on, take a look.”He unfolded the pink nightie and laid eyes upon a familiar looking leatherbound book. His heart did a little flip as he gingerly opened the wrinkled front cover. Winnie The Pooh, it declared in faded gilded lettering.And, inside, on the slightly yellowed first page: a scribble that brought another, completely different rush of emotion.
For Violet, my dearest daughter.
“You found it,” he said, in awe. A first edition they’d lost somehow over the years. One of his mother’s biggest regrets. And Penelope had found it, by trawling through her network of budding authors and bookshop owners and fellow academics.She grinned, utterly chuffed with herself. “Wasn’t easy, mind you.”He could have kissed her out of sheer gratitude, but his mouth had just been full of pizza and he didn’t think she’d appreciate it. So he’d opted for a hug, instead, and when Penelope sank into his arms with a pleased grin he was very glad he did. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he reminded himself to behave—she was his friend, and he should not be wondering if she was wearing anything silky under her sweatshirt. * The earth rotated on its axis around the sun, and Colin Bridgerton traversed it, completely unaware of the world-shattering events to come.A year passed by in a blink. Colin returned home from Italy just in time for Penelope’s twenty-fourth birthday. He’d been away for nearly three months, the longest trip he’d ever taken. Of course, they’d stayed in touch via social media and the occasional text message, but it was nice to get a chance to meet up in person.He got cupcakes from her favourite bakery (upsized to half a dozen, hoping that Pen would feel generous enough to share once she’d invited him in) and headed over to her flat.She answered the door after several knocks.He thought, for a second, that he had knocked on the wrong door. The redhead that answered looked like the Penelope he knew, but she certainly wasn’t dressed like the Penelope he knew. He was certain his eyes bulged out of their sockets as he took in the sight of his little sister’s best friend wearing what looked an awful lot like lingerie.It wasn’t yellow, was the first thought that popped into his mind.“Colin!” She broke into a smile at the sight of him, even though her eyes were wide with surprise. Then she flushed, and held the edges of her dress-robe thing tighter to her body.It was moot considering how sheer the wispy thing was—every curve was on display. A pale pink sash was tied around her waist, keeping the floor length chiffon robe closed… sort of. Quite a significant amount of thigh peeked out through the opening, framing her legs in lace edging.Underneath, lovingly cupping her breasts — a lacy bra. Not yellow.“Pen,” he croaked out, his mouth terribly dry. He forced himself to act natural, and held out the box of cupcakes to her. “Happy birthday.”“Oh,” she said, sounding even more surprised. “Thank you.”“Eloise said you were having a party,” he explained, keeping his eyes firmly glued to her face. He could see nothing, nothing at all below her chin. It didn’t exist; Penelope was just a talking head as far as he was concerned.“A party?” she echoed, confusion on her features. “I don’t—”He couldn’t help it, his eyes dipped to the vee of the robe, under which lay her ample cleavage — and he gulped as a terrible, terrible thought occurred to him.She had come to the door looking like this, which meant she was not expecting visitors. And such an outfit would only be worn if… she already had company. Of the non-party variety.Oh bloody hell, was she on a date?“Sorry,” he said, dragging his gaze back up and feeling dizzy by the time he reached her face again. “Am I interrupting something?”Penelope blinked her sooty lashes at him in adorable confusion—he noticed that she was wearing a full face of makeup.“Um,” she said, “Sort of?”Well, fuck. She definitely was on a date. * He’d shoved the box of cupcakes into her arms, muttered an awkward apology, and beat a hasty retreat. Then he’d gone home, feeling stupid for not realising sooner.Of course Penelope dated, Colin thought, in a weird sort of daze he couldn’t shake.She was cute and owned non-yellow lingerie and as it turned out some of that lingerie was decidedly raunchy. Women didn’t buy stuff like that without a reason, so of course she had to be wearing it for someone. Some lucky bloke who probably didn’t deserve her, because she was Pen.He reminded himself that she wasn’t one of his sisters, and this protective feeling swelling in his chest was completely uncalled for. She was a grown woman, who wore lingerie to answer her door, which was entirely her prerogative, and he had absolutely no reason to be upset about it.Colin fumed, anyway. It wasn’t safe. The bastard who had been in her flat should have come to the door. He wouldn’t have let Penelope go herself looking like that — the bloody door would have stayed firmly shut if he’d been in there with her. What if it hadn’t been Colin, a trustworthy friend, on the other side? Penelope was safe with him, but other men? Treated to the sight of her bare hips and cleavage?He shuddered, and the image of said cleavage popped into his mind, making him sweat. He couldn’t say he hadn’t been affected by the view. She had incredible breasts, and he’d never seen so much of them before. Given his years-long one-sided history with them, it was no wonder he felt positively unmoored.Shit.He was kind of pissed at Eloise, actually. For lying about the party, and subjecting him to this new, harsh reality where he got an eyeful of her best friend in nearly all naked glory. Sending him straight back to his adolescence, lusting over Penelope’s tits like a randy sixteen year old.When he texted Eloise to tell her off about misinformation, she replied with a blunt: it was the day before, idiot.Right. He supposed it was logical that when your birthday fell on a Monday, you’d party with your friends the night before. Especially if you had a date planned for the actual day.He wondered who the bloke was. Was it someone he knew? Someone in their circle? He racked his brain, trying to think of who Penelope could be wearing lingerie for. On her birthday, no less: that meant it had to be somewhat serious, right? Definitely not first, or second, or even third date territory. It had to be a boyfriend. That thought left him sober. He was a bit offended, even.Penelope had a boyfriend, and no one had told him?At their sibling brunch on the following Wednesday, he attempted to casually bring it up, hoping for some more details. Like a name, birthdate, driving licence number, and possibly a list of ex-girlfriends.“Penelope doesn’t have a boyfriend,” said Eloise absently, when Colin questioned her. She typed away at her laptop, her attention a thousand miles away, somewhere in the intersection of gender politics and historical research.“Not for long,” said Hyacinth, in a sing-song kind of voice. The voice she used when she was smug about knowing something that he didn’t know.Colin was starting to get annoyed with her. “Spill it.”“She’s been getting dick pics!” Hyacinth exclaimed with utter glee.Eloise made a gagging noise, which only served to make their younger sister cackle.“Dick pics?” Colin repeated the words as a slow horror spread through him. He was almost afraid to ask. “What dick pics? From who?”“Loads,” said his little sister. “A fuckton.”“Language,” said Benedict breezily.“Cretins,” muttered Eloise.“But who?” he demanded, both bewildered and incensed. Why the fuck was Penelope going on dates with an asshole who sent dick pics? He couldn’t wrap his head around any of this.Benedict’s eyes landed on Colin’s face. “Why the sudden interest?”“Just curious,” said Colin, resisting the urge to avert his gaze. He had nothing to hide. He was just looking out for Pen, one of his closest friends. “I went over on her birthday to give her some stuff, and she was—”He broke off his sentence, unsure of how to phrase it.“What?” Now Hyacinth was giving him a look, too.He forced it out: “I think she was on a date.”Eloise still hadn’t glanced up from her laptop, but she said, “She wasn’t.”“I’m pretty sure she was,” Colin insisted. “She was… dressed for a date.”At that point, Benedict started grinning, and asked, “What do you mean? What was she wearing?”The memory of Penelope’s outfit flashed through his mind, sending heat down his spine. “Something she wouldn’t be wearing if it wasn’t a date. Who’s the guy, anyway?”No one answered him, to his annoyance. He didn’t get any answers until they were all prepared to go their separate ways.“Let him in on the secret,” Benedict said to Hyacinth, as he got up to leave. He waggled his eyebrows at Colin before he went and mouthed ‘enjoy’. Colin bristled. Eloise had already departed, off to a meeting with her academic supervisor, leaving him with just Hyacinth.“Check your phone. See ya.”Hyacinth waved at him before she, too, took off, bouncing out of the restaurant with the kind of insouciant attitude only a sixteen year old could possess.Colin’s phone vibrated a few seconds later. He unlocked it. She had sent him an instagram link. The account belonged to Genevieve Delacroix, a fashion designer who had been at art school with Benedict. Her debut label collection, or something like that.At first, he was mystified. There were a bunch of logos, and black squares with dates. He scrolled, unsure of what this was supposed to mean. A few posts down he came across a photo of Benedict, half-naked in artsy black & white, ostensibly modelling a pair of grey sweatpants. Colin didn’t particularly want to look at Benedict’s abs, so he kept scrolling, a strange feeling beginning to form in his gut.What was it that Genevieve designed, again?New Collection, read another black square. Three hundred likes. The photo of Benedict had nearly a thousand.Intimate wear, he recalled. That was what the collection was about. Lingerie.The weird feeling intensified. His mouth fell open slightly as he stared down at his phone. It was a post dated from three weeks ago. He’d missed this completely, because he didn’t follow Genevieve and didn’t care about fashion.The photo was grainy—a filter, probably. Penelope, in a white, half-buttoned shirt, sitting on an armchair, her legs folded beneath her. The curve of one generous hip was entirely exposed because she was barely wearing anything below the shirt, just a pair of lacy knickers. The shadowy space between her legs was largely left to the imagination by the angle of the photo, no thanks to said knickers.Colin looked at it for a moment, until he realised there was more than one photo. He swiped to look at the second one, and was greeted by a close up of Pen’s face, half-hidden by her hair. He’d never seen her with her hair like that, curled loosely—was it that long? It trailed over her neck and shoulder, dipping into the shadowy but magnificent cleavage that was front and centre. The bustier top she was modelling could barely be seen… he swallowed, hard, and swiped again to the final photo.His stomach tightened involuntarily.Suddenly he understood, with perfect clarity, why Penelope had been getting ‘a fuckton of dick pics’.Something hot unfurled in his gut, making him feel weird and perverted; he wanted to look away but couldn’t bring himself to.What else could he do?He liked the post.*

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“How come no one told me?” he demanded.“How were we supposed to know you didn’t know about it?” Benedict replied. “I’m your brother. You should keep abreast of my modelling career.”“Two instagram posts don’t constitute a modelling career,” said Colin, ignoring his brother’s deliberate choice to use the word 'abreast'.That conversation went nowhere and left Colin feeling even more put out.He figured no one would notice he had started following Genevieve on Instagram. Dumb on his part. He’d underestimated just how nosy his family was. As soon as he hit that follow button, the teasing began. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d liked the posts that featured Penelope and none of the others. Benedict was particularly offended by this act of sibling disloyalty, which resulted in Colin having to like & comment on the joggers post and tell his followers to like & comment.After all that, it only seemed polite — appropriate — to add a comment to Penelope’s post, too. Just a simple one. An emoji.🔥His siblings loved that. They spammed the family groupchat with 🔥🔥🔥 until Anthony sent a message that said he was muting them all for 24 hours.Colin’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out and swiped hastily when he saw the notification was from Instagram. Penelope had posted something — he’d turned on notifications for her — and for a second his heart thudded in his chest from excitement. A second later, he remembered that this was her personal Instagram, not Genevieve’s official label account… and the photo that loaded was a shot of some fish and chips on a local pub table.It’d been posted 5 minutes ago. The caption said, “tuesday cravings ✓” and already there were a bunch of replies.He typed out a quick reply: jealous, wish I were there and returned to working on his manuscript. He was having trouble focusing on writing though, and his eyes continued to stray to where his phone lay quietly on the desk. It wasn’t set to silent mode, so he guessed he was just unpopular today.Honestly, writing wasn’t going so well. The words stalled, his metaphorical inkwell running dry. Colin pushed his laptop away and picked up his phone. Still no messages, no notifications, not even a spam call about getting his ducts cleaned.Mindlessly, he opened Instagram. Penelope’s chips post had double the number of likes since he’d given his own. She hadn’t replied to any of the comments, he noticed, even though more than an hour had passed. He clicked on her profile and scrolled until he found the post that had been on his mind for days.He zoomed in on the photo, and thought he could make out the slightest tint of areola… but it wasn’t high-def enough for him to be sure if her nipples were pink or brown. They seemed big, though, which was what he really liked — when he was younger it was all about the size of the breasts, but he was older and wiser now and knew size wasn’t everything — it was all about proportions. He’d become a connoisseur and appreciated a generous ratio of areola to breast, and Penelope’s seemed to have the best of everything. It wasn’t rocket science, after all: her tits were big, ergo her nips must be big, too. He burned with curiosity that would not abate.Colin stared at the post and imagined rubbing at the lacy black fabric until Penelope’s nipples stiffened and revealed their size and texture. How hard did they get? Were they sensitive, or would he have to work on getting them nice and firm?
Oh, hell.
Colin backpedalled, reminding himself that Penelope was his friend, someone he respected — she wasn’t a thing to be ogled and lusted over. But his brain wouldn’t cooperate and kept thinking about her nipples, convinced that they were just as fantastic as the breasts they belonged to.He forced himself to close the app and toss his phone into a drawer and return to work. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was a grown-ass man, he had better self-control than this. It was one thing to have uncouth dreams about his friend’s body — that wasn’t anything new really, he’d been having that sort of dream since he was fifteen — but it was another thing entirely to be fantasising about her while awake, and trying to work.By the time he decided to throw in the towel and go to bed, it was well after midnight. He stood under the spray of the shower for some time, rubbing his tired eyes. It was frustrating. Colin wasn’t prone to writer’s block. He’d always been able to brute force his way through it — but something was niggling at him, making him unfocused and jittery.He emerged from the bathroom and pulled on a pair of clean boxers. His phone lay on the nightstand, beckoning to him.With a groan, Colin gave in and reached for it. * The following morning, Colin rose after very little sleep, his brain whirring with ghostly images from a night full of rather intensely detailed dreams. Maybe exercise would help clear his head and get the creative juices going again — he dragged himself out of bed and went for a run. Two podcasts later, Colin lifted his head and realised he had gone a lot further than intended. He slowed to a jog, noticing that the neighbourhood he found himself walking through was rather familiar. Odd, that. Was it a coincidence, or had his feet taken him here out of habit? He reached into his pocket and fished out his cell phone.Went for a run, he sent off a quick text on unsteady fingers. Almost done. Fancy a coffee?
Yes, please.
Colin turned abruptly, making his way back to the cafe he’d passed a block back. The barista behind the counter was blonde and smiley and usually, he would linger a few minutes to chat, but someone was waiting for him and she wouldn’t like a lukewarm latte.I’m at your door, he texted, a record seven minutes later. Sweat dotted his brow. He briefly wondered if he should have gone home first to shower, and surreptitiously tried to sniff himself without dropping the coffee. Movement sounded inside the flat, and soon enough the door was being unlocked, cutting short his doubts about body odour.Penelope greeted him, her smile as bright as the sun. “That was fast!”He lifted the takeout bag that bore the logo of her favourite cafe, recovering from the momentary blindness he’d experienced at the hands of her smile.She pulled the door open wider to let him in. The air swooshed out of his lungs. Penelope must have just come out of the shower. Her hair was damp, a richer red than usual. She was wearing skimpy sleep shorts and a silky robe covered her shoulders. It was unfastened so that he had a mouthwatering view of what she was wearing underneath.A feeling of deja vu enveloped him. It was the second time in the span of a week that he had shown up on Penelope’s front step and been greeted with the sight of her in wildly sexy lingerie. Did she always answer the door like this?Was this normal? he wondered. He hadn’t dated any woman seriously enough to warrant more than a few sleepovers now and then… but none of his girlfriends had ever worn the kind of stuff Penelope did on what seemed like a regular basis, even if she was an Instagram model now — something he still couldn’t wrap his head around. But the evidence was right there, teasing him. He shouldn’t be angling his head for a better look. Definitely not. He did look, though. Her breasts were right there, free for his viewing pleasure, proudly filling out her lacy bra and then some. They were practically falling out of the poor thing.He felt like he’d been knocked in the head and stared for a beat too long before they were hidden from sight, wrapped up in her silky blue robe.“I just got out of the shower when I got your text.” Her tone was casual but her cheeks were slightly rosy. “How was your run?”His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he answered. “Good.” Yep. Eloquent. He tried again. “Got a rhythm going, really got in the zone, you know?”Penelope offered him another smile — which had a weird melting sort of effect on him. His insides vibrated. She said shyly, “Great. Come in. I’ll just pop into my room to change.”No need, his brain offered helpfully. Colin said, “Sure. I’ll put the coffees in the kitchen.”Friends don’t look at friends’s tits, he repeated to himself as he waited, friends don’t look at friends’ tits.When Penelope emerged from her bedroom and joined him in her kitchen, his eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts. Fuck. Friends don’t look at friends’ tits!She wasn’t even wearing anything low-cut or revealing, just a plain cropped t-shirt over a pair of leggings. It was the way the top hung off her chest, he thought broodingly. Cropped right at her navel, floating above the waistband of her leggings and giving him a glimpse of pale skin every now and then as she moved around. He couldn’t focus at all with her breasts in the room, distracting him.
Don’t look.
Some things were simply off-limits. His little sister’s best friend definitely fell into that category. If any of his friends had so much as looked at Daphne, or Eloise, or Frannie, shit would have hit the fan. The same applied to them, as well: his sisters stayed away from his buddies and he returned the favour. It was just one of those unspoken rules that siblings understood and took for granted. In any case, he was good friends with Penelope, had always been, and even without loyalty to Eloise being sacred, it wasn’t worth ruining what they had over some lusty thoughts.
Don’t look, don’t look.
“Fire emoji?” she asked, lightly.“Seemed appropriate,” he replied without thinking. A knee-jerk response. He regretted it immediately, but Penelope’s mouth quirked, and the regret faded. A dimple appeared in her right cheek. It was pretty cute. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up right away, but that was fine considering he had a lot of questions.Be cool, he told himself. Don’t look at her tits. “When did you start?” he asked, casually.“Start what?”“Modelling,” he said, making sure his expression was not overly curious. “I’ve never heard you mention it before.”“It just kind of… happened,” she said vaguely.“I heard you’re Genevieve’s muse.” Colin had read that tidbit on the designer’s website. He’d scoured it thoroughly after seeing Penelope’s post, hoping for… well, more. “You inspired the entire collection.”Genevieve was already working on a second collection, and he had a feeling Penelope was going to be featured heavily in the promotional photos when it was released.“I’m a big fan of her designs,” Penelope said, giving him a weird sort of feeling in his chest. It was strange knowing that Penelope liked lingerie and was buying it. He kept his face neutral but he was itching to find out who she was buying it for. While he struggled with this thought, she leaned in as if to confide a secret (oh god, was she about to tell him her boyfriend loved it or something equally horrifying?) and added, “I was already buying her stuff. The only difference is now I’m getting it for free.”A little grin broke over Penelope’s face.“Influencer perks?”“Not complaining, am I?”She looked so impish and Pen in that moment he quite forgot that this entire conversation was about lingerie and not something mundane like biscuits or Real Housewives marathons. She pulled back, putting a bit of space between them. “I like lingerie. It makes me feel nice. I wear it for myself.”Colin nodded, completely enchanted by the idea of Penelope feeling nice in her pretty, sexy lingerie. Feeling nice was good. Feeling nice was great. He liked thinking about Penelope feeling nice about her own body.“You look nice,” he said, which was kind of a dumb thing to say, even if it was true.“Thanks.”He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Does someone help you take the photos?”Pen shook her head. “No, I take them myself.”He wasn’t sure if he was happy about this bit of information or not. “Cool.”
Do you want some help?
He watched as she took a sip of her latte, knowing it was her favourite drink. He never had to be reminded of her order — she took her coffee extra sweet, just like she was. As expected, she liked it. Colin was forced to avert his gaze when she lowered the cup and licked her lips, savouring every last drop.Colin swallowed.
I could come over and help, if you wanted.
“The comments,” he began, wondering how to broach the subject without directly asking. She hadn’t said a single word about it, and he didn’t know how to bring up the unfortunate matter of random men sending her photos of their appendages. Obviously, you couldn’t just lead the conversation with a casual, hey I heard your phone is blowing up with dick pics. What's up with that???“There are some mean comments,” she said, taking him by surprise. Her tone didn’t give much away, but Colin could read between the lines. He sat up straighter, peering at her closely, his stomach tightening at the thought of someone daring to say something rude (in the bad way) to Penelope.“But mostly just dirty comments, yeah?”He could recite some that he’d read for himself, the blatant thirsting had made even him blush. But then again, he was just as bad as that lot… wasn’t he? One could even say he was worse, given that he was Penelope’s friend of many years, and he’d spent a sleepless night battling insomnia by looking at her cleavage on Instagram.Maybe, said a little voice in his head, it was a what came first, chicken or the egg situation.She smirked. “Oh, filthy like you wouldn’t believe.”The thought of a bunch of losers sending Penelope perverted messages was disturbing. It had to be unpleasant. He asked, rather seriously, “Does it bother you?”“Most of the time? No. Sometimes it can get overwhelming. I’ve stopped accepting friend requests.” She made a face. “Too many weirdos.”“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”“It’s a bit weird,” she confided. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of breasts to be seen on the internet. I’ve no idea what’s so special about mine.”Colin resisted the urge to check them out to confirm that they were very special. He already knew they were, so he kept his eyes on her face, and said jokingly, “This may come as a surprise, but to most blokes all boobs are awesome.”For a second, a tension spun into existence between them that was oddly awkward. Penelope broke eye contact, and he thought for a split second that her face fell — but she ducked her head, looking down, and her expression was hidden from view. Colin didn’t know what to say, and wondered if he shouldn’t have said that boobs were awesome. Except they were, and it wasn’t like it was some great secret, and surely she wouldn’t suspect that he was talking about hers specifically.“Fair enough,” she said, acknowledging his point. “They’ll find a new pair of breasts to obsess over, sooner or later. I’ll just enjoy this time in the sun, shall I?”Colin had been obsessed with the breasts in front of him for over a decade, so he didn’t exactly think it would be that easy for people to move on (he certainly hadn’t), but he held his tongue and nodded.He took a final sip of his coffee, and wondered what he could say to keep the conversation going. Did Penelope have plans? He didn’t have any of his own for the next several hours, not that it mattered, because it wasn’t like she was going to ask him to hang around while she cleaned her flat, which was probably genuinely what she was about to do given her choice of outfit. He snuck a glance at her clothes and wondered if the cotton stretch material of her leggings was the sort that went a bit see-through when she bent over. He also wondered if she was still wearing the lacy bra she’d been wearing under her robe beneath that cropped shirt.No. Bad thoughts. What was wrong with him? He set his cup down and settled on a neutral topic. “How’s your family?”“My mum’s not talking to me,” she replied, almost nonchalantly, but Colin heard a note of strain in her voice. Her smile wasn’t quite as bright, either. “Hasn’t answered my calls in over a month now.”He didn’t have to ask why. Portia Featherington would absolutely not have approved of her youngest daughter becoming an internet lingerie model.“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “That’s shitty of her.”Penelope shrugged. “On the positive side, I don’t miss the nagging.”It wasn’t fair, he thought, but life wasn’t fair. He shot her a grin. “One might call that a blessing really.”She grinned back, which made his heart skip a beat, but he chalked that up to the coffee rather than anything else. * Every other Sunday, the Bridgerton siblings went home for tea. It was a long-standing tradition. Once upon a time, it had been every Sunday, until half of them got married/established important careers. Mum, in her ever saintly understanding way, had allowed Anthony and Daphne to negotiate the terms. The unmarried lot, which included himself, still met for brunch on the Sundays they weren’t expected home. Colin was glad this was Mum’s weekend, however, because he really didn’t want to be the centre of his sibling’s teasing again. He figured they wouldn’t be talking about risque lingerie photoshoots in front of Violet Bridgerton.He figured wrong. Typical.He’d gone home after bringing Penelope her coffee, lingering long enough to make himself late. Still, he was the first to show up, technically: Greg and Hy still lived at home.Colin had procured his own flat a few months after helping Penelope move into hers last year… it had never seemed necessary, not when he spent more than half the year abroad, but he thought he might slow down on that front… settle down and give himself time, and a comfortable space in which to work on a longer project… a novel he’d been meaning to write since he’d graduated from Uni. The novel he was currently, frustratingly, completely stumped on.“What are you talking about?” he asked, joining the lot of them on the patio.“Penelope’s breasts,” said Hyacinth.“What?”“You heard me.”Greg, at least, had the decency to look sheepish. Colin was glad that Mum had gotten a call from her friend, Marcus Anderson, and gone into the den to have a chat with him.His brother did a rather perfect rendition of an Eloise impression: “We’re discussing how the sight of a woman’s breasts renders some men so tragically horny that they cannot control the impulse to behave in the most disgusting, patriarchal, and misogynistic way.”It would have been amusing if it weren’t quite so on the nose. Colin’s hackles rose. “Care to elaborate?”“Eloise said she got twelve new dick pics over the weekend,” Hyacinth supplied. He wished the words ‘dick pic’ would stop coming out of his sixteen-year-old sister’s mouth, but it didn't seem to bother anyone else and he was pretty sure if he said something she’d just start saying it even more. Anyway, he was far more perturbed by the idea of Penelope receiving photos of strange penises.“Twelve?” he repeated, in a strangled tone. “You’re exaggerating.”“I’m definitely not.”“She’s right. You’ve seen the comments. Tip of the iceberg, bro. It means there are ten times as many in her DMs.”Colin scowled. Greg was eighteen now and called him bro and in some ways, was even worse than Hyacinth.“Look, it’s just the truth.” Greg shrugged. “Just ask any of our sisters. They’ll tell you. Even Eloise gets nasty DMs, and all she ever posts is quotes from radical feminists.”He definitely did not want to ask his sisters about the nasty things that assholes on the internet deemed appropriate to send to them. It would turn his stomach, and he still wanted to eat later. His gaze slid to Hyacinth, who caught his frowning expression and held up her hand to curb it.“My DMs are closed,” she said. “I’m sixteen, not stupid.”He huffed out a grumpy, “Good.”“Tiktok is better, anyway.” Both of his younger siblings nodded, sharing the sentiment. Ugh.Colin didn’t have Tiktok. Neither did Penelope. He wondered if people could send dick pics on Tiktok. The answer was probably: Yes, knowing the nature of the internet. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and apparently, people really loved sending fucking dick pics.His indignation was pushed even further by the arrival of the last two wayward siblings. They were brought up to speed on the topic of conversation enthusiastically by Hyacinth, who really, for the sake of Colin’s sanity, had to stop saying the words dick pics. If Mum overheard…“You don’t even know the worst of it,” said Eloise, darkly. She paused for dramatic effect. “Fife.”Colin’s brain stuttered, truly it did. He repeated in disbelief, “Fife?”Fife had slid into Penelope’s DMs? The Fife he knew? Eloise looked just as disgusted as Colin felt which was nice solidarity between them for a change.“He was vile about it, too. You should have seen the things he sent her,” she continued (he really did not want to), “It was so gross, I thought I would throw up!” Eloise pantomimed vomiting (he felt that, he really did). “Penelope wanted to delete it and honestly that would have been ideal but I thought about it and realised we need to keep receipts—” (Colin was deeply disturbed by the thought that Penelope still had Fife’s messages on her phone), “Which was pretty smart, actually, as we found out last week that he’s engaged.”Who would want to marry Fife? he wondered.“Margie Goring,” said Benedict, reading Colin’s mind. “The Cow didn’t take it well.”“The Cow?”“Cressida Cowper. We used to call her that, don’t you remember?”He did remember, actually. The Cow had been Fife’s biggest partner in crime when they were back at school, constantly teaming up with Fife to bully Penelope relentlessly for just about everything.And now Fife had the fucking audacity to shoot his shot? Colin was livid. Bullies and hypocrites, the worst of the worst. If Fife thought he had a chance, after everything he’d put Penelope through? Over Colin’s dead body.“They’re not all bad, I suppose,” mused Eloise, tapping her fingers against her mug and breaking into Colin’s murderous thoughts. “There’s Spanish Daddy.”Colin thought, for a moment, that he must have misheard. “I beg your pardon?”“Oh. Forget you heard that. I’m not supposed to talk about him.”“What is that supposed to mean?”Eloise mimed zipping her lips shut and refused to answer, no matter how much Colin pestered her.She turned the tables on him instead and launched into a full-fledged lecture — delivered with gusto and passion — about the perils of navigating Penelope’s delicate sensibilities. Colin listened with a growing sense of unease, feeling his sister’s judgement rain down on him. By the end of the evening he had three prudent points hammered into his head:
Penelope’s body belonged to Penelope, and if she wanted to show it on the internet, other people could look, but they had to remember that:
Penelope’s photos were not made for the male gaze, but for herself.
Penelope was a person, not a piece of meat. She wasn’t an object for sexual gratification.
Colin wondered with a pang of guilt, if Eloise had seen right through him — if she suspected, somehow, that his brain was filled to the brim with x-rated images of her best friend. He fucking hoped not.In retrospect, he supposed, given all the stress he was under — the lack of sleep, the writer’s block in view of looming deadlines, Eloise’s suspicious looks and his own sordid impulses to print off Penelope’s photos to hide under his pillow in case someone hacked his cell phone — it wasn’t surprising that he made a mess of things.Benedict had listened to Eloise’s lecture in silence, nodding along, and then turned to Colin and promptly began teasing him, insinuating things that were… frankly, very rude.“Be careful with those fire emojis, bro.”The teenagers — Greg and Hy — snickered. Colin stiffened. They were never going to let him live that down.“One day you’re posting fire emojis, next thing you know—”“Oh, shut up.”“Didn’t Fife comment on Penelope’s post with a bunch of fire emojis, too?” Greg offered, unhelpfully.Colin glared at him.Benedict waggled his eyebrows. “See? You’re on a slippery slope. That’s how it starts—”“I would never send Penelope dick pics!” Colin snapped, with a lot more vehemence than he intended.He was tired of feeling guilty. Fine, yes, he was just as bad as all the other assholes, lusting over Penelope’s body, but he was not going to stoop so low as to send unsolicited photos of his dick when Penelope had never so much as hinted she wanted to see it.“I didn’t ask you to,” said a voice dryly from behind him.The blood drained from his face. Benedict, who was facing the door, slowly moved his eyes from Colin’s face to the new arrival and gave a jaunty wave.“Hullo, Penelope!”Fuck, fuck, fuck. Colin pasted a smile on his face and turned. “Pen! You’re here!”He’d forgotten, because it hadn’t happened in such a long time, that Penelope had a standing invitation to tea at his Mum’s house. She’d been over every weekend growing up, but that was back then. Nowadays she was as busy as Anthony and Daphne, working as an editor at a major publishing house. He hadn’t expected to see her again after reluctantly leaving her flat that morning.She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s a very creepy smile, I’d like for you to stop directing it at me, please.”He was smiling at her so that she would know he was a friend and a gentleman, someone who would never send unsolicited dick pics. Because only assholes like Fife pulled shit like that, right?“I just — well, I wouldn’t. Send dick pics. It’s demeaning.” He was blabbering. His brother winced, and Penelope looked embarrassed, if not mortified. Of course, who wouldn’t be, knowing her table of friends had been discussing her right before her arrival? He tried again, hoping to salvage the situation: “I respect you.”“Good to know,” she said.Stomach sinking, he watched Penelope take a seat next to Eloise, her gaze carefully avoiding his.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Colin threw Penelope furtive glances for the rest of the afternoon, which turned out to be mostly uncomfortable and just a little bit disconcerting. He kept feeling like he’d said the wrong thing but couldn’t figure out why. Eloise had laid it all out clearly for him: Penelope was a person, not a sex object, and dick pics were Disgusting with a capital D.So why was Penelope looking listless, and why was Eloise giving him exasperated frowns? Even Benedict seemed to have developed a sudden measure of awareness and was putting in real effort to break up the awkward atmosphere by chattering endlessly about his latest painting.“You didn’t say you were coming over,” he said to Penelope, wincing inwardly at how it sounded. A bit accusatory. Like she’d lied to him or something.Penelope shrugged. “I wasn’t going to, but my plans were cancelled, and El said I should come.”He wondered what those cancelled plans entailed. She’d changed out of her casual outfit and was wearing a cute pink dress with thick straps. The front part of it was fitted to her breasts and dipped into a V that showed off her cleavage. It reminded him a bit of that top she used to wear in the summer, and he felt a wave of nostalgia that was tinged with that familiar old teenage arousal. None of the Bridgertons ever got dressed up for tea with their mum, but maybe Penelope felt like she had to put some effort in as a guest. He was pretty sure his mum didn’t care — she was always pleased to see Penelope, no matter her attire.“Mum’ll be happy to see you,” he told her. “She misses you.”That, at least, seemed to be the right thing to say because Penelope’s eyes softened. “I’ve been so busy lately. I miss her, too.”He opened his mouth to say that was easily rectified by coming over more often but thought better of it. Penelope was a busy woman. She had a full-time job and was moonlighting as a lingerie model on the side. He rubbed at some invisible lint on his pants, wishing he could somehow ease the tension lingered in the air.His mind kept returning to her expression when he’d turned around after his outburst — that funny look on her face, the one he couldn’t decipher. Was she upset with him because he had declared that he would never send her a dick pic? Couldn’t be, he thought, embarrassment wafting over him. Why would Penelope be upset about that? She didn’t want dick pics. Definitely not from him.Did she?He shook his head incredulously, staring at Penelope’s side profile. Of course not. It was the stupidest idea he’d ever entertained. Get a grip, he told himself, snapping out of his unruly thoughts to focus on his surroundings.“—I’m really looking forward to it,” Benedict was saying, winking at Penelope.Colin blinked, looking back and forth between them. “To what?”“Our photoshoot,” said Benedict.It took a moment for the words to sink in. His stomach felt funny as he asked, “What photoshoot?”“The one Genevieve wants us to do together. For her next collection.”“Oh.”It was Penelope’s turn to look between Benedict and Colin. He felt her gaze on his face and willed himself to stay perfectly neutral. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to ask what he asked next. The words tumbled out of his mouth, unchecked, unconsidered, and altogether too abrupt: “Is Genevieve looking for more models?”“You’re not her type,” said Benedict after cocking his head in fake consideration.“What’s that supposed to mean?”“You’re too… clean cut. Gen’s brand is all about earthy sex appeal.”Colin had never been so offended in his entire life. “I’m sexy!”Eloise snorted loudly.“I am!” Colin looked around for someone to agree with him and was only met with silence. “C’mon!”Hyacinth gave him a scandalised look. “Ew. I’m not going to say you’re sexy. That’s gross.”Fair point, he thought, and looked in Penelope’s direction, the only woman present who was not related to him. “Pen.”“I’ve known you for too long,” she said quickly. “My opinion doesn’t count.”“That doesn’t make sense. Of course it counts.” He stared at her, heat crawling up his neck. “You’re my friend, but you’re still a woman.”“Thanks,” she muttered dryly. “How nice of you to notice.”What? Of course he’d noticed she was a woman. How could he not notice? When the very things that loudly proclaimed she was a woman were right in front of him, inviting him to stare at them whenever they were in the same room?“Everyone here is your sibling or sibling-adjacent,” said Eloise, giving Penelope a commiserating look. “No one wants to see you in your pants.”Penelope stirred her drink vigorously. It was unfair to put her on the spot like that, and he regretted the entire conversation so far. But it wasn’t like she was actually his sister or anything, so it wasn’t weird to ask her if she thought he was hot—but perhaps it was? The idea bothered him. He shelved it for later and grumbled in response, accepting that his status as a sexy man was not going to be validated tonight. He had that weird feeling that he’d said the wrong thing again.Maybe he’d better just… change the subject. He looked around, hoping to find some distraction.He saw his mother come through the sliding patio doors, carrying a heavily laden tray of scones. Colin stood, hurrying to relieve her of the burden. She smiled fondly at him and let him take the tray. “Hello, dearest.”“Hullo, mum.” He kissed her cheek. “You look happy.”Her cheeks were rosy — from Marcus flirting with her probably. At first, Colin had been ambivalent towards their budding relationship but it was obvious that Marcus Anderson made Violet Bridgerton very happy, and neither he nor his siblings could oppose such a positive source of light in their mother’s life.“Of course I am,” she replied. “All of you are here — and Penelope, too!”His mum’s eyes lit up at the sight of her, greeting Penelope as if she were one of her own. Judging from Penelope’s pleased, upturned face, Colin suspected the sentiment was returned.“Oh, drat!” Mum exclaimed suddenly, “I’ve forgotten the clotted cream—”“I’ll get it, Mum,” said Colin, pushing her into his vacated seat. “Catch up with Pen, go on.”She didn’t need to be told twice, reaching across Eloise (who looked simultaneously amused and put upon) to clasp Penelope’s hand.“Penelope,” he heard his mother saying as he went inside the house, “Eloise showed me your photoshoot—”He held his breath. His mother wasn’t a prude (she had eight children), but she was still a mum, and despite her good intentions, there was a chance she’d say something that would hurt Penelope’s feelings. After hearing of Portia’s reaction, Colin felt terribly protective of Penelope’s feelings.“Such beautiful photos! So artistic. You must be very proud, dear.”He sensed Penelope relax without looking and heard her shyly murmur thanks. Colin relaxed, too, and continued indoors, wondering why he had ever doubted his own mum.When he returned with the clotted cream, the conversation still hadn’t moved on. Colin slipped into the open chair next to his mum and briefly met Penelope’s gaze. He smiled. She smiled back, but her attention quickly returned to the topic at hand.“Do you know what Agatha said when I told her and Marcus about you and Benedict becoming models?” A wicked little spark appeared in his mother’s eye. “If only I were twenty years younger!”“She doesn’t need to be,” said Benedict saucily. “Genevieve doesn’t discriminate between age or gender.”So Agatha Danbury was a better candidate for modelling lingerie than Colin, was she? Benedict grinned at him, and Colin knew his brother was riling him up on purpose. For some reason, he felt like everyone at the table was prodding at him or laughing at him, and he didn’t like the feeling.Another hour went by. Hy and Greg showed each other Tiktoks, Eloise started texting on her phone, and his mum chatted happily with Penelope and Benedict. Colin ate his fair share of scones, listening to the chatter and felt his brain short-circuit at one point when Penelope licked a dab of clotted cream off her fingers.He forced himself to look away. It seemed safer not to look in her direction in general. Too risky.The girls went inside to ooh and ahh over a floral arrangement Marcus had sent to Mum that morning, and Colin decided to join them.He overheard Penelope’s voice in the den, her voice and Eloise’s carrying down the hallway.“He doesn’t,” she said firmly. “I’m done making a fool of myself.”“Who doesn’t?” asked Colin, approaching her from behind.Penelope spun around, her eyes widening at the sight of him. “Colin!”He took in her expression and instantly felt guilt wash over him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”Eloise cut in before Penelope could answer. “We’re heading out. Can I get a lift?”“Sure.” He glanced at Penelope questioningly.“If it’s not too much bother,” she said.“No bother,” he said, eager to be helpful.He dropped Penelope off first, wishing he could follow her out of the car and invite himself into her flat. He had no reason at all to do such a thing, however, and Eloise was still in his backseat, texting again. He was vaguely curious about who she was talking to but not curious enough to ask. She would probably tell him to mind his own business anyway.Colin got out of the car when they arrived at Eloise’s to use the loo. Maybe he ought to have used that excuse to drop in at Pen’s. Annoyingly, he hadn’t thought of it until it was too late.Eloise, oddly enough, walked him to her door, a weirdly solicitous act that made him wary.“Thanks for dropping me off,” she said. Now he was really weirded out. Eloise had never thanked him for chauffeuring her anywhere before.He didn’t know why he asked. He shouldn’t have been so nosy.“What was Pen talking about earlier?”“What do you mean?”“She said she was making a fool of herself.” The back of his neck grew warm under Eloise’s scrutiny. “Is—is she alright?”“Nothing she hasn’t dealt with before,” said Eloise mysteriously. “Why? Are you worried about her?”He shrugged, trying not to take offence at the fact that Eloise thought it was weird for him to worry about Penelope. “She’s my friend, too. And she said her mum wasn’t talking to her.”“I’d consider that a blessing,” his sister quipped, the exact same joke he’d made, before adding, “She’s fine.”It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he’d done anything wrong, but he held the question back. Eloise would definitely misunderstand, and he wasn’t up to explaining himself and his guilty thoughts. She didn’t need to know he was internally panicking over the outlandish idea that he had offended Penelope by saying he would never send her dick pics.Because that was crazy. It didn’t make sense.“Earth to Colin,” his sister said, waving her palm in front of his face.“Sorry,” he said, blinking.“Are you alright?” she demanded.“Of course. I’m great.”Eloise gave him a look. “You seem distracted.”“I am, I suppose,” he confessed, making a face. He couldn’t say he was having trouble focusing on work because he was daydreaming about her best friends’ breasts, so he said, “Writer’s block.”The fact that Eloise had noticed something was wrong was pretty impressive. That she had asked about it was doubly so. He told her he was touched by her concern as he reached out to lovingly ruffle her hair. She’d grown up when he wasn’t looking, just like Pen.“I’m not entirely selfish. I notice things, too,” Eloise replied smartly, dodging his hand. “By default, I’m pretty oblivious. But I think we all suffer from the same curse.”“What?”“Nevermind,” she said, giving him a half-hug. “Hope you find a cure for your block.” * “Colin.”
Her voice was breathy and sweet. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring up into Penelope’s pretty, pretty face.

