by K. Bromberg
A warm, soothing ache seeps into my chest and spreads throughout the rest of my body. I turn my mind off and allow myself to just feel. To revel in the sensations that he evokes within me. He is my fire on a cold night, the sun warming my skin on a cool spring morning, the wind caressing my face on an autumn day—he is everything that makes me feel alive, and whole, and beautiful.
And desired.
I slide my hands under the hem of his shirt and splay them wide across his lower back. His taut skin heats beneath my touch. I need this connection with him like I need sunlight. For when we touch like this, when I can feel him like this, I have no doubt that I can do this. That I can be what he needs me to be for however long he’ll allow it. Because the chance to be with him, to remain under his spell, means I’ll push my needs aside and bury them deeply so that I can be who he wants.
Colton cups my face in his hands, the kiss softening, stopping with a brush of lips so gentle that it sends chills up my spine. I sigh softly into him as he wraps his arms around me, strong muscles pulling me into the comfort of his warmth. I rest my head on his chest, smelling clean linen and fresh soap. I can hear his heart beating, strong and steady against my ear. I close my eyes, wanting this moment to last forever.
He rests his chin atop my head. I can hear him inhale a shaky breath before he speaks. “It’s unfathomable how much I want you, Rylee.” He pulls me tighter into him. “How much I’m drawn to you.”
I bask silently in his admission, a small smile on my lips. Maybe I do affect him. I shake the thought from my head, not wanting to overcomplicate, overanalyze, or over think the simplicity and the sweetness of this moment between us.
“Rylee?”
“Hmmm?”
“Go out with me—on a real date.” I can feel his body tense against mine, as if it’s painful to ask. To admit he wants this from me. “Go out with me, not because I paid for a date with you but because you want to.”
Elation soars through me at the thought of getting to see him again. Of spending time with him again.
“Say yes, Ryles,” he murmurs with a quiet desperation as he kisses the top of my head. “It’s unimaginable how much I want you to say yes.”
I lean back, shocked by the vulnerability I hear in his voice and sense in his body language. Why is he afraid I’ll say no when everyone else would say yes? I raise my eyes to his, trying to read the emotions flashing through his. I see passion and humor, desire and challenge, promise and fear. Why does this beautifully tormented man want to spend time with ordinary me? I don’t have the answer, but I know in this moment, looking at him, I can see so much more in his eyes than I think he wants me to. And what I see, it scares me on so many levels that I have to tuck it away for later when I’m all alone. I can analyze it then. Replay it then.
Hope then.
I raise a hand to run it against the roughness of his slight stubble, liking its coarseness beneath my fingers. The texture tells me that this moment is real. That he is really here with me. I lean up on my tiptoes and place a soft, closed-mouth kiss on his sculpted lips.
“Yes,” I breathe, and with my answer, regardless of all of the psychological propaganda I barrage myself with, I know that Colton Donavan has just put the first fissure in the protective wall around my heart.
He nods his head subtly, a shy smile on his face, no words expressed. He pulls me into him one more time. “Tonight?” he asks.
I still, mentally looking over my calendar, knowing that I have no plans but not wanting to seem too eager.
“I’ll be here at six to pick you up, Rylee,” he decides for me before I have a chance to answer. He releases me and looks me in the eye to make sure that I hear him. All trace of vulnerability is long gone when I meet his eyes. It’s been replaced with his trademark confidence.
I bite my bottom lip and nod in agreement, suddenly feeling shy.
He cups my chin, running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “See you then, sweetheart.”
“Bye.” I exhale, already missing him.
He walks to the front door, opens it, and then turns back to me, “Hey, Ryles?”
“Hmmm-hmmm.”
“No more running away from me,” he cautions before flashing a quick grin and closing the door behind him. With his departure, I can suddenly breathe again. His presence is so strong, so overpowering, it overwhelms the room. Infiltrates my senses. With him gone, I feel like I can process what just happened. Finally breathe.
