by K. Bromberg
“What woman wouldn’t have been when you came off as arrogant as you did?” She snorts out a laugh and then sighs softly.
And the sigh alone makes my dick start to get hard.
“Arrogant? Me? Never,” I tell her.
“Whatever! I know you fixed that auction, Ace.”
And I laugh. God, I love this woman. Ten years later and still feisty as fuck.
“Baby, that answer I’ll hold on to forever,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.
“That’s not possible,” she whispers, looking up to press a kiss to the underside of my jaw, “because you’ll be busy holding on to me.”
Fuckin’ A straight I will.
I squeeze her a little tighter, not wanting to let her go just yet because, fuck, what racer doesn’t want to hold on to their checkered flag a little longer?
At least I know mine waves only for me.
My kryptonite.
My alphabet, motherfucking A to Z.
My fucking Rylee.
Not ready to let Rylee and Colton go just yet?
Below is an exclusive sneak peak at the continuation of their journey in a full length novel titled, ACED
Coming January 11, 2016
From the New York Times bestselling Driven series, Rylee and Colton’s ride continues…
One moment. Six years ago.
The night she made the world around me so much more than just a blur. Now it's the catalyst that threatens to tear us apart.
Our happily was supposed to be ever after. So why do I feel like it's slipping through my fingers?
How can one moment, when our world seemed so right, resurface and cause our perfect life to spiral out of control?
I can't lose her.
She's my checkered flag.
“RY?” I CALL HER NAME the minute I clear the top of the stairs. The little note she left me on the counter is in my hand. “Your nothing-but-sheets date night, starts now,” it reads. Curiosity rules my thoughts and fuel my actions.
Well, that and the image of her naked and waiting for me. My day’s been for shit though so I’m not going to push my luck and expect a miracle like that to turn it around. But a man can sure as fuck hope.
I start to walk out onto the upper patio of the house where our original nothing but sheets date took place a long ass time ago. Sweet Christ. My feet falter when I look up to find Rylee sitting there. Not just sitting there, no, leaned back on the chaise lounge, dressed in some kind of black lacey thing that I don’t pay much attention to because all I know is that it’s see through enough for me to tell she’s naked as sin beneath it. Her hair is piled on top of her head, her lips are bare, and her knees are spread so that her feet are on either side of the chair. And those feet are in sky high heels.
Fuck me.
“Hey,” she says in that raspy voice of hers that calls to my heart, my dick, and every nerve in between. A coy smile plays at the corners of her mouth as her eyes narrow, one toe taps, and eyebrows raise. “I see you got my note. Glad you knew where to find me.”
“Baby, I could be deaf and blind and I’d still find you. No way in hell I could forget that night.”
“Or that morning,” she says and damn, she’s right. It was one helluva morning too. Sleepy sex. Just woke up sex. Sunrise sex. I think we tried all of those and then some. And I love the flush that crawls up her cheeks from the memory. My sex kitten wife who is greeting me after work in lace and heels is embarrassed. The irony isn’t lost on me, and I love it. I love that she can be this way for me when I know, despite her confidence, it still unnerves her.
“Definitely a good morning,” I agree as I walk onto the patio and stare at her. Normally she’s drop dead gorgeous but there’s something new, something different about her tonight, and it has nothing to do with the lace. Fuck if I can tell what it is but it’s knocked the breath right out of me.
Shit, what am I missing? Panic flickers inside me that I’ve missed something major. Maybe one of those dates that guys have to put in their calendar with five alerts, so they don’t forget it? I run through the usual suspects. It’s not our anniversary. Not her birthday.
I move to the other shit a guy usually doesn’t notice. Her hair’s the same color. It must be new lingerie. Is it? Fuck if I know. If it is though, can a scrap of lace really change her demeanor?
Damn. I know lingerie changes mine, but that’s for a whole different reason.