He reached up in wonder. “Penelope?”

“Colin, why?”

Her silky robe was slipping down her shoulder, distracting him. “Why what?”

“You’ve never sent me any.”

“Sent what?” he asked, confused.

She leaned down and whispered the two words into his ear. His eyes widened in shock as a little pout formed on her lips.

“You really don’t want to?”

Colin swallowed thickly. “Women don’t like getting dick pics.”

“Hmmm,” said Penelope, inching closer to him. She ran the tip of her finger down his belly, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his joggers.

“I… respect you,” he gritted out.

She frowned at him, and leaned forward. He noticed suddenly that she was wearing a very familiar looking yellow bra that only barely fit—her breasts threatened to spill out of it, and the slightest touch would reveal her nipples to the air.

“You respect me?”

“Yeah.”

Her finger slipped beneath his waistband. “But I don’t want your respect, Colin…”

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice coming out huskily.

Penelope leaned in even closer. “I want your—”
Colin jolted awake.Shit.He stumbled to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror.“You absolute wanker,” he said to his reflection. He looked down at his tented boxers, and cursed.He had to stop looking at Penelope’s breasts. He had to stop thinking about Penelope, period. He was toeing the line of turning into a complete and utter creep, and the consequences of that could be dire, to say the least.Stopping was a must, he knew that intellectually, morally. But the compulsion was too strong to resist, and Colin briefly wondered if this was what it felt like to have a porn addiction. He barely even watched porn, so the concept was foreign to him. It was just — he licked his dry lips as he loaded Instagram, navigating to his saved posts — he had this insane obsession that wouldn’t go away.Unresolved, his brain helpfully quipped. The unknown, the untouchable. Of course, he was obsessed: he could never have it — STOP. She’s not an it! She’s a person! She’s Penelope! He was ashamed of himself, he really was, but he couldn’t help himself.That photo haunted his dreams, and rightfully so.It was the photo that had launched a thousand dick pics, so to speak.More to the point, it was all of his teenage fantasies come true: Penelope Featherington topless, voluptuous breasts covered by her tiny little hands. Hands that weren’t big enough to shield everything, far from it, so the edges of her nipples were clearly visible behind her tapered nails. Sixteen-year-old Colin would have died on the spot.Everything inside of him clenched whenever he looked at this post. Because he’d known it: her nipples were big and they might even be the same shade of pink as her lips. He wanted to fill his hands with them and see the tips peek out between his fingers. He wanted to pinch and roll them until Penelope told him to suck them with his mouth.Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was doing it again, fantasising about Penelope’s breasts as soon as he was awake and making his morning wood worse.He tapped away from the pic with a groan, desperate for relief from this strangling, untenable desire.Strangely enough, his For You page today consisted of a lot of posts from an account he didn’t recognise. It didn’t click until he scrolled past a particular post of the account owner — a businessman named Aarón Díaz — in all his shirtless, oiled glory. He wasn’t in the habit of admiring other men’s bodies, but he could admit that Díaz was properly ripped. A specimen, as Benedict would say whilst wiggling his eyebrows. Then his eyes fell on the comment section, and a feeling blossomed in his chest that he didn’t care to name.Colin stared at the image for much longer than he had any business to, and the comment that Penelope had left beneath it:
eres tan sexy!!!
He didn’t need to know how to read Spanish to know what that meant. He stared at it in horror.The man was unhinged. His response to Penelope’s short comment was an entire paragraph long. Colin had to scroll to see all of it. Grimly, he copied and pasted it into Google Translate. His stomach felt queasy while reading it because it was absolutely horrendous. Granted, he’d translated it, but Colin knew — he knew — that it was badly written, even in its original language.Surely Penelope wouldn’t be moved by this blatant, uninspired drivel? She was a writer, herself, when she wasn’t editing for others.
Come to Spain, beautiful lady, and stay at my Villa. You are a goddess, deserving of worship. I look at your photo every night, and crave your presence next to me. We would spend long, lazy days drinking wine, soaking in the sun, exchanging stories long into the early hours of the morning.
Penelope didn’t even like Spain. At least, he didn’t think she did. He couldn’t remember if she’d ever been there. He had been himself, several times now, and enjoyed himself so thoroughly he’d planned to visit again at the end of the year, time permitting.Colin’s lip curled. Spain had suddenly lost its lustre, and his erection was gone, too. Small favours and all that, he supposed, darkly.His day went from an Uncomfortable and Guilt Ridden Start to Even Worse, Thank You Very Much, because Eloise texted him not long after he’d showered, begging for an emergency Soup delivery — she was apparently sick as a dog and the only cure was vegetarian Pho.He almost texted back a refusal, but that was distinctly mean and unfair. It wasn’t Eloise’s fault that the evidence of his debauchery had swirled down the shower drain. It wasn’t her fault either that he couldn’t disassociate her from her best friend. So he procured said Pho, drove to her flat, and let himself in using the same entry code from two years prior back when he and El had unwisely spent three months being roommates. They didn’t speak of that time if only to keep their (mostly) loving sibling relationship intact.The door to Eloise’s bedroom was ajar, and he could hear her talking to someone.“... Spanish Daddy?”The voice that responded was tinny but familiar. Colin couldn’t make out the words. He hesitated, and then made his way across the room.“I’m going to have to put a bra on in a minute,” he heard as he came closer. Colin almost tripped as he reached the door.It was definitely Pen’s voice.He promptly stuck his head into the room. “Hi.”Eloise turned around, surprised, but Colin’s eyes were fixed on the laptop screen in front of her, where Pen’s face was visible. Her hair was piled messily atop her head and her cheeks looked adorably flushed, like she’d just done ten laps around the block. She wasn’t visible from the neck down.“Hi,” she said, giving him a friendly wave. Nothing out of the norm, at all. Not a single hint of anything remotely amiss. Not the face of someone planning to escape to the continent and set up a love affair with a beastly Spanish business tycoon.Colin waved back.He lifted the takeout container, not looking at Eloise as he spoke. Fresh embarrassment stirred in his gut, tempered by disappointment and a fair smattering of eagerness to get his fill of looking at Pen. “Brought your soup. Piping hot.”“Call you back later,” Eloise said. Colin didn’t even have a chance to say bye before she ended the call. Pen’s image flickered into darkness. “Gimme.”“Who’s Spanish Daddy?” he asked abruptly, hoping the element of surprise would confuse Eloise into answering.Sadly, his attempt didn’t work. She smirked and reached for the bag. “Thanks for the food. You’re a lifesaver.” * Colin realised that he needed to work on his online presence.One of the things he’d learned in his writing workshop was that the modern successful author wasn’t just a writer: they also had to be his own marketing department and social media intern. A robust following was key.OK. He could do that.He had a decent number of followers already, but more couldn’t hurt. Posting regularly was important. His last post on Instagram was from nearly a month ago, in an airport. Sort of a last-minute announcement of sorts, to let everyone know he was heading home. He wasn’t in the photo itself, either, which probably wasn’t good for building a brand.Hmm. He could start with a selfie. He snapped a quick photo of himself at his desk, wearing nothing but his pj pants and with tousled bed hair — hoping it would seem approachable and relatable.On second thought, he decided a bit of hair gel was probably a good idea. Colin went to the bathroom and fixed his hair.And, perhaps the bed was a better background. He considered it. Yes, that seemed like a good spot. He rumpled his sheets a little to make it look lived in. Like he’d just gotten up, rolled out of bed, and put on his sweatpants. Natural. Sexy, even.Would it be better to lounge in bed, or did that seem too… much? He eyed the bed critically, conflicted. Too much, he decided, after some contemplation. He sat on the end of the bed, spreading his legs slightly. Leaned forward so that his abdominal muscles appeared more prominently. They weren’t at their best, as he’d indulged in biscuits a bit more than usual since returning to London… he felt a momentary flash of doubt, thinking of the gleaming six-pack he’d seen earlier. Colin rubbed his belly. Nevermind. He would just hit the gym more often. It wasn’t a problem.A brilliant thought occurred to him. He bounded from the bedroom to the kitchen, searching wildly for it — there it was! The yellow mug with a big black ‘C’ emblazoned on it. Colin snatched it up and hurried back to his room, resuming his former position on the edge of the bed. He held the mug casually on his knee, and took the photo with his free hand.It was… okay. The pose was a bit stiff. He tried again. The photo came out better the second time, but his expression looked dumb. The third time proved to be the charm, however: Colin particularly liked the way his expression came out. Just a wee bit of a smoulder. He uploaded the photo and wrote a simple caption: Morning coffee.The mug was empty, but no one would be able to tell from the picture. Colin clicked on it and tagged Penelope’s handle. His heart raced a little as he did it, which he tried not to think too hard about. He wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation with himself. Yet. Because if he did, he knew there was a good chance he’d look at all of this and realise it was all very stupid and reckless. He went back to his laptop and attempted to get more of the next chapter written.True to her declaration that she was ‘perennially online’, barely any time passed before he got a notification that Penelope had liked his post. She didn’t comment, though. Not even a ‘nice mug’. Which was a shame because she had gifted it to him three Christmases ago and it was his favourite mug. He used it all the time. Some acknowledgement would be nice.Suddenly cranky, possibly from caffeine withdrawal, Colin shut down his laptop and decided to go grab a coffee and clear his head. He was getting nowhere writing, anyway.The following day, he posted a photo of himself at the gym working out in a sleeveless white top. The armholes were cut wide and loose, showing off some of his chest. It was a good look and got him a bunch of new followers.Fife commented on that one, something about hitting the gym together, and Colin blocked him. Arsehole. As if Colin would be interested in working out with a loser who sent dick pics. There was a time — years and years ago — when Colin would have tried to act cool in front of someone like Fife to impress him… but thankfully, he had grown out of that phase. * Another day passed without much progress on the writing front. He avoided social media, if only for his own peace of mind — and no notifications came in to distract him from his blinking document cursor.Colin tried editing instead. He went back and reread the earlier chapters of his work, hoping inspiration would strike. Maybe the path forward would come as he started from the beginning.It didn’t work. He hadn’t expected it to, not really. The problem was his mood — despondent and silent. Writing could be so lonely at times. Staring at a computer screen, willing the words to pour out… not knowing how they would be received, whether all of it was drivel or not.Perhaps what he needed wasn’t inspiration but feedback? He selected a section that was a bit sexier than the rest of the chapter. Written recently, in fact, so it was unseen by any eyes except for his own. Colin felt restless and in need of… something. A morale boost. Attention. A dopamine hit.He chose a font, carefully. Easy to read, but different enough to catch the eye of anyone scrolling. Serif, because he didn’t do non-serif, he was pure class that way. Colin adjusted the font size. Added a border, then thought better of it. After several more agonising design decisions and subsequent changes, he was finally happy with the result: it was a white square with black text on it. Perfect.As soon as he’d put the finishing touches on his work and hit post his phone rang.“You busy? Ant and I are heading to Will’s bar tonight.”“On my way,” said Colin, feeling suddenly restless. He looked at his post, watched as the likes began to pour in, and forced himself to put his phone away.Thirty minutes later, he was striding into Mondrich’s. Ant and Ben were at the bar already deep into drinks and chattering with Will himself. It was Friday, so he was bartending, and the easy smile he tossed Colin’s way (along with a tall beer) settled the nerves in Colin’s stomach somewhat.Fridays at Mondrich’s was one of the things he’d missed the most about London. He said so aloud. His brothers laughed, teased him a bit about his itchy feet, and then Anthony launched into a story about Kate and New York and a missing dog toy. Colin half-listened as he played on his phone, first checking his email and then his Twitter (not calling it X, nope, never) and finally his Instagram notifications.Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Except for a bunch of likes and some DMs from women he didn’t know and didn’t care to know — he blocked and deleted the rude ones — then placed his phone face down on the bar counter, once again disappointed.“El said you’re struggling with writer’s block,” Anthony said, noticing his frustration. “So it’s resolved, then? I saw your post this morning.”He probably didn’t have writer’s block. Hopefully. Surely, he was just distracted. But he couldn’t explain why he was distracted and he certainly couldn’t envision himself letting the words Spanish Daddy pass his lips, so Colin just half-nodded, half-shrugged.“Pretty spicy scene, that.”Anthony lifted an eyebrow. Oh bugger. That gleam in his eye. Colin hated it. He was about to ask something wholly inappropriate, something Colin really didn’t want to discuss. Partly because Colin didn’t like to lie, and he would have to lie, because Anthony followed up with, “Writing from personal experience?”“Made it all up.” Colin popped the p at the end of the sentence for emphasis. “That’s why it’s called fiction.”Ant smirked, clearly not convinced.Colin ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck and took another swig of his beer. Anthony would never figure it out, anyway. He didn’t notice women who weren’t Kate, didn’t even look at them, and Colin wasn’t sure Anthony could even tell him what colour Penelope’s eyes were if pressed for an answer. He’d probably say ‘brown’, thinking of Kate. Which was stupid because Penelope’s eyes were astonishingly blue, standout blue, big and trimmed with thick lashes as potently red as her hair. Those blue eyes had gotten her quite a lot of attention recently, combined with other things she had, but Anthony either didn’t know or didn’t care.Benedict knew, though. Colin slid his eyes shiftily to his other brother and immediately looked away.His stomach clenched. Fuck. The passage had been too obvious. He should have changed it more. Made her eyes brown and her skin tanned so it could have been about any of the girls he met in Greece. The rest of it wasn’t very specific, he thought. All women had soft skin, didn’t they? Not just Penelope. Right. Loads of women had spectacular breasts, generous curves and cute little toes. He hadn’t actually used the word ‘redhead’.There was no evidence, and Benedict couldn’t say anything. Except, of course, he always did because he wouldn’t be Benedict otherwise.“Funny, that. It felt familiar, didn’t it?” he said, his voice taunting Colin thoroughly. “Like someone I’ve known all my life.”Ugh.Anthony leaned in, his interest piqued. Since getting married, he’d become much more of a busybody. Pre-Kate Anthony and Post-Kate Anthony were two different people: a workaholic real estate mogul versus a happy, workaholic real estate mogul with better work-life balance. He was insufferable now that he believed in the transformative power of Love. Most of the time, his disapproval was directed at Benedict, who was Absolutely Not Interested In Settling Down, but tonight, he seemed to be latching onto Colin for some fearful reason.“You’re interested in someone? Do I know her?”“You’re turning into our mother,” Colin said.Anthony looked offended, but that didn’t stop him from prying. “I’m just showing an interest in your life as your big brother.”He was about to say something rude when his phone pinged. He looked down. A notification. He swiped it open, hope bursting forth in his chest at the sight.Penelope had liked a post. He refreshed the page. Another notification. Colin’s stomach did a little flip, and all thoughts of getting Anthony off his back immediately faded into nothing.She’d commented. Liked and commented — on his saucy book excerpt, no less — with a single emoji: 🔥“Ah. Definitely interested in someone,” said Anthony, grinning at the look on Colin’s face.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” said Benedict, giving him the eye. “What’s got you all chipper?”“The sight of my beloved family, of course,” said Colin, picking Auggie up from Daphne’s lap and kissing his curly head. “And my favourite nephew. Have you missed your uncle?”He grinned at Daphne as he flopped into the seat next to her with Auggie. “Hey, sis.”It was Sunday. The sun was high, the birds were chirping, and Colin had walked onto Daphne’s backyard patio with a spring in his step. The pool behind them looked enticingly cool and refreshing, reflecting the perfect blue skies above– a gorgeous day. Colin had woken at the crack of dawn and set to writing. He’d written a thousand words before he even took a break for coffee. The previous day he’d written triple that. And Friday night, after drinks at Will’s? It was like a dam had broken, unsealing a current of verbiage that knew no bounds. Glorious. He was a machine, churning out page after page. Posting that excerpt had been the right decision. He’d received tons of feedback, almost all positive, and Penelope had even texted him to say she wanted first dibs on a signed copy when his book was published. Pleasure thrummed through him whenever he thought of that bit of praise. It felt earned. Penelope had two books under her belt and she’d edited several bestsellers. She knew what good writing looked like. If she liked his stuff, well… he was beyond chuffed. Speaking of Penelope — he looked around and noticed something was amiss. He’d expected her to be here. “Anybody else coming?” he asked casually, giving Auggie a sip of his lemonade. He didn’t normally share food or drinks, but children and girlfriends were the exception. There just hadn’t been many of the former until now, and it had been a while since he’d had anyone fill the position of the latter. Relationships were tough to maintain when you spent most of your time hopping continents.Daphne looked around. “I think that’s all of us. Unless Frannie is flying in from Scotland and I wasn’t informed.”“That would be a no,” Eloise snickered.“She’s here in spirit,” said Anthony, nodding towards the empty seat at the end of the table. “Kate, too. She had an appointment.”Hyacinth and Gregory both seemed to find this very funny, which it kind of was, but everyone knew better than to make fun of Anthony when he had that bossy, big-brother tone going on. “Who’s missing?” his brother demanded. “Well, Penelope usually joins us,” Colin said, even more casually. “She was at Mum’s last week.”“This is a family meeting,” said Anthony, shooting a look in his direction that made him want to squirm. “We need to discuss family matters.”It was on the tip of his tongue to say Penelope was as good as family, and Anthony was being very offensive and rude but everyone around the table was giving him the eye — including Simon, who seemed confused more than anything else — so Colin held his tongue. “It’s Auggie’s birthday, and as the eldest grandchild, he deserves a birthday party to remember,” said Anthony solemnly, giving Daphne a nod. Her mouth twitched, and she nodded back. “Of course, all of our future children will be given the same treatment—”Eloise scoffed, clearly about to butt in with a comment about how given the overpopulation of the planet and the unhindered march towards global heat death she was never having children, but Anthony cut her off with a raised palm: “—biological or otherwise. Eloise wants to adopt. Which is very lovely of her, but I digress. I think you’re all aware that August's birthday celebration this year will be a milestone for our family.”“Will it?” asked Simon, raising an eyebrow. “Marcus is going to join us,” Anthony said. The siblings exchanged weighted glances. “He’ll be bringing his children. One of them has a toddler close to Auggie’s age. It’ll be the first…” He paused, searching for the right word, “... blending of our families.”No one said anything for a moment. Simon looked around at all their faces, before glancing at Daphne. “Babe? You guys okay?”“Of course,” she replied, her expression a stony mask.He looked to his best friend, his other eyebrow joining the first. “I thought you liked Marcus.”“We do,” said Anthony curtly. “Marcus is great.”“You don’t seem thrilled about this, uh, blending.”“How old is this kid?” interjected Gregory, ignoring Simon’s line of inquiry. “Is he bigger than Auggie?”“And his mum? Is she taller than me?” asked Hyacinth. “She’s nearly thirty, so I would imagine so,” said Eloise. Anthony leaned in. “Between all of us we can keep eyes on him at all times.”“On who?” asked Simon, his expression turning wary. “Marcus obviously. He’ll have plans. We have to act accordingly.” “The usual?” said Colin, tickling his nephew beneath the chin and earning a squeal of laughter from the tot. “Divide and conquer?”“Dividing who?” Simon demanded, looking around wildly. “Conquering what?” “I won’t let him out of my sight,” said Hyacinth, ignoring Simon. “Promise.”“Why—”“I’ll distract the other parents,” said Benedict. “The mums love me.”Simon looked at his wife again. “Babe,” he protested.“Don’t scare him off,” Anthony reminded them, sternly. “We can’t let Mum suspect a thing.”“We know,” said Hyacinth.“Absolutely,” agreed Eloise.“Remember the goal,” added Anthony. “Don’t fuck this up for Mum.”“Ring on her finger by the final fiscal quarter,” agreed Daphne. They all nodded in tandem.“Okay,” said Simon, slumping back in his seat and shaking his head. “I hate you all.”Everyone around the table laughed, and the tension broke. Daphne grinned and reached out to cup her husband’s jaw with her hand. “You’re too easy.”“Three years married, two years a father, and I’m still not used to you lot,” he muttered. Penelope would have been in on the joke, Colin thought, grinning at Simon. Then again, she’d grown up with them. Simon didn’t have that luxury. He liked the man his sister had married, but Penelope was a lot funnier and cleverer than his brother in law was. Anthony drummed his palms on the table and announced, “Meeting adjourned! Time for food!”Cheers erupted from the teenagers and Colin. Daphne took Auggie back from Colin’s lap and led the way to the large dining room, where a mouth-watering spread had been laid out for them. Colin wanted to follow his stomach to its desired destination, but he was waylaid momentarily by his brother. “Penelope can come to the next one,” said Anthony, clapping Colin on the shoulder. “It does feel like someone’s missing.”“She’s practically family,” Colin agreed.“Mm,” said Anthony, noncommittally. “Practically.” His phone buzzed, and Colin could have sworn he heard Anthony mutter something that sounded like could be official as he reached to answer it.“Kate,” said his brother, promptly losing interest in whatever this weird conversation they were having was. Colin shrugged it off, and went to join the others. The sound of their boisterous voices carried halfway through Simon and Daphne’s huge home. Loud was a Bridgerton trait, and it couldn’t be cured. Benedict lay down a twenty pound note on the table as Colin approached the large oak doorway. “Two weeks.”“Surely not,” said Gregory. “You’re giving him too much credit. He’ll crack in under a week.”“Absolutely not. You have to take into account the denial—”“And how dumb he is—”“Yes, precisely.”“One week,” said Gregory, setting down his own money. “Twenty days,” said Hyacinth. “One month,” Eloise chimed in. Colin burst into the room. “What are you betting on? I want in.”Four faces looked up at him, and Hyacinth gave a little giggle. “Nope,” said Benedict. “Not you.”“Why not?” he demanded. Benedict smiled widely, and it hit him.“You’re betting on me?” No matter how much he scowled and wheedled and tried to bribe, no one would tell him what the bet was about. Colin ate his brunch, shooting dirty looks at everyone save for his nephew. “Mario Kart?” said Gregory when he was done, pushing back from the table.“You’re on.” The boys — Gregory, Colin, Benedict — went into the family room, where every video game console on the market was hooked up to a massive flatscreen tv. The girls went outside to relax by the pool, while Simon and Anthony went to Simon’s office to talk business. Colin had won the first three rounds by the time the two men joined them. “Ah, perfect timing.” Benedict gave up his controller to Anthony, swiped at his phone, then leaned out the window. “ELOISE!”All the heads in the room snapped towards him as he hollered, “PENELOPE WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU’D RATHER HAVE VEGAN SAUSAGE ROLLS OR A MUSHROOM BIBIMBAP.”“BIBIMBAP,” Eloise shouted back from the courtyard. “NO EGG!”Anthony cursed, and the round was over. Gregory cheered as Colin lowered his controller. “You’re texting Penelope?”Benedict barely looked up from his phone. “Yeah.”He supposed that Benedict and Penelope were friends, too. He’d just never really thought about it. He hadn’t realised they were close enough to be texting one another. He hadn’t even considered the fact that they had each other's phone numbers, but of course they did. Benedict had known Penelope for just as long as Colin had known her. Benedict had been there every family vacation, graduation, and Sunday brunch. Benedict was just as fond of Penelope.Colin cleared his throat. There seemed to be something stuck in it, suddenly. “We’ve been talking about our photoshoot. Planning it.” Benedict tapped his phone, then yelled, “WHAT KIND OF BEER DO YOU WANT?” Eloise shouted something back that made Benedict frown.“WHAT?”Anthony slammed his controller down on his lap.“Go downstairs to talk to her and you,” he snapped at Colin, “Pay attention! Greg’s just won twice in a row!”“Sorry, sorry,” Benedict muttered, still typing rapidly on his phone. Anthony gave them both a death glare — Colin handed his controller to a smirking Simon, suddenly completely uninterested in playing. “What’s she saying?” he asked, watching Benedict type. “She wants my opinion on what piece she’s gonna wear,” Benedict informed him, completely brushing off Ant’s scolding and leaping back into their conversation.“So we can coordinate.”What, he wondered, did getting Benedict’s opinion entail exactly? Was she… was Penelope sending Benedict photos of the lingerie she was going to model? Photos of the lingerie, or photos of herself wearing the lingerie? His brain ground to a halt at the thought. Benedict’s phone suddenly became a glowing beacon of devastating secrets, calling out to Colin with the burning intensity of a thousand suns. A thousand burning images danced in his head, as well. Images that might be lurking on the device in his brother’s hands… images of Penelope, posed in a myriad different ways, her body clad… or not clad… in lace and silk. “I’m going outside,” said Benedict. “Penelope wants me to look at her cake.”Colin shot out of his chair and followed Benedict downstairs. “Her what?”“Cake. She’s baking dessert for us.” Right. Dessert. That kind of cake.“Who’s us?” he croaked.“Me and El.”“Why are you going over there?” he demanded.“Well, I thought maybe she could show me the different options in person.”Colin couldn’t speak for a moment. “You alright?”No. He was not alright. Colin stared at Benedict’s phone, fighting the urge to snatch it out of his brother’s hand and… do what exactly? Fling it into the bird fountain in Daphne’s courtyard? Stomp it into smithereens beneath his feet? He’d have to transfer whatever photos Penelope had sent to Benedict first, and then… and then… and then he’d… He’d… do nothing.He stood there for a moment, his good mood entirely dissipated. Daphne and Hyacinth had moved from the lounge chairs into the pool. Benedict joined Eloise on her lawn chair — it definitely wasn’t made for two, but he sat down anyway. Colin stomped over and blurted out, “Are you sure about this?”Both his siblings turned and looked at him. Benedict was amused, not even hiding that he was, but Eloise looked a little impatient. “What?”He cleared his throat, and asked doggedly, “This photoshoot. Won’t it be weird?”“Why would it be weird?”“It’s Penelope.”Their gazes weighed heavily on him. Particularly Eloise, whose expression was inscrutable. He directed his next question at her, certain that she would be his salvation and deliver them all from this terrible situation. Penelope was her best friend. They didn’t mess with that. It was sibling code. Surely, like Colin, she didn’t want Benedict ruining the closeness they shared? “It’s weird for you, isn’t it? I mean, he’s your brother. And Penelope is your friend.”Eloise looked him in the eye, and shrugged. “Not really.”That strange dryness came over his mouth and throat again. He swallowed it down as a strange sense of relief tangled with panic began to flutter in his stomach. “I think it’s weird.”“Well, it’s not,” said Benedict, his tone cheerful. “It’s going to be wonderful, and I’m really looking forward to it.”“You have my blessing,” said El, twisting the knife in Colin’s gut. Benedict grinned. “Thank you.”*That evening, he tossed and turned in bed, his dinner churning in his stomach. The thought of Benedict and Penelope being alone together while half-naked made his insides roil. But what could he fucking do about it? He didn’t have a right to stop them. Penelope was his friend, and Benedict was his brother, and if they wanted to take pictures of themselves in thongs there was nothing Colin could do. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t have a single good reason, a single claim to lay upon—except that he hated it, absolutely loathed the thought with his entire being. Sick. He was utterly and completely sick. Punching his pillow, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, where the shadows coming through the window blinds looked distorted and made him feel uneasy.The fact that it bothered him to this extent meant he probably had some soul-searching to do. But he wasn’t up for that. Not just yet. He slept fitfully, and had disturbing dreams not fit for reliving. By Wednesday, Colin was certain of one thing: Benedict was fucking with him.
hi hi guess where i am
Who did that? Who texted their adult siblings ‘hi hi’ like a psychopath? Gritting his teeth, Colin texted Benedict back.
where are you?
Benedict sent a selfie. The sofa behind him was a bit familiar looking, but Colin couldn’t quite place it.
????
A minute later, he received another selfie. Benedict lying on the sofa, holding up a plate of biscuits. Colin frowned, squinting.
????????
His question marks were met with a third, and final photo. Colin’s stomach did a weird little flip. He recognized the backdrop at last, and realised who that sofa belonged to. He’d sat on it many times before, albeit not recently. And there, in the photo, was Penelope. Her backside, to be exact. Bending over the sofa cushions, her denim-clad arse in the air. Blood rushed to an unmentionable place. He texted back furiously, WHAT THE HELLBenedict replied almost instantaneously with a series of emojis: 😮🧹🐜🐜🐜🐜Huh?
????????
i dropped some crumbs 🤪
what????

