The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  And in this moment, I am completely and utterly his. Swallowed by him. Lost to him and the moment so much so that I am frightened by the power of my feelings.

  We sit like this, tangled around each other in a spellbound state without speaking. The lazy tracing of fingers on cooling skin and the reverberation of our hearts against each other is the only communication we need. Our labored breaths finally even out as the sky falls dark, leaving us bathed in moonlight.

  I’m afraid to speak. Afraid to ruin the moment.

  “You okay, Ace?” I ask finally, my foot slowly falling asleep and needing to move. Colton grunts, and I laugh at him, pleased that I reduced him to incoherence. I try to pull away from him and lean my back against the glass behind me, but he shifts with me so his face is now in the crook of my neck. He moans a sigh of satisfied contentment that spears straight into my heart.

  My eye catches my torn underwear on the floor and I snicker. “What is it with you and tearing my panties off, huh? I would have gladly stepped out of them for you.” I scratch my nails languorously over his back.

  “Takes too long.” He snorts, his unshaven jaw tickling my skin.

  “Those were one of my favorite pairs. Now I don’t have any to match this bra,” I pout.

  Colton pulls away from me, a smirk on his lips and humor in his eyes. “Tell me where they’re from and I’ll buy you a hundred sets so long as you stand before me like you did tonight.” Colton leans forward placing a slow kiss on my lips. “Better yet,” he says, pulling back and tracing a finger along the line where my breast meets the lace of my bra. “Since that is such a mighty fine bra, maybe you should just wear that and nothing else under your clothes. Talk about sexy,” he grunts. “No one would even have to know.”

  “You’d know,” I counter, arching an eyebrow.

  “Yes, I would.” He grins wickedly, “And I’d walk around hard all fucking day thinking about it.”

  I laugh. A deep, soul-baring laugh because I am so overcome with emotions that I’m bubbling over.

  “Shall we get off the floor?” he asks as he shifts and unfolds himself from me. He rises, reaching out for my hand, and helping me up to my feet. “The bathroom’s through there...” he points to the wide opening to the left of the bed “...if you want to get cleaned up.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur, suddenly self conscious about my nudity. I gather my dress, pressing it to my front and look for what’s left of my panties. “What—?” I ask when I can’t find them. I look up to see Colton watching me as he pulls his jeans up over his naked hips, the remnants of my underwear haphazardly stuffed in his front pocket. He stops when my eyes remain on his.

  Leaving his fly unbuttoned, he walks to me and reaches out to tug my dress out of my hand. I try to pull it away but I realize his intentions a moment too late. “For God’s sake, Rylee, there’s no need to be shy. After you just stood before me like that?” He shakes his head at me. “You’re hot as hell and having confidence about it is even sexier, sweetheart.” He senses my unease and leans in to brush a kiss on my lips. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” He smirks and holds my dress out.

  I stare at him, naked except for my bra, trying not to fidget. His compliment eases my insecurities a tad. I am plain old me and Colton frickin’ Donavan is in front of me. Telling me I am sexy. That he loves my curves. I feel like I need to pinch myself. Instead, I push back my lack of self-confidence and tell myself I can do this. A slow smile quirks at one corner of my mouth as I glance at my dress in his hand before I very deliberately walk past him.

  I can feel his smile when I turn the corner into the oversized bathroom, filled with granite and tumbled stone. I release the breath I was holding, proud of myself for having the courage to do that. I glance up at my reflection in the mirror and am pleasantly surprised to see that my bag is sitting on the countertop. Grace must have brought it up.

  “Feel free to grab one of my shirts off of the stacks in my closet,” Colton calls to me from the bedroom.

  “Um–Okay. Thanks.”

  “I’m going to run and get us a drink. Let Baxter out. I’ll be right back. Take your time.”

  “Uh-huh,” I reply as I wander around the ridiculously large space. I walk into an open doorway to find a closet that would make Haddie the Clotheshorse cry. I peruse his vast selection of T-shirts and settle on a heather gray one. I press my nose into the fabric and can smell the detergent that makes up part of Colton’s scent that I love so much.

