The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  Now I’m confused. “What?”

  Colton growls. “Leave it, Becks.”

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “I’m warning you, Beckett. Stay out of this!” Colton steps chest to chest with Beckett.

  “When you start jeopardizing my team and the race tomorrow, then it becomes my business…” he shakes his head at him. “Tell her!” he bellows.

  “Tell me what?” I shout at the both of them and their damn man code.

  “Beckett, she’s like talking to a goddamn brick wall. What good will it do?”

  Colton’s words hit my ears but don’t really seep in. I’m so focused on Beckett’s reaction that I don’t hear them.

  “She’s right. You’re an ass!” Beckett snickers with disbelief. “You won’t tell her? Fine! Then I will!”

  In a heartbeat Colton has Beckett pressed against the wall, his hands pressing against his chest, his clenched jaw inches from his. I suck in a breath at the sound of Beckett’s back hitting the wall, but I notice that he has no reaction otherwise to Colton’s temper. “I said leave it, Becks!”

  They stare at each other for a few moments, testosterone oozing between them in two entirely different ways: Colton’s with force and Beckett’s with a simple look. Finally Beckett raises his hands and shoves back against Colton’s chest. “Then fucking fix this, Colton! Fix! It!” he shouts, pointing at him before yanking the hotel room door open and slamming it behind him.

  Colton expels a litany of curses as he paces back and forth the length of the room with his hands clenched and his temper flaring.

  “What was that all about?” Colton ignores my comment and continues to wear a path in the carpet in front of me, refusing to meet my eyes. “Damn it, Colton!” I stand in his path. “What don’t you want me to know?”

  The eerie calm in my voice stops him momentarily, his head down, jaw clenched. When he lifts his head to look into my eyes, I can’t get a read on what underlies the anger I see boiling over on the surface. “You really want to know?” he shouts at me. “You really want to know?”

  I step up to him, confronting him, standing on my toes to try and stretch my height to be eye level with him. “Tell me.” Fear snakes up my spine at what I might hear. “Are you that goddamn chicken shit you can’t fess up and just admit it? I need to hear it come out of your mouth so that I can get the fuck over you and get on with my life!”

  He angles his head down and looks unflinchingly into my eyes, green to violet. My chest hurts so bad breathing feels impossible as time stretches.

  His voice is quiet steel when he speaks. “I fucked Tawny.” His words float out into the space between us but stab sharply into my heart.

  “You coward!” I scream, pushing against him. “You goddamn fucking coward!”

  “Coward?” he bellows. “Coward? What about you? You’re so fucking stubborn that you’ve had the truth staring you in the face for three fucking weeks. You’re up there so high and mighty on your goddamn horse you think you know everything! Well you don’t, Rylee! You don’t know shit!”

  His words that mean to hurt and push me away just fuel my temper even more, egging me on. “I don’t know shit? Really, Ace? Really?” I step closer to him. “Well how’s this? I know a bastard when I see one,” I seethe.

  We stare at each other, both so willing to hurt the other that we neglect to see that we’re both tearing the other apart for the same reason. “Been called worse by better, sweetheart.” He smirks, taking another step toward me, the smarmy look on his face setting me off.

  Before I can think, my hand flashes out in front of me to connect with his cheek. But Colton’s quicker. His hand jerks up and grabs my wrist mid-flight, our chests bumping against each other from our momentum. My wrist is locked in his hand and when I start to struggle away from him, he takes his other hand and grabs hold of my free arm that’s flailing. I’m frustrated and struggling against him, and I hate him so much right now that my chest hurts. His face is inches from mine, and I can hear his exertion in the breath that pants against my face.

  “If you were done with me…had your fill of me? You could have just told me!”

  He looks at me, face strained as he holds my arms from pummeling him. “I’ll never have my fill of you.” And then before I can even process what he’s doing, Colton’s mouth crashes against mine. It takes me a moment to react, and I’m so angry—so furious with him—that I buck against his hold and tear my mouth from his.