isn’t it obvious? she’s hoovering in case of ants
He wrote and quickly deleted an angry all capslock message telling Benedict not to take pictures of Penelope’s arse. Instead, he sent: why are you at Pen’s???🩲🩲🩲 Colin felt a gnawing sense of despair. The photoshoot.
really?? right now???
🌚That was it. No more favourite brother. No more expensive birthday gifts and international souvenirs. No more monthly edibles subscriptions, cider clubs, or freshly made omelettes after waking up with a hangover on Colin’s sofa. The limited exclusive gallery showing he’d intended to take Benedict to see on his birthday? Tickets shredded, dust in the wind. Fuming, he stomped around his flat, until at last he couldn’t bear it any longer. Colin threw on some pants, collected his keys and wallet, and exploded out the door. His feet (and gas pedal) took him straight to Penelope’s doorstep before he could stop and think about what he was going to say when he stormed his way in. When Penelope answered her door, Colin smoothed out the creases in his brow and smiled at her. “Hi Pen.”“Colin,” she said, surprised. She looked incredibly cute in her plain white t-shirt and denim cut off shorts. Colin swallowed. It wasn’t lingerie, but it wasn’t not lingerie, because anything could be lurking beneath that white t-shirt… beneath those shorts… or nothing at all, his brain supplied, unhelpfully.“Is Benedict here?” he asked, tone more harsh than intended.Penelope shook her head. “He left.”It was over, then? Colin fought to keep from grimacing. “Ah. No problem. I wasn’t looking for him for anything urgent.” That sounded horribly lame. If it hadn’t been important, why would he have come all this way? Penelope looked up at him, slightly bemused. Colin cleared his throat. “I, uh, it… it’s a bit of a sensitive matter.” Yeah. It was very sensitive. Benedict might have been seeing parts of Penelope he had no business seeing up close and personal. “But it’s not time-sensitive. If you know what I mean.”“You could wait here for him. He’ll be back later for the photoshoot.”Not yet then. Conflicting feelings surged within him. He wanted to ask if she’d shown Benedict the lingerie she was going to wear for the photoshoot, and if she wouldn’t mind giving Colin a little peek, too. “D’you want to come in, then?” she asked. He nodded. “Sure. Could use a drink.”A strong, stiff one. His eyes shifted down to Penelope’s arse in those jeans. He quickly brought them back up to the back of her head. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, and it swished as she walked. She had a bounce in her step, as always. He’d always thought it was cute, and it made her chest bounce, too. Appealingly so. “I’m baking cookies,” she said. “If you’re staying to eat half of them, you’d better get an apron on.”He followed her into her kitchen and ducked his head as she put a frilly dark blue apron with a cat printed on the front over his neck. She gave him a onceover that was slow, and travelled from the top of his head to his toes. Colin felt electrified by that look. Breathless, even. “Gorgeous.” She teased. “Matches your eyes.”“Not as cute as yours,” he managed to say, tugging at the pink apron Penelope was donning herself. Little hearts and butterflies dotted the border. He did his best not to notice (or dwell upon) the way it draped over her bosom, and the way the straps criss-crossed over her back to lovingly emphasise the round swell of her arse. Down, he told his stupid, stupid hormones. She walked over to the kitchen counter. “Chocolate chip, or oatmeal raisin?”“Chocolate chip, hands down. I had the most insane chocolate chip cookies in a bakery in France, once. It was unreal.”“How could I ever hope to compete with parisian cookies?”“Yours are better,” he said, loyally.Penelope grinned. “Thanks.” She gave him a lopsided, considering look. “It’s only been a little while, but do you miss travelling?”Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. “Not very much.”There was a lot to do, actually, to occupy his time besides writing. He had fully expected to be bored after a couple of weeks, but it turned out that London held certain immeasurable charms that couldn’t be replicated anywhere else. Being able to see anyone he loved within a half hour of walking out his door was top of that list. Eating Mum’s biscuits on the regular. Goofing off with Hyacinth and Gregory at weekly brunch. Drinks with Anthony and Benedict on Fridays. Bringing his little sister Pho when she was sick, visiting his nephew and watching him play football for the first time with his brother-in-law. Seeing his flat filled with souvenirs of his travels, choosing what photo to print and frame, what books stayed on his bedroom shelf and what books lived in the bookcases in the living room. Knowing it was permanent in a solid, grounded way. Roots, he thought. London was where he had roots. And Penelope, of course, was here. He’d missed her a lot more than he’d realised and wanted to admit.She stood before him, the girl he missed, her one eyebrow quirked. “What’s that sappy grin for?”“Just thinking about how much I adore London at this time of year.”She laughed. “Stinky, smelly, full of pollution, always under the threat of rain?”“No place like home,” he replied with a wink that made Penelope laugh again. Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she put the kettle on for tea.This, Colin thought. This was what he missed. The cosy feeling he got in his chest watching Penelope pull bowls and pans out of her cabinets. The domesticity of it wrapped around him, bringing memories to the forefront, reminding Colin of the summer he’d returned from Uni. Penelope had come along with his family, like she often did, to see Anthony’s newly purchased cottage that year. He injured himself on the first day of playing Pall Mall and had to sit out on the rest of the matches. Penelope, sweet adorable Penelope, volunteered to keep him company. Even better than that, she’d baked for him. Well, for everyone, but he liked to think it was for him, mostly, because she was sweet and wanted to cheer him up. He’d lapped up the attention with complete and utter relish. Penelope was great at baking. She made a fantastic peanut butter crumble that happened to be his favourite. A little bit of sulking (not too much) had earned him a promise that she would make him an entire batch for himself on birthdays and other special occasions (he was going to be very free with the definition of special, he’d decided right then and there, and of course he’d held to that). The memories came to a halt when she bent over the oven to check on the cookies and just like that, Colin’s newfound zen evaporated. The demonic hormones burst onto the scene, cackling, announcing themselves to have never gone away at all, ha! They’d been biding their time, waiting for the right moment to take over his lizard brain and send arousing messages to every cell in his body. It was Benedict’s fault, Colin thought despairingly. He groaned silently, feeling heat wash over him as he averted his eyes. He’d always been far too preoccupied with her breasts to take notice of her lush behind, but now he realised there was certainly a hell of a lot to admire. The tightness forming low in his gut was a bad sign. He was going to embarrass himself if he didn’t stop. Colin hastily recited Eloise’s tenets again in his head: Penelope is not a piece of meat.Penelope is NOT a piece of meat. Penelope is… he watched, mesmerised, as she bent over once more. Then she straightened and noticed his glazed expression.“Colin?” she asked. “Are you alright?”No. He wasn’t alright. “I’m fine,” he said. “Totally fine.”He wasn’t fine.She took the first rack out of the oven and set the cookies to cool on the counter. He automatically started to reach for one, but Penelope said, “These ones are for Benedict.”Colin was so not fine it wasn’t fucking funny.The look of betrayal he shot her was so potent she laughed. “Yours are coming out next.” She gestured at the cookies on the counter with her chin. “I just want to thank him for agreeing to do the photoshoot with me.”As if Benedict needed to be thanked. He should be grateful. He ought to be on his knees, thanking the stars and heavens above for granting him this incredible opportunity. There was a long line of men — and women — who would take his place in a heartbeat.“Benedict is on a diet,” he blurted out, suddenly.Penelope looked incredulous.“For the photoshoot,” Colin explained, brain chugging at full speed to keep up the absolutely untrue lie that had burst from him unintentionally. He patted his belly (which he sucked in) for emphasis. “His abs. They’re almost gone.” “He doesn’t need to diet,” she said, completely taken aback. “He looks great the way he is.”Colin forced a smile. “Yeah. I mean, he does. But you know, there’s a lot of pressure. And he… he’s insecure. So he probably won’t eat the cookies.” Inspiration struck. “As a matter of fact, he was saying he wanted to postpone things until he could hit the gym and get them back, but he was afraid to tell you.”Penelope’s brows drew together in concern and dismay. “I had no idea he felt that way.”He felt a stab of guilt. “He’ll get over it, I’m sure. He probably already has, or he’d have told you.”“I hope so,” she said grimly. “I didn’t spend the entire weekend getting waxed from head to toe only for him to cancel on me. I might actually kill him.”Colin’s brain stuttered a bit at hearing Penelope say she’d been waxed all over, and he found himself at a loss for words. “He didn’t seem like he was having second thoughts at all,” Penelope murmured. “Didn’t say a word about it. He only invited me to August’s birthday party.”Colin was startled by this news. “He invited you?” As like, a plus one, or something? Was that a thing that people did? Bring dates to kid’s birthday parties? Colin had never considered this possibility. Was Benedict trying to date Penelope? “More like… recruitment. Someone has to dress up as a fairy and read stories to the children,” she said, a cheeky little grin on her face. “I’ve been nominated.”Not a date, then. Colin relaxed a little. “You’ll do amazing.”“I hope so. It’s been impressed upon me that I must bring my A-game to the Blending.”He groaned. “Is Anthony seriously calling it that?”Penelope burst into giggles, the sound of her laughter rolling warmly around in his chest. “Yes! He’s being so sweet about it, really. It’s so important to him.”“It’s important to all of us,” said Colin. “Yeah.” She gave him a big, fond smile that made him flush from head to toe. “You love your mum a lot.”“Hopefully enough to survive the Blending.”She giggled again, which was exactly what he wanted to see: that wistful flicker in her eyes disappearing as he made her laugh. She was bound to be still tender about the stuff with her own mum. And maybe she was just a little bit anxious about Benedict disappearing. “He won’t cancel,” Colin assured her. “I’ll help you kill him if he does.”Penelope grinned and offered him a cookie. They chatted comfortably as he devoured it. Colin felt some of that awful tension release from his shoulders. It was alright, he thought with relief. He wasn’t too far gone after all — hadn’t lost his senses completely to ravaging hormones. At twenty-six, it was embarrassing to be so completely at the mercy of his libido. Penelope and her breasts had always turned his head, but this obsession was different and scary on a whole new level.Colin was glad that he could still talk to her, joke with her, and feel comfortable in her presence. Awareness of her proximity was definitely not diminished in any way, but at least it was manageable. He noticed Penelope checking the time. What would he do, once Benedict showed up? Leave? So that they could get to getting undressed in private? Surely he couldn’t stay and watch? Surely he didn’t want to watch. He glanced at Penelope, and imagined her stripped down to nothing but her knickers with Benedict’s arms around her. Ugh. Her phone vibrated, and she picked it up as Colin’s imagination conjured up all sorts of intimate poses and scenarios. When she set it down again, her tone was… not good, and that made his heartbeat kick up a notch. He knew what she was about to say before she said it. “Benedict can’t make it back,” she said, confirming his suspicions.Colin’s stomach swooped hotly. A part of him was elated, but the bigger part, the part that saw Penelope’s expression turn stiff, was furious. Benedict had flaked on her?“Why not?” he demanded, growling.She shrugged, clearly trying not to look overly dejected. “He didn’t say.”“He just — cancelled?”Penelope bit her lower lip. “Something must have come up. We’ll reschedule. I’ll… I’ll get waxed again, I suppose.”She was so damn sad about the waxing. Colin grimaced in sympathy. Penelope put on a brave face, and started cleaning up the kitchen, an air of disappointment clinging to her shoulders. Benedict’s cookies were placed in a tupperware container, but his jerk of a brother didn’t deserve them.There was a real possibility of fratricide in his future, Colin thought as he watched her do the dishes. Once Benedict was dead, Colin would put his flat on the market before he fled to Spain. No, not Spain. His lip curled, thinking of Spanish Daddy. France, then. He’d send Parisian bonbons to Penelope when he got there. She probably wouldn’t continue to associate with a brother killer, so he would have to do it anonymously. His mum would be devastated, but if she knew the stress he was currently under, she would surely understand he’d had no choice.It was on the tip of his tongue to offer to kill Benedict for her, but something happened to the words as they left his mouth, and what came out was a breathless, “I could do it instead, Pen. If you want.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I could do it,” he said, repeating himself when Penelope didn’t answer right away. “If you don’t mind.”She looked up at him, lips parted and seemingly at a loss for words. Her eyes were strangely intense as if she was trying to peer into his head and figure out something. Colin held his breath and waited, his body tense.The seconds ticked by, and he prepared himself for rejection, wondering how he was going to play it off like he wasn’t completely desperate to take Benedict’s place. What would he do if she said ‘No thanks, I’d rather take naked photos with your brother’?Perish, probably.He mentally prepared his tombstone, certain he was going to need it any second now — as soon as Penelope crushed his hopes and dreams. Here lies Colin Bridgerton: Writer, Traveller, Brother, Son… Deceased Via Humiliation… Gather Ye Round To Witness His Excruciating Descent Into Depravity! 
“Are you sure?” she asked, at long last. “Genevieve wants something very specific… a certain kind of vibe for this photoshoot.”“What vibe?” he asked.What was it that Benedict could do but Colin couldn’t?Penelope studied him for a moment, undecided. Then she said, “Seduction.”Colin’s heart skipped a beat, mouth nearly tripping over his own tongue as he blurted out, “I’m totally fine with that.”His mouth always moved faster than his brain, but here they were in total agreement: he was one hundred percent positively absolutely fine with that. More than fine. Enthusiastic, even.Seduction? Fantastic. Cheery-ho!He only remembered to be embarrassed after a moment of pause, in which it sank in that he’d sounded way too eager. What did she see in his expression at that very moment? The desperation he felt had to be obvious on his face. What if it scared her off?“Okay. If you — if you don’t mind.” Her voice was pitched a little higher than usual. She was nervous, too, and tried landing a joke: “I really don’t want to get waxed again.”Thinking about Penelope getting waxed wasn’t helping matters at all. He could hardly believe she’d agreed. He could hardly believe this was happening.“You never have to wax for me,” he said without thinking.Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Penelope looked stunned by what he’d let slip. He cursed himself thoroughly.“I mean, of course. I wanna help you out.”Yes, good. That sounded better than ‘I wanna see you bare naked and natural’. “Thanks.”A few more seconds ticked by in awkward silence. Then Penelope spoke again, oddly shyly, but also with the air of someone making an important announcement: “I have the briefs.”He blinked.“The ones Benedict was meant to wear. Genevieve sent them to me.”Oh. Right. Briefs. He was going to have to strip, too. Penelope was studying him curiously, her eyes trailing down his chest to his lower body. Deliberating if he and Benedict wore the same size, perhaps. Surely she wasn’t undressing him with her eyes… right?A shiver crawled down his spine as Penelope went into her bedroom and returned holding a paper bag. A pair of briefs — tight and black with Genevieve’s brand emblazoned upon the elastic waistband — lay inside.“Benedict hasn’t worn these, has he?” Colin asked, worry niggling at him.“No,” Penelope replied, amusement in her voice. “Brand new.”Good, but even otherwise he’d stiff upper lip it. As long as it meant he got to take photos with Penelope in her underwear he’d wear Benedict’s pants. A sentence he’d never thought he’d ever think, not in a million years.He hesitated, looking at the unworn briefs in question. An inkling of the trouble that awaited him began to dawn on Colin.They were really very tight.Like, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination tight.And he was pretty sure he was already starting to rise to the occasion simply at the thought of seeing Penelope in lingerie with his own two eyes — there was no way she wouldn’t notice.“You can wear your jeans over them,” Penelope said quickly, incorrectly reading his daunted expression as nervousness or embarrassment. “Genevieve told Benedict that as long as the band is showing, it’s fine.”“Okay,” he agreed, feeling a bit better about the exposure level he was committing to. His dick argued otherwise, wanting to make itself very well known to the woman who was driving it crazy.“Where are we taking the photos?” he asked, ignoring his lower brain.“Some in my bedroom, some on the sofa. Is that okay?”“Perfect,” he said, way too loudly.They stared at one another for a moment, the tension mounting thickly in the air. Colin could almost take a bite out of it. Penelope seemed frozen to the spot, watching him stand motionlessly with the briefs in his hand. Maybe she was having second thoughts?My abs are better than Benedict’s, he wanted to offer, but that was a dickish thing to say, surely, about your own brother, and it probably wasn’t true. Neither of them could compete with Spanish Daddy, anyway. Fortunately, Spanish Daddy was in another country and not likely to appear on Penelope’s front step anytime soon.“I’ll go get changed.” Penelope nodded towards her bedroom. His dick had no reason to get excited over the simple gesture. She wasn’t telling it to come with her.“I’ll change out here, then,” he said, giving her a thumbs up and then immediately regretting doing so.Penelope nodded, casting him a final glance (was it his imagination, or was it… searing?) before disappearing into her bedroom. She didn’t close the door all the way, which made him feel sort of funny in ways that were all Very Wrong and Bad.It took barely any time before she called out, “Colin? I’m ready for you.”Did she have to say it like that? His dick was definitely getting the wrong idea. He shoved down his jeans, shucked off his own underwear and dragged on the new ones, then hastily pulled on his jeans again.He made his way into Penelope’s bedroom, heart pounding in his chest. He’d been in here before, just once. When she’d moved in and given him the book she’d found for his mum. Back then the room hadn’t been furnished. Now it was well-decorated and cosy, with comfortable furnishings and fluffy linens.She was sitting on her neatly made bed. It didn’t seem quite right for seduction, his writer’s brain said silently. Seduction would be mussed up sheets and pillows thrown down on the carpet, but he didn’t dare voice such a sentiment aloud. Because it was perverted, and Colin’s thoughts were already creeping into that territory at the sight of Penelope wearing a black satin robe that was definitely not sheer, though it was pretty short and showed off her bare legs from mid-thigh down. She had knotted it tightly around her waist, so the material strained over her generous bottom.His curiosity shifted from what she might be wearing over her breasts to what she might be wearing over her lower parts.Fuck, he was already starting to sweat, and they’d only just begun.He was seriously glad Benedict had bailed. Colin might have to send him a thank you card. Definitely a thank you card, he thought, mesmerised by the sight of Penelope reaching up to pull her hair free of the ponytail she’d had it tied up in. Loose red waves tumbled down, cascading over her shoulder. The smell of her shampoo — flowery, delicate, intoxicating — wafted over him. The scent mingled with her perfume, something sweet and vanilla-y that she must have put on while changing… for his benefit? He fucking loved vanilla.“Looks good,” he said because she was clearly waiting expectantly for him to say something. ‘Good’ was an understatement, but he was a bit overwhelmed. “Really good.”“Thanks,” she said, her cheeks flushing a little more. Cute as fuck. “Are you ready?”“Yeah.” Why was his voice an entire octave lower? He sounded like a caveman.“The detail is on the back so I thought…” she trailed off, settling on her knees on the fluffy pale pink ottoman at the foot of her bed.Colin watched enraptured as the robe slipped off her shoulders to reveal her bare back. Whatever she was wearing barely covered any of it. He almost groaned at the sight of the black bow nestled at the small dip above her arse… he didn’t know how Genevieve had done it, he’d never seen such a thing, but Penelope’s knickers didn’t look like clothing at all but as though she had wrapped a long length of satin around herself and tied it into a perfectly positioned bow.One tug and she would bare all. Colin gulped, forcibly reminding himself he was a man and not an animal.“Where do you want me?” he asked, his voice rather rough. Caveman-ish. Apparently that was his new thing.“I was thinking off-camera for this one.”He deflated. Off camera? She didn’t want him in the photo?“OK,” he said. It didn’t matter. He was here. He got to see. Fuck the rest. “I can take the pictures, no problem.”“Can you do it with one hand? I have a tripod for my phone if you don’t feel steady,” she continued.One hand? Steady? Was he shaking from being in the same room as Penelope Featherington in a scrap of black silk? Maybe he was. He looked at his hand. It wasn’t shaking, but his insides sure felt wobbly as he studied the smooth expanse of Penelope’s back. Her skin was flawless everywhere, as far as he could tell. He wanted to run his hands all over her body to feel just how soft she was. That little black bow beckoned and teased, leaving him hot and bothered.“I thought we could have just your hand in this shot,” she said. “Reaching for the bow.”Colin’s mouth was dry. “Like I’m untying it?”“Yes.”Can I use my teeth? “I can do it with one hand.”As if in approval, Penelope shifted upon that silly, floofy ottoman, the motion raising her bottom slightly towards him.Oh, hell.He could picture it. Tugging on the end of that shiny ribbon until the entire thing came loose. It took every last bit of his waning resolve to resist doing so. There was nothing, as far as he could see, that held the silky thing she was wearing together save for the bow.Colin stepped closer until his knees brushed the side of the bed. They were a bit wobbly so he thought he’d sit down. That was a good idea, as it put him on a more even level with her — he sat at an angle on the bed, wedging one leg between the little gap between it and the ottoman.Penelope’s satin robe pooled along her thighs, slipping lower as he reached out to touch the little bow. He could tug it entirely free with not much effort. The fabric was so silky and light it would simply fall away from Penelope’s body, revealing the soft flesh beneath. From this angle, he’d see everything.She turned her head and looked back at him over her shoulder with those blue eyes… Colin swallowed thickly.“Ready?”He gave her a dazed, idiotic smile as she retrieved her phone from the bed, holding it out to him.His strength of character was so strong. It really was. He didn’t undo the bow, even as his hand tightened on it. He fingered it… fingered it thoroughly… teasing the soft fabric between his thumb and index finger.“Colin?”Shit. He shook himself out of his reverie. He’d gotten lost in fondling her ribbon. Colin seized the phone from her hand, still unable to tear his gaze from her arse. He wasn’t sure what his face looked like as he took the photos, but he was aware of Penelope watching him.He was glad the camera would keep his secrets. No one would be able to tell his heart was racing, or see the shaky tension in his grip. They’d just see his hand, so close to her skin, looking tanned next to her pale, creamy redhead complexion. They’d simply be jealous, wanting to swap spots with him. Wishing his hand was theirs. Wanting to be the one who was moments away from undressing her — everything these photos promised, and more.“D’you wanna turn around?” he asked, sensing his control slipping. He couldn’t look at her bottom anymore. Something Very Bad might happen soon if he did.Penelope nodded, and turned. Her knee slipped on the fluff of the ottoman — Colin reached out to steady her, and she ended up sitting on the bed next to him, her chest rising with the exertion of nearly falling. His eyes fell to her considerable cleavage, completely bared now she had lost the satin robe. Her breasts sat heavy and round, pushed up in the black satin bra that seemed to be fastened by a similar bow in the middle. It definitely gave the same impression: one little tug, and she’d be a feast for his eyes.This was dangerous.Penelope settled into a more comfortable position, drawing her legs beneath her — until she was kneeling on the bed, her hands on her thighs. She leaned forward, arching her back slightly… bringing her breasts more prominently into view.“Does this pose look alright?”It was better than alright. Their height difference was apparent even though they were both sitting on the bed. Genevieve’s theme was truly being fully realised — Penelope was every bit the seductress she was trying to embody. Her lips were parted and shiny as if she’d just licked them, and when she looked up at him through her curled eyelashes he felt as though she were begging for something far naughtier than some photos.Sucking in a deep breath, Colin reached for her without thinking, using his hand to tilt her chin up slightly. Penelope’s lips parted at his touch, and a little zip of electricity seemed to pass between them.“You look perfect like this,” he muttered, distracted by the velvety feel of her skin.He’d never touched Penelope’s face before. Her skin was incredibly soft, and touching her like this was agonisingly intimate. He couldn’t get enough of it. He held her face, unmoving, losing the plot.“Take the photo,” she murmured, shaking him free of his fascinated inertia.He hesitated, angling the camera to capture not just her face but also the shadowy depths of her cleavage. At the last second, he brushed his thumb over her lower lip before snapping the shot.Penelope didn’t move. Colin stroked her chin again, reflexively. She looked up, watching him, letting him pet her as he worked on taking photos. He might have been taking photos, but he couldn’t be sure, as he wasn’t looking at the phone at all, but at Penelope’s pretty face. Her eyes, her mouth, the enticing depths of her cleavage. She arched, very slightly, into his touch.He had the sudden, exhilarating thought that Penelope liked having his hand on her face and his eyes on her body. He drew his finger along her jaw, tracing a path from her chin to her ear. There was a liquid heat in her gaze that made him want to do something insane like bend down and—“Can I see?”Distractedly, Colin handed her the phone, realising that he was still holding her. He let go of her chin, missing the feel of touching her immediately. Penelope broke eye contact with a flash of something he wistfully imagined was disappointment.“Oh,” she breathed, looking through the gallery on her phone. “These are… good, Colin.”“It’s all you,” he said. “You’re gorgeous.”He was surprised by his own smoothness. Pleasure bloomed across Penelope’s face, turning her cheeks the colour of a ripe peach. She looked at the photos again before selecting one and sending it to Genevieve. Her phone pinged almost immediately in response.“She approves.”“Of course,” he said, hoping he sounded lighthearted. “Told you. Gorgeous.”“We should take more,” Penelope said, her voice warmed by his compliment. “I’ve got a second set. I'll go change.”It took Colin some mental effort to comprehend her meaning: a second set of lingerie. She gestured behind her at the walk-in closet, and he wondered what treasures lay within. She’d had an entire box of silky things a year ago when she’d just moved in — before Genevieve. He felt sure she had acquired more, and what he’d seen so far had been… exceptional. There were other words he could use, but he was trying to stay gentlemanly.“Okay,” he said, his mind wandering to the endless possibilities. He was starting to believe Genevieve Delacroix was an evil genius, one capable of reducing innocent men into mindless, horny bastards.Penelope stepped into the small walk-in closet, not bothering to close the sliding door behind her. Because she trusted him, and he’d almost done something unthinkable. The weight of that trust bore mightily on him. He’d always been a gentleman and treated all women with respect, but at that very moment, he felt untethered and slightly (a lot) out of control.Clearly, he ought to avert his eyes. So he turned, reluctantly, tearing his eyes away from Penelope’s back as she slipped deeper into her closet. As he did so, he inadvertently glanced into the mirror on the other side of the room. It faced the walk-in closet, reflecting everything within and allowing Colin a glimpse of Pen’s heavy breasts swinging as she discarded the black silk.He stood, shaking, mind whirring with the incredible fact that he had seen Penelope’s breasts. For the first time. Only for a fraction of a second, but all the same: he had seen Penelope Featherington’s breasts, in all their creamy, rosy-brown tipped glory.Moreover, he’d made the most fantastic discovery, one that would surely haunt his dreams: Penelope had a little beauty mark on her left breast, next to her nipple — right over her heart. It was small and cute and drove him wild. God couldn’t have come up with a better placement.He adjusted himself hurriedly, checking in the mirror to make sure his growing reaction to the situation wasn’t too visibly obvious.When Penelope emerged a few minutes later, he was still awed by his own luck — and too speechless to react. She was covered — or not, mostly not covered — by a skimpy pale blue lace thing. A baby doll, he thought, a weird name for something so outrageously sexy it had his blood roaring.Her hair trailed over her shoulder, the ends swaying just above the hint of nipple that could be seen through the lace. It wasn’t completely translucent, but sheer enough that he could almost make out the mouthwatering shadow of her areolas.Stunned, he stared in a silent stupor.“You should undo your zipper,” she said, and the words in combination with the baby doll and the copious amount of bare skin left him choking on his own spit.Literally. His eyes watered as he coughed.“I just meant—” Penelope’s face went red, and she mumbled, “Can’t see the briefs.”Of course. The briefs. Colin felt his own face heat up, and he suspected he looked just as embarrassed as Penelope did. Though it didn’t stop her from watching as he unbuttoned his jeans and half lowered the zipper. The brush of his fingers against his fly almost made him groan. He fought the urge to adjust himself. The extra breathing room was helpful, at least. Hopefully, the growing interest down there wasn’t too obvious.Colin shot a quick glance at Penelope and felt a flash of heat spark in his belly at the look on her face. Her pupils were dilated, and the rise and fall of her chest was more noticeable than it had been just moments ago.“Ready?” he asked, mouth terribly dry from the distracting sight of heaving bosoms before him.“Should I take off my—?” He gestured at his shirt. “It covers the band.”“Maybe, yeah,” said Pen.He left his undershirt on — a sleeveless, form-fitting ribbed vest — and draped his shirt over the sofa arm. He wasn’t sure if he should take all of it off, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d done crunches at the gym, and there was a pretty good chance Penelope had seen Benedict’s photos. Not that it mattered, but there was a possibility that Benedict had better abs than Colin did. He hesitated, waiting for her reaction.Penelope didn’t say anything, but her gaze lingered on his biceps for a flattering moment.“How are we doing this?” he asked.“Sofa,” she reminded him after a moment of staring. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth.Colin somehow managed to nod. “Sure.”He followed her into the living room and settled heavily into the sofa, cushions depressing under his weight. It was very comfortable, but he found his body was tense, his muscles tight with anticipation. Carefully, not too eagerly, he asked: “Do you want to sit on my lap?”“Okay.”In all their years of friendship Penelope had never once sat on his lap. Or even come close to it. She swung her leg gingerly over his hips and gingerly settled her weight on his thighs. He gripped the sofa so that he wouldn’t do something stupid like grab her arse.Her hand hovered over his belly, barely grazing his skin. “Is this okay?”“Yeah.”He kept himself very still as Penelope’s manicured fingers gently tugged at the hem of his tank, pushing the clingy material up over his navel. His stomach muscles clenched, half–reflex, half–intentional; he was pretty sure her eyelids dipped a fraction at the sight of his abs. She liked his stomach, he thought, a little spike of adrenaline coursing through him and making him flex those muscles again for her benefit. Penelope’s lips fell open ever so slightly.She touched him next, her palm coming to rest on his abdomen. For balance, probably, as she lifted her phone to take a photo, but her hand was shaky and the camera wouldn’t focus.“Let me do it.” Colin plucked the phone from her grip and held it higher aloft, changing the angle so that more of their bodies could be captured. He tilted it high enough to show the lower half of his face, a partial view of his jawline.She was so warm — hot was a better word for it — her heat seeping through the denim covering his thigh. The scrap of fabric covering her core was so thin it might as well have not been there. He wondered if she liked how the jeans felt against her skin, or if it was too rough? Did she want him to take them off? He studied her face for a trace of what she was feeling but he couldn’t read her.“Can I touch you?” Colin asked.Penelope blinked, the action slow and sexy. His stomach tightened of its own accord. Penelope’s eyes flicked down to his abs again.“For the photo,” he clarified.“Yeah,” she said, after a moment of shy deliberation. “You can.”God, she was cute.Colin slid his hand up her thigh, resting it on the generous curve of her bottom. She was warm and soft and he wanted badly to give a little test squeeze. But that would be groping, not touching. It was taking all his willpower not to clutch at her ass. He liked women with a little meat on their bones, curvy and sexy; and Penelope was exactly that. She also had the world’s greatest tits, so it was no wonder he’d been sporting a semi as soon as he stepped over the threshold of her apartment.“Come closer to me,” he urged, placing his fingers on the small of her back and exerting the lightest of pressure. “Put your face close to mine… yeah… like that.” He snapped another photo.Penelope shifted in his lap, her hips canting forward, and then she froze as she realised what she had done. He gripped her waist to keep her in place. The heat between her legs was astounding, penetrating his jeans and melting into his skin.“Picture,” she gasped out.Shit. He lifted the phone and snapped haphazardly. His hand was shaking, so it came out blurry.“Hold still,” he said to the crown of her head. He hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding quite so… commanding.Penelope came to a still, her chest grazing his… beneath the silky material of her baby doll, her nipples ghosted against his body. He couldn’t look down, but he was so fucking sure they were hard. Penelope’s nipples were hard, and she was on his lap, and he was seriously going to explode in his pants.Somehow, he summoned enough self-control to steady his hand and take one, two, five more shots.Shakily, he lowered his arm. Penelope reached up, at the same time, and the brush of her fingers against his wrist felt like a flame on his skin. He inhaled sharply and felt her falter for a moment before she took the phone from his trembling fingers.She scrolled through the photos as he studied the crown of her head, counting backwards from a hundred.“Colin,” she said, lifting her eyes to his with a slight frown that had his heart racing in dismay. She didn’t like them? She wanted Benedict instead? But all she said was a plaintive, “You’re barely in these photos.”He hadn’t expected that response. He’d been too busy staring at her tits and ass and too concerned with making sure he captured her in her full sexy glory to worry about being in frame, too. Wasn’t Penelope the point of all of this?“Let me take some,” she said.So she did, shifting back towards him, the honeyed heat between her thighs edging ever closer to his crotch. Shit. Alarm coursed through him as she made contact with that unfortunate specimen of poor self-control. There was no time to stop this trainwreck from happening… no time at all to fling her away from his hard-on like she was a hot potato… no time to school his expression away from the aroused grimace that had Penelope’s eyes widening.The camera shutter sound was deafening. Colin let out a groan that was equal parts involuntary and embarrassing. Fuck fuck fuck.Just biology, he wanted to say in panicked horror. A beautiful woman in lingerie writhing on his lap — who wouldn’t react? Penelope surely understood. They were both adults, both experienced… and there was no way she hadn’t noticed. His jeans were made of heavy cotton denim, but they weren’t supernatural and didn’t do much to batten the hatches so to speak. Colin avoided looking down at his crotch, but the heaviness between his legs was disturbingly obvious.
Pardon my erection, it’s just a constant companion when it comes to you.
“I think we have enough,” she said, her voice breathy against his jaw. Colin shivered, and reluctantly let go as Penelope climbed out of his lap, avoiding looking at him.A tension-filled silence hovered in the air.His hands felt chilly from the lack of contact, so he closed his palms. His blood was still throbbing from the weight of her body against his. She was soft and warm and he’d never be able to forget it. How it felt to have his thigh lodged between her legs… how her voice wobbled as she pressed against him.Penelope wrapped her robe awkwardly around herself. She could barely look him in the eye as she spoke. “Thank you.”“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone a bit uncertain, but it seemed like it was the right thing to say because Penelope gave him an oddly bright smile.He couldn’t decide if it was forced or not, and he wanted to die. Added to his tombstone: Sufferer of Perpetual Priapism, Sorrows And Prayers Abound—Penelope apparently felt like twisting the knife and hurrying his death along. Knowing how sweet and kind and generous she was, she likely thought she was being magnanimous and forgiving. She confessed, in a light, fortifying sort of tone: “It would have been awkward with Benedict, so… I’m glad it was you instead, Colin.”“Me too,” he said, babbling in response. “I mean, I’m glad you’re comfortable. With me. Because we’re friends, and I would never, ever, ever want to make you uncomfortable. Even if, you know… I mean, it’s just… I’m not… I wouldn’t…”He was rambling, and the more words that spilled from his mouth, the more bemused Penelope’s expression became. She watched him flounder, refusing to throw him a lifeline, waiting for him to get it all out. Stupid words. He was a writer, they shouldn’t be so difficult — what was he trying to say, again?Oh, yes: I respect you. Three simple words.But he wasn’t thinking respectful thoughts, at all. Far from it. He was spewing idiotic nonsense about friendship and comfort zones while fantasising about ripping Penelope’s robe off her body so he could get a good look at her nipples.He was fucked. He needed to withdraw, immediately, before more dire mistakes were made. But it was too late already: Penelope’s nipples were all he could think about.Then, now, next week, and probably forever.Worse than that, was a feeling in his chest he couldn’t ignore any longer. A fluttery, shivery sort of feeling, the kind that made him a little lightheaded, like he’d just been struck in the face. It was a feeling he got when he looked at Penelope, a slippery, devious sense of longing that had nothing to do with the desires of his dick or his caveman libido — it existed at the same time, irrevocably threaded through the pangs of lust that had kept him distracted. Every time she laughed, or smiled, or made a clever remark, it twinged in his chest, growing stronger.Tangible.Unignorable.Yeah. Colin was fucked, alright.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“If it feels good, Pen,” he said, his voice much lower than it had any right being, “Keep going.”

