The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  I glance around her to see an average-sized guy standing with his back to the door, eying us with blatant curiosity. For a second I can’t place him, but then realize I saw him earlier with some of the Corporate Care bigwigs. “Rylee? I really need those lists. Did you get them?”

  Rylee? What the fuck?

  “I got sidetracked,” she mumbles to the guy as she glances back at me, her expression a mix of relief, regret, and disappointment. She works with him? For Corporate Cares? She says something else to the guy that I don’t hear because I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that crazy fangirl isn’t a fangirl at all.

  Or crazy.

  Rylee. It sounds vaguely familiar. I mentally roll her name around on my tongue, liking the way it sounds, the way it feels.

  She skirts past me and avoids making eye contact before stepping into the storage closet. I stop myself from reaching out for her because we’re far from finished here. I follow her, hold the door open, and watch her jerky movements as she hurriedly shoves auction paddles into a bag. I can feel her co-worker’s eyes boring holes in my back as he tries to assess the situation. Guaranteed he’s telling me to step off.

  The same way that I feel about him. Step off buddy so we can finish what we started here. I glance back to Rylee and she straightens up with the bag in hand, squares her shoulders, and walks past me without a second glance.

  Anger fires in my veins. I do not get dismissed. “This conversation isn’t over, Rylee.”

  “Like hell it isn’t, Ace.” She throws the words over her shoulder as she stalks down the corridor.

  I watch her walk away. Hips swaying with purpose. Curves begging to be touched. Heels—heels I want left on with nothing else but those fucking lace top stockings—clicking against the floor.

  Since when have I ever considered a woman walking away to be one of the hottest fucking sights I’ve ever seen?

  The door closes behind them, and it’s silent once again. I run a hand through my hair and lean back against the wall, trying to wrap my head around the past twenty minutes. I blow out a loud breath, confused as to why I’m pissed.

  You must be losing your touch, Donavan.

  Shit, when they walk away, it’s supposed to be a good thing. Lessens the chance of complications. I don’t chase. It’s not my thing—never has been, never will be. There are too many willing women; why bother wasting my time on the ones that make things difficult? Why work for it when life’s complicated enough as it is? I fuck who I want, when I want. My pick. On my terms. To my benefit. Rules two through six.

  But shit … that … her … how can I just let her—Fuck me!

  Nobody walks away until I say I’m done. And I have every intention of finishing what I started with her. Checkered flag’s mine. I’ll definitely be crossing that finish line.

  Here’s to a night of firsts.

  First a brunette.

  Next a pursuit.

  Bring it on.

  Wave that checkered flag, sweetie, because I’m gonna claim it.

  JEWELS, DESIGNER GOWNS, AND NAME-DROPPING are prevalent among the celebrities, socialites, and philanthropists who fill the old theater. Tonight is the culmination of much of my efforts over the past year—an event to raise the majority of the funds needed to break ground on the new facilities.

  And I am way out of my comfort zone.

  Dane discreetly rolls his eyes at me from across the room; he knows I would much rather be back at The House with the boys in jeans and my hair pulled back into a ponytail. I allow a ghost of a smile to grace my lips as I nod my head, before taking a sip of champagne.

  I am still trying to wrap my head around what I willingly allowed to happen backstage and the sting of knowing I wasn’t the first person Mr. Arrogant had made his moves on tonight. I’m dumbfounded at both my uncharacteristic actions and confused by how hurt I feel. Surely, I can’t expect a man looking for a quick romp to have any intention but to boost his already-inflated ego.

  “There you are, Rylee,” a voice interrupts my thoughts.

  I turn to find my boss—a bear of a man standing close to six and half feet tall with a heart bigger than that of anyone I’ve ever met. Appropriately enough, he looks like a big teddy bear.

  “Teddy,” I say affectionately as I lean into the arm he’s placed on my shoulders in a quick hug. “Looks like it’s turning out well, don’t you think?”

