The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  I laugh out loud. Really laugh. So glad that he takes the media in stride. Happy that he’s added some levity to the heavy topics of conversation. “Nice change of topic, but it’s not going to work. Answer the question, Ace.”

  “Oh, Rylee—all business,” he chides. “What is there to say? I hate the drama, the points system of who is contributing how much, the expectation of the next step to take, trying to figure out if there is an ulterior motive for them being with me …” He shrugs. “Rather than deal with that bullshit, I come to a mutual agreement with someone, stated rules and requirements are laid out, specifics are negotiated, and expectations are managed way before they even have a chance to begin or get out of hand. It simplifies things.”

  What? Negotiations? So many things run through my head that I know I’m going to have to think about later, but with his eyes boring into mine, awaiting my reaction, I decide that humor is the best way to mask my surprise at his response.

  “So a guy with a commitment issue...” I roll my eyes “...like that’s something new!” He remains quiet, still regarding me as I think about him, about this, about everything. “So what were you hoping for?” I continue sardonically, “that I’d just look into your gorgeous green eyes, drop my panties, and spread my legs when you admit that you like women in your bed but you won’t let them in your heart?” Despite my sarcasm, I’m being brutally honest. Does he think that just because he is who he is, it’ll negate all my morals? “And they say romance is dead.”

  “You do have such a way with words, sweetheart,” he drawls, shifting onto his side, propping his head on his elbow. A slow, measured smile spreads across his face. “I assure you, romance is not something I actively subscribe to. There’s no such thing as happily ever after.”

  The hopeless romantic in me sighs heavily, allowing me to ignore his comment and the smirk on his face—the one that makes me forget all the thoughts in my head because he is in fact that damn attractive and his eyes are that mesmerizing. “You can’t be serious? Why the emotional detachment?” I shake my head. “You seem to be such a passionate person otherwise.”

  He shifts on the blanket, lying on his back and placing his hands behind his head, exhaling loudly. “Why is anyone the way they are?” he answers vaguely, the silence hanging between us. “Maybe that’s how I was born or what I learned in my formative years … how’s one to know? There’s a lot about me you don’t want to know, Rylee. I promise you.”

  I look at him, trying to decipher his verbal maze of explanations as he lies quietly for a few minutes before reaching a hand out from behind his head and placing it on mine. I revel in this rare sign of affection. Most of the time when we touch it’s explosive, carnal even. Rarely is it simple. Undemanding. Maybe that’s why I enjoy the warmth of his hand seeping through the top of mine.

  I’m still pondering what he’s said despite the distraction of his touch. “I disagree. How can you—”

  I’m stopped mid-sentence as he tugs on my arm, and within seconds has me lying on the blanket, looking up at his face hovering over mine. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but my breath speeds up and stops at the same time. He very slowly, very deliberately uses one hand to brush an errant hair off of my face while the other rests on the base of my neck just under the crease of my chin.

  “Are you trying to change the subject, Mr. Donavan?” I ask coyly, my heart thumping and desire blooming in my belly. His touch leaves electric charges on my skin.

  “Is it working?” he breathes, angling his head to study me.

  I purse my lips and narrow my eyes in thought. “Hmmm … no, I still have my questions.” A smile plays on my lips as I watch him watch me.

  “Then I just might have to do something about that,” he murmurs with painstaking slowness as he lowers his head until his lips are a whisper from mine. I fight the urge to arch my back so that my body can press against his. “How about now?”

  How is it we are outdoors but I feel as if all of the oxygen has been vacuumed away? Why does he have this effect on me? I try to slowly breathe in and all I smell is him—woodsy, clean, and male— a heady, intoxicating mixture that is pure Colton.

  I can’t find my voice to answer his question, so I just give him a noncommittal “Hmm-hmmm.” I’m oblivious to everything around us: the seagulls squawking, the surf crashing, the sun heading slowly toward the ocean on the horizon.