Like an answer to his prayers, a little throaty sound came from Penelope, soft and hot. Her hips rolled against his thigh, and she leaned forward, catching a sensitive spot with the movement that had her biting her lower lip. Fuck, she was grinding her clit on his leg. He looked down, studying the dark spot on the crotch of her knickers, and felt like he might combust at the sight.

Her nipples were hard, visible through the sheer blue fabric. He could see them, all pointy and pouty, wanting to be sucked. She was already wet, but if he sucked on her nipples she would get wetter, and it would feel even better for her. He was halfway to opening his mouth to ask if he could make it better when she pitched forward again, pressing those incredible tits against his chest, and all powers of speech fled his body.

He watched as Penelope’s long, mascara–darkened lashes brushed against her cheek, her mouth falling open on a silent moan.

His name, wrapped in ecstasy.
The same fantasy played out in his mind every time he laid his head on his pillow, a hundred variations on a single theme. He woke up hard as a rock, each and every time, and there were only so many cold showers a bloke could take before his bollocks fell off.Was it possible to reach a degree of unsatiated blue balls that caused the mind to break? It might be happening already. Colin existed in a daze for two days, alternating between having nonstop fantasies about Penelope helping him relieve his blue balls or having horrible nightmares about Penelope telling him he was a terrible excuse for a friend. I knew you were the type to send dick pics after all, she sneered at him in those dreams, her expression overflowing with disgust as she stood behind the rippling six-pack of a man with an obscured face, who would take her by the hand and sweep her away to the continent, never to lay eyes upon Colin again. It probably didn’t help that he looked at the photos in every spare moment like a crazed man, unable to control himself from swiping through the gallery Penelope had sent him after their session. It was agony. They looked real. Upsettingly so. Probably because he wanted it to be real. He wanted it to be real so fucking bad he was choking on it. In between the fantasies and the self-flagellation, he did the long overdue introspection thing, too. The prognosis? He was a massive, fucking idiot.A massive idiot who had wanked four times in 48 hours, and still couldn’t stop thinking about his best friend’s eyes and mouth and scent and voice.
I’m glad it was you instead of Benedict.
Because he was Colin? Safe, dependable, friendly Colin? Colin, who had carried her luggage for her, who had secretly thought about the colour of her bras for years, who had always, always prided himself on being her friend? If she knew the truth about him, would she still feel that way? Because Benedict wasn’t like Colin. Benedict was just playing, teasing — he had no intentions towards Penelope at all. Benedict wasn’t obsessed with Penelope. He didn’t think about Penelope constantly. He didn’t want to come over to her flat and hang out with her all day, to show her his writing and seek her approval and admiration. Benedict didn’t want to hold her hand, to tuck her hair behind her ear, and to kiss her as though his life depended on it. Benedict wasn’t in love with Penelope. Seeing the photos — the intimacy, the sensuality, the way they looked so good together, so right — had set off Colin’s neurons. They fired, synapses connecting, bang bang bang epiphany: he was, assuredly, fervently, irrevocably in love with Penelope Featherington. He was in love with Penelope Featherington.It was so bloody simple. His physical reaction to her… his attraction to her… his obsession with her… of course. It was because he was stupidly, madly, deeply in love. What the hell was he going to do about it? Confess.
Kiss her, kiss her, take her to bed, and kiss her. Kiss her until she’s soft and willing beneath you and tells you she loves you too, and then kiss her again—
He was getting way ahead of himself. Sure, he’d had the earth-shattering realisation that Penelope was the woman of his dreams, but he had absolutely no fucking clue if she felt the same way about him. He was just Colin, after all, her best friend’s older brother. Maybe she, too, thought of him as off-limits, just like he’d thought of her for years.His thoughts ran in circles as he contemplated his newfound acceptance of his feelings for Penelope and the very real, very distressing possibility that she didn’t like him back. He was so preoccupied with agonising over his chances of successfully romancing Penelope that he didn’t notice, at first, that something momentous had happened. At the stroke of midnight on Friday evening, Genevieve posted the photos. Penelope hadn’t mentioned that the turnaround would be so quick, but then again, he’d been too busy lusting over her to ask for details. It was like an avalanche had been set off. His phone blew up. Like, really blew up. The notifications poured in at an astonishing rate, and it wasn’t until then that he realised exactly what his siblings had meant when they said Penelope had gone viral. Colin stared at his Instagram in awe. His DMs were full of requests. He’d gained nearly a hundred new followers, and when he went to check Penelope’s profile, he saw that she’d been inundated with the same level of engagement. The post itself got two thousand likes overnight. Bloody hell. He scrolled through the comments, bracing himself for… well, he wasn’t sure what, exactly. At first, it was fine. He blushed here and there, liking the comments about his illegal arms and delightfully hairy chest. A few weren’t so complimentary, but he chalked that up to jealousy, especially when the comment was attached to a profile picture of some bloke who didn’t have a single fucking chance with Penelope anyway. Colin’s lip curled when he came across three comments from Spanish Daddy, entreating Penelope to leave this unsatisfactory Englishman and come to him. Wanker. He refreshed the page, bringing up the latest comments — and almost wished he hadn’t. Colin’s heart sank. Everyone was talking about it. The final photo, the one that captured the moment Penelope had pressed her hot centre against his raging erection and immortalised him at his worst: mouth open, eyes fixed on Penelope’s breasts, an expression of fucked out bliss on his face. Yup. The entire fucking internet thought he’d come in his pants. Fuck. It simply wasn’t dignified to spam ‘That’s not my ‘O’ face!’ to strangers and followers — as much as he wanted to.The comments continued to pour in, all of them seemingly making fun of the state of Colin’s pants in the photo. With an aching head, he stared at the image in question and felt like he’d been doused in ice-cold water. Penelope must have seen these comments. She must have. She had eyes, she could read — he was well and truly fucked. What if she believed them? What if she thought he’d cum in his pants like the entire world seemed to?Or, worse… A cold sweat broke over his back. Had she realised it, too? Were his feelings as clear to her as they had been to him? It was practically written all over his face in those photos: IN LOVE WITH PENELOPE FEATHERINGTON.He needed to calm down. Penelope hadn’t said a single thing to hint that she was disgusted by him. Which either meant 1) she wasn’t, and everything was perfectly totally absolutely fine, or 2) she was secretly disgusted, but was far too polite to say so to his face, in which case he would have to book a one-way trip to Antarctica immediately. He could save the penguins! Surely that would impress her and make her forget about his unruly anatomy. Or not. Penelope probably didn’t care about penguins enough for the act to erase the traumatic memory of being pressed against her friend’s engorged dick. Did Penelope have a favourite endangered species of grass he could go and help plant? Preferably on the other side of the globe? Sadly, he didn’t think so.He groaned, and started making a mental list to curtail his unfounded fears:Penelope had sent him twelve texts in the last three days, a slightly higher-than-average number, which meant she was not avoiding him.Penelope had liked a lot of comments under the photoshoot post, including ones that said stuff like ‘y’all are sooooo cute together’ or ‘u sure ur single’ and his personal favourite, ‘giving big dick energy happy 4 u queen’.Penelope had sent him screenshots of people saying nice (if questionable) things about him in her DMs, ostensibly because she agreed with the sentiment of him being, direct quote, ‘hot and breedable’ (???).Right. She wouldn’t be messaging him if she thought he was a perverted, horny bastard. Colin told himself this over and over, but there was a tightness in his chest that wouldn’t go away. There were a lot of big feelings in there, too, all mixed up with the embarrassment and the horny want.Principal among them was hope. If she wasn’t turned off by now, maybe she liked him, a little bit. If he said he wanted more, she might be willing to give it a go. Not that she’d ever given any indication that she felt anything but friendship for him. A part of him was suddenly very aware of the fact that he didn’t know how she actually felt. The sexy dreams didn’t help. Colin was having a lot of sleepless nights. Which meant he had a lot of time on his hands when he wasn’t writing. (He wasn’t. Writing, that is.) A lot of time in which to think, and cringe, and ponder, and cringe some more.His brothers and sisters were no more merciful than the online masses, so Colin avoided going into the group chat. He was being roasted alive by his siblings, but that was just something he’d have to live with. The jokes being bandied about online would die down eventually, and he thought he’d be alright as long as his Mum didn’t find out about them. He also hoped she hadn’t seen the photos, but that was a tall ask, considering Hyacinth still lived at home. Colin was counting down the days until she went off to Uni for the social-media-to-Mum pipeline to come to a stop. Sunday rolled around. Colin cried off going to Bridgerton Brunch, telling everyone he was sick. Not a single one of them believed him, naturally. Whatever.He closed his eyes and immediately fell into a fantasy about Pen falling into bed with him and begging him in a hot, breathy voice to make her come. He imagined spreading her knees apart and easing himself between them, her thighs cradling him nice and soft. The fantasies were better now that he knew exactly what she felt like on his lap. Her boobs had felt amazing pressed against his chest… he could almost imagine how great they’d feel cupped in his hands, heavy and full. His phone buzzed on his nightstand, and Colin’s hand halted halfway to his waistband. He was fully ready to turn off his bloody phone altogether when he realised it was a voicemail from his Mum. He listened to it, feeling guilty and ashamed, and sent her a quick text to reassure her that he was fine, he didn’t have the plague, and he was sure he’d be as good as new by Auggie’s birthday party. With a sigh, Colin dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. When he got there, however, he simply couldn’t bear another cold shower. He just couldn’t. So he turned the dial to warm, stepped under the spray, closed his eyes and took himself in hand.
He palmed the perfect, creamy expanse of one breast, cupping it to test its weight and softness. Perfect in either regard. Penelope watched him intently as he squeezed, gently. Her flesh filled his hand so wonderfully, spilling between his fingers. He’d dreamed of this moment for what felt like his entire life — Penelope, bared to him, her blue eyes fixed to the sight of his thumbs flicking over her peaking nipples.