  From the taste I crave but the man I hate.

  “You want rough, Rylee?” he asks, my head not comprehending his words but my body reacting instantly. “I’ll give you rough!”

  And from one beat to the next, Colton’s mouth crushes down on mine and takes every sensation in my body hostage for his sole manipulation. His hands still grip mine as I struggle to refuse his kiss, trying to push him off and away from me. Regardless of how much I thrash my head, his lips remain on mine, tiny grunts of satisfaction coming from deep within his throat.

  I try desperately to deny the desire that starts to seep through the anger-induced haze in my brain. I try to reject the ache deepening at the apex of my thighs from the taste of his tongue melding with mine. I attempt to fight the pebbling of my nipples at the firmness of his chest as he brushes against mine.

  Rage turns into desire. Hurt expels into yearning. Absence fuels our fervor. His touch blocks out all rationality. A soft moan catches in my throat as his mouth continues to tempt and torment every spot of my lips and within.

  At some point Colton realizes that I’m struggling against him not to get away but rather to touch him. He releases my wrists and my hands go immediately to his chest where they fist into his shirt, aggressively pulling him into me. His hands, now free, are on the move, mapping the lines of my curves over and over again as our mouths convey the unbridled desire we still have for one another.

  Every action and reaction reflects urgency. Necessity. Hunger. Longing. Desperation as if we’re afraid that at any minute we’re going to be pulled away from one another to never experience this again.

  Colton brings a hand to cup the rounded curve of my butt as he jerks me into him while the other holds my neck still. I don’t even realize that the moan in the room is from me when the hard length of his arousal rubs against the V of my thighs as he pushes us backwards to the dresser behind me. He lifts me up and settles my backside on the top of it, pushing my dress up my thighs as he steps between my legs, all the while continuing his mind-numbing dexterity to my lips and tongue.

  I lock my legs around his hips, pulling him farther into me. I know this is wrong. I know that after what he just told me, I shouldn’t be here doing this with him. But I am so sick of thinking. So sick of wanting him when I know we don’t belong together. Our two completely different worlds just don’t mesh. But I am so tired of missing him. So tired of wanting to hear his voice when I pick up the phone. So tired of needing him.

  So tired of loving him without being loved in return.

  I need this connection with him. I need the silence in my head that the all-encompassing feeling of him against my skin brings to me. There is a peace in the physicality of it all that I never realized before. A peace that I know Colton has used over and over in his life to numb his pain.

  And right now, I need to numb mine.

  I know it’s temporary, but I turn myself over to him. To the feel and taste and sound and smell of him. My troubling, all-consuming addiction. I willingly let myself get lost in him to forget for just a moment the pain I know I’ll feel when we’re no longer one.

  I grip the waist of his shirt and pull it up over his head; our lips break for the first time since we’ve reconnected with each other. Immediately after the material is gone, we crash back together again. He tugs the straps of my dress off of my shoulders as his mouth laces open mouth kisses down the line of my neck and to the lacy edge of my bra. I cry out in shock and need as he yanks down one of my bra cups and closes his mouth over m
y nipple. I throw my head back at the sensation while one of my hands fists in the hair at the back of his neck. The burn in my core turns into a raging inferno directing my free hand to fumble with his belt and undo his pants.

  I successfully unzip them, shoving my hands between the cotton of his briefs and his heated skin. I grab his rock hard erection in my hands, and he groans at the feeling of my skin on his flesh. His hands are instantly on my thighs, shoving my dress up higher and yanking my dampened thong to the side. He slides a finger along my seam, and I buck my hips at the feeling of his fingertips on me again. I press my hips into his hands, greedy and unashamed to lose myself in the pleasure. I cry out as he slips a finger into my core and then spreads my wetness around.

