The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  “Hey,” I murmur softly as his hands press into my back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He breathes. “Now I am.”

  His murmured confession rocks me. Hits those parts deep within in me, unjaded and still full of hope and possibility.

  He finally releases me when he hears sounds in the hallway. I gaze up at his face and look beyond the handsome features that still make my breath catch in my throat. I notice darkened smudges under his tired, wary eyes. He’s not sleeping. More nightmares? I don’t know and I don’t want to ask. He’ll tell me if he wants to. When he’s able to.

  I stare at him for a beat and try to figure out what’s different about him. It’s only when he angles his head to question my silent appraisal that it hits me. He’s clean-shaven. I reach up and run my hand across his jaw, his face leaning into my touch. And it’s something about that little gesture mixed with his earlier confession that causes my heart to swell.

  “What’s this?” I ask, averting my eyes to prevent him from seeing my emotional transparency. “So smooth and clean-shaven.”

  “It doesn’t bode too well doing a razor commercial with a five o’clock shadow,” he smirks, running his palms up and down the sides of my torso. Licks of desire flicker low in my belly at his touch.

  I laugh out loud. “Understandably. I like it though,” I tell him, running my fingers over it again when he frowns. “It’s okay, Ace, you still ooze bad boy without the stubble. Besides, I’ll get to sleep with someone different than this scruffy-jawed man I’ve been wasting my time on.”

  He flashes a wicked smile. “Wasting your time, huh?” He takes a step toward me, lust clearly edging the humor out of his eyes.

  Every part of my body tightens at the predatory way his body moves toward mine. My God. Take me, I want to tell him. Take every part of me that you already haven’t stolen, taken, or claimed.

  “Oh, most definitely. He’s a rebel...” I scrunch my nose up, playing along “...and I definitely don’t do the bad boy type.”

  “No?” He wets his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. “What type exactly, do you do?” A devilish grin snakes up the corner of his lips as he reaches out to touch my face, and in an instant it disappears. His eyes narrow upon noticing the bruise from Zander on my cheek. My cover-up has obviously worn off. “Who did this to you?” he demands, his hands cupping my neck, angling my head to the side so he can see the severity of the bruise. “Is this from Zander last night?”

  I startle at his words. “Yeah, it goes with the territory.” I shrug. “How’d you know about it?”

  “Poor fucking kid.” He shakes his head. “I called you this morning. You were still asleep after being up with Zander all night. I hadn’t heard from you and got worried.” He pauses and those words—his admission that he cares for me coming on the heels of him telling me in so many words that he needs me—ignites my soul and makes my lips curl automatically. “So I called the house and Jackson answered. He told me what happened.” He angles my chin up to look at my cheek again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” I shake my head, his concern endearing.

  “So, I figured the kids might need a break to shake off last night.” He leans in and brushes his lips against mine again. “And I really wanted to see you,” he murmurs breathlessly, his words shooting straight into my heart and embedding themselves into my every fiber.

  How can he say he doesn’t subscribe to romance when he says things so casually when they’re least expected?

  “I have a work function tonight, so I don’t have much time, but I wanted to go have some fun and release some stress.” He subtly shakes his head, and I can see a hint of sadness creep back into his eyes. “Besides, it’s been a rough day and I needed to get away. Do something to relax.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” He forces a tight smile, leans in, and kisses the tip of my nose. “Besides, I thought the boys might enjoy it too.”

  “I’m sure they will,” I tell him. “I’ve gotta go get my purse.” I start to head toward the staff’s room when I hear Zander call my name from the opposite side of the house. I pause, a wide smile spreading across my face over hearing him call my name like all the other kids in the house do. It makes my heart happy. “What’s wrong, Zand?” I ask.

  “Shoe.” It’s only one word. But it’s a word. And he’s actually communicating so that makes it even better. I smile broadly and Colton follows suit in understanding.

  “Go get your purse,” he tells me. “I’ll go help him.”

  “You sure?” I ask, but he’s already turning the corner to the hall.