Her mouth fell open as he lowered his to suck on one nipple, then the other. She whimpered his name, her lowered lashes wet and spiky from the shower, inspiring him to lick and bite at her breasts until she was panting.
Colin turned off the water and watched his sins swirl down the drain. He sighed forlornly. Whatever happened to post-nut clarity? He seemed to only ever have post-nut stupidity.His doorbell rang. Colin cursed, swiped for a towel, and ran a cursory one-over himself before putting on the first thing he could find — a pair of loose boxers. “Coming,” he called out, hoping whoever it was — Delivery guy? Postman? Neighbour? — wouldn’t mind the sight of Colin in his pants. When the door swung open, he thought for a moment that he’d manifested his deepest desires somehow. Penelope stood on the other side in all her adorable, red-haired glory. His cock, just recently massaged into submission, jerked awake like a lovesick puppy, eager to say hello to her. Her tits looked bloody magnificent in the cute little sundress she was wearing, and Colin had to forcibly reign in his drooling.Was he dreaming? A metaphor about being parched in the desert and coming across an oasis flashed through his mind. Ugh. Uninspired. Pedestrian. His writing talent had dried up, and he didn’t give a single fuck, because Penelope was here. “Hi,” she said, her eyes wide, taking in his shirtless appearance. He croaked out in surprise, “Pen! What are you doing here?”“Chicken soup delivery,” she said with a cute, perky grin, lifting a hefty-looking thermos. “And ice cream for me. You gonna let me in?”“Yeah. Of course. Come in.” He flushed and stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Sorry about the mess.”Penelope didn’t come over to his place often. No one really did. He caught her looking around curiously and realised this was probably only her second time visiting. Did his flat stink? When was the last time he’d hoovered or dusted? Not recently enough, he thought grimly, wondering if he’d at least done the dishes last night.“You’re feeling better?” she asked, looking him up and down with concern. Her eyes lingered on his stomach, sticking like molasses over the happy trail that disappeared beneath his boxers. His cock reacted predictably and tried to wave hello to her again, thrilled that she was looking. Oh, fuck. He was dangerously close to needing another cold shower. She lifted her eyes to his face, and his cock’s hopes were dashed. “Your mum asked me to check on you. Said you were sick.”“Er, yeah. I reckon it was one of those 24 hour bugs,” he said. “I’m much better now.”A light danced in her gaze. He squirmed, somehow knowing that she knew he was playing truant. “D’you still want the soup?”“Maybe later,” he hedged, taking the thermos from her. There was an unseasonal heat wave taking place across Great Britain, and piping hot soup was the last thing he felt like eating. He was thankful for the heat wave, actually, for giving him the opportunity to see Penelope in little sundresses. She looked hot, literally and figuratively. “D’you want your ice cream?”“Yes please.”He grinned, and she flashed one back at him. Damn. A flush crept up his chest, swallowing his neck and jaw. Every time he saw her he was embarrassingly affected by how pretty she was — somehow his memory of her didn’t live up to the reality — and it took every ounce of his self-awareness to act normal around her. “I’m gonna just—” he jerked his head towards his bedroom, “Put on a shirt.”“Okay,” she said. Was that regret in her voice? Did he dare to hope she wanted him to stay shirtless? It would be shameless to turn around now, though, so he stayed the course and grabbed a white t-shirt to throw on over his boxers. The sleeves were tight around his biceps, and he’d noticed women looking at his arms when he wore it out. When he returned Penelope was perched on his sofa, ice cream in hand. Her skirt was a little shorter when she sat, revealing another inch or so of her thighs. He forced himself not to sink into a fantasy about… sinking into her thighs. Easier said than done. Colin settled on the other side of the sectional, watching her lick at the creamy, cold bar with envy. His cock was jealous, too. Surreptitiously, he reached for a pillow and laid it over his lap. “Sorry,” she said, noticing his stare. “I should’ve brought two.”“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Her tongue darted out to catch a dribble of melting chocolate, and Colin had to fight back a groan. He somehow mustered the manners to say, “Thanks for coming over to check on me.”It sounded oddly formal, which was the opposite of the cool, friendly, feel-free-to-drop-by-anytime vibe he wanted to convey. “How was brunch?” he asked, cringing a little (a lot) at the very (not) suave shift in conversation. “Great. You were missed.” Did she mean she missed him? Or his family? If the latter, he was sure it was a bloody brilliant thing he’d opted not to go. The three hundred unread messages on his phone were terrifying. Colin grimaced, “Were they relentless?”Penelope, bless her heart, shook her head. “They—”“Sorry about them,” he interrupted, feeling shitty suddenly for leaving her to fend for herself in the midst of the wolves. She must have been teased and embarrassed in his absence — he selfishly hadn’t thought about that at all. “They’re incredibly supportive,” she said. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”“Yeah. Well, the photos turned out great,” he told her, changing the subject. I’ve looked at them a million times. “You look incredible in them.” “You do, too.”The appreciative look in her eyes sent a little flush of pleasure down his spine. It was encouraging that she thought he looked good. The knowledge sat like a ball of tension and exhilaration in his stomach, imbuing his entire body with a restless energy that wouldn’t abate.“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” she said a little shyly. “All of this attention.”“A little,” he agreed. Bit of an understatement, that. He thought of the thirsty DMs he’d deleted and the handful of weird accounts he’d had to block — Penelope must have it ten times worse. While the majority of the comments on their pictures had been positive, he had noticed one or two (or ten) that had been disrespectful. An anonymous user he didn’t recognize (hmmm) had taken to spamming fire emojis in response to any hate comments, which was surprisingly effective in getting trolls to disengage. Aside from speculating upon the state of Colin’s pants, the overwhelming majority of the response to their photoshoot had been insatiable curiosity.Penelope’s followers wanted to know: was that really Colin Bridgerton? (hell yeah it was), were they dating? (if only), was his dick as big as it looked (yes), did he work out (yes), were they fucking (...not yet), did he want to fuck her (...big yes) and were they gonna do more photoshoots together? (yes please). That same restless energy pulsed within him, demanding answers, and it would never be satisfied until he had them. Could they be more than friends? Colin cleared his throat. “It’s pretty crazy, yeah? People, uh, really see the chemistry between us.”“Chemistry?”“Sexual chemistry.” Fuck, he’d said it aloud. No taking it back. “Because of the photos, I mean. I dunno, there’s just a lot of people curious about our relationship.”He watched her face carefully. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed a bite of ice cream, and then she was coughing, and Colin was torn. He couldn’t get up without bringing attention to his erection. God, how was this happening again? He’d just come out of a (not) cold shower. Eventually, he had to abandon the safety of his pillow cover to fetch her a glass of water from the kitchen.“Thanks,” she gasped, chugging it down. “You were saying—?” she squeaked out, her voice a little raspy from the coughing fit. It was sexy, somehow. “I’m getting a lot of DMs, asking—” He tried to sound as casual as possible, not eager in the least. His heart wasn’t beating faster in his chest, not at all. “Asking what we are. If we… I mean, because it looked… real.”If I’m fucking you, his brain supplied helpfully. If we’re real, because they zoomed in on the photo and my pupils are dilated and I look like I came in my pants.“They think you—” she began, cutting him off, her pretty blue eyes wide. “Because of—”Horror dawned on him. Did she— did Penelope think that, too? “I—” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t. Y’know. What they’re saying online. It’s not true.”The silence stretched out, and Colin felt sick. He shouldn’t have said it. He’d made it worse, made it awkward, and now Penelope probably thought he was lying, or embarrassed, and he could just die—Her voice was taut. “Do you regret it?”He turned his head to look at her. “What?”“I can ask Genevieve to take the photos down. If you want.”Colin did a perfect impression of a broken record: “What?” She hesitated, before saying earnestly, “I’m sorry, Colin. People online can be… a lot. I hope it hasn’t made you uncomfortable.”Oh no. There was genuine dismay in her eyes, as well as sympathy. He felt a surge of panic well up inside him at the thought of Penelope thinking he regretted doing the photoshoot with her. He’d loved it. Not for noble reasons, of course, but there was no way he was letting her believe he’d been put out in any way by getting to have her sit on his lap. Best fucking afternoon of his entire life. His cock twitched in agreement, demanding that he set her right. “It won’t happen again,” she said as if that was supposed to make him feel better. “I think I’m better off doing this solo. I’m sorry for asking you to do it.”“You didn’t ask,” he said, bewildered, “I offered. Don’t apologise—” “I’m sorry about the other stuff, too,” she continued, ignoring his protest. She sounded oddly brusque as she spoke, as though she were forcing the words out. “About us dating, or being… involved. We could set the record straight, but sometimes it’s better to just let these things die out…”Embarrassment coloured her features. Colin felt like sinking through the sofa and into the floorboards out of sheer devastation. It was fine. Penelope wanted to clarify to everyone online that they were, in fact, not dating. They weren’t. So she had every right to. Because she was not his girlfriend, and she didn’t want people thinking so and surely it had nothing to do with the fact that Colin had just told her he hadn’t cum in his pants.“Colin?”He held onto the sofa cushion on his lap with cramped fingers. He might have slid right off the furniture if he weren’t clutching it like a lifesaver. “Colin?” Penelope repeated his name.“Yeah? Sorry. You were saying?”“I just… didn’t want anyone to misunderstand,” she said, giving him a probing, inscrutable look. “Just in case.”Just in case? Just in case of what? He forced himself to say, “Of course. Makes sense.” No, it didn’t. Not at all. He nodded anyway. “We’re friends. No misunderstanding.” Clear as day. Misery filled his every pore as he absorbed the hit to his heart and his ego. Just friends, then. No room for interpretation. Got it. Penelope was looking at him very strangely, as if she had expected him to say something else. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He could barely stand it, waiting for her to devastate him further. “If there’s someone, you know, that you want me to talk to,” she said, confusing him thoroughly, “I’d be happy to.”“Talk to?” he asked, feeling completely at sea.“To explain.” She flushed when he threw her a puzzled stare. “A girlfriend. Or someone you might be interested in. I’ll make sure this didn’t screw things up for you.”What?“I mean, you were dating that girl in France, weren’t you? Long-distance relationships can be tough enough as it is, I don’t want to make things worse—”It clicked. He hadn’t spoken to the girl Penelope was thinking about in ages, and it had been more work than romance the few times they’d gone out. He’d never even mentioned her name to Penelope or even to Eloise. But, fuck, he’d posted some photos of Paris and tagged her in them, hadn’t he? Tessa. She’d been a tour guide of sorts. There might have been a photo in a dimly lit restaurant, one that could possibly be construed as romantic, and maybe, maybe, in the most casual, commitment free sort of way… it might have turned into something flirty. But it hadn’t. There was no girl in France. There were no girls, anywhere, except Penelope.“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, quickly. Colin couldn’t read her expression. Relief? His stomach did an ambivalent kind of somersault. Was she relieved that he wasn’t interested in someone else, or was she simply happy she didn’t have to have an embarrassing conversation? It didn’t bode well that Penelope thought he was the sort of bloke who would do a sexy photoshoot with a friend while in a relationship with another woman. Great. Somehow he’d fucked this whole romancing her thing up before he’d even started.“I definitely do not have a girlfriend,” he repeated. “Nothing to explain.” He hesitated, then gathered the courage to flip the question on her. “What about you? Is there—”“No,” she said before he could even finish his sentence. “No, definitely not.” “We’re good, then.”Penelope nodded. Colin felt the impact of the tentative, pleased smile she gave him like an arrow to the chest. “Yeah. We’re good.”Suddenly, he could breathe again. The emotional whiplash of going from devastation to hope in such a short time made him dizzy. Somewhere in the vicinity, he thought he even heard birdsong.*
We’re good. We’re good.
“We’re good,” he said, grinning to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Looking good, old chap. Nice haircut. Perfect shave. We are… goooooood.”He tugged at the collar of the fitted pale green polo he was wearing — French, designer, made his skin look sunkissed — and shot finger guns at his own reflection. A flicker of embarrassment followed shortly, but he shoved it down. Penelope liked this shirt. She complimented him every time she saw him wearing it. He would order five more, one in each available colour. Colin was meeting her at the pub to celebrate the success of their photoshoot — he had almost suggested a cosy, romantic Italian restaurant instead, but he’d baulked at last minute, afraid it might be coming on too strong. The pub was quiet for a weekday night. Penelope had arrived first. Colin saw her as soon as he arrived, sitting in her regular booth waiting for him. His feet moved faster, carrying him across the pub in mere seconds. She smiled at him, and he felt the force of that smile hit him right in the chest. Colin slid into the booth next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders in a quick, hungry embrace (he made it seem outwardly casual). She smelled amazing, of course. Colin breathed in, the scent of Penelope’s shampoo filling his nose. She was so fucking pretty. Even in the dim lighting of the pub, she glowed, her eyes bluer than the stained glass pendants hanging from the pub ceiling, and her breasts, covered in a modestly buttoned blouse, were gloriously tempting. He did his best not to ogle them and failed spectacularly in the process. “I don’t think I’ve said it properly, you know. I wanted to thank you for filling in for Benedict,” she said, seeming not to notice his preoccupation with her cleavage. “The photoshoot came out really well.”He felt a burst of pride swell in his chest. It was weird, but nice, and he wanted nothing more than to make her look at him that way forever. With admiration and fondness, and perhaps a little touch of gratefulness. “I’m glad.”“Worth the dick pics,” she joked. Colin offered a half-hearted smile, wishing he didn’t feel quite so unhinged just at the mention of Penelope looking at other men’s penises. His own sulked and chafed, wanting to be a part of the activities. The star of the show, to be exact, with all of Penelope’s undivided attention.“I mean it, Colin. It all still feels like a dream.”“It’s definitely real.”A sweet little smile played on the corners of her plush, glistening mouth. He wondered if her lip gloss was flavoured, and if he kissed her would it overpower the taste of her? “Why did you agree to it?” he asked, partly to distract himself, and partly just to see her lips move again. “The whole modelling thing, I mean.”Penelope paused, considering her answer. “This is going to sound cliche, but… rebellion.”He looked quizzically at her.“I dunno if you remember — when we were younger, my mum was really strict about what I wore. She didn’t like how I looked in clothes.”He nodded, no stranger to the oversized t-shirts of her adolescence. Portia Featherington hadn’t really thought that through. She’d fully underestimated the horniness of boys around Penelope’s age, and their imaginations… their ability to mentally undress cute girls at the merest suggestion of cotton moulded against their cute bodies… the drape of jersey knit over a budding chest… enough to fuel a thousand naughty adolescent fantasies. Even now he was getting hot thinking about it — Penelope’s grown up body, in a cute pink t-shirt… with nothing underneath, preferably. “It really did a number on my self-confidence. My body was something to hide away, not flaunt.”“She’s wrong,” said Colin flatly. “I know. It took years of therapy, but I figured that out eventually.”She flushed and looked a little embarrassed, so Colin thought the conversation was over. But Penelope went on, “I’ve always been obsessed with lingerie.”His insides felt a little tight at that confession, and he had to will his wayward pecker to stay down. Not an appropriate response. Not at all.There was something vulnerable about her smile, the way she admitted, “My cousin used to get catalogues in the mail and I would steal them and die over how sexy and pretty everything was. I wanted to have sexy underwear so badly. I saved up all my Christmas and birthday money and bought a matching lacy set — it was supposed to be black, but they sent me the wrong colour. I wore it anyway at home and felt thrilled having it under my clothes… it was my form of rebellion, I suppose. My mum never found out.”“What colour was it?” Colin asked, a little hoarse. Penelope shrugged. “Yellow. Not my first choice.”“Yellow?” he repeated.“Yeah,” she said, feelingly. “Clashed something awful with my hair. Not that anyone ever saw me in it, so it doesn’t matter.”“You still have it?” She seemed to be taken aback by the question but answered honestly: “I reckon so… in the back of my closet somewhere. It has sentimental value, and unfortunately I’m rather sentimental about silly things. My therapist says it’s a symbol of my emancipation from my mum’s expectations… I wouldn’t have gotten rid of it for the world.”It was a nice little secret that no one could take from her. Not her mum, not the other kids at school. The writer in him, the hopeless romantic, the part of him that believed that things happened for a reason — that part stood up in poetic vindication. He’d always known there was something about that yellow bra. Colin looked at her, all soft and glorious and felt his heart clench. She was very beautiful, he thought, with a pang of longing. How surreal to find himself only discovering that fact now, when Penelope had always been there. He called himself every rotten name in the book for not noticing that she was his dream girl — Colin had always been attracted to her, but ‘beautiful’ wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of her. It should’ve been. If he’d noticed sooner, perhaps he wouldn’t be suffering now. Colin opened his mouth. A confession hovered on his tongue, threatening to spill every secret feeling he had for her, but he held the words back.“You look really good,” he said, finding the right words at last. “You know that, right? Your mum messed up, but I’m glad you managed to rise above her crap. All of that stuff — the dick pics, the mean comments, it doesn’t matter. You do. I’m proud of you, Pen.”The joyful glow that tinged her answering smile was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Jesus,” said Benedict. He’d come out from the house to join Colin on the patio and got his first look at the lawn. “What are we going to do next year when he turns four?”Colin ventured mildly, “Rent twice as many water slides?”He sipped his coffee and surveyed the two large, brightly coloured portable slides decorating the ludicrously extensive lawn behind Anthony’s summer home. They’d been rented along with a monster-sized splash pad, a portable rock-climbing wall, and several other child-appropriate carnival booths for the afternoon.It was the long-awaited day of the Blending, and hot as all hell to boot. The sun bore down on the back of Colin’s neck, making him sweat despite the early hour. At least they had a means of cooling off today, he thought, feeling like he might collapse due to heatstroke at any given moment. To be fair, that probably had something to do with the long brown coat he was sporting as a part of his pirate costume.Yes: he was dressed like a Pirate. No: he didn’t regret it. He looked, dare he say it, rather dashing in the get-up. Sure, the linen shirt was gaining a sweat stain in the armpits that probably wouldn’t come out without bleach, the eyepatch was a little itchy, and he wasn’t wearing pants (just swimming trunks) as a concession to the heat, but Colin figured it was worth toughing it out for his nephew’s sake. Auggie was obsessed with Pirates.Besides, Penelope had suggested it. Possibly she just hadn’t wanted to be the only grown-up in costume, but he didn’t mind. He genuinely couldn’t wait to see her fairy outfit.“Heavens,” said Mum’s voice, approaching from behind them. Clearly, she’d not expected this, either. “Your brother certainly went all out.”It was a lot, that was for sure. He’d certainly never had parties like this thrown for him on his birthdays growing up.“Is Anthony compensating for something, you reckon?” Benedict scratched his chin, giving their mum a look. “Or making a passive-aggressive statement?”“Oh pish,” said Mum. “You all had perfectly lovely birthday parties.” She muttered, “Besides, there were eight of you.”Eight parties a year would be daunting for any single mother. Colin had never made or heard any complaints from his siblings. At least, not until now. Still, he said dutifully, “I loved all my birthdays.”Benedict mouthed the words ‘suck up’ at Colin. Mum didn’t notice, and said fondly, if a bit distractedly, “Of course, dear.”She looked past his shoulder to the driveway, where a car was pulling up, and squinted thoughtfully. “That’s not Anthony’s car…”It wasn’t. Colin didn’t recognise it, either. He watched as two hired party staff members dragged hoses through the grassy lawn, filling the splash pad with ankle-deep water.“It's a bit early for the other children to be arriving,” Mum muttered with a slight frown. Then her face cleared and she exclaimed, “Oh, it’s Penelope!”Colin’s head snapped around. Sure enough, a familiar redhead was emerging from the back of what had to be an Uber, her arms laden with bags.“I’ll go help her,” he said excitedly, already cutting his way across the lawn. A nervous joy lit up inside his chest, and he felt almost like he was drugged by it.Fuck, he’d missed her.An entire week had passed since their pub night together (he was still a little hesitant to call it a date). He’d been dragged out to Aubrey Hall to handle the arrival of the rented party equipment on Anthony’s behalf. A whole bloody week. He had Penelope-deprivation, and seeing her was like getting a concentrated dose of serotonin shot directly into his veins.They’d texted, and last night he’d sent her a voice message saying goodnight just so she’d send him one back. Colin had listened to it an embarrassing amount of times, picturing Penelope snuggled up in her fluffy bed, wearing a cute little nightie, hopefully missing him even half as much as he missed her—He nearly barrelled into Penelope in his haste. She lost balance, dropping her bags, but Colin caught her around the waist. “Pen!”He greeted her with a big, clumsy hug — the bags were in the way — but he didn’t care. She smelled amazing, like flowers and caramel. She looked amazing, too, all summery and gorgeous in a pale green romper that set off her red hair perfectly. His heart did the macarena as he took his fill of staring at her. Beautiful, lovely, adorable Penelope, who was always early, always reliable.“Hullo,” she said, her hands lingering on his arms. There was something sweeter in their interactions since the photoshoot, a kind of cloying anticipation that made him feel heady.“You made it,” he said. A week had felt like years. She let go, stepping back slightly to give him a onceover.Delicious heat trailed everywhere her gaze went, and she took her time, taking in his long brown leather coat, unbuttoned linen shirt, and swim trunks. Her eyes sweeping over his bare, hairy calves was likely to contribute to the heatstroke he was about to succumb to at any moment; but then she beamed up at him, her smile stretching wide, and he thought it was worth drowning in buckets of his own sweat if he got her to smile like that. It clung like sticky treacle to his ribs, warming him even more than the morning sunshine.“Pirate,” he confirmed, reading the unspoken question in her eyes.“Nice,” she replied. “You look really good.”He couldn’t stop the huge grin that spread across his face, no more than he could stop his dick from getting hard whenever he was in proximity to Penelope.“Mine’s in my bag,” she said, and he had no idea what she meant because he was too focused on watching her mouth forming the words. She wasn’t wearing any makeup but it only made her even more kissable. He really, really, really wanted to kiss her.“Bag?” he repeated, distracted by the way her hair gleamed at least twenty different shades of red in the sunlight. She’d curled it so that it lay in cascading waves down her back. Colin had a brief fantasy of running his hands through it. He wondered if she would notice if he brushed his palm against the locks, if he could play it off like an accident.“My fairy dress,” she answered. “I rented it from a bridal shop. It’s huge.”“I can’t wait to see it,” he said, completely and utterly meaning it. She could wear a paper bag and he’d be excited.Mum and Benedict caught up to him at this point, greeting Penelope with a warm welcome of their own. Colin did his duty of helping her move her bags into a guest room — someday he’d put them in his room, hopefully — without incident. No zippers broke and no bras came tumbling out of her bag. Disappointing, really.He returned to the cosy, sunlit kitchen where the others were still having a leisurely, late breakfast. Colin dropped into the seat next to Penelope. Her head was bent towards Eloise, giggling about something he was sure was both amusing and witty — it had to be, if Penelope found it funny — but she leaned back slightly when Colin draped his arm along the back of her chair and turned her head to give him a devastatingly gorgeous smile.In between signing for packages and directing drivers across the estate, Colin had spent the entire week thinking long and hard about how he was going to ask Penelope to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t just something he could throw out there — he had to plan it carefully, make it romantic and thoughtful and memorable. He wanted Penelope to be so moved she’d have no choice but to say yes.Unfortunately, he was stumped, and the fantasies about what they’d do after she accepted his love confession kind of got in the way, taking up most of his mental space.God, it was hard to sit next to her and act like he hadn’t seen her in her pants a mere week ago. He hadn’t been able to stop picturing it in his head ever since: the way she’d looked, with her big nipples barely hidden beneath the flimsy fabric, and the way her thighs had felt bracketing his, how soft and delicious she’d been on his lap. In his daydreams she’d let him slide his hands beneath the lingerie and touch her until she trembled.He knew he had to confess soon if only to ensure he didn’t embarrass himself in front of his own mother.Get your shit together, he told his crotch, giving it a hard, surreptitious glance. When he looked up, his mum was frowning at him. Her Mum spidey-senses had been triggered, like they always did when he was being inappropriate, or thinking raunchy things; she just always knew, and he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a disapproving “Colin Bridgerton!” right now.Sorry Mum, he thought silently, feeling chagrined, remorseful, and regretful, basically every bloody guilt-adjacent word in the damn dictionary. The doorbell rung she got up and Colin was able to breathe a little easier.Benedict smirked at him, as though knowing exactly what sort of turn Colin’s thoughts had taken. He’d wormed his way back into his position as Colin’s favourite brother, and the gallery viewing was back on, but it was a slippery slide to the bottom of the rankings.Benedict swore he’d had something going on the day of the photoshoot that had taken him out of town. The timing was a bit suspicious, all things considered, but Colin was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and tentatively forgive him for backing out on a promise to Penelope. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the opportunity afforded to him, but it was shitty to leave someone you considered a friend in the lurch like that, and Colin didn’t tolerate that kind of ungentlemanly behaviour, brother be damned.He willed himself to look away from Penelope and focus on eating a second breakfast. By the time Mum came back into the breakfast nook, Colin’s belly was full and his erection had mostly subsided. Just in time, too, because she announced that Simon and Daphne and Auggie had arrived along with some of the other families from Auggie’s Montessori school.“Here we go,” muttered Benedict, grousing good-naturedly. “Where are my face paints? And where’s Anthony?”Colin wondered the same but it wasn't until he was put in charge of welcoming guests that Anthony finally made his appearance with Kate in tow. They were greeted by a trio of pirates, demanding loot for entry. Kate laughed, amused, but her husband drove a hard bargain.He offered them the shirt off his back.“A paltry prize!”“It’s Dior, Colin.”“That’s Captain Bridgerton to you, mate.” But he took the shirt anyway and Anthony’s Dior pants, too, leaving his oldest brother in nothing but a pair of Dior swimming trunks. Kate refused to shed her loose, silky dress, so she was allowed through the garden gates in lieu of a kiss and a hug to each of the three pirates. Hyacinth, self-proclaimed first mate, took her by the hand and dragged her to the shaded tent area where snacks and drinks had been set up.Gregory, the overachieving second mate, had a hook for a hand, which was making him popular with some of the slightly older kids — but unpopular with the younger ones. It was very frightening to toddlers, apparently, especially so when Gregory stumbled and his hook got caught in someone’s shirt and the both of them went crashing to the ground. One of the younger babies started crying and had to be scooped up by his mum, who promptly began to coo and coddle him.Penelope, watching, made a face that looked like the teary eyed emoji that Hyacinth sent him sometimes when he was abroad (usually when she was asking for expensive souvenirs). Colin felt weak at the knees seeing that expression play out over her features. He suddenly wanted to coo and coddle, too, preferably with Penelope, in a bed.“This is dangerous to my heart,” Penelope whispered.Daphne, standing close enough to hear, laughed. “Is it giving you baby fever?”Colin gulped as Penelope blushed.“That’s by design,” his sister said wickedly. She looked past Penelope, pausing her gaze briefly on him — smiling as he gaped at her — and then excused herself to go find her husband.Feeling far too seen by that look, Colin nevertheless closed the gap that Daphne’s departure had left between them. Penelope gave him a startled look, as if she’d forgotten he was there, and said defensively, “They’re just too bloody cute. It’s enough to give anyone baby fever.”He had the momentary insane and uncalled for urge to say, I can help you with that.“True,” he said, doing his best not to imagine all the wonderful ways there were to treat baby fever — namely, by making babies. No. That wasn’t right. He wasn’t ready to be a father. He was barely even managing to birth a manuscript, much less a child.Panic seized him. “Babies are great. I mean, who doesn’t love them?”She blinked her blue eyes at him, and the briefly dreamy look in them disappeared. Penelope nodded, a little awkwardly. “Right. Everyone loves babies. I want babies. Just not right now. Later.”“Oh, of course. Same. I mean, me too. Babies are for… later. Much, much later.”He cringed, knowing fully well he was putting his foot into his mouth again, especially when Penelope frowned slightly at his emphasis on much, much later. Shit, maybe she wanted to have lots of kids and needed to start early to fit them all in? Was that negotiable? He wanted a lot of kids too, at least three, but the, uh, unbirthed manuscript hanging over his head was a lot of stress, honestly, and he didn’t know if he could handle writing a book and dealing with actual fatherhood at the same time — but a bunch of little redheaded babies might be nice, and his cock reminded him eagerly that the part where they made said babies was definitely worth it…Before he could make things worse by speaking some of his spiralling thoughts aloud, Benedict appeared in front of them, murmuring, “The Andersons are here.”“Took them long enough,” Colin griped, happily taking out his irritation on someone else.Marcus was a tall, handsome man in his early fifties, and his children had inherited his distinguished looks. He had two sons, Michael and Allan, and a daughter named Tamara, who had a husband and two children of her own. One was slightly older than Auggie, and the other was a mere four months. Violet and Daphne instantly enfolded her and the baby into their motherhood circle.Anthony was looking at the baby in the carrier with a strangely intense look. Colin was a little afraid to ask what was going on. He was saved from having to do so by Gregory throwing a toddler-sized water floatie shaped like a pineapple at Anthony’s head, distracting him. His brothers were out the door like a shot, Anthony shouting out a promise of dire retribution.The rest of them followed, and Colin couldn’t help but notice that Marcus’s younger son, Allan, fell into step next to Penelope. He didn’t like it, but told himself it was no big deal, especially when Penelope stepped away to go back inside.He’d do it soon, he told himself. Once they were back in London. He’d take Penelope out for dinner, spoil her with delicious food, tasty wine and gorgeous flowers before telling her he was head over heels in love with her.The lawn was covered in balloons, children, party staff, some dogs, and parents, all milling about. It was chaotic, in no small part due to the Bridgertons spraying each other with water guns and lobbing water balloons at each other’s heads. Colin watched as Anthony took one to the face, spluttering indignantly as Hyacinth and Gregory doubled over with laughter.The battle became rather heated. At some point, Eloise and Daphne and Simon all joined in, teaming up to bombard Anthony with a barrage of water balloons until he fake cried uncle. No sooner had they stopped, he was back on his feet, a spray rifle in his arms, shouting, “Fifty quid if you take down Bassett! You traitor!”The tides turned, and both Hyacinth and Gregory advanced on their brother-in-law, balloons in hand. Colin edged closer, wary of getting his pirate coat wet, but eager to pay witness to the impending bloodbath.Simon dodged gracefully, even though his broad shoulders made him a large target. Quite a few of the mums and the teachers (they’d all been invited too) had gathered to watch the Bridgertons have a water balloon fight — mostly watching Simon, really. There was a bit of smothered giggling when Benedict joined, also shirtless.Colin felt someone sidle up next to him. He looked down and thought he might pass out from the heat that enveloped him when he realised who it was.Penelope stood beside him, watching his brothers horse about. She’d changed into party-appropriate clothing, and looked like one of those retro pinup posters — her bathing suit was a fifties inspired black and white polka-dot one-piece with ruching at the bodice and a halter strap that stretched across her shoulders and neck. It was by no means skimpy, but the mere sight of her modestly covered breasts and bare shoulders was enough to make him breathe harder. Pathetic, really, but that was his new middle name, wasn’t it? She wasn’t baring much skin at all, and even had a blue sarong wrapped around her hips, for crying out loud. He’d seen her in less — much less — but it didn’t matter. The devil hormones residing within him liked the way the shade of blue complimented her eyes and her creamy thighs, and nothing could dampen their enthusiasm for the way the knotted sarong emphasised her hourglass curves.Maybe they could keep the splash pad for the weekend. He was itching to wade in and splash around. Ooh. Maybe he could convince Penelope to join him. His brain conjured up an image of them in the splash pad together, naked, and the wave of arousal that ignited in him forced him to cut that thought short. It was NOT the right time for x-rated fantasies. Not with a bunch of kids running around. Thank god his swimming trunks were loose because he was not ready to cause an incident.He followed her line of sight, and noticed her eyes holding just the slightest hint of admiration as she took in Simon’s muscled back.Colin huffed. He tore off his coat, tossed it to Gregory (who scowled). He whipped his t-shirt over his head and tossed that at Hyacinth (who stepped back, letting it fall to the ground). So much for pirate solidarity. Penelope’s gaze drifted across, pausing as it passed over him.He swelled like a pufferfish, standing straighter and taller, pretending he wasn’t keenly aware of the way her eyes snapped away from the other Bridgerton men to focus on his bare chest. She had that same look in her eyes as she did during the photoshoot — liquid, melty, and eager. His cock perked up, her gaze like a baited hook dropped into the falsely placid waterfront of his self-composure.Oh, fuck.I will not have an Incident, I will not have an Incident. He repeated the mantra to himself, willing his impending erection to lay down. Think unsexy thoughts. Homer Simpson’s voice looped in his head, accompanying images of hairy spiders, dangling participles, and the memory of Anthony’s smelly used fencing gear after a particularly hard lesson.To further distract himself, Colin grabbed a water gun and lunged into the fray, hollering. Hyacinth and Gregory chanted “GET HIM!” and in tandem, the three of them doused Simon until he shouted for mercy.Emerging victorious from battle, Colin caught sight of Penelope applying sunblock out of the corner of his eye. Bloody hell. Did she need help? She probably couldn’t reach her back. He could do that for her, help her out — he didn’t want her getting burnt after all. No, that would be a disaster, and she was definitely in danger, what with her redheaded complexion and the sun being so… sunny…Penelope had turned to speak to Eloise, giving him a view of her back. He watched, mesmerised, as she peeled the flimsy cover up away from her body, reaching below to readjust the bathing suit bottom. A quick flash of her uncovered arse greeted his gaze; fuck.Colin made it a few steps in her direction to offer his assistance before stopped short. Allan appeared suddenly next to Penelope, holding out a glass of lemonade. He said something to her that made her smile, and somehow Colin just knew. He knew that Allan had seen Penelope’s Instagram. He knew that look on Allan’s face — the lascivious interest, the barely there glances to her chest and waist.“Stop staring,” said Benedict, nudging him in the side with his unnaturally sharp elbows.He couldn’t even deny it. Colin snapped his mouth shut and sheepishly tore his gaze away. God, he was heated.“Go cool off and wipe that murderous expression off your face. We’re blending, remember? You can’t kill our future stepbrother before we’ve even had a single meal together.”Future stepbrother. Colin felt a little sick at the thought. Future stepbrother, future blendings, future invitations to every family holiday… endless opportunities for Allan to spend time with Penelope… right under Colin’s nose. He hated it. Allan had no right to be an interloper, not when Colin was already naming his four redheaded children.“He’s a photographer, I heard. Maybe he’s offering his services.”Colin could tell Allan where he could shove his services, but it was probably not going to go over well.He’d have to do it sooner than London. This weekend, for sure. If only he could somehow manage to get Penelope alone, without the prying eyes of his family… he could pop over to the little town and order flowers and pastries…“August!” cried out his mother. “How did you get up there?”Colin and Benedict looked up. While the adults had been distracted, Auggie had somehow managed to climb up the taller of the two water slides and was now perched precariously at the top by himself, a look of determination on his little face. It struck fear into Colin’s heart.He pivoted towards the water slide, where screaming children greeted him. As every single Bridgerton adult watched in horror, Auggie did the unspeakable and launched himself down the slide, shrieking at the top of his lungs. Colin cursed hotly, did a running leap towards the bottom of the slide, and caught the little daredevil around the waist just as he reached the ground — right before he crashed head-first into the grass.Daphne yelled something that Colin couldn’t make out. There was a great amount of relieved uproar. Breathing hard, Colin tucked Auggie safely under his arm as Benedict shouted, “Good catch!”The little rascal giggled, kicking his feet in the air.“Oh no you don’t,” he said. Auggie wriggled furiously, trying to escape Colin’s grasp. “No more slides. Splashpad for you.”Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by mums praising him for his dramatic rescue. Daphne was one of them, scooping Auggie from Colin and thanking him profusely as if she needed to. He patted her head and said in sepulchre tones, “I would die for him.”His sister laughed at his dramatics, and the tightness around her eyes eased. He relaxed, too. The other mums were giving him appreciative looks, but Colin barely noticed their attention. He glanced up, hoping Penelope had seen his act of quick reflexes and stunning heroism. She had. She clapped, and it felt like the greatest praise he’d ever received.“I trained as a lifeguard,” he bragged, loudly. “Amalfi coast. I’ll watch the kids.”“Aye, captain,” someone said, a bit sarcastically. It was Benedict, of course.Colin regretted his proclamation pretty quickly, as he was forced to remain stationed by the slides with the party staff while the majority of other adults, Penelope included, retreated to the shade of the tents. He kept one eye on her whereabouts all afternoon, seething whenever he saw Allan or other men talking to her. Jealousy was an unattractive trait and he’d never really suffered it before falling madly in love with his best friend. Maybe it came with the territory. He’d never been in love before. All his relationships had been casual, fun and physical — Penelope was the first woman he wanted both as a friend and a lover.Forget the Blending. Maybe he could steal her away from the family tonight. There was a trail on the northern side of the building that led to a scenic little river — Colin imagined taking Penelope there, holding hands as he helped her along the woodsy path and setting up a romantic little picnic blanket on the riverbank. They could lay together under the starlight there, the perfect setting for Colin to confess his undying love.A wave of water crashed over him as two five-year-olds came whooshing past, dashing away his romantic fantasy.When the time came to cut the Paw Patrol themed cake, Colin was ready to never set eyes on another water slide for the rest of his life.His Penelope, his Aphrodite, the love of his life, came over with a slice of cake on a plate and a cold drink for him — he wanted to kiss her more than ever. He gobbled down the cake to keep his mouth preoccupied, in case he did something crazy like bend down and kiss her in front of everyone. Penelope laughed at him (he loved her laugh) and reached up to swipe away a glob of cream from his chin. Then she did something absolutely fucking mindblowing: she licked the cream from her fingertip.“I better go find my coat,” he blurted out, forcing himself to look away.“I’ve got it over there,” she said, pointing at the chair she’d recently vacated. Sure enough, his coat and shirt were draped over the back of it. Colin’s stomach tightened with pleasure at the thought of her watching his stuff for him.“Thanks,” he said. Before he could think better of it, he dropped a quick kiss — a peck, really — to the top of her head. Penelope looked up through her lashes at him, surprised by the affectionate gesture. But then she smiled, her cheeks flushing, and butterflies took flight in his stomach.“I better go change, too,” she said, and so he had no choice but to peel himself away (with great effort) and went to retrieve his coat.The butterflies continued to lambast his guts as he went inside. The air conditioning — a rare thing for English homes — was a blessing. Anthony never shirked comfort, and he was rich enough not to care.Colin slipped into the shower to rinse himself off, resisting the temptation to take his cock in hand — there was no time for that! — and getting dressed in his pirate gear again. This time he added the tricornered sea captain hat, a new eyepatch, and skin-tight brown pants. Tall boots completed the look. He preened in the mirror, unbuttoned his shirt a bit more to reveal a triangle of chest hair (Pen seemed to like it, and who was he to deny her?), and found his way to the den with a bounce in his step.He was completely unprepared for the sight of Penelope, the future mother of his five redheaded children — she had transformed into a fairy. A gorgeous, tulle-covered, sparkly fairy, who could also pass for a Princess, except she had wings that looked a bit Tinkerbell-ish. And he was a Pirate. It couldn’t be more perfect.The seat on the sofa next to her was open so he hightailed it across the room in record time and sat down. Her dress was so gauzy and floofy it expanded and settled over his knee. He couldn’t really get any closer due to the sheer volume of her skirts, but Colin laid his arm along the back of her chair and leaned towards her anyway. “Having fun?”“Loads,” she replied, hitting him with a smile that could have melted the sun.“Love the pirate coat, by the way,” she said. “Have I said that yet?”Colin grinned, foolishly. “It’s a good coat.”He held still as she reached out to run her palm lightly over his sleeve. His much-maligned hormones (which had caught on to things a lot faster than he had) rejoiced. Penelope touching him, no matter how casually, was always a good thing. Her foot poked out beneath the hem of her floofy skirt, and he wanted to groan a little. Was it weird that he was attracted to pink crocs? Even plastic footwear was sexy to him now. He was fucked.He had to do it. He couldn’t bear it any longer. He had to tell Penelope he loved her, or he would simply die from keeping all these unbearable, unstoppable feelings inside.“Are you staying all weekend?” he asked, abruptly.“I’m probably going back to London tomorrow,” she said with a sigh. “Meetings.”“I’ll take you back,” he offered quickly. Her eyes widened. He went on, “I’m going back tomorrow. I’ll give you a ride, and you can keep me company.”“Can I pick the playlist?”“You can always pick,” he said, meaning it.That sticky sweet feeling came back. Penelope’s cheeks were rosy, and she looked quite happy about driving back to London with him.Anthony came into the room, invading the sugary atmosphere with two little girls on either side. He was holding their hands, and the sight of it was so strange it temporarily took Colin’s mind off his wrenching desire to sink to his knees and confess to Penelope right then and there.“Pwincess,” said one of the adorable tots.Penelope melted. “She’s calling me Princess?”Colin wished he could make Penelope melt like that, too. He could call her Princess if she wanted.“Are you a Pwince?”“He’s a pirate,” corrected Hyacinth, who had followed Anthony in. “A very stinky one.”“I’m a Prince,” said Colin, ignoring Hyacinth and winking at Penelope. “Every Princess has a Prince.”The little girl nodded, shouted, “Yeah!” and then ran off to her mother.Penelope giggled. She peered up at Colin, grinning. He grinned back, and couldn’t help sneaking a little peek down the front of her dress at her cleavage. Breathtaking as always. He looked away, quickly, reminding himself that there were thirty kids about to storm the room and he was going to be in big fat trouble if he got a boner right as storytime began.It took a little bit of time to corral everyone, but soon enough Penelope was sitting in front of them, holding open a book of children’s tales.The first story she told was one about Pirates. Colin settled against the wall, cross-legged, grinning as Penelope’s eyes swept back to him every few pages, pausing for him to repeat the Captain’s dialogue in a dramatic pirate-y accent. The kids loved it, and so did most of the parents.Auggie climbed into Colin’s lap to listen, sucking on his thumb as he did. Daphne wanted to wean him off doing that, but he looked so cosy and sweet Colin didn’t want to make him stop. Besides, Penelope’s eyes had that look in them again, the one that made him want to get started on making their six redheaded children immediately.It didn’t take long — not more than ten minutes into the Fairy Princess’s second tale, this one about a rabbit and a tortoise — for the birthday boy to fall asleep in his Uncle’s lap. Colin shrugged out of his coat and wrapped Auggie in it.The mum sitting next to him with her own sleepy child on her lap said knowingly, “Sugar crash.”Colin thought Penelope’s soothing voice was the culprit, personally. It was like ASMR. He could listen to her read the phonebook, he thought admiringly. Her voice message saying ‘goodnight’ had been his lullaby, and it worked wonders now. His sore muscles (they’d had a good workout from an afternoon of slinging children around) began to relax. Before long, Colin’s eyes grew heavy, the lilt of Penelope’s voice lulling him into a drowsy, peaceful sleep.He dreamed of Penelope, in her fairy dress.
She caressed his face with a look of desire in her eyes. The gown pooled at her feet as she stepped out of it, baring her body to him.

I want you.

He touched her everywhere, and she let him, granting him permission to stroke her hips, her thighs, parting her legs so he could kneel between them and open her up.

She let him do whatever he wanted, accompanied by her breathy whispers of encouragement.

I can’t stop thinking about you, Colin.