  Due to our proximity, I can’t see his lips but I know that he smiles because I see the lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Should I take that as a yes or should I take that as a no?” he asks. His eyes hold mine, daring me. When all I do is breathe in a shaky breath, he says, “Then I guess I’ll just take.”

  And with those words, his mouth is on mine.

  He sets a slow, mesmerizing pace, feathering light kisses over my lips. Each time I think he is going to give me what I want—deep, passionate kisses—he pulls back. He leans on one elbow, and then cups the back of my neck. His other hand slowly travels down the side of my body, and stops on the side of my hip. He grabs hold there, gripping my flesh through my jeans and presses my body closer to him.

  “Your. Curves. Are. So. Damn. Sexy,” he murmurs between kisses. The riot of sensation he is causing within me is both exhilarating and tormenting. I run my hands under his shirt, up the plains up of his torso and then his back, as he continues his languorous assault on my lips.

  If I were the intelligent woman that I claim to be, I would step back a moment and rationally assess the situation. I’d realize that Colton is a guy used to getting what he wants without preamble or precaution. And at this time, he wants me. He has tried the direct, get-to-the-point approach and basically had me up against a wall within ten minutes. He’s tried coercion, a contract, annoyance, and even admitted he doesn’t do girlfriends, commitment, or relationships. The rational part of me would acknowledge these facts and realize he’s failed the challenge thus far, so now he is moving onto seduction. I’d argue that he’s changing his approach, taking his time by making me feel and making me want him. Letting me think this situation is on my terms now. I’d realize that this has nothing to do with emotions and wanting ‘an after’ with me, but rather he is trying to get me in his bed any way he can now.

  But I’m not listening to my rational self and the snarky doubts she’s trying to cast. I vaguely push away the niggling feeling that she’s trying to force into my subconscious. My common sense has long been forgotten. It has been overrun, inundated, and is being thoroughly obliterated by my new addiction, otherwise known as Colton’s mouth. His mouth worships mine with slow, leisurely licks of tongue, grazes of teeth, and caresses of lips.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” he teases against my lips as I thread my fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and try to pull him closer so I can give into the blistering need he’s built inside of me and take more.

  “You’re frustrating.” I sigh because now his lips have moved steadily up my neck, lacing open mouth kisses to nip at my earlobe, causing little sparks of frisson in their path.

  I can feel his smile spread against the hollow spot beneath my ear in response to my words. “Now you know how it feels,” he murmurs, “to want something …” He withdraws from my neck so his face hovers an inch from mine. There is no doubt about the desire that clouds his eyes when they fuse to mine. He repeats himself. “To want something that someone won’t give you.”

  I don’t even have a moment to register his words before his mouth crushes down on mine. This time he doesn’t hold back. His lips possess mine from the very moment we touch. He commands the kiss with a fiery passion that has my head spinning, my sanity ebbing, and my body craving. He kisses me with such an unrequited hunger, it’s as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t taste me. I have no choice but to ride the wave that he is controlling because I’m just as caught up as he is.

  His tongue darts in my mouth, tasting of wine, before he eases and pulls gently at my bottom lip. I arch my neck, offering him more, wanting h
im to take more because I can’t get enough of his intoxicating taste. He acquiesces, laying a row of feather-light kisses along my jawline before coming back to my mouth. He licks his tongue back in against mine—caressing, possessing, igniting.

  I revel in the feeling of him. His hand spanning my hip in ownership. The weight of his leg, which is bent and resting on mine, pressing his evident arousal into my hip. His mouth controlling, taking, and giving all at the same time. The low growls of desire that emanate from deep in his throat in pure appreciation, telling me that I excite him. That he wants me.

  I could stay in this state of desire all day with Colton, but the sound of approaching laughter brings me to my senses. Brings me to the realization that we’re in public view. Colton brushes my lips gently one more time as we hear the surfers walking several feet away, back to their towels. His hands remain cupped on my face though, and he rests his forehead against mine, both trying to calm our ragged breathing.