  “Thanks to all your hard effort. From what I hear, the checks are coming in.” His lips curve, the smile causing his eyebrows to wiggle. “And even before the auction begins.”

  “Just because it’s a successful way to raise money, doesn’t mean I have to agree with it,” I reluctantly admit, trying to not sound like a prude. It’s a debate we’ve had countless times over the past couple of months. Even though it’s for charity, I just don’t understand why women are willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder. I can’t help but think the bidders are going to want more than just a date in return for the fifteen-thousand dollar starting bid.

  “It’s not like we’re running a brothel, Rylee,” Teddy admonishes. He looks over my right shoulder as a guest catches his attention. “Oh, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is a cause very near and dear to him. He’s one of our chairpeople’s sons who—” he stops his explanation as whoever it is approaches nearby. “Donavan! Good to see you,” he says heartily as he shakes hands with the person at my back.

  I turn around, willing to make a new acquaintance, but instead I meet the bemused eyes of Mr. Arrogant.

  Well, shit! How is it that despite being twenty-six years old, I suddenly feel like a prepubescent, awkward teenager? The half an hour away from him has done nothing to dampen his scorching good looks or the forbidden pull he has on my libido. His six-foot-plus frame is covered in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that screams affluence, and my knowledge that beneath the jacket lies an obviously toned torso makes me bite my lower lip in unwanted need. And yet despite his magnetism, I’m still furious.

  I think again about how he looks familiar, how he resembles someone I know, but the shock of seeing him again overrides the thought.

  He smirks at me, his mirth apparent, and all I can think about is how those lips felt on mine. How his fingers, holding a tumbler now, felt traveling over my bare skin. About the length of his body pressed against mine.

  And how he had licentiously acquainted himself with another woman moments before moving on to debase me.

  Plastering a fake smile on my face, my eyes glare at Donavan as an unaware Teddy addresses him. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s the driving force behind what you see tonight.” Teddy turns to me, placing a hand on my lower back. “Rylee Thomas, please meet—”

  “We’ve already met,” I say, interrupting him, saccharine oozing from my words as I smile at them. Teddy looks at me oddly; it’s rare for me to be insincere. “Thank you for the introduction, though,” I continue, looking from Teddy to Donavan, reaching out to shake his hand as if he were just another potential benefactor.

  Dragging his eyes from me and my abnormal behavior, Teddy focuses back on Mr. Arrogant. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Immensely,” he muses, releasing his too-long hold on my hand. I have to refrain from derisively snorting. How can he not be enjoying himself? Arrogant bastard. Maybe I should get on the stage and take a schoolyard poll of women here tonight to see whom he has not debauched already.

  “Were you able to get some food? Rylee was able to get one of the hottest chefs in Hollywood to donate his services,” Teddy explains, always trying to be the consummate host.

  Donavan looks at me, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I had a little taste of something while I was wandering around backstage.” I suck in my breath, catching his innuendo as he moves his eyes back to Teddy. “It was rather unexpected but quite exquisite,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

  I hear someone call Teddy’s name, and he eyes me again with curiosity before apologiz
ing. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere for a moment.” He turns toward Donavan. “It’s great seeing you again. Thank you for coming.”

  We both nod in assent as Teddy leaves. Scowling, I turn on my heel to walk away from Donavan. I want to erase him and his memory from my evening.

  His hand hastily closes over my bare arm, tugging me so my backside lands against the steeled length of his body. My breath hitches in response. I glance around, glad that everyone seems to be so absorbed in their own conversations that we’ve not drawn their attention.

  I can feel Donavan’s chin brush against my shoulder as his mouth nears my ear. “Why are you so pissed, Ms. Thomas?” There is a biting chill to his voice that warns me he’s not a man to be messed with. “Is it because you can’t let go of your highbrow ways and admit that despite what your head says, your body wants more of this rebel from the wrong side of the tracks?” He releases a low, patronizing growl in my ear. “Or are you so practiced at being frigid that you always deprive yourself of what you want? What you need? What you feel?”