  I gather my stuff, lock up the back door, and get ready to leave. When I near the hall, I hear the murmur of voices. I take a few steps and then stop when I realize that Colton and Zander are talking about last night.

  I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop—that I should walk away and leave them some privacy—but my curiosity is piqued. And when I hear Colton say, “You know, I used to have really bad dreams too, Zander,” I know that I won’t be going anywhere.

  I can’t see them but I have a feeling that Zander acknowledges Colton somehow because he continues. “When I was little, I had some really bad things happen to me too. And I used to get scared. So scared.” I can hear Colton sigh and some shuffling. “And when I’d get that scared, do you know what I’d say to try and make me not so scared? I’d repeat in my head, ‘Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.’ I’d say it over and over. And you know what? If I squeezed my eyes really, really tight—just like this—it would help.”

  I stand in the hallway. My heart melting as I listen to a man who is so damaged he’s sworn off ever having children but is so unbelievable with them. Especially the broken ones. The ones that need him the most. The ones he understands better than anyone. I feel a phantom pang in my abdomen, and I push away the thoughts of what can never be. For me. And with him.

  Then the best sound pulls me from my self-pity. It’s meek but it’s a laugh that warms my insides. I wish I could see what Colton’s doing to make him laugh. What barrier he’s breaking down to get that sound from Zander. “You know what? I’ll let you in on another secret…even now—even though I’m an adult—when I have a bad dream or am really scared, I still say that. I promise I do...” Colton laughs and I take a step forward toward the open doorway. And what I see steals my breath. Colton is sitting on the bed and Zander is sitting sideways on his lap, looking reverently up at him. A soft smile on his lips. Colton glances up for a split second when he notices me, the gentle smile on his face widening, and then turns back to focus on Zander. “And it still helps. Now, are you ready to drive a go-kart and beat me?”

  Zander looks over to me and smiles widely. “Okay, then go get in the van!” I tell him. He looks back toward Colton and nods his head once before hopping off and running toward the front door.

  Colton stays seated for a moment, and we just stare at each other. A silent exchange that tells him I heard everything and that he’s glad I did. That exchange—watching him with Zander—has the protective wall around my heart fracturing into a million pieces and love seeping from the cracks. I shake my head to clear it of all of the things I want to say to him in this moment and hold my hand out to him instead.

  He rises slowly and gives a half smile. “C’mon.” He takes my hand and tugs it. “Do you think you can beat me in a race?”

  “I know I can beat the pants off of you,” I reply suggestively.

  He chuckles at my comment. “As much as I like your line of thinking, Ry, we’re gonna be surrounded by a crowd of people.”

  I release his hand and wrap my arm around his torso, wanting the feel of his body against mine. It’s me who needs to feel close to him now. He laughs at my sudden assault of him. “I thought being dirty in a crowd turned you on,” I whisper against his ear.

  “Sweet Jesus, woman.” He groans. “You know what to say to get me hard.”

  I place a
n open mouth kiss at the spot just beneath his jaw. “I know. Too bad we’re going to be surrounded by seven little boys who hang on your every word or I’d let you scratch this itch I seem to have.”

  “God, you’re such a cock tease,” he laughs as we walk out of the front door of the house. He releases me so I can lock the front door, a look of desire clouding his eyes as he watches me.

  “You think so?” I murmur coyly, batting my eyelashes at him as he nods. “Maybe I’ll have to show you just how good of a cock tease I am,” I quip as I sashay down the walkway in front of him, swinging my hips back and forth. I know that sex is off of the agenda for the evening because he has to leave right after karting with the kids, and Saturday night will be the next time I get to see him.

  I turn back to face him, taking a step backwards as I watch him. “Too bad you shaved,” I say, fighting the smirk I want to give him. “I kinda liked the roughness of it between my thighs.” I raise my eyebrows as he sucks in a breath.

  This could be fun. A buildup of anticipation. I can spend the week taunting him and ramp up the expectation so that by Saturday night we can’t keep our hands off of each other. As if we need help with that anyway.