  Before I can open my eyes and notice the absence of his fingers, he enters me in one fervent thrust. We both cry out as he stills and seats himself as far as possible within my wet heat. My walls clench around him as I adjust to the over-fullness of him within me. The muscles in Colton’s shoulders strain beneath my hands as he tries to hold onto his control. I feel it slipping—know that he’s a man about to snap—so I take the reins and start to move against him, moving my hips to tell him to go. Urging him to lose his control. To be rough with me. I don’t need foreplay right now. All I need is him. I’ve craved this for the past couple of weeks, and he feels so damn good right now I don’t need anything else to push me over the edge.

  Colton grips his fingers, bruising the flesh at my hips, and holds me still on the edge of the dresser as he pistons his hips into mine. Over and over. Drive after delicious drive.

  “God, Rylee!” He moves relentlessly within the confines of my thighs. He brings his mouth down and devours mine again, his tongue mimicking the actions below. And from one kiss to the next he pulls me into him, cupping my ass so we remain connected as he lifts me up and turns me around so we fall onto the bed behind us.

  His mouth claims mine as he finds his rhythm again. I can feel the pressure building—can feel the conflicted bliss just within my reach—and grab the back of Colton’s neck and hold his mouth to mine as I drink him in. “You. Feel. Incredible,” he murmurs against my lips.

  I can’t speak. Don’t trust myself to. Don’t know who I am right now. So instead I just I arch my back into him so I can change the angle of my hips allowing him to hit that nerve-laden spot deep within, over and over.

  Colton knows my body so well already—knows what I need to bring me to climax—that he takes the hint of the subtle repositioning. He rears back onto his knees, grabs my legs, pushes them back, and places my feet flat against his chest. The angle allows him to surge even deeper, and I can’t hold back the moan of utter rapture as he bottoms out inside of me before pulling back out slowly and driving back in.

  I look up at him, a sheen of sweat on his face and shoulders with my pink painted toenails bright against his tanned torso, and I meet his eyes. I hold his stare as long as I can until it’s too much for me to bear; it’s the first time since we’ve met that there is nothing guarding the emotion flickering through his eyes. It’s too much for me to comprehend—too much for me to think about when all I want to do is lose myself in this moment and block out everything else. To lose all train of thought.

  I throw my head back, my eyes closed and hands gripping the sheets beneath me as the sensations threaten to overtake me. Colton must sense my impending release from my rapid breathing and the tightening of my thighs.

  “Hold on, Ry.” He pants. “Hold on, baby.” He plunges into me, picking up his pace until I can no longer hold it back.

  “Oh God!” I cry out as my body fractures into a million pieces of mindless pleasure. Release surging though me and consuming my every breath, thought, and reaction. The continual pulsing of my orgasm milks Colton to his climax. He cries out my name brokenly and throws his head back, welcoming his own release and jerking harshly within me. When he comes back to himself, I am still catching my breath and my thoughts with my eyes closed and my head angled back. I feel him remove my feet from his chest, and without breaking our connection, flanks his body over mine, resting his weight on his elbows propped on either side of me. He brings his hands to the side of my face and cups it, running his thumbs gently over the skin on my cheeks.

  I can feel his breath feathering over my lips—know that his eyes are staring at me—but I can’t bring myself to open mine yet. I need to get a hold on my emotions before I open my eyes because no matter how wonderful that just was, it doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t take away the fact that he ran away when I told him I loved him. It doesn’t erase that he slept with Tawny to bury the very idea that someone might actually want more than just an arrangement with him. All it solidifies is that we can have incredible, mind-numbing sex.

  And numb—right now—is how I feel.

  I can feel the weight of Colton’s stare, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes because I know the tears will fall. He sighs softly and I know he’s trying to understand me and what’s going on in my mind. He leans his head down and rests his forehead on mine, his thumbs still caressing the line of my jaw softly. “God, I missed you, Rylee,” he murmurs softly against my lips.

  It’s harder to hear those words from his lips than it is to accept that we just had sex. The vulnerability in the way he says them with his rasp of a voice tugs at my heart and twists in my soul. I think maybe the idea that he’s had sex with numerous people but most likely never murmured those words to anyone before is what gets to me.

