Driven

by K. Bromberg

  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, self conscious in my nudity all of the sudden despite what just transpired between us. 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 stills 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 that is even sexier, sweetheart.” He senses my remaining unease and leans in to brush a kiss on my lips. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he smirks at me but holds my dress out.

  I stare at him, naked except for my bra, trying not to fidget. His compliment washes over me and 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 down 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 without taking it and walk confidently into the bathroom.

  I can feel his smile rather than see it 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. 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 I can smell the laundered scent that makes up at least one part of Colton’s scent that I love so much.

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

  CHAPTER 24

  With Colton still absent from the bedroom, 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 whispering over my face and the sight of the moonlight on the dancing waves.

  I am so overwhelmed by the sequence of events that has brought me to stand where I am that I can’t even begin to process them. 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 a slightly 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 from my thoughts, and I turn to find him beside me, holding a glass of wine out to me.

  “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.” His confession is whisper soft, and I can barely make out the words above the noise of the surf.

  I still when I really hear them, his silent admission speaking 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 that the vulnerability his words have caused him so I try to add some humor to relieve him.

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

  He reaches out, a quiet smile on his lips that reflects in his eyes, 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.” His smile spreads and eyes widen at the comment 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, the voice of Ne-Yo sings softly from the speakers around us. I hear Baxter groan in satisfaction as he plops his large body down in the open doorway of the hallway.

  “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 at him, surprised that such a little thing as him remembering my two admitted vices from his questions at the carnival would mean so much to me.

  “I aim to please, sweetheart.” He smirks as he puts a hand on my back urging me to sit up, and then slides himself behind me.

  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 mouth, moaning purposefully this time. He laughs and I give him a Hershey 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 idly about this and that: 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 and tangling myself further in his tantalizing web.

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

  I can’t help from laughing out loud at yet another attempt at finding out the meaning behind Ace. “Nope,” I say again, leaning back further into the warmth and comfort of his chest. I can feel his soft chuckle through my back.

  “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 lace a kiss there.

  “Nope,” I repeat again, 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 over my skin and chasing the path of vibrations his voice has left.

  The laugh that bubbles in my throat falls silent 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 expanse of sensitive skin when 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 that must have hurt.

  He’s quiet for a beat, kissing my temple and pressing his face to the side of mine so that I can feel him swallow in response. “Nothing of significance,” he says then falls quiet again. “Do you surf, Rylee?” he asks, and I’m not blind to the subtle change of 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 offers.

  “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 timidly speak my next words. “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, his deep tone reverberating into me from his chest at my back. “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 out of reflex I murmur, “Great song.”

  Colton still as he listens to the music and I can feel his head nod against the side of mine when he recognizes it. “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 quiets behind me and runs his hands up my arms and starts to knead the muscles atop 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 sublime feeling.

  “Here comes the best part,” I say, realizing that I’ve spoken aloud the words I always tease Haddie for when she announces them at the bridge of the song. The lyrics come and I sing along as the words wash over me, moving me as they always do, bringing goose bumps to my flesh. “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 muse, 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 at him, embarrassed at my candor. Colton grabs my wrist, preventing my hand from connecting, and pulls me into him. His lips slant over mine and makes languid sweeping pass over them before licking into 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 specific attention to any one spot. I could sit in this moment forever, the unexpected veneration in his actions unraveling me inside out.

  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 exhales quietly.

  I still, holding my breath. Oh. My. I can feel the emotion behind his request and can sense the difference from the last time he said it to me. He’s not saying it out of obligation but rather because this is what he wants. Does this mean that maybe he feels an inkling of what is coursing through me? My silence belies the truth of how I feel and he mistakes it for hesitancy at his request.

  “I’ve never said that before and truly meant it, Rylee.” His voice is a hushed plea that tugs at my heart and confirms my assumptions. 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 drag me astride him and his unmistakable readiness. 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 I understand the depth of that desire. That I feel it 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 really but it’s the way he says it—as if the sun won’t rise in the morning if I don’t—that 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.

  CHAPTER 25

  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 and squinting at the natural light filtering in through the open windows. Awareness seeps into me of where I am—whom I’m with—when I hear the crash of surf below mixed with the cry of seagulls.

  I start to shift in the sinfully comfortable bed, wanting to stretch my muscles that oddly I find sore, until I realize why. Sex, sex, and more sex. A smug smile crosses my lips at the thought of actually being sore from having too much sex. And it’s not a complaint.

  The other obstacle preventing my movement is the source of heat keeping me warm despite the chilly morning breeze flowing in from outside. I am lying on my back and 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 adding character to the ridge 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 seeing this rare glimpse of him vulnerable and relaxed, his kissable lips parted in tranquil sleep.

  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 stray 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 by 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.

  Afterwards, as I drifted off to sleep, his warm body pressed against my back and his mouth pressing softly in my hair, I questioned my judgment. My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep wondering what the hell I was getting myself in to 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 that his back is now toward me, and pulls the covers with him and off me. I shiver at the chill now that my human heater is gone, but 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, and if the unconscious oblivion called sleep I collapsed into afterward is any indication, I think 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 that I can enjoy the feeling of my bare skin against his. My chin rests on his shoulder and my breasts pillow against his back as I curl my arms around him, comforted by his masculinity. I absently run my fingers across his chest as I slowly sink back into sleep.

  I’m in that suspended state of the first stages of slumber when all of the sudden several things happen simultaneously and what seems to be in slow motion. Colton 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 constantly, 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.