  “C’mon, Rylee! You have to beat him. You’re our last hope!” Shane yells across the railing at me as I stand beside my kart waiting for my rematch.

  The past two hours have been a blast. From the racing to the boys’ laughter to the constant banter between Colton and me, I couldn’t have thought of a better way for the boys to let off steam and reconnect after the chaos of Zander’s nightmare last night.

  After an hour of free-for-all racing, the boys begged to race one on one against Colton. He willingly obliged and in turn set up my current situation. Colton beat all of the boys, everyone that went up against him, except for me. I accused him of letting me win, which had him instantly calling for a rematch. The second race went in his favor. Now we’re in the tiebreaker.

  “Best out of three, Thomas. Whoever wins next gets bragging rights,” he calls over to me, amusement in his eyes and challenge in his smile. God, I love him. Especially when he has this look about him: confident, carefree, and downright sexy.

  “You’re all talk, Donavan. Your win was a total fluke.” The arrogant smile he flashes goads me further. “Big, bad professional racer like you has to maintain your dignity, you know. Can’t have rookies like me showing you up! Especially a woman.”

  “Oh baby, you know me, I’ll let a woman do whatever she wants to me.” He smirks and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

  I laugh out loud as I walk the ten feet between us. I look back over my shoulder at the boys who are egging me on and wink at them to show I’m on their side. As I approach, Colton turns to face me, his hand holding his helmet against his hip as if it’s the most natural stance in the world for him, and the fingers of his other hand rubbing together as if he is itching to reach out and touch me.

  Good, it’s working. My subtle brushes against him. My little suggestive comments whispered to him here and there. My slow perusal of his body so he notices. Despite having to do them all under the detecting eyes of our audience, I’m glad to know that none of them have gone unnoticed. I can see it in his eyes and the pulsing muscle in his jaw as I approach him.

  “You worried you’re going to lose, Ace?” I smirk. My back is toward our audience so I bend over and tie my shoe, purposefully putting my cleavage on display. When I look up, Colton’s pupils have darkened and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

  “I know what you’re doing, Rylee,” he murmurs softly from beneath his smirk, “and as much as your little antics have had me wanting to push you up against that wall over there and take you hard and fast more than once since we’ve been here—regardless of who’s watching—it’s not going to work.” He flashes his megawatt smile at me. “I’m still gonna beat that fine ass of yours to the finish line.”

  “Well as much as I could use a good spanking...” I breathe out, looking up at him from beneath my lashes and catch his sharp intake of air at my words “...I was just coming over here to see if you needed any help getting your motor revved up.” I smile innocently at him, although my body language says anything but.

  I watch his throat constrict as he swallows, his lips twisting as he tries to prevent himself from smiling. “Oh, my motor’s running just fine, sweetheart,” he teases as his eyes travel the length of my body again. “Revved and raring to go. Do you need any help getting yours tuned and ready to race?”

  I bite my bottom lip as I stare at him and angle my head to the side. “Well I seem to be running a little tight in the ass end. Nothing a quick lube job wouldn’t fix,” I toss over my shoulder as I walk back to my car, wishing I could see the reaction on his face.

  The boys keep up their shouting and heckling as we put our helmets on and get strapped in our carts. I glance over at Colton and nod my head as I rev my gas pedal. And then we are off, racing side by side through the twists and turns of the track. My competitive nature surfaces as Colton noses past me. I can’t hear the boys cheering me on over the sound of the motors, but I catch passing glimpses of their arms waving frantically in my periphery. We come to the next turn and I edge the nose of my cart in first, taking the corner at full speed and powering past him. We race down the straightaway toward the finish line, edging back and forth. When we finally cross it, I’m pretty sure that I won by the hysterics from the boys and Jackson on the sidelines.

  I screech my kart to a stop and jump out, unable to suppress the wide grin on my face. I pull off my helmet at the same time Colton does and when I turn to him, I swear his grin is as wide as mine. I do a silly, little victory dance around him to amuse the boys who are doing their own celebrating. He just shakes his head, laughing at me with a genuine, carefree smile on his face.