  “Talk to me, Ry.” He breathes into me. “Baby, please talk to me,” he pleads.

  It’s now that a tear slips out of the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek. I just keep my eyes shut and shake my head subtly, emotions warring violently inside of me. Our connection is enough to fix things for him. Not for me. How can I ever trust him? How can I ever trust me? This girl who sleeps with someone after they cheat on her—that’s not me. How can I live and love him knowing I have to constantly walk on eggshells because I fear that if I say anything to spook him, I’ll drive him into the arms of someone else?

  For him, this is a reconciliation. For me, it’s a last memory. My final goodbye.

  I hate myself terribly. Hate that I used him to try and soothe the pain that I know is going to own my heart and soul in the weeks and months to come. I hate that just as he seems to be needing me, I can’t bring myself to need him anymore. I can’t lose the me that I’ve just found—that ironically he’s just helped me find. Look what he’s doing to me. To the person I’m becoming. I’m a fucking neurotic lunatic around him. And yes—God yes, I love him—but love’s definitely not worth it if it’s one sided and this is the return I get.

  He pulls back and kisses the tip of my nose, my chin trembling as I hold my realization in. “Tell me what’s going on in your head, Ry?” he urges as he laces tender kisses along the track of my lone tear and then up to both of my closed eyes before back to my lips. Such tenderness from a man that swears he can’t feel has me fighting the opening of the floodgates. And even though he hasn’t withdrawn from me, I sense that he feels like he’s losing our connection for as his lips brush mine again, he presses his tongue to part between them. He licks slowly into my mouth, his tongue dancing tenderly with mine, expressing his desire for me with a subtle, gentle desperation.

  I respond to him and his unspoken request, needing this connection to hold on to everything I feel for him even though I know it’s just not enough anymore. Unreciprocated love never is. Eventually Colton ends the kiss and sighs when he pulls back and I keep my eyes closed.

  “Give me one sec,” he says to me. I wince as he slips out of me, one now becoming two, and I feel the bed dip as he pushes himself up off of it. I hear the water running in the bathroom. I hear his footsteps come across the bedroom and am startled as he takes a warm washcloth and cleans me ever so gently before padding back into the bathroom. “Baby, I desperately need a shower. Give me a minute and then we need to talk, okay? We have to talk.” He
brushes another kiss to my forehead, and I feel the bed dip again as he rises from it. I hear the shower start and hear the stall click closed.

  I lie there in silence, my head humming with so many thoughts it’s starting to hurt. Do I love this man so magnificent, yet so damaged? Without a doubt…but where I used to think love conquers all, I’m not sure of that any more. He may care for me in his own way, but is that enough for me? Is always wondering when the other shoe is going to drop what I want in my relationship?

  I’ve spent the past two years numb to emotion—fearing what it would be like to feel again—and now that I found Colton, and he’s made me do just that, I don’t think I can go back to how I was before. Merely existing, not living. Can I really be with Colton and hold back everything inside of me bursting to finally get out? I don’t think I want to revisit that life of void. I don’t think I can. I’m just not sure if he’ll ever be able to accept my love. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tell myself that we can overcome all of this. That I can be strong enough and patient enough and forgiving enough to wait him out while he tackles his demons and accepts the love that I’ve offered. But what if he never does?

  Look at the two of us tonight. We purposely hurt each other. We purposely used other people to get back at the other. Tried to tear each other apart. That’s not healthy. You don’t do that to someone you love or care about. My mom’s words flicker through my mind. About how someone always treats you the best in the beginning of a relationship, and if it’s not good in the beginning, then it’s not going to get any better. If the past twenty-four hours is any indication, then we definitely aren’t going to make it.

  We are passionate, fiery, unyielding, and intense when we’re together. In the bedroom, that leads to immeasurable chemistry; in the relationship arena, that leads to disaster. And as heavenly as it would be to contain Colton to the bedroom so he could have his way with me over and over, that’s just not realistic.