  I bristle, trying unsuccessfully to pull my arm out of his firm grip. Talk about a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I still as another couple walks past us, eyeing us closely. Trying to figure out the situation between us. Donavan releases my arm, and rubs his hand over it instead, giving the impression of a lover’s touch. And despite my fury, or maybe because of it, his touch triggers a myriad of sensation everywhere his fingers trace. Goose bumps ripple in their wake.

  I can feel his breath rake over my cheek again. “It’s very arousing, Rylee, knowing that you’re so responsive to my touch. Very intoxicating,” he whispers as he trails a finger across my bare shoulder. “You know you want to explore why your body reacted the way it did to me. You think I didn’t see you undressing me with your eyes, enjoy you fucking me with your mouth?”

  I gasp as he puts his hand on my stomach and pulls me tightly back against him so I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into my lower back.

  Despite my anger, it’s a heady feeling to know that I can make this man react in such a way. But then again, he probably reacts this way to the numerous women who, without a doubt, throw themselves at his feet on a regular basis.

  “You’re lucky I don’t drag you back in that storage closet I found you in and take what you offered. Make you cry out my name.” He nips softly at my ear, and I have to stifle the uncontrollable moan of desire that threatens to escape. “To fuck you and get you out of my system. Then move on,” he finishes.

  I’ve never been spoken to this way—would never have thought I’d allow someone to—but his words, and the vigor with which he speaks them, unexpectedly turn me on.

  I’m mad at my body for its unbidden reaction to this pompous man. He obviously knows the hold he can have over a woman’s body, and unfortunately, it is mine at the moment.

  I turn slowly to face him and narrow my eyes. My voice is cold as ice. “Presumptuous, aren’t you, Ace? No doubt your typical MO is to fuck ’em and chuck ’em?” His eyes widen in response to my unexpected vulgarity. Or maybe he’s just surprised that I have him figured out so quickly. I hold his stare, my body vibrating with anger. “How many woman have you tried to seduce tonight?” I raise my eyebrows in disgust as guilt flickers fleetingly across his face. “What? Didn’t you know that I happened upon you and your first conquest of the evening in the little alcove backstage?” Donavan’s eyes widen. I continue, enjoying the surprised look on his face. “Did she play you at your own game, Ace, and leave you wanting for more? Aching to prove what a man you are since you couldn’t fulfill her? That you had to pick a frantic woman locked in a closet to take advantage of? I mean, really, how many women have you used your bullshit lines on tonight? How many have you tried to leave your mark on?”

  “Jealous, sweetheart?” He raises his eyebrows as his grin flashes arrogantly. “We can always finish what we started, and you can mark me any way you’d like.”

  I gently shove my hand against his chest, pushing him back. I’d love to wipe that smirk off of his face. Leave my mark that way. “Sorry, I don’t waste my time on misogynist jerks like you. Go find someone—”

  “Careful, Rylee,” he warns as he grips my wrist, looking every bit as dangerous as his voice threatens. “I don’t take kindly to insults.”

  I try to yank my wrist away but his hold remains. To anyone in the room, it looks as if I’m laying my hand on his heart in affection. They can’t feel the overpowering strength of his grip.

  “Then hear this,” I snap, tired of this game and my warring emotions. Anger takes hold. “You only want me because I’m the first female who’s said no to your gorgeous face and come-fuck-me body. You’re so used to every female falling at your feet, pun intended, that you see a challenge—someone immune to your charm—and you’re unsure how to react.”

  Despite his nonchalant shrug, I can see his underlying irritation as he releases my wrist. “When I like what I see, I go after it,” he states unapologetically.

  Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “No, you need to prove to yourself that you can, in fact, get any girl who crosses your path. Your ego’s bruised. I understand,” I patronize, patting his arm. “Well, don’t sweat it, Ace, I forfeit this race.”

  He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. The muscle in his clenched jaw tics as he regards me momentarily. “Let’s get something straight.” He leans in, inches from my mouth, the gleam in his eyes warning me I’ve gone too far. “If I want you, I can and will have you, at anytime and in anyplace, sweetheart.”