  He closes his eyes momentarily, and I sense him struggle with his control. He rubs his thumbs back and forth on my cheeks, a gentle caress that calms me.

  “Oh, Rylee, what do you do to me?” He sighs, kissing the tip of my nose. “What am I going to do with you? You’re such a breath of fresh air.”

  My heart stops. My body tenses. I flash back to three years prior, Max on one knee, ring in his hand, staring up at me expectantly. His words, chock-full of emotion, ring in my ears like it was yesterday. “Rylee, you are my best friend, my ride off into the sunset, my breath of fresh air. Will you marry me?”

  I am thinking of Max—bright, open, and carefree—but I am looking at Colton: reserved, unattainable, and inescapable. A sob escapes my throat as the memory takes hold of me, of that day, of the aftermath, and guilt washes over me.

  Colton is startled at my reaction. He jolts back away from me, but his hands still cup my face, concern filling his eyes. “Rylee, what is it? Are you okay?”

  I put my hands on his chest and push him away as I rise up to sit, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them. I shake my head for him to give me a minute and take in a deep breath, aware that Colton is watching me very closely, curious about what caused my reaction.

  I try to push the words out of my head. His mom yelling at me that I killed him, his dad telling me he wished it had been me instead, and his brother telling me it was my fault. That I don’t deserve to ever know that kind of love again.

  I shudder at the thoughts, collecting myself, preparing myself for the questions I’m waiting for Colton to ask. But they never come. I look over at him, his face somber as he studies me, and I look back out to the sea. He rubs his hand over my lower back, the only form of solace he gives me.

  I shake myself out of my thoughts, upset at what they interrupted. Why can’t I just let it all go and enjoy this man—this virile man within my grasp—who for some ridiculous reason wants me? Why can’t I just give in to his sordid excuse of a one-night-stand-type relationship just to get me out of this revolving nightmare? Use him, as he wants to use me.

  Because that’s not you, I whisper to myself. You are a breath of fresh air.

  I’m thankful to Colton for his silence. I’m not sure if it is a silent understanding, or a detachment from someone else’s drama, but regardless, at this point I’m glad that I’m not being asked to explain myself.

  I reach back to grab for my plastic cup of wine. Colton hands it to me as he takes his and sips. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re outside,” I say, trying to diffuse the awkwardness with humor.

  “Why’s that?”

  I take a long swallow of my drink before I continue. “To keep us from getting out of hand in public,” I respond, turning my head so that I can smile at him.

  “What makes you think that being outside would stop me?” He flashes a devilish grin before laughing out loud, throwing his head back when he sees the shocked look on my face. “The danger of being caught only heightens sensation, Rylee. Increases the intensity of your arousal. Your climax.” His voice wraps seductively around me, spinning me in his web.

  I stare at him, trying to unwrap my thoughts from his snare. Trying to find my wits about me so I can respond and appear to be unaffected by his hypnotic words. “I thought you said you wanted somewhere private the first time?” I smirk, arching an eyebrow at him.

  He leans in close to me, his breath feathering over my face and amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well at least I just got you to admit that there’s going to be a first time.”

  My eyes widen as I realize what I’d just willingly walked into. I can’t help the smile that breaks across my lips as I take in the mischievously wicked one on his. He shakes his head and as his eyes break from mine he says, “Look at that.” He points to the horizon where the bottom of the sun hits the edge of the water, a bright ball sinking and spilling pastels across the sky.

  Grateful for the change in topic, I turn my head to look. “Why is it that the sun seems to take forever to reach the horizon and the minute it gets there it sinks so fast?”

  “It reflects life, don’t you think?” he asks.

  “How so?”

  “Sometimes our journeys in life seem to take forever to get to the culmination of our efforts—to achieving the goal. And once we do, it goes so fast and then it’s over.” He shrugs, surprising me with his introspection. “We forget that the journey is the best part. The reason for taking the ride. What we learn the most from.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something in a round about way, Colton?” I ask.