  I clean up, freshen up my make-up, pull on a pair of boyshort panties I brought—because yes, I knew this was a forgone conclusion—and slip Colton’s shirt over my head.

  WITH COLTON STILL GONE, I wander down the hallway and out the open door onto the second story terrace. I walk to the railing that overlooks the lower patio and the ocean beyond and lean against it, enjoying the nighttime breeze and the moonlight on the dancing waves.

  I am so overwhelmed by what’s happened recently that I can’t even begin to process it. One minute I am lonely, afraid, and feeling too guilty to live again and a few weeks later I am here with a man who’s complicated and wonderful and so incredibly alive. I’ve gone from empty and aching and raw, to happy and sated and feeling like I am having an out-of-body experience.

  “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier, I find you wearing one of my favorite shirts.” His words startle me, and I turn to find him beside me, holding out a glass of wine.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, taking a sip and reaching a hand out to rub Baxter’s head, as he tries to squeeze between us again.

  Colton edges a hip up on the railing and turns to face me as I look out at the water. “I like seeing you here,” he admits, his voice soft with reflection as he tilts his head and watches me. “I like seeing you in my surroundings, in my shirt, with my dog … more than I ever could’ve imagined.” I transfer my gaze from the water to meet his, trying to read the emotions swimming beneath the surface. “That’s a first for me, Rylee.” He confesses in a soft whisper, and I can barely make out the words above the noise of the waves. But his admission speaks volumes to me. Holy shit! Does this mean that he means there is a possibility of more? That whatever we are is more than just one of his stupid arrangements? I can sense his unease so I try to lighten the mood.

  “What? You don’t drag all of your wenches to this hideous lair of yours?”

  He reaches out, a quiet smile on his lips, and cups my neck, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “Just the one,” he replies. I smile back at him, adoring the tender side of Colton as much as I love the stubborn, feisty one. He lifts his beer bottle to his lips and takes a long pull on it. “I brought up some dessert,” he offers.

  “Really? I thought that’s what we just had.” He smiles and a carefree laugh escapes his lips.

  “C’mon.” He tugs on my arm and pulls me down to sink into one of the chaise lounges. Colton walks over to a console hidden in the wall, and within seconds, I hear Ne-Yo’s soft voice. Baxter groans in satisfaction as he plops his large body down in the open doorway.

  “So,” he says as he scoots a table next to me, “I have two options for you. Mint chocolate chip ice cream or chocolate kisses.”

  “You remembered!” I gasp.

  “Well when it comes to you and sweets, I have a hard time forgetting.” He smirks as he puts a hand on my back, urging me to sit up, and then slides himself behind me.

  A smile he can’t see spreads on my face as I think of Colton and his imaginative ways of eating a certain confection. I lean back into his bare chest, fitting myself to him, and reach out at the tray to grab a Hershey’s kiss. I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth, laying my head back onto his shoulder and groan at its heavenly taste.

  “If that’s all it takes to hear you make that sound, I’m buying you a truckload of them,” he breathes in my ear as he moves behind me, adjusting himself.

  “Want one?” I tease as I bring it to his lips and then take it away and put it in my m
outh, moaning intentionally this time. He laughs and I give him a Hershey’s kiss for real this time. “A girl could get used to this,” I murmur, liking the warmth of him against me.

  We sit for a while and talk about families, travels, experiences, and work. I avoid the topic that I really want to delve into, knowing that his past is off limits. He is funny and witty and attentive, and I can feel myself falling deeper for him, entangling myself further in his tantalizing web.

  “Awesome, charismatic, and exciting,” Colton says, breaking the silence between us.

  I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Nope,” I say again, leaning back further into the warmth and comfort of his chest.

  “You’re never going to tell me are you?” he asks lifting a hand to brush hair off the side of my neck, exposing my bare skin so that his mouth can place a kiss there.

  “Nope,” I repeat, fighting the shiver that runs through me as he nuzzles his nose down to my ear.

  “How about addictive cock experience?” he murmurs, his breath tickling my skin.