  “Ha!” I smirk at him. “How do you like them apples?” I taunt as I follow him to the little office at the edge of the track and out of the spectators’ view. The minute we’re out of the boys’ line of sight, Colton spins me around and has me pinned against the wall. His long, lean body presses against every curve of mine as if we fit together like yin and yang.

  “Do you have any fucking clue how turned on I am, Rylee?” He growls at me. “How much I want to take what you’ve been flaunting in front of me all afternoon?”

  It takes every ounce of my concentration to appear unaffected by him. Every ounce. I arch my eyebrows at him in nonchalance. “Well I have a feeling that your dick pressing into me is an indication.”

  “God, I want to fuck that smirk off your face right now.”

  His words alone incite my core muscles to clench at the mere thought. I never realized that the act of seducing can provoke equal parts of desire in both parties.

  My nipples harden at the feeling of his firm chest pressed against them. His breath feathers over my face and his eyes remain locked on mine. He tilts his head forward and meets my lips, his tongue licking between them, and tangling with mine. There is a quiet passion to his kiss, and I groan as he releases me, leaving me wanting more.

  “I couldn’t agree more, Ryles, but I gotta get going…and I have a feeling your fan club is going to come barging through that door any moment.” He takes my helmet from my hand and places it on the table at the same time the door opens up and the boys come barreling through. Colton looks over at me and arches his eyebrows as if to say I told you so.

  I bite back a careless giggle when I see all of the boys carrying bundles of cotton candy. My thoughts revert to my more than memorable experience with the confection and Colton. He groans, his own little acknowledgement, causing my lips to twitch with a devious little smirk.

  “One second, guys!” I yell above their raucous noise as I take a pinch from Ricky’s funnel. I step back toward Colton and deliberately run my tongue over my lips before placing the fluff of sweetness on my tongue. I close my eyes and play up savoring its taste. When I open them back up, Colton’s eyes have darkened and his jaw is set w
ith frustration and desire—just the response I was looking for.

  I lean close to his ear, purposefully withholding any touch of my body against his, my voice a seductive whisper for his ears only. “Hey, Ace?” He looks over and arches a brow at me. “I’m not wearing any panties.” I smirk. He audibly sucks in a breath in acknowledgement before I sway my hips a little more than normal as I walk away from him.

  What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him, I think as I picture the pair of white cotton underwear I’m wearing beneath my Levis.

  COLTON GLANCES OVER AT ME as he listens to his publicist give him the order of events for the evening. We’re gliding through Los Angeles in a limo headed toward a charity gala. This is the first of several events in the coming weeks where Colton and I will make the rounds, formally promoting our companies’ joint venture, and hopefully enlist some participants for the car’s lap sponsorship program.

  I stare at him unabashedly as I hum to Hero/Heroine floating gently through the background from the speakers. I take in everything about him that has become so familiar, so addictive, so everything to me in such a short period of time. He’s so striking in the formal tuxedo—the clothing that he’s already confessed to detesting several times—and I can’t stop thinking what a lucky girl I am. His face is clean-shaven again, and yet even without the usual shadow of hair, he still exudes the aura of careless bad boy.

  It’s just something that oozes off of him regardless of what he’s wearing. He’s almost sexier with his look tonight because I know that beneath his sophisticated exterior lies a reckless rebel at heart.

  Colton glances over me again, feeling the scrutiny of my stare, and a salacious smirk spreads on his lips. His eyes meet mine and I know he is aching just as bad as I am to feel our bare skin connect. The remainder of our week since the go-kart track has been filled with provocatively taunting emails and texts explaining in depth what we want to do to one another once this evening is over. My God, with words alone the man can make a woman need, crave, desire—and most likely beg if it takes too long—like I’ve never known possible. But I’m pretty confident that the unfulfilled ache goes both ways though, from the hissing of his breath when I answered the front door in my sexy, red dress.