I want you.
Wake up.“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
Huh?
Colin woke up to one of his eyes glued shut, and a hand shaking his shoulder. The voice he’d heard was Penelope, but she wasn’t telling him how badly she wanted him. She was saying something that sounded a lot like, “Oh no.”He tried to open his eyes with no success.“Hyacinth,” she said. “I left to say goodbye to the other kids, and she got to you.”There was a weight on his chest which shifted around and when he felt a hot little breath of air waft across his neck, he realised the weight was Auggie, who was also waking up.It took him some time, what with being groggy from his nap, to understand that Hyacinth had screwed up trying to apply false eyelashes to him while he was conked out. Great.“Sorry I didn’t protect you,” Penelope said, clearly trying not to laugh. “I wanted to, but—”“S’okay,” he muttered, scrubbing at his eye. Ouch, ouch.“Oh, come here,” she said, pulling his hands away from his face. He heard a rustle and felt her hand on his cheek, guiding him to bend down slightly. Something damp swiped across his face — a makeup wipe. Penelope worked gently, cleaning away the gunk, and after a few minutes, he was able to open his eyes again.Her touch was torture, and seeing her face peering up at him, biting her lip to hold back laughter — it was nearly unbearable. The dream was still so vivid in his mind; he was practically aching to touch her for real.Colin got to his feet, unsteadily as he laid Auggie carefully down on the sofa.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
He had to get his head out of his arse and confess soon. It was unbearable, the not knowing. Constantly replaying the contents of a conversation, trying to parse out meaning behind a single word, a sideways glance… to look at all of the evidence and still not be sure…He was tired of wanting to be more and tired of being scared to want more. He rubbed his face, mentally scrubbing away the remnants of the dream as well. It was depressing. He hated being a coward, hated punishing his body for having natural — if strong — desires and urges.
I want you.
Auggie pulled on his sleeve. “Hungry,” he announced groggily.The word brought to mind a memory of his dream, just as the last vestiges of the erotic reverie began to slip away. Hungry. Soft, delicious nipples. He sucked on them, tasting them, letting his tongue circle the firm, rosy tips—“Okay, Buddy,” he mumbled, reaching for his coat. The air conditioning was on full blast, and while it had been a godsend after an afternoon in the sun, it was particularly uncomfortable to nap in. He shivered, struggling to get his arms into the leather, embarrassed by how he must have looked when Penelope woke him.“Here,” he heard her say.
I want you, too.
Colin felt her hand on the back of his neck, tugging gently. It was instinct. He didn’t stop to think about it, about where they were, what they were doing, the conversation he was in the middle of having with his nephew — he just turned his head to face her, saw Pen looking up at him, her lips parted, and the dreams he’d been having took over his body. It was muscle-memory, if such a thing could develop out of fantasies alone; that had him turning fully to slide his arm around her waist and bend his head to kiss her. She responded just as she had in his dreams, leaning into the kiss, letting him slip his tongue into her soft mouth. His mind went blank, the anguished, seething want in him finally quieted as he finally held Penelope Featherington in his arms and kissed her plump, perfect mouth. It was glorious.He felt a light pressure on his chest that grew more insistent with each passing moment. The hand that had been on his neck was now pushing against his front; Penelope pulled back as Colin followed, chasing her lips, confused by the withdrawal. Until he opened his eyes, and all hell broke loose.There was ghastly silence in the room. Penelope stared up at him, her eyes wide and lipstick smudged (heat fluttered sickeningly in his stomach at the sight), and she looked… well, shocked was probably not strong enough of a word to describe her expression.“Your collar was… crooked,” she said, faintly. “I was fixing it.”Oh, shit. Shit fucking shite fuck.“Sorry,” he croaked out, his mind stuttering with horror at what he’d done. Penelope was still staring at him with her blue eyes, and so was his nephew.An overwhelming sense of panic seized him. “Sorry, I — I shouldn’t have done that—”Penelope swallowed. He felt it in his own throat, a painful lump that wedged there in the middle of his chest.No. This couldn’t be happening.She said, “I have to go.”
No, no, no.
He watched her walk out, rooted to the spot by his own idiocy, a horrible feeling churning in his gut.Daphne poked her head into the room, looking for Auggie. She took in Colin’s stunned expression and asked, “What happened?”“Mummy!” Auggie ran to her and excitedly reported what he’d witnessed. “They kissed!”Oh, for fuck’s sake.Daphne looked at Colin with incredulity, her eyes clearly telegraphing, in front of my kid?He felt dizzy. Was this how Sleeping Beauty felt, upon waking? Unlike Aurora, he’d done the kissing, done the fucking up, and now he was left to stare at his sister, wondering if this was actually a nightmare, and he hadn’t woken up at all.“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Daphne asked, frowning. “She didn’t look too happy just now.”Fuck.He nodded, panic rising, and walked out of the room, unsure of where he was going. His feet took him to Penelope's guest room, but she wasn’t there. He ran through the house, looking for her, shouting her name.“Colin, what—”“Mum, where’s Pen?”“I’m not sure, dear — she went to wake you up after we said goodbye to the other families. Didn’t she?”He couldn’t exactly say he’d driven her away by kissing her without her consent, could he? His mum’s eyes grew alarmed at the expression she saw on his face, and she reached out to grip his arm. “Colin, what’s the matter?”“Nothing,” he lied. “I just have to tell her something.”Colin swept past her, continuing his search. The rest of his family probably thought he had lost his mind. Anthony was perplexed, and Hyacinth and Gregory both seemed alarmed. Eloise actually looked a little angry, but Colin didn’t have time to worry about that. He didn’t care that the Andersons were bewildered.In the end it was Benedict — bless him, curse him — who came strolling into the house, saying: “She’s on the driveway, getting into an Uber. You better hurry—”Colin was outside in a flash. The passenger seat door to the black, nondescript Toyota was closing as he ran up, his heart pounding.His hand closed on the door handle and wrenched it open. Penelope’s astonished face stared back up at him.“Pen,” he panted, utterly panicked, “Where are you going?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“We need to talk,” Colin pleaded. He wasn’t above begging. “Let me in, please.” Penelope stared at him, nonplussed. For a moment, he was sure she’d refuse. Then she closed her eyes, breathed out, and scooted back further into the seat. “Fine.”He scrambled inside, slamming the door shut before she could change her mind. The driver, a youngish woman with blonde hair, acknowledged him with a wary nod. The car was silent: no music, no radio — just the sound of Colin’s laboured breathing.“Are we off, then?” she asked, looking at Penelope. “Please.”The car drove off slowly over the gravel driveway. An oppressive weight hung in the air between them as they took to the main road leading into town. They both spoke at the same time, equally uncomfortable with the charged silence that had never existed in their relationship before. He blurted out, “Where are you going?”“What do you want to talk about?” she asked at the same time, her tone giving absolutely nothing away. This didn’t bode well. He’d spent enough time with the women in his life to know that if they seemed unemotional when they ought to be emotional, he was in trouble. Colin licked his lips, nervously. Penelope’s eyes flicked to track the movement, her face tightening, and he knew with a sinking heart that she was thinking about the kiss. Fuck. Now he was thinking about the kiss, too, which made his anxiety skyrocket even higher. “Are you leaving?” he asked, afraid of the answer. “I thought we agreed. That we’d go back together.”Her brow creased, and she huffed. “Do you really think I would go back to London in this?” she asked, gesturing at her fairy gown. Colin paused. He ventured slowly, “No.”“Without my bags?” she pointed out. “I didn’t change or bring anything with me.”Idiot, her tone seemed to say. He couldn’t exactly argue the charges when they were presented with evidence. They weren’t allegations but the truth — she could put him in jail for a hundred years for the crime of stupidity. He could admit that. “Where are you going then?” “Into town,” said Penelope, her tone not losing any of that forced coolness. “I forgot to bring my laptop charger, and Agatha called a meeting tonight. I need to buy one.”And I wanted to get away from you. The unspoken, but surely true reason for her departure lingered in the back of his mind. Despite everything, he felt relief. “So you’re coming back?”“Yes.”She was upset. He could tell she was, from her posture, the set of her jaw, the oddly calm way she was speaking to him. All signs pointed to you’re a fucking arsehole. He shouldn’t have pressed it, but he couldn’t help himself. “Are we still driving back to London together tomorrow?”Penelope stiffened, and looked out the window. “I don’t know, Colin.” The roiling in his gut intensified. Her next words were utterly heartbreaking. “I’m not sure it would be a good idea.”Fuck. He gripped his seatbelt, panic rising. “But—”Penelope interjected, her voice as chilly as the Arctic, “Why did you follow me?”Because he’d kissed her and she’d run away and it was killing him. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. “I—”She turned away from the window, narrowing her eyes at him. “What are we, Colin?”He froze. Was this a trick question? What was he supposed to say? There wasn’t a label for what they were… two people who had known one another for years, who were attracted to one another, on the cusp of something more…“We’re friends,” she said, before Colin could answer.All he could hear was a dreadful thumping, like the world had shrunk to nothing but the sound of his heart pumping blood through his body. A dismal, badump, badump, lonely and hollow. Misery flooded him. He’d bungled it, through and through. Lost his chance with her because he was a careless, depraved lecher with no rizz. His grand plans of romancing Penelope had been destroyed in a moment of mindless idiocy, and there was no one to blame but himself. Had he misread the signs so thoroughly? His fingers prickled like they’d fallen asleep. Colin forced himself to release his grip on the seatbelt, searching for something, anything, to say. “Friends,” she repeated. “Friends don’t kiss each other.”Did she have to keep nailing it home? He was already on the bloody ground, bruised and battered. She didn’t have to keep bludgeoning him with the word friends. “Of course,” he muttered, painfully aware of her watching him, tracking his reaction. He felt horrifically stupid and awkward. The words came out of his mouth all funny and disjointed, with none of his usual humour. Fuck it, he would never smile again. “Friends. It was a mistake. I never should have—”He broke off, catching the way Penelope’s eyes flashed at him. The expression in them was undeniably angry as she hissed, “Friends definitely don’t apologise after kissing! Or call it a mistake!”The blood drained from Colin’s face.A low, barely audible whistle came from the front seat. Colin and Penelope turned their heads, both so caught up in the conversation they’d forgotten they weren’t alone. The driver cleared her throat. “Sorry.”Penelope sat back, slumping against the seat, her face bright red. The gears in Colin’s head ticked, coming to life as he studied Penelope — her flushed face, her temper, the way she refused to look at him. She was angry, but not because he’d kissed her… no, she was angry because he’d said it was a mistake. A tiny seed of hope burst in his chest. Colin licked his dry lips, and tried again, “I can explain.”Penelope shook her head, staring straight ahead at the driver’s seat. “I think we should be quiet.”Over his dead body. At that moment, the driver glanced into the rearview mirror and met Colin’s eyes. She looked at him with pity, and that pissed him right the fuck off. “Having an audience for this isn’t bloody ideal,” he snapped, not intending for it to come out sounding quite so rude. Penelope sucked in a harsh breath, clearly appalled by his tone. Great. He was making a complete fucking hash job out of convincing her he wasn’t a piece of shite.Nevertheless, Colin and the driver glared at one another through the rearview mirror for a few seconds, until she broke first. Maybe she saw the desperation in his eyes, maybe it moved her, but whatever it was had her making a show of putting on a pair of earbuds, tuning herself out of their conversation. He could wait until Penelope finished her errand, and they got back to Aubrey Hall. But every cell inside his body rebelled against the idea, wanting to plead his case to her now and make her understand. He turned back to Penelope, feeling desperate. A statue greeted him, dauntingly unmoved. “Let me explain. Please, Pen.”“What is there to explain? You said it was a mistake.” Penelope’s tone was decidedly hurt. In the realm of fuck-ups, he’d reached the stratosphere. Left the Solar System, even. His voice cracked slightly under stress, making him sound pathetic and unconvincing. “I didn’t mean it like that.”“Then how did you mean it?”How the fuck had he meant it? Panic rose in his throat. The problem was he’d been thinking with his dick, and his dick wasn’t very smart, but he knew that wasn’t the right answer. Deflecting wouldn’t do him any good now. “Not like you’re thinking,” he said.Penelope snorted. “I wasn’t apologising for the kiss,” he said after a moment of excruciating silence. “Just for how it happened.”Penelope was right: he was acting like an idiot and a jerk. Of course she was confused. Hell, he was confused. “I could never be sorry for that kiss,” he said slowly. “It’s everything I’ve wanted for weeks.”She shook her head slightly, refusing to let him off easy. Her eyes bore into his, and she asked, “What does that mean?”“It means I want to be more than friends.”There. He’d said it. His stomach churned. This was not the romantic confession he’d envisioned. It couldn’t have gone more poorly. He was devastated, mourning the loss of what could have been… but what was done was done.He put as much feeling as he could into the words, hoping his sincerity came through. “I mean it, Pen. I want to be more than friends.”The blazing look in Penelope’s eyes didn’t abate or soften. It seemed to only grow harder. “Are you sure?”He looked at her, puzzled, uncomprehending. Sure about what? Wanting her? He couldn’t believe she thought otherwise. He was going fucking crazy wanting her. “I just find it a little hard to believe,” she said after a moment. “That you actually want me.”He gaped at her, completely fucking stunned. He’d been building white picket fences and renaming their seven redheaded children (sometimes alphabetical, sometimes alliterative, and sometimes simply rhyming) as well picking the breeds of the two dogs they were going to have … but Penelope… somehow… thought Colin didn’t want her?She looked him right in the eye as she spoke, her voice steady: “Is it because of the photos?”“What?”“You’ve never been attracted to me. Before.”He couldn’t believe his fucking ears. “What are you talking about, Pen?”Her face gave nothing away. “I just want to be clear on this.”Colin nodded, wary and confused. “I’m the same old Penelope I’ve always been.”“I know.”Her breathing grew harsher. “So what’s different? Nothing, except now the world has seen my tits and suddenly it's like everyone is seeing an entirely different person. Men who never gave me a second look are suddenly sending me dick pics.”Colin didn’t like the reminder but he kept his mouth shut. He also didn’t like being put into the same classification as the assholes who harassed her in her DMs, but he chose to let it pass because Penelope clearly needed to get this off her chest. “I haven't changed, though. I’m still me. It’s just a few pictures, and when the novelty wears off — when the internet finds its next viral sensation to fawn over — I’m just going to go back to being boring old unappealing Pen again.”A little ache bloomed in his chest, right under his stupid ribs. Penelope wanted Colin to be different, but she was afraid that he was just like everyone else: insincere, vapid. The thought hurt, almost as much as knowing Penelope considered herself boring.“You’ve not unappealing,” he said, upset by the very idea. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, Pen—”“Come on, Colin. Even you have to admit the timing is a little suspicious,” she said, ignoring his attempt at convincing her she was a bloody fucking work of art. “I start posting pictures of myself in my knickers online, and suddenly you’re coming over all the time, staring at my breasts, kissing me—”This wasn’t right. This was all fucking wrong. “—When you’ve never given me a second glance before, so forgive me if it all seems too good to be true.”She had no idea, did she? Then again, how could she? Colin had avoided his feelings for a long, long time — insisting to himself that there was nothing serious in their close, flirty encounters. There was no denying the fact that he’d been obtuse for years. She was right. He hadn’t acted on his attraction to her until she broadcasted just how fucking desirable she was to the entire world. He’d kept his head down, buried in the sand, pretending it was completely normal for a bloke to spend years thinking about his little sister’s best friend’s bra. The adolescent lust he’d felt for her should have been a clue. “If you think I’ve never had a dirty thought about you over the years, you’re wrong.”A shaky exhale was her response to his declaration. She looked at him with disbelief, which could either be incredulity that he could admit such a thing to her face or complete and utter scepticism that he actually meant it.Looking back, it wasn’t the most romantic thing to say. But it worked in making Penelope listen to what he was saying, and that was what mattered. Colin pressed his advantage, adding in a low, urgent tone, “Past me was an idiot, Pen. I was in denial. You’re Eloise’s best friend, and I thought I shouldn’t go there.”He took Penelope’s hand into his own, and she let him. It felt good, holding her hand. It settled his nerves and gave him courage to inch closer and closer with each word that spilled out of him. “I dream about you,” he admitted with a lightheaded rush. “I was dreaming of you earlier. Before I kissed you. I was dreaming about kissing you, and doing so much more, but after I told you how I felt. That’s why it was a mistake, Pen. I was supposed to confess first.”Penelope’s face had gone slack, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “Confess what?” Her hand lifted to his cheek, and he felt like the sun had miraculously pierced through the evening to bathe him in warmth. He nuzzled her palm and whispered against her skin, “I’m bloody crazy about you, Pen. So much so it’s killing me—because I can’t stop thinking about you.”She turned her head to look into his eyes; he was so close their faces almost touched. Her lashes lowered, eyes flicking to his mouth… and then she leaned forward.It took him a few seconds to respond, his brain processing the fact that Penelope had kissed him first, and then his instincts kicked in — he kissed her back, his hands circling her waist, swallowing the small moan that erupted from her. Just like in his fantasies, she tasted sweet… he couldn’t get enough. He felt the sound of his name coming from her throat like a languid stroke, all the way down the length of his cock. Hello, sweet agony, my old friend. The little bugger came to life, rearing up to make its presence known in his tight trousers. “I can’t stop thinking about you, too,” she whispered, wrapping her hand around his neck, fingernails tracing electric lines into his nape. Her tongue was in his mouth in the next second, aggressive, demanding, and every single pent up feeling he’d been nursing for the last fucking month surged up and poured out. His hand found its way to her breast, squeezing lightly. Oh, fuck. They felt better than he’d even imagined, even through the corset bodice of her dress. He palmed it more firmly, more reverently, arousal blanking his mind quite thoroughly. Fucking finally. “Oi,” said a voice, penetrating the haze that had fogged up his mind. He ignored it, choosing to focus on kissing Penelope more deeply. She’d chosen that moment to plunge her fingers into the thick of his hair, and there was no way in hell he was stopping. Desperately, he fumbled with the skirt of Penelope’s fairy dress, cursing the layer upon layers of tulle and glitter. The sound of rapping on the back of the driver’s seat distracted Colin. He tore his mouth from Penelope’s and wildly looked around — the Uber driver was staring blankly at them over her shoulder. She gestured out the window. “We’re at the store.”“Oh,” said Colin, finally noticing they’d arrived in the small township and had come to a stop at the corner of Salisbury Street.“I’ll wait here while you go in, but let’s get things straight now: no funny business,” she warned. “I’ll let you make out in my car but I absolutely draw the line at anything more.”Shit, he’d forgotten where they were. “Sorry,” said Colin, chastised. Penelope squirmed as he surreptitiously attempted to withdraw his hand from beneath her voluminous skirt. There was no hope of the Uber driver not noticing but he gave her his most charming smile to soothe her ruffled feathers. It kind of worked. She returned her attention to the road, but kept one eye on the rearview mirror, letting him know she was watching. “We’ll give you a five-star review,” Penelope said, her voice coming out muffled as she’d chosen to bury her face in Colin’s chest. He thought for a second that she was upset, but then he realised the shaky movement of her shoulders was because she was laughing. “And a big tip.”“I’d appreciate that,” said the driver, her voice congenial again. She was perfectly nice when speaking to Pen, but then again, it had been Pen who had ordered the ride.“Two tips,” he offered to sweeten the deal. “If you take the long way back.”“Done,” said the driver. She plugged in her earbuds again. Colin helped Penelope out of the car and into the small electronics store. The store owner raised his eyebrows at the sight of her dress but didn’t comment. Penelope purchased her charger and they returned to the Uber, still holding hands. “Please give me five stars,” said the driver after dropping them off. “I drive all over London and the surrounding boroughs.”“Absolutely,” Penelope replied. “Thank you.”She drove off and Colin felt oddly like he’d just witnessed a friendship blossoming. “I’m adding—” Penelope peered at the name on her Uber app, “Rae as one of my favourite drivers.”“Double the tip,” Colin requested. “I promised. I’ll buy you dinner.”Penelope paused. “What kind of dinner?”“The kind you eat on dates,” he said, thrilled by the blush that crossed her cheeks. She didn’t need further urging, and after that, the mood between them went back to being giddy and light. His heart felt like it had expanded ten sizes in his chest, and everything was unexpectedly perfect again, even after his massive fuck-up. He couldn’t wait to get her alone and make sure there was no doubt left lingering whatsoever in her mind that he, Colin Bridgerton, was so fucking downbad for her it wasn’t funny. The thought zipped around in his head like a buzzing gnat, tormenting him. Relief was a powerful aphrodisiac, Colin supposed (but to be fair, his cock was more or less ready to go 24/7 where Penelope was concerned).Unfortunately, the private family dinner portion of the first official Bridgerton-Anderson Blending was almost over by then. Rae had definitely taken the long way home, allowing Colin and Pen to hold hands companionably for the duration of the ride. As much as he wanted to, they had not made out. Some things were better done in private. Instead, they’d just been content to hold hands and stare into each other’s eyes. Colin expected Mum would be disappointed, but she didn’t let on. She smiled at the sight of them walking through the door, hands still clasped together.“Sorry, Mum. Pen had an emergency.”“It’s perfectly alright, love. We’ll make up for it soon, anyway. Marcus invited us all to his home next month.”Us, she’d said, looking at the both of them. Penelope included. Predictably, his siblings were watching him, but he barely cared. Hyacinth had a gleam in her eye, and Gregory was smirking so hard there was a chance his face would get stuck that way, all squinty and dumb. Eloise, bless her, simply rolled her eyes and said, “Took you long enough.”Colin grinned and let his date to dinner and the next blending head upstairs to attend her meeting with her boss.As soon as Penelope was out of sight, Hyacinth let out a big whoop. “I told you! I knew it!”Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Care to make an announcement, Colin?”“Don’t make a fuss,” he said, but he couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face. “Shy? Never our Colin,” drawled Benedict. “Congrats. I wish you’d been a little quicker about it. I thought, surely two weeks—”Gregory groaned. “Oh bloody hell. I forgot.”“I haven’t!” Hyacinth was positively vibrating with glee. “Mwahahaha!! Pay up, losers!”“Oh well. I’m a softy,” said Benedict, with a sigh that held no weight to it, not when his eyes were dancing. “Your happiness is worth losing twenty pounds to Hyacinth.”He slapped a note into the waiting open palm extended next to him just as Anthony strolled into the room looking exasperated. “Are you finally back? You missed our news—”“Colin and Penelope are dating!” Hyacinth cried, bouncing with excitement. “You owe me twenty quid, too!”Anthony faltered, but a small smile curved his mouth. “Really?”“It happened just now,” said Colin, trying his best not to gloat when really he wanted to shout from the rooftops that the love of his life had agreed to go on a date (maybe two) with him. No big deal. Pretending that he possessed a great amount of chill, he asked, “What’s the big news?”It was Hyacinth who spoke first, unable to resist blurting it out: “Kate’s preggers!” *Colin kept his hands to himself on the drive back to London. Okay, technically, he kept them on the steering wheel, but it amounted to the same thing: they were where they ought to be — namely, not touching Penelope. Which sucked. Road safety and all that. The drive was long and hot and would have been a boring chore if not for Penelope sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his car. She had sunnies on: cute white frames to contrast her cute black maxi dress. It had a little triangular cutout thing in the front, right between her breasts, clearly designed to drive Colin crazy. He’d instantly wanted to stick his fingers in the hole as soon as she appeared at the top of the stairs that morning, bags in hand. Colin had taken the steps two at a time, rushing to take the bags from her. “I’ll carry them,” he’d said, unable to take his eyes off the shadowy Bermuda triangle resting on her chest. He was going to get lost in it if he wasn’t careful.“Thanks,” she’d said, flushing happily and following him to his car. The day was sticky, much like yesterday, and Colin felt it inside and out. A bead of sweat formed on his temple as he drove past what felt like miles of manicured countryside, leaving Aubrey Hall behind them. Thankfully, his car was new and had air conditioning — unlike Eloise’s old clunker, which she refused to upgrade until it died an ungraceful death — so he cranked it up, sighing in relief.It was all well and dandy until he noticed Penelope shifting in her seat as she told him about her meeting last night with Agatha. Little goosebumps appeared on her arms. His gaze trailed elsewhere, and his mouth went dry as he noticed that other parts of her were puckering in the cooler temperature. She’s just cold, he told his surging dick, but he was shaken too. Her nipples were showing through her dress and he didn’t even have a jacket or anything to offer her. Crap. He reached to turn the dial down on the AC, but she halted his hand, saying, “Oh, no, please — it’s so nice and cool.”The tension never left his body after that. Penelope was a dangerous, dangerous woman. If he looked to his left he would be treated to the sight of her hardened nipples and the inviting gap in her dress. He wondered if it was big enough for him to fit his hand through. The material didn’t seem very stretchy, but maybe it was, and maybe he could reach over and slip his fingers inside her bodice far enough to reach her nipple if he tried.“I took a train from London to get to Kent,” she said, snapping him out of his incredibly dangerous fantasy. “I napped until someone knocked over my iced coffee. And it was bloody hot. The Uber that took me from the train station didn’t have air-conditioning, either.” She shuddered in memory. Colin sensed an opportunity for praise. “So this is better?”“Loads,” she grinned. He flirted audaciously: “How are you going to thank me, then?”Penelope didn’t miss a beat. “By letting you buy me dinner.”He adjusted his fingers on the steering wheel. “I did promise. What did you want to eat?”