What else could it be, Donavan? Bite the bullet and just ask. Save yourself the guessing game, and the trouble you’ll be in if you guess wrong and hurt her feelings. No need to get the hormones that she just got back under control, after all those years of fertility shit, to get all out of whack again.
“Something’s different about you….” I leave the comment open ended so she can respond.
But of course she doesn’t take the bait. I should have known my wife is smarter than that. She will make me work for the answer, so we just stare at each other in a battle of wills before her smile slowly widens into a full grin. Silence expands, slowly unnerving me until she gives me an out when she motions to the table beside her.
I appreciate the sight of her one more time before glancing over to see the table covered in takeout boxes from our favorite Chinese restaurant. There’s a galvanized bucket of ice with some bottle necks sticking out of it and paper plates and chopsticks piled on the side. Truth be told, I was so busy looking at her, I didn’t even notice the food before.
But now, my stomach growls.
“I got your favorite,” she says fidgeting with the hem of the lace so that my eyes are drawn back to the V of her thighs, where it’s dark enough that I can’t see anything. But fuck if it’s from lack of trying. “I hope you’re in the mood for Chinese. I thought we could eat out.”
I can’t hide the lightning quick grin that flashes across my face because the type of eating out I’m thinking of has nothing to do with chopsticks. And from the purse of her lips, I know she knows perfectly well what I’m thinking. And yes, I may be hungry, but I don’t really give a flying fuck about food right now, because there’s something else I’d rather have in my mouth.
“I know you’ve been working hard, stressed about the race next week…Sonoma has always been a tough one for you…so I thought I’d treat you to a date night with your hot wife,” she continues with a lift of her eyebrows, taunting and daring me all at once.
“Does my hot wife think that when she greets me on the patio in lingerie like that, that I’ll give a rat’s ass about the dinner, the cold beer, or the sunset we’ll get to enjoy while eating it?” I ask as I step toward her, unable to resist not having my hands on her.
“For starters… yes,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine as I cross the distance.
“I like starters.” I reach out so that my fingertip can trace the line of her collarbone. Even after all this time, there is still something so damn sexy about her body moving ever so slightly into my touch, telling me she wants me as badly as I want her. “And I also like desserts…” I say, my voice trailing off. The air is thick with sexual tension as I drop to my knees on the chaise, between hers. She’s crazy if she thinks she’s going to greet me like this and not get fucked good and hard before we leave this patio. “But you forgot one, very important thing.”
Her violet eyes widen as I lean in so that our lips are inches apart, but nothing else is touching. “What’s that?” she asks, her voice breathless and my every nerve attuned to the sound of it.
“You forgot to kiss your husband hello.” I can feel the relief ebb off of her as desire begins to take its place. Her smile reaches her eyes as she tilts her head back so that our lips are in perfect alignment.
“Well, let me correct that right now, sir,” she says knowing damn well that term will only turn me on more. Shit. Like that’s a hard thing for her to do. It’s Rylee, isn’t it?
Before I can finish thinking about what more I want her to do while calling me sir, she leans
forward and closes the distance between us. And fuck yes, I want all of her right now. The way she kisses me is so damn sexy. It’s that kind of kiss guys hate to admit they love. The kind that is soft and slow and that causes that ache deep in my balls to slowly spread up my spine and tickle the base of my neck. It’s the kiss that comes two steps before I lose control and panties are torn to save me the time from pulling them off, because the need to bury myself in her tight, hot pussy is the only desire I have.
When she pulls back to end the kiss, I groan in complaint and my hands fist. Fuck if I’m not ready to say screw the dinner, regardless of how hungry I am.
“Better?” she asks, sass on her lips and seduction in her eyes.
“Hmm…there are other parts of me that still need to be welcomed home properly.” I fight the grin I want to give her because I love when she’s like this. Feisty. Sexy. Mine. Stepping outside of that reserved box of hers that she only leaves around me.