  The laugh that bubbles in my throat falls to a sigh as he nips at my earlobe and sucks gently on the hollow spot just beneath it. “Hmmmm, that could work,” I manage as he wraps his arms around my chest, and I begin to run my fingers up and down the parts of his arms that I can reach. I angle my head further to the side, giving him more access to my sensitive skin as my nails cross a jagged line on his right forearm.

  “That’s a nasty scar,” I murmur. “What super-masculine thing were you doing to acquire that?” I cringe at the thought of how much it must have hurt.

  He’s quiet for a beat, kissing my temple and pressing his face to the side of mine so I can feel him swallow. “Nothing of significance,” he says then falls quiet again. “Do you surf, Rylee?” he asks, changing the subject.

  “Nope. Do you, Ace?” I take a sip of wine as he murmurs in assent.

  “Ever tried?” he asks, the rasp of his voice in my ear.

  “Uh-uh.”

  “I should teach you sometime,” he says.

  “Probably not the best thing to do for someone like me who’s scared of sharks.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues, “Oh come on, it’d be fun. There aren’t any sharks out there that’ll bug you.”

  “Tell that to the people who’ve been chomped on,” I challenge, and despite the fact that he’s behind me, I cover my face in embarrassment when I say, “When I was little I was so scared of them that I never swam in our pool because I used to think they’d come out of the drain and eat me.”

  Colton laughs. “Oh, Rylee, didn’t anyone ever tell you that there are much more dangerous things on dry land?”

  Yes. You.

  As I try to think of a witty retort, my ear catches the song playing over the speakers and I murmur, “Great song.”

  Colton stills as he listens to the music, and I can feel his head nod against the side of mine. “Pink, right?”

  “Hmm-hmm. Glitter in the Air,” I respond, distracted as I listen to the words of one of Haddie’s and my all-time favorite songs. Colton runs his hands up my arms and starts to knead my shoulders. His hands are powerful and add just the right amount of pressure. “That feels like heaven,” I breathe as my already relaxed body turns to gel beneath his skillful fingertips.

  “Good,” he whispers. “Just relax.”

  I close my eyes and hand myself over to him, humming softly to the song. Colton runs his fingers down the line of my spine and rubs my lower back, my head lolling to the side at the sublime feeling.

  “Here comes the best part,” I say. I sing along as the words wash over me, moving me as they always do. “There you are, sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee, calling me sugar. You called me sugar.”

  “I don’t get it,” Colton says, “Why is that the best part?”

  “Because it’s the moment she realizes that he loves her,” I say, a soft smile on my face.

  “Why, Rylee, you’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” he teases.

  “Oh, shut up.” I shift to swat him, but Colton grabs my wrist before I can, and pulls me into him. His lips slant over mine and make a languid sweeping pass before licking mine. He tastes of chocolate and beer and everything that is uniquely Colton. He cradles my head with one hand while the other runs aimlessly over my bare thighs. Fingertips graze softly, without urgency, or attention to any one spot. I could sit in this moment forever, his actions unraveling me.

  Colton brushes a kiss on the tip of my nose before resting his forehead to mine, his hand still cupping the back of my head, fingers still knotted in my hair, his breath fluttering over my lips. “Rylee?”

  “Hmm-hmm, Ace?”

  He flexes the hand in my hair. “Stay the night with me.” He says quietly.

  I still, holding my breath. Oh. My. I can feel the emotion behind his request and can sense a change from the last time he said it to me. He’s not saying it out of obligation but because this is what he wants..

  “I’ve never said that before and truly meant it, Rylee.” His voice is a hushed plea that tugs at my heart. He wraps his arms around me, cradling me in his lap, and pulls me with him as he leans back in the chaise, fingers playing in my hair. I remain silent, trying to clear the emotion from my voice before I speak.

  “Hmmm, I don’t think I could move even if I tried,” I murmur.

  “You’ll stay?” The eagerness in his voice surprises me.

  “Yes.”

  “In that case,” he muses, “I might have to take advantage of you again.”

  “Again?” I laugh. His response is to grab my hips, lift me up, and place me astride him. He situates me on him so that our bodies fit together perfectly, each movement from him traveling through my thin panties and hitting me in just the right spot.