I stand facing the door and close my eyes, absorbing everything that has just transpired. Nothing is solved. None of my questions are answered: Why he doesn’t do the girlfriend thing? What is this between us since it’s not a one-night stand? What was he really going to say when he said I made him, but never finished? What is he trying to protect me from? What kind of baggage fills his 747?
I sigh heavily. So much has been left unanswered, and yet I feel like so much has been expressed without being said. I sit down on the couch, my head reeling from the last week.
“Is he gone?” I hear Haddie’s hushed voice from the other side of the wall.
“Yes, nosy girl.” I laugh. “Come out here and give me your two cents.”
“Holy crap!” she shouts as she hurries around the wall and flops down on the couch next to me. “Hot date tonight!” she sings loudly, raising her arms up in the air. “Whew, I need to take a cold shower after that.”
“You watched?” I blush quickly, embarrassed at the thought of having an audience.
“No, no, no, it wasn’t like that,” she corrects. “I was in the kitchen when you guys came in the house. If I would’ve left, you’d have seen me and I didn’t want to distract from your floor show,” she teases, referring to my stretching routine. “I heard only.”
I blush at the thought of her listening to our conversation, but find comfort in the notion that she listened. Now I can get an unbiased opinion about our exchange.
“Ace? Does he know what that stands for?”
“Nope!” I smirk.
“Damn, Ry...” Haddie shakes her head “...the man’s got it bad for you.”
I falter. Her statement blindsides me. I pick at the cuticle on the side of my nail for a moment, trying not to jump to conclusions. “Nah, it’s more like pure, unadulterated lust.”
“Not how I see it,” Haddie responds, my eyebrows quirk up in question. “Smitten is the word that comes to mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, c’mon, Rylee! Hard and fast?” she sputters.
“That’s just sex.” I shrug. “Not commitment.”
“It’s unfathomable how much he wants you?” she tries.
“Sex again,” I correct.
“Unimaginable how much he wanted you to say yes to tonight?”
“Because he thinks it will lead to sex,” I reply with a smile on my face.
“How about when he said it wasn’t a one-night stand?” she tries again, eyes full of humor. Her heart shaped lips form a smile, thinking she’s proven me wrong this time.
“Semantics,” I answer. “Maybe he wants a thirty-night stand? I mean he only said it wasn’t a one-nighter.”
“You’re incorrigible.” She laughs, grabbing my knee and squeezing it lightly. “But hell, at least it’d be thirty days worth of great sex, Rylee!” she gushes, her excitement for me palpable. “You’re going out with him again tonight! On a real date!”
“I know.” I sigh, shaking my head at the thought of getting to spend more time with Colton. “At least there might be conversation tonight before we have sex,” I joke, although a rational part of me knows the truth.
Haddie bursts out laughing. “Oh, Rylee, my sensible friend...” she pats my leg “...this is going to be so much fun to watch you experience.”
I quirk my eyebrow at her and shake my head, filled with so much love for her and so much confusion over the situation with Colton. I sigh deeply, leaning my head back on the comfortable couch and angling it to the side so I can l
ook at her. “Did I handle that right, Haddie? I tried so hard to be what he wants and—”
“You are what he wants, Rylee, or he wouldn’t have tracked you down to your house.” She is exasperated at having to explain this to me. Again. “C’mon, Ry,” she says, oblivious to my train of thought. “What you did was brilliant! You walk out on him after sex last night and the next morning he shows up at our doorstep. I mean...” she shakes her head, a knowing smile on her lips “...that’s more than just sex, Ry. The man’s got it bad for you.”
I feel her words take hold, but I’m afraid to believe them. Afraid to hope that there’s a chance at anything with Colton. My head tries to shut out the surge from my heart, but it fails miserably. The hopeless romantic in me allows me a moment to daydream. To hope. I close my eyes, sinking in to the glimmer of possibility.
“Shit!” I scrub my hands over my face as panic makes its way through my thoughts.