“What a poor, deprived husband you are,” she says, pouting her lips at the same time her fingers are walking up my thigh. I watch the ascent of her hand, my dick definitely wanting those fingers to move faster. “And I promise to welcome all of those parts home properly, but first…you need to eat.”
Buzz kill. Seriously? She thinks that she can tempt me with her touch and then stuff an egg roll in my mouth? Does she not know me by now? That when it comes to her I have no restraint? Well, unless of course those restraints are tying her to a bed.
“You tease…” I lock eyes on hers the same time I reach out and grab onto her hand. I place it exactly where I want it: my cock. “Why wait? We can have dessert first.”
“Nice try, Ace, but dinner is going to get cold.” She cups my balls, fingernails scraping ever so softly so that the minute my head falls back and the moan falls from my lips, she tugs her hand from my grip. “Let’s eat.”
“Oh, now that’s cold,” I laugh. What else can I do? Like always, the woman has me by the balls. I stare at her, smirk on my lips and disbelief in my eyes, as I swing my legs over the edge of the lounger. “You can’t greet me wearing that and expect me to focus on Kung Pao chicken.”
“But it’s your favorite!” She says, voice playful and with determined actions, she starts to open containers.
I’m hungry all right, but not for Chinese.
I reach out and tug her against me, so that her back is to my front, and fuck if the feel of her warm body against mine doesn’t strengthen my resolve. I’ve decided Chinese food is much better reheated, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen to ours.
“No. You’re my favorite,” I murmur against the curve of her shoulder as her curls tickle my cheek and her vanilla scent fills my nose. My-let’s-always-stick-to-the schedule wife’s body stiffens in resistance at first, but when I press a kiss just beneath her ear where I know she can’t resist me, her body melts into mine and she relaxes. “I want dessert first.”
“Rule breaker,” she sighs, lacing her fingers with mine on her chest. She’s trying to figure out how to rein me in when she should know by now that it won’t do any good. I always get what I want when it comes to getting my fill of her.
“You wouldn’t like me any other way.”
“True.”
“How about we compromise?”
“Compromise?” she asks as if she’s shocked to hear that word coming from my mouth when discussing sex.
“Yes, it means you give some and I give some.”
“I have a feeling what you want to give and what I want to give are two entirely different things,” she teases with a purse of her lips. “Don’t forget that I know you, Donavan. I know you like to play dirty...”
“Damn straight I do, especially when it comes to having sex with you.” She just smiles and shakes her head at me.
“But I have a plan.”
“You always have a plan,” I say with an exasperated laugh. “Bet my plan is better?”
“Lay it on me,” she deadpans and then realizes exactly what she’s said, and I can feel the laugh she tries to rein in vibrate from her back into my chest.
“How about we have sex first and then eat?” I suggest, knowing I’m driving her crazy. Her laugh rings around us, but for the first time since I’ve been home, I hear something different in her tone. But she continues before I can give it much thought.
“Nope. Not the plan. And definitely not a compromise. Food first, then sex,” Rylee says as she shifts away from me and moves to face me. She crosses her arms over her chest and nods, trying to take a hard line with me.
“I love when you get all demanding with me.” I lean forward and smirk, knowing that will get her all riled up.
She narrows her eyes and I can see her mind working to try and figure out a way to negotiate so that she gets what she wants. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out what that is. I’ve been so absorbed in work—with the points battle leading into Sonoma against Luke Mason—and all of the other shit that goes with it, that I’ve obviously missed something.
“It seems we’re at an impasse,” she finally says, her confidence that momentarily wavered is back, and I’m more than ready for action.
“Good thing I drive a hard bargain,” I say with a quirk of my eyebrows as I glance down at her outfit.
I’ll drive more than a bargain, sweetheart.
“Oh I know you do, Ace, but I think we need to leave it up to the fortune cookies to decide what we do next.” Her eyes light up with challenge while I start laughing at how ridiculous that sounds.