  I snort in the most unladylike way, astonished at his audacity, yet trying to ignore the quickening of my pulse at the thought. “Don’t bet on it,” I sneer as I hastily try to skirt past.

  His hand whips out and grabs hold of my arm again, spinning me back toward him, so I’m standing intimately close. I can see his pulse beat in the line beneath his jaw. I can feel the fabric of his jacket hit my arm as his chest rises and falls. I glance down at his hand on my arm and glare back at him in warning, yet his hold remains. He leans his face in to mine so I can feel his breath feather across my cheek. I angle my head up to his, not sure if I’m raising my chin in defiance or in anticipation of his kiss.

  “Lucky you, I’m a gambling man, Rylee,” his resonating voice is just a whisper. “I do, in fact, like a good challenge now and again,” he provokes, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases my arm, but runs his finger lazily down the rest of it. The soft scrape of his finger on my exposed skin sends shivers down my back.

  “So let’s make a bet.” He stops and nods at a passing acquaintance, bringing me to the here and now as I’ve forgotten that we’re in a room full of people.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you when a lady says no, she really means no, Ace?” I raise my eyebrow, a look of disdain on my face.

  That smarmy smirk of his is back in full force as he nods in acknowledgement at my comment. “She also taught me that when I want something, I need to keep after it until I get it.”

  Great, so now I’ve acquired a stalker. A handsome, sexy, very annoying stalker.

  He reaches out and toys with a loose curl on the side of my neck. I try to remain impassive despite my urge to close my eyes and sink into the soft touch of his fingers across my skin. His smirk tells me that he knows exactly what his effect is on me. “So, like I said, Ryles, a bet?

  I bristle at his proposition, or maybe his effect on me. “This is asinine—”

  “I bet by the end of the night,” he cuts me off, holding a hand up to stop me, “I have a date with you.”

  I laugh out loud, stepping back from him. “Not a chance in hell, Ace!”

  He takes a long swallow of his drink, his expression guarded. “What are you scared of then? That you can’t resist me?” He flashes a wicked grin when I roll my eyes. “Agree then. What do you have to lose?”

  “So you get a date with me and your bruised ego is restored.�
� I shrug indifferently, wanting no part of this contest. “What will I get out if it?”

  “If you win—”

  “You mean if I can resist your dazzling charm,” I retort sarcastically.

  “Let me rephrase. If you can resist my dazzling charm by the end of the night, then I’ll donate.” He flickers his fingers through the air in a gesture of irrelevance. “Let’s say, twenty thousand dollars to your cause.”

  I catch my breath and look at him in bewilderment, for this I can agree to. I know that there’s no way in hell I’ll succumb to Donavan or his captivating wiles, the arrogant bastard. Agreed, I was caught in his tantalizing web for a few moments, but it was just because it’s been so long since I’ve felt like that. Since I’ve been kissed like that. Been touched like that.

  Come to think of it, I don’t think that I have ever been made to feel like that. But then again, I know that a man has never kissed me while his lips were still warm from another woman’s.

  I regard him impassively, trying to figure out the catch. Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe he’s just so cocky that he really thinks he’s that irresistible. All I know is that I’m going to increase our contribution total tonight by twenty thousand.

  “Isn’t this bet going to put a damper on your evening’s pursuit of other possible bedside companions?” I pause, taking a survey of the room. “It’s not looking too promising, Ace, considering you’re oh for two right now.”

  “I think I’ll manage.” He laughs out loud. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good at multitasking,” he quips, trying to beat me at my own game. “Besides, the night’s still young, and by my count the score is oh for one so far. The second score has yet to be settled.” He arches his eyebrows at me. “Don’t over think it, Rylee. It’s a bet. Plain and simple.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. The decision is easy. Anything for my boys. “Better get your checkbook ready, Ace. There’s nothing I like better than proving arrogant bastards like you wrong.”