“What?” Haddie opens her eyes, narrowing them as she looks over at me.
“What if I can’t do it?”
“Which part of it are you referring to?” she questions warily. “Because it’s a little late, sister, if the it you’re referring to is sex.”
“Very funny.” I huff. “I meant what if I can’t turn off the emotions. What if I fall for him, Had?” I sit up and run my fingers through my hair, and the action makes me think of Colton’s fingers there earlier. “I mean he’s arrogant and overconfident and he warns me away but tells me he’s drawn to me, and he’s reckless and he’s passionate and sexy as hell and … so, so much more.” I press my fingers to my eyes and sit there for a minute, Haddie allowing me the moment to absorb everything. “I know without a doubt that it’s a good possibility.” I look up at her. “Then what?”
“It seems he’s not the only one who’s smitten,” she says softly before I glare at her. She scoots over next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. “No one can fault you for being afraid, Rylee, but life’s about taking chances. About having fun and not always playing it safe. So what if he’s a little reckless? The fact that he scares you might be a good thing. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” She leans back and wriggles her eyebrows. “Have some wild, reckless sex with him. He obviously likes you. Who knows, maybe it will turn into something more. Maybe it won’t. But at least you took the chance.”
WHY THE FUCK AM I here? Seriously, Donavan? Chasing her like a damn chick after last night. After I fucked her and then freaked the hell out and basically pushed her away. Like that doesn’t have douchebag written all over it.
Walk away, Donavan. Lift the right foot, then the left, and walk around the fucking Rover. Leave the complication alone and ease what-the-fuck-ever is that weird pressure in my chest.
Do it.
Now.
Move your ass.
I look up, conviction in my head but resistance in my soul, and the air punches from my lungs. Lead now weighing down my fucking flip-flopped feet.
My God she’s gorgeous. Like knock me to my knees gorgeous. What girl can be sweaty in workout gear, jeans and a T-shirt, or dressed to the hilt like last night and be hot as fuck in all three?
She runs the rest of the way toward me and hell yes I look at the way her tits bounce in her snug little tank thingy. I groan inwardly as I remember the weight of them in my hands. The taste of them on my tongue.
“Hi.” She breathes out and although she looks winded I like to think her quickened breath is because of me.
“Hello, Rylee.” It’s all I can manage to say. Thoughts flicker through my head. How I should apologize. How I should demand to know why she makes me feel like this when I don’t even know what this is.
“What are you doing here?” Confusion mars her gorgeous face as those eyes of hers search mine for an explanation I can’t even give her. One that I know but am not able to put sound to the words because then it would make her … make this too fucking real.
And I don’t do real. I do quick. I do easy. I do rules and draw lines that never get crossed.
So why the fuck am I here, then?
I look at her, such a goddamn contradiction in everything she is, and have the urge to tell her the truth but know the truth will push her away. I want to tell her she burned me last night. Fucked me into feeling more than just the physical when I’m so used to being numb. Made me feel raw and vulnerable when I’m always guarded.
And I couldn’t handle it. She looked in my eyes so deeply I could see the truths she saw there reflected in her own eyes and it scared the fuck out of me.
Demons best be left untouched or else they destroy. Collateral damage be damned. Been there, done that shit.
She angles her head at me. Her eyes still reflect hurt, but I also see surprise and thank fuck for that because it means I still have a shot. The question is after last night and the goddamn hurricane of emotions that ripped through me during and after we had sex, I’m not quite sure what the shot I’m looking for is.
Redemption? Apology? Forgiveness? Another chance?
Pick one, Donavan, because she proved last night she doesn’t play the games you’re used to so figure out the answer to her question, the one you don’t even know the answer to yourself.
“Well, according to you, I took the checkered flag last night, Rylee …” I say as I take a step toward her trying to snap my thoughts in line, make up a reason for being here besides the need to make sure she’s okay when I could have just picked up the fucking phone. I resist the urge to reach out and touch her because I know if I do, my dick will rise to the occasion and do the talking for me. And fuck if I know what it will say.