“What do you want to eat?” she asked back.You. Your mouth. Your nipples. Every part of your sexy, curvy body. “Hm,” he said, feigning consideration, as if he were thinking about food and not Penelope. They’d only been on the road for fifteen minutes, and he was already having trouble staying focused on driving. It was just bloody hard, knowing she would (probably) let him kiss her if he leaned over. She smelled good, like vanilla frosting and peaches, and her dress was as dastardly designed as anything Genevieve Delacroix could think up. Colin had been living with this torturous state of arousal for so long he thought he might go crazy soon. But he couldn’t expect her to sleep with him on the first bloody date. Especially not when he knew she was insecure about his reasons for asking her out… her worry that he was after just one thing from her. Colin wanted everything, sex included, but he had to take it easy and slow and make sure Penelope felt safe and secure with him. Slow might just about kill him, though.Colin gritted his teeth for the rest of the drive, nearly losing his cool when Penelope laid a hand on his arm to point out a passing landmark, and when she brushed against his knee while adjusting the angle of his docked phone so he could see the GPS better. He hit the gas pedal a little harder than he intended, and the resulting jolt sent Penelope’s hand further into his lap. Fucking hell. He was hard, there was no hiding it, and he figured Penelope was either okay with it or holding back her disappointment because she didn’t say anything. She simply pulled her hand back, the only hint of emotion on her face was the tint of pink on her cheeks. When they arrived at her flat, Colin parked his car on the end of her street and paid for overnight parking. Just in case. A tingle of shame coursed through him but he told his conscience it didn’t mean he was hoping for anything – he was just covering all his bases. Penelope offered him a cold drink once they were inside her flat, so he followed her to the kitchen. Immediately he felt it, that sense of cosiness he always got when he was in her sphere, watching her do everyday tasks. It didn’t dampen his erection at all, but existed alongside it, making him feel oddly content. He almost didn’t mind being utterly out of his mind with arousal. Almost.As he watched, Penelope poured him a glass of cold water, plopping ice cubes into it. She handed it to him, returning to the tray to pick up another, running the ice along the side of her neck, sighing in relief. The erotic sight had his eyes bugging out of their sockets, and the sounds she made went straight to his cock, sending more blood away from his brain to his groin. All thoughts of cosiness were gone, replaced by hard, consuming lust. Fuck. Was she doing this on purpose? Women didn’t do stuff like that outside of porn, did they? He was sure they didn’t, but Penelope had just done it, and… she was gesturing to the sofa. He followed her like a mindless, horny puppy, eyes glued to her backside. She sat down, making herself comfortable as he settled on the armchair, holding his water on his lap, the condensation on the glass turning his fingers cold and numb. Good. He needed a little numb right now. “You’re sitting awfully far,” she said, and he knew it then. She was teasing him. He exhaled and said carefully, “What about dinner?” “Too early,” she said. She rose from the sofa and climbed onto his lap, settling those breasts of hers right beneath his nose. Oh god. He tensed, even as his hands went automatically to her hips to steady her. The heat between her thighs felt scorching against his knees. He felt lightheaded. The Bermuda Triangle hovered before him, tantalisingly near. Colin steeled himself against temptation. He was not going to paw at her chest. He was a gentleman. He wanted to be her boyfriend, and sticking his fingers into her clothing was not the way to her heart.There was also the fact that while she seemed accepting of his feelings for her, she had yet to let him know how she felt about him. She must like him back, or she wouldn’t be on his lap, but did she like him, or did she like him? He didn’t know, and asking right now felt like the wrong move. His dick was screaming at him to just go with it. “Why d’you think they added this hole?” he asked, like an idiot. “For ventilation?”She looked down, perplexed. Then she realised what he was talking about and let out a giggle that sent flutters down his spine. “You’ve been staring at it all day,” she murmured knowingly. Fuck, he was so not slick. “I love your breasts,” he blurted out. He cringed right after saying it. That was not cool. Hadn’t he decided on being a gentleman? Gentlemen didn’t start seducing their partners by saying the first stupid horny thing they thought of. “Not just your breasts,” he amended, afraid that he would never find the right words to express his undying love when Penelope was on his lap, staring at him with her sky blue eyes, waiting for him to woo her. “They are perfect, though.”“Are they?”“The best I’ve ever seen,” he assured her. There was no comparison. “Spectacular. Showstopping. Can I take your dress off?”Maybe he was wooing her. Somehow. Because Penelope was already pushing down the straps of her Bermuda triangle of a dress, lowering the bodice until her tits fell out. No bra, he thought distractedly. Her nipples stood proudly, jutting out for his attention. She cupped her breasts and offered them up to him. Colin groaned.“This is the best day of my life,” he said out loud. Her lips twitched.He palmed her breasts, replacing her hands with his own as Penelope watched. It was true, exactly as he’d imagined: her soft, gorgeous areolas were sensitive, peaking with a few gentle flicks of his thumb. They hardened further as he stroked them, admiring the way her soft flesh spilled out of his hand. “Forgive me for being crass,” he murmured hoarsely, “But these are fucking phenomenal.”He pinched her nipple, making her gasp, and slid his hands down the pooling fabric at her waist, stroking over the soft roundness of her stomach. The vulnerable contraction of her belly muscles made him look up at her face. He rested his hands on her thighs, letting her take control of the pace. And he was rewarded when she stood to allow him to push the dress down her hips, leaving her in a pair of lacy black knickers. Those fell to the ground too. “You’re beautiful,” he said. He meant it. He liked everything about her, every little bit that she had shyly revealed, slow and sweet. Her eyes, her lips, her breasts, her cute little belly button. The sloping curve of her stomach led into voluptuous thighs and a jiggling, heart-shaped arse. She had light stretch marks where her legs met her pelvis, tiger stripes that beckoned to him, perfect for tracing his tongue along until his mouth met the sweet, trimmed mound of her pussy. It was round and soft and covered in baby-fine hair a shade lighter than the ones on her head. She hadn’t shaved or waxed, maybe because he’d said once that she didn’t have to, not for him, and the thought that she’d listened was… heartstopping.She climbed back onto his lap. There was nothing separating them but his own stupid clothes. He wanted to spread her thighs, pull his cock out, and sink into her warm, delectable body — fuck, he literally was aching for it. “This isn’t just about sex,” he told her again.“I know,” she said, with a crooked smile that gave him some of the absolution he craved. He brought his hands back to those amazing breasts, lifting them higher, further into his face. He nuzzled the soft skin between her breasts for a satisfying minute before pressing kisses to her soft skin. Penelope gripped his shoulders, moaning as Colin sucked one nipple into his mouth, feeling it tighten further beneath his tongue. He wasn’t nearly half as gentle as he should have been, but fucking hell, he’d been waiting for this moment forever, so he hoped Penelope would understand. Much to his delight, she seemed to understand perfectly because she arched into his mouth, his name falling from her lips. It was the most beautiful fucking sound in the entire universe. He was instantly harder than rock. On the Mohs scale, he was peaking above chart and cutting fucking diamonds. His cock wanted in on the action, too, nearly punching a hole into his jeans. Well, it could fucking wait, Colin thought grimly. He didn't have a condom on him. That meant no penetrative sex. His cock hated the idea, but he wouldn’t treat Penelope in such a poor fashion, no matter how badly he wanted to sink between her legs and slake this all-consuming lust for her. Colin respected her. He wanted to protect her and make her feel as good as she made him feel. It was settled, because once he’d made up his mind to do something, he wouldn’t stray. Ever. This was about Penelope and her fantastic tits and voluptuous thighs and brilliant, funny mind. He could list out everything he loved about her, and it would go on forever, but he thought she’d be better served if he went about kissing and caressing all those gorgeous things instead.He lifted his head, using his thumbs to trace circles over her nipples again while his mouth rediscovered her taste with a kiss. She was sensitive, bucking her hips into his with every touch, every stroke of his tongue against hers. He kissed her languidly, if ardently, tugging her lower lip between his teeth. Penelope’s hand slid down his arm, reaching between them. Her fingers brushed against his zipper — he grabbed her hand and forced it back up to his shoulder, grunting out, “Not yet.”She didn’t argue. Instead, she rode his lap, rocking a hundred blazing times against his thigh. Little pitched cries filling his ears and his cock, making him swell and throb and angle her so that she rubbed against him perfectly with each pass. The rough material of his jeans was better than smooth silk, providing delicious friction for them both… a patch of wet denim simultaneously separated and pleasured them as much as Colin’s fingers and mouth and tongue on Penelope’s breasts.He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her nipples. He wanted to make her cum just from toying with them, the challenge igniting his competitive spirit. His decision was punctuated by Penelope whimpering as his teeth scraped over a puckered nipple.Circling her waist with one arm, he clamped her down, forcing her hips still so that he could tweak and pinch and suck and bite at her delicious tits until she was writhing and shaking and making urgent, distressed moans—each one acting like a firm stroke to his cock. Even then he didn’t stop. He kept going, keeping his eyes trained on her expression as she trembled on his lap, wanting to see every permutation of pleasure that crossed her face.Satisfaction hit hard as he felt it happen — her thighs tightening and convulsing as though her pussy wanted to swallow up his cock right through the fabric barrier between them. Her mouth opened on a gasp, throat constricting over a cry of his name, and the pulsing heat that pressed through his jeans was a tour de force, soaking his crotch through to the sensitive skin of his throbbing, releasing cock. He loosened his grip on her waist, letting her resume rocking on him, milking him until he was completely, thoroughly, finished. There was nothing left in him but mindless euphoria sizzling through his veins as his mouth sought out hers. He’d cum in his pants. It was bloody fucking brilliant.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The sibling group chat was buzzing, bright and early. Colin tore his attention away from his limping manuscript to peek at what they were chatting about. someone changed their relationship status 🤔
deadass added it to his IG profile
🤡🤡🤡
why has he gone silent?
Eloise popped into the chat to instigate him, as Eloise was wont to do with scant mercy: The crying men in her DMs tho…Colin, immediately rising to the bait, typed furiously: WHAT CRYING MEN????Oh, there he is. Daphne appeared in the chat, typing infuriatingly slowly while Eloise went silent. Colon, remember to bring Penelope to brunch this weekend. Mum wants her there so she can officially welcome her as your girlfriend.
hahahahaha colon
He didn’t think he was going to get an answer about the crying men. He didn’t doubt they were crying, though. Colin ignored Gregory’s immaturity and focused on typing out a regretful answer to Daphne. She can’t come. Her sister is having an engagement dinner on Sunday and she has a hair appointment that morning. Anthony was typing, now. So you’re joining her after Brunch?Assumptions. He didn’t like them. Colin wouldn’t be joining her because Penelope had not invited him to be her plus-one to Prudence’s private dinner party. She was going on her own. They were just too new, he told himself. Penelope might’ve forgiven him for his, quote, “mixed messages” and overall ineptitude at declaring himself romantically, but obviously she wasn’t really sure about him yet. He couldn’t blame her. He’d promised himself to take things slow and then had immediately gotten her out of her dress before taking her out for dinner. He didn’t say, I wasn’t invited. He said, It’s a private family event. Early days yet.One, two, three ‘thumbs up’ appeared under his message instantly, followed by Hyacinth sending a 🥹. Bah. Colin didn’t like this supportive, unspoken pity. He thought at least one of them would point out it was the perfect opportunity to present a new boyfriend to the family. He could imagine it: showing up on Penelope’s arm in his best suit, with a new haircut and a charming smile. He would have smashed it out of the park.Colin had spent three days deliriously happy after returning to London from Kent. After all, he’d seen Penelope naked and kissed her nipples until she came on his lap — sure, he’d followed suit, making a right mess in his jeans, but it was a worthy price to pay. She’d offered him use of her shower afterwards, giggling at his dazed expression. Her eyes had widened when he insisted he would go home to shower and take her out properly for dinner. Somehow he’d managed to drive home in a post-orgasmic cloud, the taste of Penelope’s kisses still on his lips — and then proceed to take a shower, shave himself, buy last minute flowers and a box of chocolates from Sainsbury's — before making it back in record time. When he brought her back to her flat after dinner, he’d been sorely tempted to follow her inside. But he fought the urge, kissing her slowly and thoroughly against her front door until she was soft and pliable, her hands fisted in his hair. Saying goodnight had been hard. In every sense of the word. The following morning, he went for a run and brought her decadent chocolate croissants and a creamy mocha latte. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, and kissing her afterwards had been delicious as if he’d had the pleasure of eating the pastries himself. He’d been hard-pressed to leave for the second time in a row, but Penelope had to work, and he was far too distracting (her words). It was nice to know she found him irresistible. He fiddled with his phone, wondering how he’d gone from sheer, unadulterated joy to the current slump he was experiencing so quickly.Last night he’d asked Penelope what her plans for the weekend were, hinting heavily that he had some ideas. Then she’d hit him with the engagement party news, and there had been a distinct lack of an invitation to attend the event with her. He hadn’t pressed her on the subject, hadn’t offered to go with her, hadn’t asked why it wasn’t an option… Maybe, he thought glumly, he should have. Then again, maybe this was all moving too fast for Penelope. Slow and steady, he reminded himself. Penelope’s heart wasn’t a thing to be won so easily. She was a beautiful, sought-after woman, who could have her pick of a bevy of men (mostly inferior specimens), and Colin was lucky he hadn’t missed his chance. He did have some advantages that the other tossers didn’t: they’d been friends for years, he was a bit above average in looks and height, and she liked his writing. That last bit was heartening, because while Penelope seemed to enjoy him with his shirt off, she also seemed to enjoy other men in the same way… of course, he was generally confident in his own attractiveness, but Colin wasn’t certain his allure was enough to secure her affections. Friendship notwithstanding, until recently she’d only ever seen him as Eloise’s brother. The sombering realisation that she obviously wasn’t as sure of him as he was sure of her had him in a slightly blue mood. Bollocks. Who was he kidding? He was a wet paper bag of a man, sulking in his flat, scrolling through his phone messages and staring at his Instagram profile, wondering if when Penelope would publicly acknowledge him as the man in her life. His profile update had triggered a fresh revival of likes and comments on their photoshoot post. Colin contented himself with reading the gleeful ‘we knew it!’ comments there. He aggressively liked a ‘give up bro’ reply to Spanish Daddy, lip curling in satisfaction. Greasy-chested tosser. He was buoyed by the fact that people were rooting for him and Penelope, commenting on how cute they were together. Maybe he should send some screenshots to Penelope…By the time Sunday rolled around, Colin had only seen Penelope in person once, when they’d met for a quick lunch together on Friday in between Penelope’s meetings with the authors whose books she was editing. Seeing her sitting in the bistro had filled him with longing that he had to tamp down. The kiss hello she gave him barely filled the yawning pit of need inside him, and their lunch hour felt like it lasted all of five minutes. Bridgerton Brunch was a noisy affair per usual, with everyone questioning Colin about his romantic ‘chase’ scene. He kept his mouth shut, and smiled his best angelic Colin ‘The Gentleman’ Bridgerton smile, you’re welcome Mum; refusing to let Benedict tease him into saying anything risque or incriminating. Mum was over the moon about ‘the two of them finally getting together’ which he found a bit odd, as she’d never insinuated before that she thought he and Penelope ought to be a couple. It was Eloise (and strangely enough, Anthony) who gave him the ‘don’t you dare hurt Penelope’ talk. Completely and utterly unneeded. He was head over arse in love with Penelope. There wasn’t a single universe in which Colin could imagine ever hurting her when he was pathetically pining for her whenever she wasn’t within ten feet of him. As he left his mum’s, he wondered how Penelope’s hair appointment had gone. Maybe she’d had it all lopped off. He loved her hair, long and tumbling over her shoulders, but he was sure he’d love it short, too. She’d worn it shorter when she was younger, the memory of a fresh-faced tween Penelope emerging, and solidifying his belief that she’d be adorable no matter what. His libido argued back: long hair was great, it was sexy, it was something to hold onto in bed… fair point, Colin conceded. There could be no end to such debate, not when he wanted to cuddle her and fuck her until she screamed his name. The dual urges existed simultaneously, warring for dominance. His heart said, She walks in beauty like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies. His cock replied, Roses are nice, violets are fine, I’ll be the six, you be the nine. A tough call. Colin decided he had to put an end to the epic battle between the two wolves inside of him and call Penelope so he could hear her voice.“Hi,” she said, answering on the first ring. “How did you know?”His heart lurched for some reason. “Know what?”“That I’m here? Have you got cameras?”“What?”“Open your door!”He rushed to his front door and flung it wide — Penelope stood there, dressed to kill. In a good way. Colin was momentarily stunned.“Pen,” he croaked. “Nice dress.”It was more than just a ‘nice dress’. It was a work of art. Form-fitting green silk, curving sensually around her breasts and waist and hips. The neckline was demure and the hem fell to her knees. Classy. Sexy. God, she was always sexy. “Thought I’d drop by on the way to the restaurant,” she said, and he knew she’d wanted to show off for him. The thought brought conflicting feelings of pleasure and dismay. He was absolutely thrilled to see her all dolled up, but disappointed to know he’d be left behind while she went off looking like a goddess. “You look absolutely smashing,” he said, hiding his internal pouting and letting her inside. As she ducked past his arm, shutting the door behind them, he caught a whiff of her perfume. Also sexy. He couldn’t see any difference in the length of her hair, but it was expertly curled and shiny and smelled of expensive hair products. Would she mind terribly if he ran his hands through it? He wanted badly to touch, but probably shouldn’t, knowing she’d probably just spent a fortune at the salon.“Prudence had to pick the most posh restaurant,” Penelope groused. “Couldn’t change the reserved seating last minute. Shame, really, you’d love the seafood antipasto.”Oh. “I know a great little seafood restaurant,” Colin told her, heart quickening as he wrapped his arms around her silk-covered waist. He had a green shirt that was a pretty good match for her dress. They would’ve looked fantastic arriving together. Next time, he promised himself. “It’ll knock your socks off,” he teased.A wicked little smile flashed across her face. “Is that a promise?” She sidled up to him, hands flat on his chest, and then they were making out again. She kissed him like she couldn’t get enough of him and she tasted faintly like strawberries with a hint of coffee. Delicious.“Text me when you’re done,” he said, feeling gooey in the centre and loving it. Penelope gave him a brilliant smile and swiped at the corner of his mouth. “Will do.”After a few more kisses, and a nice grope or two, she was out the door, leaving a Penelope-shaped void in his suddenly very empty flat. Colin sighed and went to the bathroom, stopping short at the sight of himself in the mirror above the sink.“Fuck,” he said to his reflection. His hair was wild, standing up on end from Penelope’s hands, and her lipstick was pretty much all over his face. He thought of her wiping away a tiny speck of it — bless — and barked out a laugh. Grabbing his phone, he took a selfie and sent it to her.
I’ve been thoroughly ravished
Multiple responses came quickly. Too quickly.
EWWW
😱😮😮😮😮oops, he typed. wrong chat🤮🤮🤮 you did that on purpose don’t lie 🤮🤮🤮
i feel like i need to bleach my eyes
Colin sent a few fire emojis. His siblings immediately started spamming them too. And then they went right back to spamming puking emojis. Brats. Smugly, he set his phone aside and completed the unfortunate task of washing his face, but he made sure to take several more selfies to record the evidence from every angle first. There was a faint shadow of a bruise just beneath his jaw that he thought might become a hickey. Fantastic. He sent a photo of it to the sibs, captioned with: fascinating how it's shaped like a heart 🤔
GROSS
Daphne sent, I’m leaving this group chat, goodbye all.
you’ve driven her away! you are breaking us apart!!!
Don’t leave, Daphne. Anthony somehow always managed to sound insufferably bossy even through text. Colin, you’re in time out for 24 hours. He typed back, outraged: you can’t put me in time out!
Watch me.
🤪🤪🤪🤪*Colin hadn’t expected Penelope to be done with her family until much later, but no more than an hour had passed when he heard his doorbell ringing. His phone buzzed at the same time, and a message from Penelope flashed across his screen: I’m back.He skidded across the flat to let her in, a huge smile breaking across his face despite his surprise. “Pen—!”She dove straight into his arms, her own wrapping around his waist in a tight hug. Colin stumbled a bit, heart leaping, wondering if she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her. Had she realised, upon arrival at the dinner, that she had made a crucial mistake, and come back to fetch him? He had a suit somewhere in the back of his closet, he could be ready in ten, fifteen minutes, tops. Exuberantly, he returned the hug, squeezing her and feeling that goopy feeling in his guts that he might have mistaken for indigestion if he hadn’t already recognized it as Love. Delightful, stomach-twisting, heart-rending love. A sigh escaped him. Penelope pulled back at the sound, lifting her head to look at him. He opened his mouth to explain that he was just really, really, really happy to see her (in more ways than one) but a single glance at her face made him realise something was wrong. Her shoulders sloped in a defensive line, and her mascara was smudged. “You’re back early,” he noted, excitement dying down as she stepped back from him.“Could use a drink,” she said. Colin frowned, reaching for her hand and taking it in his own. Her fingers were cold, a little clammy. He led her into the flat, towards the kitchen. “What happened?” A hint of unhappiness flickered over her face, but she quickly schooled it away. “Mum didn’t want me there, so I left.” “Why wouldn’t she want you there?” “She hasn’t spoken to me in nearly two months now. I s’pose I should have expected it.”He felt a sense of foreboding, and asked cautiously, “What did she say?”“Oh, the usual.” Penelope shrugged and recited, “You didn’t expect me to be proud of you for parading yourself naked on the internet, did you? If it was Philippa or Prudence she probably wouldn’t be so embarrassed, but it’s me, so she thinks I’m just a big fat laughingstock—”That prickle of unease turned into full fledged anger. Penelope’s tone was cavalier, but Colin knew her too well to believe the pretence. She was hurt. “I’m used to it,” she said, seeing the hard look on his face. His heart twisted, hearing Penelope say she was used to her mother being awful to her. “It’s not a big deal,” she added. It was a huge fucking deal, he thought, heartbroken for her and wishing there was something he could do to take away that resigned expression in her eyes. “I’m fine.”She wasn’t, and he wouldn’t let her pretend like she was. Or let her think this was the way things should be. “Mums are supposed to protect you and encourage you,” he said, unable to hold back his ire. “Your mother is a bitch.”He startled a laugh out of her, but it wasn’t a happy one. Colin clenched his fists. “She is. She’s not worthy of you if she can’t see how beautiful you are, how wonderful your body is — she has to be blind!”“Colin—”He was on a roll. “What right does she have to be embarrassed by you? You’re the entire fucking package, Pen. You’re beautiful, but you’re so clever on top of it, which is bloody insane, because what are the chances that one person could have the world’s greatest tits and be a fantastic writer and be kind and considerate and a wonderful friend?”“Colin,” she said again, helplessly, her voice breaking. Fuck. Was she going to cry?He barrelled on, desperate to make her understand how utterly fantastic she was and to wipe that painful expression from her eyes. “I can barely believe how lucky I am that you decided to let me be with you, it’s my fucking dream come true. She has no bloody idea — you’re smart and witty and you make me laugh and you’re so damn pretty it drives me crazy. The whole world can see it. I mean, fuck, Pen, you have a phone full of dick pics to prove it! Show her that!”Right. That was a bit of a crazy thing to say. Colin was appalled at himself. He didn’t actually want her to show anyone the dick pics she might have in her possession (hopefully, she’d deleted them), but the point was solid. Penelope was hot and perfect and desirable, and her mother was a blazing idiot. Penelope stared at him, silent, her eyes glimmering with tears. Fuck, she was crying. He hated Portia Featherington in that moment, more than he had ever hated anyone. “I’ll call her right now and tell her,” he said hotly, reaching for his phone. “I’ll tell her she’s wrong, and that she owes you an apology—”The sentence went unfinished, forever. Penelope stepped towards him, her hands reaching for his face, pulling him down. He dropped his phone, heard it fall to the floor with a clatter, and didn’t care. Penelope’s lips fused over his, kissing him, her fingers in his hair. His impotent anger turned swiftly into hot desire, and he redirected his attention into seeking the pleasures of her mouth.“I adore you,” she whispered, between kisses. He thought he heard her say, I always have, but it might’ve been wishful thinking, or simply a delusion on his part. He wasn’t thinking straight, anyway, because Penelope was fumbling with the hem of his shirt, tugging it up so she could slip her hands beneath and stroke his stomach. She moaned into his mouth as she traced the muscles of his abdomen, letting her fingers delve into the happy trail that led to his very excited cock. He felt her unfastening the button on his jeans. Holy shit. Colin’s cock went rockhard in a split second, making his head spin. He stumbled as he felt her push him and drag her lips away — no no no, his brain cried in panic, don’t stop. Instinctively he followed, trying to gather her back, his arms circling her waist; but she pushed harder until he had no choice but to let her go. “Sit,” she said, her voice several octaves deeper than he’d ever heard it, and then he saw the look on her face, the widened pupils that stared up at him, filled with the same consuming want that mirrored his own. It took him several seconds to comprehend that she wanted him to sit on the barstool behind him. He sat, stumbling slightly, one arm reaching for the kitchen island behind him to steady himself. Thank god he’d managed to grip it before Penelope lowered herself to the floor, kneeling between his feet.Was this a dream? Surely it was a dream. Had he fallen asleep and all of this was a miraculous, impossible, incredible mirage? The sound of his zipper slowly lowering felt real. The focused look on Penelope’s face, as she reached into his pants and freed his erection, felt real. The velvety soft sensation of her fingers dancing lightly over his cock felt so very real. Her hands were tiny, and they’d never looked tinier than when she wrapped both of them around his cock, and barely managed to cover the length of him. The tip stuck out, so Penelope covered it with her lips, sucking gently as she enclosed her wet mouth around it. Colin gripped the stool with white-knuckled fingers, a groan erupting from his chest as he watched the girl of his dreams suck on his cock. She looked up at him through her lashes, her gaze so sweet and earnest he wanted to explode right then and there. It was like someone had lit a match and set his insides on fire — but it still wasn’t enough. He wanted to touch her. He reached down and cupped her breasts through the thin silk of her dress. Better. She involuntarily moaned at the feeling of his fingers tracing around her nipples, and the vibration against his cock was delicious. Fuck. He wanted to suck on them in the same way she was sucking on him, to give her pleasure for pleasure. But that was physically impossible so he had to settle for toying with the stiff peaks and giving them nice little pinches and rolls that had her making noises around his cock again. Her right hand clenched around the base of him as she trailed her left hand down to his balls, stroking them lovingly. Yes, that was the word he wanted to use: Penelope was giving him the most loving blowjob he had ever experienced in his entire life. Her big blue eyes watched him, continuously checking to make sure he liked what she was doing. As if she could do anything to him that he wouldn’t like — especially when it involved her mouth. Slowly, she lowered said mouth, taking more and more of him in, until he felt his sensitive tip touch the back of her throat. Penelope didn’t gag, but her eyes watered slightly, taking on a glossy sheen that only made her eyes seem even bluer — and made him harder. “Pen,” he groaned, giving up on stroking her nipples to slide his hands into her silky hair. She relaxed completely in his hold, utterly trusting and letting him set the pace as she bobbed her head.“I’m gonna cum,” he said urgently, terrified that he was tugging too hard on her hair. Surges of hot, pulsing pleasure accompanied each pull of her mouth. He was so fucking close, a breath away from pouring himself down her throat, but a gentleman did not do that without warning, and without making sure the gorgeous woman on her knees at his feet was okay with it. Penelope looked up at him beneath her lashes and responded by running her tongue across the bottom of his cock before pulling back and swirling her tongue over his swollen crown. She was probably — hopefully — okay with it, then. His climax swept over him. Colin threw his head back, his feet stomping on the floor as he came heart-wrenchingly hard into Penelope’s mouth. Satisfaction throbbed powerfully through him, aided by her moans and how willingly she swallowed his release. She continued to lick and suck at him as he came down from one of the most overwhelming orgasms he’d ever had, her hands stroking his knees and calves. At some point he’d lost his pants and boxers, but he had no recollection of it. His brain was mush. When his heart had slowed back to a rate that allowed him to speak, Colin helped Penelope to her feet. Be a gentleman, he reminded himself fervently.
Ask her if she’s okay.