  “Nope,” he says, a smile lighting up his features. “Just making an observation. That’s all.”

  I eye him cautiously, still unsure what he’s trying to tell me despite his denial. I dig my toes into the sand still warm from the sun’s rays. I scrunch my toes back and forth, loving how it feels.

  I hear Colton move next to me before I hear the paper bag from the deli rustling. I turn to see him stretched out across the blanket, pulling two Saran-wrapped squares from the bag. He sits back up next to me, crossing his legs like a kid in grade school. He holds a square up between us. “The cure for all woes,” he says, handing it to me.

  Our fingers brush as I take the brownie from him, his touch welcome. “You thought of everything on this twenty-five thousand dollar date, didn’t you?” I tease him, making quick work of the package. He watches me as I take my first bite, the scrumptious chocolate is delectable and has me rolling my eyes in appreciation, and moaning with ecstasy. This is the way to get to my heart.

  I look from the brownie back up to Colton, a captivated look on his face. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now?” His voice is gruff, pained even.

  I stop chewing, mid-bite, at his comment. How is it he can make such simple words so spellbinding at the oddest times? The candor on his face throws me off. We just sit there, a few feet apart on a blanket on a beach, and stare at each other. No pretenses. No audience. No expectations. The unspoken words that flow between us are so powerful I’m afraid to blink, afraid to move, afraid to speak for fear of ruining this moment. I’m seeing the true Colton Donavan—the unmasked version with a vulnerability that makes me want to reach over and take away the hurt that often flickers through those green eyes and make it better. To show him that love and commitment are possible without complications. That it is real and pure and much more powerful than ever imagined when it is built and shared between two people.

  I feel a phantom ache in my heart as a tiny piece tears off, lost forever to Colton in this moment.

  I finally break eye contact, lowering my eyes back to watch my fingers pick at my brownie. I know that I’ll never get to express this to him. I’ll never get the chance. At some point in the near future I will give my body to him willingly, despite my head telling me it’s a mistake. I will revel in that moment with him which will be filled with reverent sighs and entangled bodies, and I’ll be devastated when he walks away after having his fill of me. I blink away the te
ars that burn in my eyes.

  It has to be the approaching anniversary, I tell myself. I’m never this emotional—this unstable.

  I pick a chunk off the corner of my brownie and push it in my mouth. I look back up at him, a shy smile creeping onto his face, telling me that he felt the moment between us as well. I shiver .

  “You cold?” he asks, reaching out with his thumb to wipe a piece of chocolate from the corner of my mouth. He brings his thumb and holds it out to my mouth. I open my lips and suck the chocolate off. A groan rumbles in the back of his throat, and his lips part slightly as he watches me. If I knew it’d be this erotic to watch his reaction, I’d leave a Hansel and Gretel trail of brownie crumbs all over my body and enjoy watching him find them.

  I shiver again in response to his question, despite the heat burning within me.

  “Since this was so impromptu, I didn’t bring a jacket or an extra blanket for you,” he says with disappointment in his voice. “We can go somewhere else if you’d like?”

  I look up at him, a sincere look on my face. “Thank you, Colton. I really had a good time …”

  “Despite the heavy conversation,” he adds when I pause.

  I laugh at him. “Yes, despite the heavy topics, but I’ve had a really long week and I’m exhausted,” I apologize, “so I think it’s best if we head back.” I really don’t want to, but I am desperately trying to keep a level head here.

  “Ooooh, the blow off!” he teases, pressing a hand to his wounded heart. “That’s harsh, but I understand.” He laughs.

  I help him start to wrap up the left-over food and place it back in the bag. I start putting my socks and shoes back on when he says, “So Teddy signed the deal today with CDE.”

  “That’s great!” I say sincerely. Excited for the opportunity and uncertain about the effect it will have on my personal life—being forced to be with him. “I can’t express how thankful I am—”