She licks her lips, dick beginning to win the internal thought process, when I suddenly figure out my angle … my in … my stupid-ass excuse for showing up the morning after like some pussy-whipped douchebag. Because Christ, you can’t get pussy whipped after just one taste. Shit like that takes time to acquire.
Or so I’ve heard.
This man might be drawn to the pussy palace but fuck if its queen will hand out orders that I’ll obey.
I take another step toward her, still undecided about my excuse for being here when I glance down momentarily and see her nipples harden through her tank. That’s always a plus. At least I know she’s still attracted to me. Let’s see if I can make her like me again. Give me another chance.
Bingo. Truth shall set me free. There’s the answer. I just want another chance when I’ve never wanted one before.
And therein lies the second question, another chance at what though?
I shake the thought, her eyes asking me to finish the question I left hanging. “… but I seem to have neglected to collect my trophy.”
“Trophy?”
Hmm. Maybe not such a good idea, now that I think about it. Fix this, Donavan. Fix how you just compared her to something that sits on the shelf and collects dust.
Play, player, play.
“Yes. You.” I reach for her hand and pull her into me. Her breath hitches: check. Her heart’s pounding: check.
I’ve still got my game despite feeling like she knocked it off its field last night. Thank fuck for that.
And then she looks up at me and that damn defiance is back, and I know we’re about to go a round. She might be affected but fuck if she’s going to back down. Let’s see if this gets us where we need to be.
Bring it on, baby.
“Well, Ace, I think you’ve got your eyes on the wrong prize.” She pushes against my chest and steps back, a smirk on her face. “If all you’re looking for is a trophy, you have your bevy of beauties you can pick from. I’m sure that one of them would be more than willing to be a trophy on your arm.” She steps past me and when she turns around, our eyes meet and she holds her ground. “You could probably start by calling Raquel, is it? I’m sure she’ll forgive you for last night. I mean, you were … decent. She’s probably thrilled with decent.”
Knee-jerk reaction has me grabbing her arm and spinning her around when sh
e goes to walk away again.
Decent? Decent? You want to play dirty, huh? I have a whole chest full of toys we can use if you want to go that route, but first things first.
“Decent, huh?” I step in closer to her, wanting so bad to taste the defiance on her lips but refraining. I came here today expecting to find her hurt and all I’m getting is obstinance. I’m confused how the woman who left me last night with tears in her eyes is the same fucking one that stands before me. What has happened in the last ten hours? Shit, I came here to apologize, salvage the chance to have her again so I can figure out what the fuck kind of hold she has over me. Try to see what it is about her that has me coming back for seconds when I prefer my meals to be more varied because shit, if you keep on moving, keep on sampling, no one can get too close.
I’m trying to figure this all out and then she goes and calls my abilities on the carpet when we both know last night was anything but decent. Hell, she blew the doors off the damn bedroom and chiseled away at everything I guard. She wants to pretend I was decent, that she wasn’t affected? Go right ahead because I know avoidance when I see it and fuck if she’s not using this newfound confidence to cover something up. The question is what?
And that in itself is comical since I’m the king of avoidance.
Interesting.
She stares at me as I try to make sense of this new set of unspoken rules. Her eyes flicker with amusement, her words still hanging in the air between us, still taunting me, still tempting me.
And fuck it. I’m all in. Play me, Ryles, because I’m just getting warmed up. The two of us can pretend we’re whole, void of baggage, and see how far that gets us. Objective just went from getting another chance at who the fuck knows what to working that sweet spot between her thighs again so she has no option but to admit she’s wrong. Admit that her description of decent would be fan-fucking-orgasmic if she were speaking about any other man’s skills. And then even though I don’t want to care, don’t want to fuck with another person’s demons, I’m going to figure out what the hell she’s hiding.