  He sits up and kisses me forcefully, his tongue plunging between my parted lips, his hands pressing my body to him possessively. I grow dizzy wanting more of everything from him.

  “I. Want. You. So. Much. Rylee.” He pants between kisses down my neck. I bring my hands to his face, fingers touching coarse whiskers, and draw his head up to meet my eyes. “You’re addictive.”

  “I know,” I whisper, telling him with my eyes that I feel addicted to him too. The muscle in his jaw tenses momentarily before he crushes his mouth to mine, the connection between us a necessity like air.

  “Ride me,” he pants. Such a simple command, but the way he says it—as if the sun won’t rise in the morning if I don’t—has me pulling back. I stare into his eyes, so hypnotizing, so intense and so full of desire I wouldn’t deny him even if I could.

  So I begin to move, surrendering myself to him. Again.

  THE COOL AIR THAT WISPS over my skin is a stark contrast to the radiating heat pressing against me. My sleep-induced haze slowly clears from my mind as my eyes flutter open, startled by the natural light filtering in through the open windows.

  I start to shift in the sinfully comfortable bed, wanting to stretch my muscles that oddly feel sore, until I realize why. Sex, sex, and more sex. A smug smile crosses my lips.

  Colton is wrapped around me like a vine. He is on his side, one leg bent and slung over mine, and his hand splays possessively over my bare chest with his palm cupping my breast. I turn to find his head half on my pillow, half on his.

  I study his face: the angles, the fan of thick, dark lashes against his golden skin, the curve of his nose. I reach over and brush an errant lock of hair off his forehead, careful not to disturb him. In sleep, Colton’s dark and dangerous aura is softened by his disheveled hair, the absence of the intensity he carries around like a badge of protection, and the lack of tension in his jaw. I enjoy catching this rare glimpse of him—vulnerable and relaxed.

  Staring at him, my mind drifts back to last night. I recall his complete and unyielding attentiveness to me and my every need. I think of the new experiences he introduced me to, and the pleasure he’s induced in me. My thoughts stra
y to leather restraints, vibrating eggs, and ice cubes inserted to melt as we became one, evoking that walk down the fine line of pleasure edged by pain. I think of how he showed me slow and soft before pushing me to the brink of oblivion with hard and fast. How, by the light of the moon, in this expanse of a bed, he hovered over me, eyes intense, voice beseeching, and asked me to submit to him. Asked that I trust him to know what my body can handle and which threshold to push it to. And in that moment, I was so captivated with him, I handed myself over to him without question, or second thought. I agreed, knowing he already dominated my mind, heart, and body.

  Afterward, as I drifted off to sleep, his warm body pressed against my back and his mouth pressed softly in my hair, I questioned my judgment. Before drifting off to sleep, I wondered what the hell I was getting myself into by accepting his seemingly innocent request, for what is simple under a blanket of moonlight never seems to be when the next morning dawns.

  Colton shifts beside me, rolling over so his back is toward me, and pulls the covers with him and off me. I shiver from the chill but am happy that I can now stretch out my overused muscles. I wince as I flex my feet and extend my legs. I definitely wasn’t treated like glass last night, but my body quite liked it too.

  I’m starting to get cold. I look over at the artfully sculpted lines of Colton’s back and I turn into him, tucking my body around him so I can enjoy the feeling of my bare skin against his. My chin rests on his shoulder and my breasts press up against his back as I curl my arms around him. I absently run my fingers across his chest, as I slowly sink back into sleep.

  I’m in the first stages of sleep when Colton suddenly emits the most gut-wrenching, feral cry I’ve ever heard. I would’ve remained frozen in shock but he bucks his body violently back against me, connecting his elbow against my shoulder. “No!” falls from his mouth in a strangled shout. He jumps from the bed and turns around, legs spread, knees bowed, arms bent, and hands fisted in front of his face. His face is the picture of terror: eyes wild and haunted, flickering, teeth clenched, and tendons straining in his neck. His chest heaves shallow breaths, body tense and vibrating with acute awareness as sweat beads on his forehead.