“The fortune cookies? What are you talking about?”
“Well… you said you wanted dessert first so I’m just trying to compromise,” she muses with a bat of her eyelashes.
“Not that kind of dessert,” I deadpan. There’s nothing I can do but shake my head at her and her asinine suggestion, but fuck, I’ll take any help I can get to speed up this process, so I can slow it down with her. Come to think of it, I’m sure I can twist any of those stupid little fortunes to my benefit. So be it. Game on, Ryles. “It’s ridiculous, but you planned this so you get to make the rules. Let’s just hope those fortunes say you need to have hot monkey sex with your husband.”
Her face lights up and her lips curve into a grin. She leans forward and grants me a great view of her cleavage as she starts rummaging through the plastic bag on the table. My eyes shift and focus on the dark pink of her nipples just beneath the sheer fabric, until she starts waving the cookies in front of my eyes with the smuggest of smiles.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, and has no shame in playing it up as I work my tongue in my cheek, and let her have her have this moment.
“Only three?” I ask when she sets them on the table in front of us. “How are we going to decide who gets the third one?”
“Since we’re learning to compromise…” her voice trails off as she elbows me in the ribs. And just as she starts to pull away, I grab her arm, pull her into me, and press a chaste kiss on her mouth. It’s already been way too damn long since I kissed her last. She swats me away when I try to slip my tongue between her lips. “Are you trying sway me for the third cookie, Donavan?”
“Did it work?” A man can always hope.
“Here. You go first,” she says, leaving me hanging without an answer, as she holds the cookie in front of me by the cellophane. As I take it from her, she shifts so that she sits squarely in front of me, her bent knee against my thigh, giving me a perfect view of her pussy. In a glance, I can make out the trim strip of her hair down there, and fuck if it doesn’t turn me on even more.
“Okay. Let’s see,” I say as I pull the cookie out of the bag and break it with a dramatic flair, praying to the sex gods that it gives me a fortune I can work with. I pull the paper out and shake my head as I read the words. Really? How fucking perfect is this?
“What does it say?” she asks as I laugh.
“It’s been a long race, but you’ve finally crossed the finish line.” I look up and she
looks as amused as I am.
“I’d say that’s a fitting fortune,” she says, eyes narrowing as she contemplates the words. “I guess the real question is what race they’re talking about?”
“Life? Fuck if I know.”
She laughs and she fidgets with the cookie in her hand. Why does she seem so on edge all of a sudden?
“You’re trying to figure out how that gets you sex, and I don’t think that helps you out in any way, shape or form.”
Shit. She’s right. There’s no way to parlay this into me getting sex before food, because if I’ve already crossed the proverbial finish line, it doesn’t bode well for me.
“Damn it. That’s a food before sex one. Your turn,” I say pushing her cookie toward her and taking a bite of mine, hoping this silly game will end soon, but am enjoying myself all at the same time.
The things I do for my wife.
“Okay,” she says as she breaks the cookie and stares at her fortune. “It says your lucky numbers are 6, 9, and 16.” She looks up from her fortune, eyes guarded, lips pursed.
“That’s random. Nothing else is on there?” I ask as I take it from her. Yep. It says exactly that. Must be a misprinted fortune, but hell, I’ll take it because I can use it. “Sweet! This is a sex before food one because it says your lucky number is six and nine…sixty nine! And guess what? I happen to like that number too…”
“You’re incorrigible,” she says playfully pushing against my chest, before uncharacteristically fisting her hand in my shirt and pulling me into her. Our faces are inches apart, the heat of her breath is on my lips, but there is something in her expression that makes me stop myself from kissing her.
“What is it?” I ask her as tears well in her eyes. She just shakes her head, trying to blink them away despite the smile on her lips. “Talk to me, Ry. What’s wrong?” My hands are cupping her face as I plead with her to explain. Tears make me fucking panic. How’d we get from sexy to flirty to funny to tears?