Don’t say anything stupid, don’t ask her to marry you because that was the best blowjob you’ve ever had.

Be suave—
“You have to let me return the favour,” he said, a little crazed, gripping her elbows. “Right this fucking minute, Pen.”Shit. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. That wasn’t — well, it wasn’t ungentlemanly, was it? It would be rude not to eat her out in return, right?She looked at him with wide eyes. Her voice was a little raspy — a side effect of having given the world’s best fucking blowjob — and she agreed unsteadily, “Okay.”He reached for her hand and led her on shaky (fuck, his knees had almost given out) legs to his bedroom. It wasn’t particularly tidy, but it was good enough, and at least his bed sheets were clean. He leaned down to kiss her, the hand not laced with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. Her pulse fluttered at her nape, and when he reached behind her to drag down the zipper of her dress, she turned around to make it easier.Fuck. It was so incredibly hot to watch the green silk slide down her shoulders and pool at her feet. Penelope stepped out of it as Colin followed her movements, pressing his softened cock to her bottom. Her very, very enticing bottom was fully on display thanks to the skimpy thong she was wearing. It was black like her bra, and he felt a flicker of slight regret that he didn’t have more time to admire her in them before both were divested as thoroughly as her dress. His cock twitched, reminding him he was supposed to be making her scream. “Lie down,” he murmured against her neck. Penelope shivered, and obliged, a sharp little intake of breath accompanying her descent into his bed. How many times had he fantasised of this moment? Fuck. The dark blue sheets made her skin look like pale cream, and her hair fanned out around her head like a halo. She was a bloody goddess, and he was ready to worship. Whipping his shirt over his head, Colin knelt at the foot of the mattress, hands on her knees, carefully easing her legs apart. His cock twitched, deeply interested in the view, like Colin himself. Pink, soft, glistening with arousal… the same thatch of neatly trimmed red hair that was soft to the touch. Gorgeous. He liked the taste of her — not his first, he’d snuck his fingers into his mouth after she came on his lap. She’d blushed so hard seeing him do it, her breath catching, and he knew she wanted him to eat her out but was too shy to ask for it. Now he licked through her folds, up and down with the flat of his tongue, feeling her pulse quicken. She squirmed sweetly beneath his palms, her thighs tensing with each careful kiss to her clit. “You’re so sensitive,” he murmured. “So beautiful.”Penelope answered with a breathy moan. He swirled his tongue around her clit and stroked two fingers along the slick seam of her pussy. She was wet, enticing him to carefully ease his middle finger inside her, stroking the incredibly soft, spongy walls and earning himself another sweet moan. Fuck. She was tight, her walls immediately clenching around his finger. He pushed it in and out, testing angles and depths until she made a noise that sounded a lot like… ‘more’. Colin pressed another open-mouthed kiss to her clit and added a second finger, stretching her. Her thighs were trembling; he pinned one open with the weight of his shoulder, keeping her nice and spread. The unlucky hand not currently inside her reached up and kneaded her breasts, pinching one nipple, then the other. He watched as a stitch formed between her brows, white teeth sinking into her plush lower lip. She arched her pussy into his mouth, insinuating his fingers deeper, and he accepted the gift, sinking past the second knuckle, tongue swiping at her clit. He’d made it soft and swollen and utterly sensitive. He looked up, hooking her gaze in the same way he hooked his fingers inside her, and the melting, fevered heat in her eyes shot through him like whisky. Shivers ran down his spine, arousal pitched higher than ever — seeing Penelope’s face, reading every sensation she felt flashing through her eyes felt almost unbearably intimate. Knowing her pleasure came from him had his dick growing hard again. This was the best sex he’d ever had, and they hadn’t even fucked yet.On the heels of that incredible realisation, Colin felt Penelope’s toes curl against his shoulder blades. Fuck. His stomach clenched in memory of the way her thighs had convulsed when she came on his lap. He sucked tenderly on her clit as she bucked beneath him, nails digging into his scalp. Colin held her down, licking her through it all, listening to her panting and cursing and loving every single second of her glorious climax. Then, just because he could, he sucked a little hickey on the inside of her thigh, in a spot only he could see when he was down here worshipping her.When she was done shouting his name until the neighbours had it memorised, Colin crawled his way up her body, dropping kisses on her navel, the valley between her breasts and pausing to briefly suck a nipple into his mouth. The groan of overstimulation she let out (and her hand tightening in his hair) made him relent, continuing upwards until he was planking over her, propped up with his elbows on either side of her head. He nuzzled her cheek before capturing her lips with his own, kissing her gently until her breathing returned normal. She looked positively boneless, her hair tousled and her skin covered all over in a sheen of sweat that made Colin feel unbearably smug. Job well done, he thought, congratulating himself. His approving cock was not quite fully erect, but it was stiffer than it had any right to be after receiving the world’s greatest sucking off from the drowsy, sated woman lying beneath him. “You okay?” he asked, hoping his grin wasn’t too cocky. Penelope’s eyelids lifted slowly, her baby blues shocking him like they always did — an expression of fucked out bliss reflected in them. “Brilliant.”Her arms slid up his back, nails scraping pleasurably over his shoulder blades until they rested around his neck. There was something possessive about the gesture and her expression that sent a thrill through him. Her fingers toyed with the hair at his nape — fuck, that felt good — and she was smiling in a way that had his cock aching again. (Sure, he had condoms in his nightstand, but that didn’t mean he was expecting to use them right now. He’d purchased them after their lunch date. Just to be prepared. His cock thought this was very stupid, all this waiting, but the romantic streak inside Colin was like a band of steel, insisting on the right moment to go all the way. Therefore, he had every intention to cuddle her until dawn, aching cock be damned.) “Thank you for that,” she said, her voice still raw. A flush of utterly primitive satisfaction welled up inside him. His ego was positively skyrocketing. He nuzzled her cheek, hiding his shit-eating grin against her jaw. “For the earth-shattering orgasm,” she continued, stroking his neck, simultaneously soothing and eliciting a response from a rebellious body part that ought not to be quite so eager already. “But also for what you said about my mum. It really means a lot to me, Colin. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that.”Colin lifted his head from the lovely patch of soft skin beneath her ear to meet her gaze. Her voice was soft and the look in her eyes almost did him in. “I’ll always stand up for you,” he replied, his chest unexpectedly tight. “I’d fight your mother every day if I have to.”“Every day?”“Every single day.”Penelope tilted her chin up, a spark of humour in her eyes. He loved it. Colin kissed her to emphasise his point — he was Team Penelope, had always been, would always be, and he was happy to spend every waking moment convincing her of that fact, for as long as she needed it. Her mother was her mother, unfortunately, there was no changing that, but he’d do his very best to make sure Penelope would always hear his voice (beautiful, brilliant, kind, talented, generous) more loudly than Portia Featherington’s. Colin broke the kiss and settled onto his side, tugging Penelope closer. They lay in quiet company together, skin-to-skin beneath the turquoise blanket he’d acquired on a trip to Morocco. It was his favourite, and now he liked it even more than ever, spending long minutes admiring the way the colour contrasted with Penelope’s creamy skin and hair. She looked perfectly beautiful pressed against his chest, and he felt a lovely sort of pang echo around in there as he watched her eyes slowly drift closed.A rising kind of emotion, one he wasn’t entirely familiar with, surged up, carrying words to his throat that couldn’t be suppressed.“Love you,” he said, voice muffled by her hair. Colin held his breath. Nothing happened: no panic, no fear, just… the sound of Penelope breathing, her face pressed into the crook of his neck.She shifted in his arms, so he tightened his hold, stroking a hand down her back as he whispered the rest, “Sorry if it's too soon to say that. I just wanted you to know.”She didn’t respond, and it wasn’t clear if she’d heard him or not. Colin didn’t mind. Just saying the words out loud suffused him with warmth. It felt right — and he couldn’t be happier when Penelope snuggled her face deeper into his chest, a sweet little sigh her only answer. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Daphne demanded, “Are you listening to a single word I’m saying?”“Of course I am,” said Colin, lying through his teeth. Somehow he managed to pull the remnants of the conversation out of his meandering brain and muttered distractedly, “Auggie’s made his debut into the world of Montessori football.”It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t focus. His girlfriend was standing across the room eye-fucking the shit out of him. Bloody hell. She kept doing that — staring at him like she wanted to devour him. Sexually.Colin shivered, even though her gaze sent heat spreading through him. Obviously, his cock loved it. Which was another issue, as it tended to be rebellious even under normal circumstances, but now? Now it was a hellion, swelling uncomfortably at the slightest provocation. Penelope just had to look in his direction and he was a goner. A week full of lovely breakfast dates, movie nights and a lot of what his Aunt Winnie would call ‘necking’ had culminated in Sunday Brunch with his family. It was Penelope’s first official Bridgerton outing as his girlfriend. Everything was fantastic, except, of course, he was really bloody horny again. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Daphne muttered. “Go and snog her in the corner and spare the rest of us.”Snog her? Colin gave Daphne a disdainful look. Was she in primary school? People their age didn’t snog. He had no time at all to protest. Daphne had already walked away, abandoning him to endure Penelope’s lascivious come-hither glances alone and unprotected. There was no buffer now to stop him from returning her blatant ogling. His eyes dipped below her chin, because he was helpless and her tits looked bloody fantastic in yet another cute sundress — she seemed to own hundreds of them, all reserved for wearing to occasions with his family and driving him insane. At least this one didn’t have a cutout designed to tow him under the roiling currents of his libido, minor consolation when he was constantly in danger of public indecency these days.You wouldn’t have this problem if you’d just do it, said a voice in the back of his head. Ha. Colin was making a concentrated effort not to worry — or think — too much about it. He diverted himself with conscious efforts to take Penelope out as often as possible, spending time with her on dates that had nothing to do with it. The thoughts hovered constantly in the back of his mind, though, because literally everything reminded him of sex with Penelope. Sex that they hadn’t had yet, his cock reminded him plaintively. Nevermind, he told it staunchly, even as his feet took him across the room to Penelope’s side. All in good time. They’d done plenty of other things, after all. Oral sex, for instance. Oral was fantastic, but there was so much more, wasn’t there, and his body was getting antsy to get on with the main event. He’d make a move, soon. He was reasonably certain Penelope returned his ardour if her kisses were anything to go by. Colin laid his palm on the small of Penelope’s back, earning himself a smile. He made it a point to always be touching her in some way if she was within reach. Fantastic perk of being her boyfriend — he could hug, kiss, caress, or hold various parts of her body at whim, and Penelope let him. She even seemed to like it. “D’you wanna head out?” he asked, bending close to ask her the question. Penelope nodded, slipping her hand into his. The scent of her shampoo always made him feel slightly deranged. From this angle, he could look straight down the front of her dress. Something pink and lacy peeked out beneath the summery blue fabric. He longed to see it up close and personal. Making a quick escape, Colin pulled Penelope towards the kitchen, where his Mum had promised there would be leftover treats from her embroidery circle’s meeting for him to take home. “What do you want to have for dinner?” he asked, leaning against the countertop. Penelope tilted her head consideringly. “I was hoping to come over and cook actually.”Colin eyed her well-fitting bodice, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that wondered loudly if her nipples would be on the menu. If he played his cards right…“I’m thinking pasta.” His favourite food. He imagined her nipples covered in alfredo sauce, which was somehow both sexy and not sexy at the same time. “Lots of pasta,” she added. His stomach, having a mind of its own, growled loudly despite having just had brunch. Penelope giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”She leaned against him, her breasts brushing his abdomen, giving him no choice but to bend down and kiss her. It was risky to get frisky in his mum’s kitchen, but no one was about, and he wasn’t made of stone. Penelope responded with enthusiasm, which wasn’t surprising as she’d spent all morning undressing him with her eyes. Time to stop now, said Colin’s brain. Her nipples are hard, and it’s just getting good, argued his cock. Fair point.There wasn’t time for the eternal battle between Brain vs Cock to play out, however, because his mum came bustling into the kitchen at that very moment, carrying a stack of tupperware containers.“Here you are, dearest,” she trilled. “Oh!”They sprang apart and Penelope hastily excused herself to grab her things from the patio, giving his mum a swift hug before absconding like a debauched libertine caught in the act. Mum gave him those penetrating eyes of hers but he feigned innocence, rather unsuccessfully.“Don’t look so guilty,” she said, faintly amused. “This is certainly not the first time I’ve caught one of my children necking in my kitchen.”“Right,” he said, resisting the urge to cringe at his mother’s use of the term necking. Aunt Winnie’s vocabulary was spreading. He cleared his throat. “We’re off to the shops. Thanks for the nosh, Mum.”He had the distinct feeling his mother was laughing at him. She kissed his burning cheeks goodbye and he dashed off, hurrying back to Penelope and ushering her out.The shops were crowded for a Sunday afternoon, which was only to be expected. He loved the domesticity of it — pushing a trolley through the aisles as Penelope shopped, giggling at his cereal puns and rolling her eyes when he topped off her selections with his own (three types of biscuits were a necessity, thank you very much). They spent quite a long time shopping, goofing off more than anything else. Colin enjoyed himself thoroughly. Penelope made even the most mundane tasks fun. Hyacinth had sent him a single-word text that morning: S I M PIf the shoe fits, he supposed. The day was overcast, typical of London. But now and then the skies cleared up and the sun made a brilliant appearance. It did so as they left the grocery store, sunshine flooding the parking lot like a majestic Natural Geographic time lapse. A sudden breeze lifted strands of burnished auburn hair off Penelope’s head, each one glowing in the afternoon light. Colin stopped short to take it all in. Wow. “What is it?” Penelope asked, looking over her shoulder. She scanned the parking lot in search of whatever had caught his attention.Silly Pen. She’d need a mirror for that.“Lost my breath just now,” he confessed.“From what?” Penelope was perplexed. “What did you see?”“The sun came out from behind the clouds and hit you just so,” he explained, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Made you look ethereal. Your hair went all gold at the edges. It was dazzling.”The expression that crossed over her face was equal parts disbelief and embarrassment. She blinked at him for a brief moment, and then blushed, looking away. “I had no idea you were such a sweet talker.”He swung their clasped hands and teased, “You make it easy, looking so beautiful all the time.”S I M P flashed through his mind. Guilty as charged. “Colin.” Penelope said, trying to sound stern, but instead it came out a bit giggly. And cute. She was always cute. The only time she wasn’t was when she was knocking his socks off with her celestial blue eyes and titian hair. (Hopefully, at least half of their eight future children would inherit the colour — he had decided to adopt the other half because frankly, he wasn’t sure Penelope would want to go through that much birthing.)They loaded the groceries into his car and drove back to his flat. Putting away the groceries was fun, too. And just a little bit naughty. She was ticklish, he discovered, and ice cream tasted very good when he licked it off her lips. “Stop,” she commanded breathlessly when it seemed his cock was going to overpower his brain. “I have to cook, Colin.”Reluctantly, he let her get on with it.“Can I help?”“You can watch,” she said, firmly. “I’m cooking for you, Mr. Bridgerton. Put your feet up.”Penelope’s spaghetti alle vongole was certain to become an all-time favourite. It looked incredible. She poured him a glass of wine while he waited to be fed, as the heavenly smell of his favourite crumble wafted from the oven. He felt unreasonably cherished and well-taken care of and didn’t know what to do with himself. Ignoring the mandate to put his feet up, Colin stood behind her and kissed the back of her shoulder where three tiny freckles lived in harmony, barely visible unless you got close. They twinkled brightly like secret constellations on her skin. Colin wondered if Penelope even knew they existed. She was full of little secrets like this — he discovered them on a daily basis, the ever-shifting hues of her hair (sometimes auburn, sometimes nearly strawberry-blonde) and the way her eyes changed colours depending on the light and the time of day. When she was happy and comfortable her eyes were a soft blue, when she was aroused they deepened to sapphire, and when she was apprehensive… a hint of grey crept into them, muting the shine. Right now in late afternoon sun her eyes were somewhere in between gentle azure and electric cerulean. He could write sonnets about them that would impress Shakespeare, complete with bawdy allusions that would certainly have made the bard proud as well. He was excited to discover more of the kind of secrets he’d begun to uncover — the sounds she made when he ate her out, the way she looked up through her lashes while her mouth was full of him, and the way she’d feel when he went deep inside her. A shiver ran down his spine at the last thought — he truly couldn’t wait. Penelope produced candles — where had she hidden them? — and lit them. He was ready to get down on one knee and propose when she began plating, giving him the lion’s share of the dish. His appetite was legendary, and Penelope was generous. She finished setting the table with great meticulous care, and only allowed Colin to sit down once she was satisfied. He swallowed, noting that the entire set-up was very, very romantic. Dinner by candlelight? He wasn’t stupid. She was giving him a signal.The appetiser — ricotta bruschetta — was terrific. Penelope was a great cook. Colin ate with gusto, finishing it in three bites. Pasta came next, smelling heavenly. “All this display of culinary prowess,” he teased, “I’m starting to think you like me.”“Colin, I’ve liked you for years.”“Mmm.” He twirled pasta onto his fork, wondering if he could get away with shoving a third of it into his mouth in one go without giving Penelope a cause to reconsider dating him. It was tempting. But he wanted to get laid at some point in the near future.Then her words registered. He paused, fork midair, certain he’d misheard: “Wait. What did you say?”“You’re spilling sauce everywhere,” she protested. Colin let his fork clang onto his plate. “I need you to repeat what you just said, Pen.” She set her fork down, too. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.” He blinked, her words slowly penetrating his skull. There was a long pause. Carefully, he asked, “When did this start?” “I’m not sure. Probably the same year you grew a foot over the summer.”He straightened in his seat. “Your voice got deeper, too,” she recalled. “It was shocking when you said my name the first time I saw you that summer.” He thought back and knew exactly what she meant. Surely not? That was thirteen years ago, exactly half a lifetime, a truly terrible period in his personal history books. Gads. Puberty. He gaped at Penelope, completely agog. A dreamy little flush crept over her cheeks. “Oh, it was lovely. Your hair was a little long in front, and suddenly you had this… this different tone to your voice and it drove me wild. I got up early just so I could be the first to breakfast and hear you say ‘Good morning Pen’ — made my day.”He couldn’t believe his ears. Hair in his eyes and voice cracks and she’d thought it dishy? “You liked me back then?”When he’d been a gangly teenager, too young to hang out with his older brothers and too old to play stuffed animals with his baby siblings? Anthony and Benedict already had girlfriends when they were fourteen. Colin certainly hadn’t followed in their footsteps. All the while, Penelope had been there in the background, admiring his spotty face and too-long hair? She nodded. “I had the biggest crush on you. Never stopped really.”He was floored. “Are you serious? All this time?”She flushed. “Everyone knew.”“I didn’t know.” He stared at her, stunned. “Who’s everyone?”“Eloise. Your mum. My mum. Everyone.”“You’re joking.”“Come on, Colin. It was — I made it so obvious!”He shook his head. “I can’t believe you had no idea,” she said, staring back at him. “I answered the door in lingerie. Twice!”Well, fuck. When she put it that way, he felt pretty stupid for not realising sooner that she was trying to catch his attention.“Fuck,” he said, out loud. “I’m an idiot.”Penelope’s mouth tilted up at the corners. “That’s a bit harsh. You came around in the end.”“I want to kick my own arse for not noticing sooner,” he groaned. “Eat your pasta,” Penelope advised, equal parts amused and sympathetic. “It’s getting cold.”She was trying to distract him, but Colin obediently ate anyway, quickly finishing off his plate, letting the earth shattering revelation sink in. How could he have been so blind?Recalling his manners, he complimented the chef. “It’s delicious.” “Thank you.”He felt better, as he often did once he had food in his stomach. Penelope smiled encouragingly, knowing he’d had a shock just now and that the food would help.She stood. Instead of clearing away the plates like he’d expected, she came around the table and plopped down onto his lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now you know my secret.” Penelope grinned, as impish as ever. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”Secrets. He’d been waxing poetic about discovering hers earlier, only to be whacked in the face with a big one. Colin kissed the smile on her lips, mulling it over. It was only fair, he supposed. Sharing secrets would bring them closer. He hesitated, decided to hell with it, and confessed, “The very first bra I ever saw was yours.”Technically, that was untrue: it had been Daphne’s when he was fourteen. Their laundry had gotten mixed up. That didn’t count. This time it was her turn to level a disbelieving look at him. “What?”He reminded her of the luggage incident, making deliberately vague commentary on how her yellow bra had imprinted on his delicate teenage psyche. Penelope said, blinking, “I’d forgotten all about that.”“Unbelievable,” he said. “Next you’re going to tell me you don’t remember how we met!”“I hit you in the face with a frisbee and you fell off a swing.”Damn. It had to be one of the least cool ways to meet the girl who would grow up to be the woman he loved. He probably shouldn’t have brought it up, but the expression on Penelope’s face told a different story. “You weren’t upset at all,” she said, with a fond, dreamy sort of smile. “I was so afraid you’d be angry, but you just laughed.”She was so weird, but he loved her for it. Had she liked him, even then? It was possible. His brain hurt. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a crush on me?”“You didn’t like me that way,” she said. “I was just Eloise’s friend. It would have just made things awkward.”There was some truth to her words, but present!Colin still felt cheated. Past!Colin might’ve had Penelope as a girlfriend for years by now if he’d known. The elusive yellow bra of his dreams might’ve been a reality. We’d have fucked already. That was his cock, of course. He shifted in his chair, and buried his face in her neck, inhaling a lungful of Penelope. Funny how it both calmed and inflamed him. She’d always liked him. Since they were kids. It was absolutely bonkers and he was going to be in shock about it for a while. He couldn’t dwell on it now, though, not when Penelope was stroking his nape, running those nails of hers along his scalp. His cock responded instantly. There was no way she didn’t feel him hardening beneath her arse — she was sitting right on top of it. He threw caution to the wind and lifted his head to kiss her. A bit of necking would do him good right now. The necking led to groping, and then Colin was unzipping the back of Penelope’s dress and pushing it down. A sheer pink bra with dotted lace greeted him, and he said hello back by tracing his fingers along the straps, tugging them down until her rosy nipples were finally revealed. Colin sighed, stroking them reverently with his thumbs. Penelope shivered sweetly. He liked that, liked the way her eyelids fluttered half shut as she watched his fingers circle her nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks. He thought of all the idiots online who wanted to see her tits and felt incredibly smug that he, Colin Bridgerton, was the one Penelope had chosen to show them to. He’d also made her come by playing with them, which was probably one of his finest moments. It was both a blessing and a curse to be so much taller than her — from the vantage point of his height, he was given a perfect view down her cleavage. He couldn’t help fantasising about nestling his cock between her breasts — just thinking about it made him sweat. “Bedroom.” The single word was uttered as a melting gasp, but it rang in Colin’s ears like a thunderclap. Bedroom. Bedroom. Bedroom.He stumbled to his feet, the epitome of (un) grace, refusing to remove his lips from Penelope’s neck. He walked her backwards, hands gripping her bottom, somehow managing to guide her down the hallway towards his bedroom. His bedroom, where he had a bed and a nightstand, and a drawer full of condoms. Glorious, glorious condoms. An entire pack. They’d made it. Colin pushed the door open with one palm, the sound of his hand striking the wood echoing loudly in the flat. Penelope jumped, startled by the sound — Colin delivered an apologetic nip to her bottom lip, running a soothing hand down her back. The sensitivity of the act was undermined slightly by his other hand divesting himself of his clothes and her dress, but he wasn’t a saint. The bed was just a few steps away. Penelope backed into the room, hand fisted in Colin’s collar, dragging him towards it. They landed on the bed with a satisfying creak. Colin’s eyes were glued to Penelope’s breasts… they bounced, all heavy and round. He cupped them, pushing them up to his eager mouth.“I love it when you do that,” she whispered, her eyes heavy-lidded. Her fingers clenched in his hair as he rewarded her with a pinch to her left nipple. “Oh!”He could go on like this all day, content with sucking on her tits until she came, but Penelope wrapped her legs around him and rubbed herself against his cock. He was so hard and sensitive that the silky lace covering her heated pussy felt almost like sandpaper. A groan expelled from his chest, swallowed by Penelope’s mouth. For once Colin’s brain and Colin’s dick were in total agreement: get inside her. He couldn’t do it fast enough, his hands shaking in excitement as Penelope dragged them to the waistband of her tiny knickers. He didn’t breathe as their fingers moved in tandem, pulling the dotted pink thong away from her body, revealing her pretty little thatch of red curls. It was longer and thicker now, weeks after her last waxing — she’d taken him seriously and hadn’t gone back to get a single hair removed. Colin wanted to press his face there. Still, he asked, “You’re sure?” Penelope huffed out a frustrated breath. “Colin.”Well, he had to ask, didn’t he?“Confessing I’ve loved you for years isn’t enough consent? Colin, I want you,” she said, reaching down to stroke the head of his cock. He groaned as she notched the tip of him where she was wet and ready and waiting. Elation poured through him, but still—“Condom,” he gritted out.Penelope exhaled, shaken by the reminder, and settled her hips back onto the bed. The movement sent his cock gliding through her slippery folds, dragging a loud curse from him. Colin lunged for the nightstand drawer, his cock dragging across her soft belly. He grabbed the whole box and tore it open. Condoms spilled onto the bed. A giggle came from beneath him. He levelled a fake-stern look at Penelope, fighting the urge to laugh too. Big mistake, that — looking down and seeing her flushed and happy, with her hair fanning out over the sheets like a fiery halo was too much for his delicately wrought (horny) nerves to handle. He salivated at the thought of tasting her nipples again, only this time he’d do it as he fucked her. The desire was so strong he barely had the wherewithal to proceed. Fuck. Colin grappled with the condom, just managing to fit it over the top of his cock. He was too slow. Penelope reached for him, her clever fingers helping to roll the latex down over his rock-hard length. He swiped the rest of the condoms off the bed with one arm, hopefully in a sexy way, and nudged himself home. Finally, finally, finally.Colin was inside her. Inch by inch, his eyes glued to her face as she gasped, adjusting to the size of him. She was tight and hot and perfect, and he was probably just a smidge too big, judging from the way her brow furrowed. He slowed down, afraid of hurting her, but Penelope wouldn’t have it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her heels into his arse to urge him on. He obliged, sinking all the way into her, his mouth falling open on a silent, breathless groan. Colin pulled back, torn between looking down at where their bodies were joined to see his cock disappear into her red hair-covered mound or watching her face to see every miniscule change in her expression. The latter won out — he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her blown-out pupils and flushed cheeks. He drove back in, feeling a fever grow in his blood as Penelope tilted her hips up to meet him mid-thrust. Heat and pleasure became everything. He manfully resisted the urge to cum right then and there, on the second stroke. Propping himself up on his fists, Colin kept his eyes trained on her face as he experimented with his thrusts, gauging what she liked. Deep and fast while bottoming out each time seemed to be her favourite — each stroke wrung his name from her lips and had her nails digging into his shoulders. She was a hot, wet, velvet heaven. Being inside her was one of the most incredible things Colin had ever felt. The build inside him came swiftly, almost painfully; he knew he wouldn’t last long. No, he’d last long enough to see her fall apart around his cock, just like he’d dreamed about. Colin rocked into her, rolling his hips and savouring her moans. He licked his fingers and slipped his hand down to swipe at her clit. She tensed at the touch, groaning and clamping down around his cock so tightly he felt lightheaded for a second. Penelope went over the edge, and he followed, hips moving faster and faster, until he came. He came and came and came, the sheer ecstasy making his eyes close for just a brief second before he forced them open again to look at Penelope. Her eyes were the deepest shade of blue he had ever seen them turn. He committed the knowledge to memory: this is what Penelope looks like when I come inside her. Somehow, every orgasm he had with her was better than the last. Colin collapsed onto the bed, rolling over, his biceps sore from holding himself suspended over Penelope. Endorphins made his head fuzzy and his body lethargic, but it was a single thought that kept his heart racing: I’ve loved you for years. He let the words settle into his bones, warming him all over. Contentment was a blanket, made up of Penelope’s scent and the heat of her body and the way she clung to him like she couldn’t bear to let him go. He’d worried too much, built it up in his head when really all he’d needed was food and conversation and sex. Maybe Penelope had known that, taking the reins herself. Clever girl. He nuzzled her cheek. “Was all of this a part of your plan? Feed me a feast fit for a king, and then have your wicked way with me?”Very effective, he thought. Wine and dine. He should’ve taken a page out of her book far earlier, and gone with his instincts. His cock had been right — too much bloody time wasted. After all, the best things in his life had never come with planning or forethought: they’d been spontaneous and simple, like discovering a hidden waterfall at the end of a hiking trail in Brazil, or sending in a short story to the campus newsletter competition on a whim and winning first prize, or watching a bra tumble out of a broken suitcase... magic always struck when he least expected it, surprising him. Like she always did. “No,” Penelope said, tracing circles on his chest. Her lips brushed against his earlobe as she whispered, in that siren voice of hers that sent shivers down his spine, “It was all an elaborate ruse to get you into a good mood so you’d be willing to model some knickers with me again.”He blinked. “You okay with that?” she asked, peering up at him. “Yeah,” he replied. “But only cos’ I love you.”This time, she heard him loud and clear.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Almost there, he texted quickly at a red light. He gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to bypass the speed limit when the lights went green. He was not going to be arrested before making it to Penelope’s flat. This time he was prepared. Keys, wallet, phone, condoms, travel-sized lube (not that he needed it, he got Penelope wet just fine on his own), a stunning bouquet of roses, a box of eclairs, and a mocha latte. She answered on the first knock. The roses almost fell out of his slack-jawed grip as she pulled open the door. Penelope was barefoot, her toes painted red. Her legs were bare, too, because the short robin’s egg blue slip dress she was wearing only had enough material in it to cover the top of her thighs… if she turned around, he wasn’t sure it would extend over her arse. There wasn’t much covering her front either — just triangles of the same thin silk that did nothing to hide her attention-seeking nipples. They had his attention. He handed her the latte, silently mulling over how annoyed she (and Genevieve) would be if he tore through the fabric covering Penelope’s nipples with his teeth. “Hi,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She took the roses from him, inhaling their scent and casting him a smile that was entirely too beguiling. “You’re early.”“Never keep a lady waiting,” he said, eyes on her arse as he followed her into the kitchen, setting the box of eclairs on the counter. Round and mouthwateringly plump, like a juicy peach ripe for the picking. Penelope bent to retrieve a glass vase from a floor cabinet, flashing it in Colin’s direction. The air fled from his lungs as the matching thong revealed itself, fashioned out of as little fabric as possible, much like the slip. He wondered if Genevieve was cutting corners on manufacturing costs or being environmentally conscious. Either way, he sent heartfelt thanks her way. He brooded over her bottom (delightful) and let himself get lost in a fantasy. Penelope, bent over his bed, her dress flipped up as he pounded into her from behind. Heels on, to even out the height difference (she was such a tiny thing, barely coming up to his chest… also delightful). And the stockings he added on halfway through. He’d never seen Penelope in stockings. Hopefully, it wasn’t because she didn’t like them. Maybe she would change her mind if he told her he loved stockings? Would she want to please him like that?He certainly hoped so. Penelope straightened, saw him looking, and winked. Saucy minx.He came around the kitchen island, but she ducked around to the other side, giggling at the surprised growl he let loose. He stalked her into the living room, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her onto his lap as he sat, heavily, on her sofa. The slip rode up on her thighs, letting that criminally skimpy little thong peek out. It didn’t cover much, even in front, and Colin sucked in a breath as he dipped her back slightly to get a better view. Something was decidedly different. “I waxed for the camera,” she said apologetically, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Not quite brave enough yet to go without.”He wasn’t complaining. He liked her bare, very much so. He liked her any way he could get her, honestly, and he was surprised she hadn’t realised it yet. A deeper, more caveman part of him was also glad he’d be the only one to know that the carpet matched the curtains, so to speak.Colin slid his hand between her legs, letting his fingers dip beneath the edges of her knickers. Soft, heated, lovely skin. If he delved deeper, into her slit, would he find her wet? He wanted to fuck her in this position. Photoshoot, he reminded himself. Condoms, his cock said, reminding him that he’d brought a supersize pack. Pen won’t mind, it whispered insidiously, concerned with one thing and one thing only: fucking Penelope.Without realising he was even doing it, Colin was gripping her waist and pressing her hot centre to his erection. His cock was right — she didn’t seem to mind. Her tits bounced as she rocked her hips over him. He vaguely recalled that she might be sensitive and having her breasts bounce around like that might be painful, so he helpfully reached up and cupped them in his palms for support. She sighed, which he took as a sign of appreciation. Her nipples were stiff, so he massaged them through the silk. Penelope sighed again, more loudly this time, and when he leaned forward to place a kiss on one of her lovely peaks, she moaned his name.He liked the sound of that very much, so he kissed the other nipple too, making sure to roll the one he’d left behind so it wouldn’t feel abandoned. Penelope arched into his mouth. Colin sucked at the silk-covered tip, dampening the fabric and marvelling at his luck. He’d never get used to this. For years it had been the stuff of his wildest fantasies, and now he was living it. When he pulled back, she let out a half-gasp, looking at the mess he’d made of her slip. Dark, damp spots covered her chest. It wasn’t fit for public view now, he’d made sure of that. “Sorry,” he said, not really sorry at all. The sight of the wet circles he’d created on the translucent fabric over her nipples was incredibly fucking sexy. Penelope shocked him by reaching for her phone and handing it to him.“Are you sure?”She nodded, eyes gleaming with mischief. “These ones are for you.”Oh, fuck. He didn’t need any more motivation than that. Colin opened the camera app on Penelope’s phone. He took snap after snap, angling the phone to get the best possible view of her sodden slip and erect nipples. “Fuck, Pen, these are so hot.” He looked up and blurted out, “Can I send them to myself?”Penelope nodded. “Yeah,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Okay.” He was the last person to have messaged her, so it was easy to open up their conversation and send himself the photos. Then he dropped the phone onto the sofa and kissed her. It was an unforgivable oversight on his behalf that he hadn’t yet since arriving.Some time later, Penelope pulled away, and laid her hand on his chest, teasing him with a light scratch of her thumb. He was hyper-aware of the way her fingers toyed with the button on his oxford. He could almost feel the heat of her hand through the cotton fabric, searing an invisible brand over his skin. “More pics?” he croaked out, unable to look away from his rapidly disappearing handiwork. The silk was thin, and already starting to dry. He resisted the urge to ruin it again. “Yes,” said Penelope, arching her back. She placed one of his hands over her breast. “Like this.”Fuck yeah. He slid his thumb over her nipple, covering it from view, and picked up her phone to take the photos. He sent those to himself, too. Eagerly, he asked: “Next outfit?”“I might need a little help,” she nodded coyly. “Hard to take this off.”Oh. He needed help, too, and a lot of it, if he was going to make it through the picture-taking portion of this afternoon. His cock, ever-ready for action, was making its desire for the indulgent sex part very well known. Colin couldn’t see how it was difficult to remove the slip dress, but what did he know? If Penelope needed help, he was here to provide assistance. He got her naked in no time at all, tugging the slip over her head. Her lovely breasts hung free, rosy nipples stabbing out from puffy areolas. He raised his eyebrow… and Penelope’s phone. She took it from him, wry amusement in her eyes. “Let me up.”He let go, watching her sashay into her bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of tiny knickers. Colin followed, led by his dick and unashamed, but Penelope looked over her shoulder and said, “Stay.”Like a puppy, he stopped short. She closed the door behind her, laughing at him like the saucy vixen she was — fuck, how had he not realised she liked teasing him? He liked it. A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened. Colin’s heart pounded in his chest. Penelope came out, wearing a black robe. “I looked everywhere for that yellow bra,” she said, casually leaning against the door frame. “Spent ages going through the back of my closet.”Oh, fuck. His heart picked up the pace. Colin tried to keep his cool as he longed for x-ray vision, so that he could see through her robe. Was she wearing it? “Did you find it?” he asked, mouth dry.“Yeah.”He was practically vibrating with excitement. “You did?”“It doesn’t fit anymore,” she said. Of course, he thought, trying not to feel crestfallen. Obviously it didn’t fit — her boobs were bigger now. She was more voluptuous. She’d long outgrown it. “But I found something similar,” she continued, shrugging the robe off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a whisper of silk. The hairs on the back of Colin’s neck stood on end. It was the sheerest, most delicate bra he’d ever seen. The lacy cups barely contained Penelope’s breasts, lovingly ensconcing them in the familiar sunshine hue of his memories. The scalloped edging on the cups was another reminiscent feature — sweet and a little demure. It wasn’t the same bra, no, but all that mattered to him in the moment was that it was on Penelope’s body. He felt eighteen again, taking two jerky steps forward and reaching out to grab her tits, caveman style. “You know, I hate yellow,” she said, stepping back, out of his reach.“I love yellow,” he replied hoarsely, fighting to keep control of himself. Then she was tugging down the straps, pulling her arms free of them, letting the yellow lace drop around her waist. She dropped to her knees, eyes trained on his crotch. “What about the pictures?” he asked, even though he didn’t give a fuck about the photoshoot any more. He’d love to take a photo of Penelope kneeling on the floor in front of him. The thought popped suddenly into his mind and refused to depart. Fuck. He was getting greedy, wanting more and more. “This isn’t for the camera,” she murmured, freeing his cock from his boxers.His mouth fell open, and pretty much stayed open for the next twenty minutes. He kicked off his pants, gobsmacked. Penelope produced a bottle, one that sported a discreet label with very little branding on it. The scent of something sweet and coconutty met his nostrils as she uncapped it. She warmed it between her palms before reaching for him… letting her slick fingers glide over his cock head. “Is this alright?” she asked. “Not cold?”This wasn’t even in the realm of ‘alright’. This was completely, utterly ruinous. Penelope Featherington was slathering scented body oil all over his cock.“It’s edible,” she said, her breath hot as it ghosted over his skin. Colin barely had the chance to inhale when The hysterical screaming caps lock in his head was immediately silenced by Penelope shifting on her knees, rising to bring her breasts level with his throbbing erection. She slid it neatly between those specimens of perfection, pushing them together around him to form a vice of voluptuously soft flesh.There was a split second where he thought, genuinely, that he would pass out from sheer ecstasy, or perhaps rapid blood loss to his brain as the majority of it was redirected to his dick. She plunged her equally hot mouth over the tip of him, swirling her tongue over the sensitive slit. A full-body shiver racked him, and he thought his head might explode from sheer, unadulterated pleasure.She pulled away, taking her gorgeous lips from his VERY ENGORGED, OIL-DRENCHED COCK. His brain stuttered, caught in capslock. His dick, squeezed between Penelope’s tits. Penelope’s tits, pushed together around his cock.His cock, slipping up and down between Penelope’s tits. Penelope’s tits, soft, plush, and slick with oil, massaging his dick, blowing his mind when she started alternating the rhythm, lifting one up as the other went down. “Are you trying to kill me?” “I don’t want you to die,” she murmured throatily, continuing to stroke his cock between her plush tits. Her nipples glistened as they dragged along his length. Definitely trying to kill him.“Fuck,” he cursed. He reached down, cupping her face with his palm — Penelope nuzzled it. His other hand hovered above her chest, not quite touching, letting the back of his knuckles graze her breasts as she moved up and down. “You’re perfect.”He felt deranged, consumed with the desire to capture this moment for all of posterity. He wasn’t above begging. If she said no, he’d just stare until it was tattooed into the back of his eyelids. “Pen… just one?”Penelope paused, her fingers digging slightly into the slick, pale flesh of her breasts. “Please?”A few seconds ticked by in silence. Then she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze straight on, and nodded. His blood pounded in his veins. She trusted him enough to let him take nudes, and he didn’t have to hear what she said next to know how she felt, but he loved hearing it anyway: “Only cos’ I love you.”Colin pulled away from her long enough to snatch her phone from the coffee table. His hands shook as Penelope sat back on her haunches, head tilted back, blue eyes coquettishly meeting the camera lens, her tits gleaming and perfect. He took the photo, ignoring the way his cock ached, protesting the interruption. “I love you,” he said. “You’re so beautiful.”Maybe it was weird for him to be saying the words while standing over her taking nudes, but he didn’t feel weird about it. And neither did Penelope, it seemed, because her flushed, answering smile — blue eyes crinkling at the corners — was one-hundred percent adoring. Penelope scooted forward, taking his cock in hand again, picking up where she’d left off. Colin didn’t last very long after that. Shame didn’t factor into it. There was no fucking way he’d last. He knew it, Penelope knew it, and then so did the neighbours (probably) when he blew his load, bellowing her name and loud curse words. It took him ages to come down from what had to be one of the most wrenchingly hot orgasms of his life. (Yes, it was confirmed: every orgasm was indeed better than the last.)Penelope rose on her haunches, her face as red as his, a deep blush covering not only her cheeks but her neck and clavicle. She was so fucking adorable and sexy with her cleavage shining with oil and his cum, he could barely handle it. “I’m going to go clean up,” she said, blushing harder as she said the words.He lay there, drowning in the glow of sexual satisfaction, his brain and body practically buzzing in the aftereffects of coming so hard his toes had curled. Penelope came back out of the bathroom a few moments later, wearing a bathrobe. She still had a pink glow on her cheeks, the look of a woman pleased with having rendered a bloke speechless and mindblown. Casually, she asked, “Are you feeling peckish? I’ve got a hankering for pizza—”That wouldn’t do at all. He was not finished with her.Colin rose to his feet and charged at her, pinning her against the wall of her bedroom and kissing her fiercely enough to drive a moan out of her throat. Then he dropped to his knees and shoved one of her legs over his shoulder, spreading her open. She was naked under the robe, so Colin was greeted with the sight of her wet cunt with no obstruction at all. He got to work, tongue seeking out her clit without hesitation.“Colin!”She bucked and lost her footing, but he held on tight, making sure she didn’t fall as he ate her out until she came, fingers clutching at his hair. The tugging on his scalp felt incredible, and his cock answered the call, hardening again. Insatiable.Penelope's legs trembled. He licked at her slit with soothing strokes, delighting in the shivers and moans that emerged from her body. One orgasm wasn’t enough. He needed to give her at least three more to make up for what she’d given him. “Colin?”He rose to his feet, just a tiny bit unsteady himself, and pressed his erection to her soft belly, kissing her like his life depended on it. “Sofa,” he said, nipping at her bottom lip. “We’re not done with the photoshoot. And put that bra back on, Pen… I’ve got some ideas.”