The Driven Series Boxed Set - Limited Edition (Driven #1-4)

by K. Bromberg

  Us? As if I want to be any part of anything with her, let alone the newest member of the Colton Donavan Cast Off Club. Great! Another of his women scorned. “Thanks for the heads up,” I tell her, not hiding my disdain for her presence, “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  When I start to walk away she grabs me by my upper arm. Anger fires in my veins. Every polite bone in my body riots to not whirl around and show her that underneath this glamorous dress is a scrapper willing to fight for what’s mine. And right now, Colton is mine. My hand itches to reach out and slap her hand off of me. Or to just slap her in general.

  “Just so you know, when he’s done with you and tosses you aside, I’ll be there to take your place.” With these words, I successfully shrug out of her grip and turn to face her. When I just stare at her with icy contempt, shocked into silence from her audacity, she continues. “Didn’t you know Colton likes to dabble with his exes when he’s in between women?”

  “So what? You just sit around and wait? Seems pathetic to me,” I say, shaking my head at her and trying to hide the fact that her words unnerve me.

  “He’s that good,” she rebukes.

  As if I didn’t know already.

  And with her words, I realize that is why all of these exes are so possessive of him, even if in memory. He’s the total package in more ways than one. Less the ability to commit of course. Suddenly, the sneer on her face is replaced by a dazzling smile. I notice her body language changing and shifting, and I know that Colton is behind me even before my body hums with the awareness of his proximity.

  I turn and give him a smile, my countenance one of gratitude for saving me from this woman’s talons. “Teagan.” He nods to her, a reserved smile on his face and indifference in his voice. “You look lovely as always.”

  “Colton,” she gushes breathlessly, her demeanor completed changed. “So good to see you again.” She steps forward to kiss his cheek, and he absently brushes her off by placing his hand on my waist and pulling me tighter into his side. I can tell she is hurt by his lack of attention, so she tries again without success.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Teagan, we have a room to work,” he says politely, dismissing her by steering me away.

  He nods to another acquaintance and continues once we are out of earshot. “She’s a nasty piece of work,” he says before taking a swallow of his drink. “I’m sorry I didn’t rescue you sooner.”

  “It’s okay, she was busy informing me that when you discard me, she’ll be your in-between-girl until you find someone new. That you always dabble with your exes while searching for your next conquest.” I roll my eyes and try to make my tone lighthearted as if her words didn’t bug me, but I know later they’ll hit me full force when I’m least expecting it.

  Because I’m more than sure she was speaking the truth.

  Colton throws his head back and laughs loudly. “When Hell freezes over!” he exclaims, brushing off her remarks. “Remind me to tell you about her later. She’s a piece of work.”

  “Good to know. I’ll make sure I steer clear of her.”

  We mingle a bit more, talking up our joint venture in a room filled with deep pockets. We are separated here and there, different conversations tugging us in opposing directions. In those instances when we are apart, I can’t help but look over at Colton, my soft smile is the only answer I can give to his wicked smirk.

  I find myself alone for a moment and decide to head to the bar to refill my drink. I’m waiting in the rather long line when I hear the three women a couple of patrons behind me. At first I don’t think they realize that I can hear them. The rude comments about my choice in dress. About how I am so not Colton’s type because I’m not exactly sample size. How I’d benefit from a nose job and some lipo. How I wouldn’t know how to handle Colton in bed even if he gave me a road map. And it goes on and on until I know for sure that they’re saying it loud on purpose, in the hopes of getting to me.

  No matter how much I know that they’re just jealous and trying to get under my skin, they’ve most definitely burrowed deep and are succeeding. They’ve gotten to me despite the knowledge in my head that I’m the one Colton’s with tonight. I decide the drink refill I want—that I currently feel like I most definitely could benefit from—isn’t worth the mental angst that these bitches are inflicting.

  I opt out of line and take a deep breath in fortification, planning to ignore them as I walk by. But I can’t do it. I can’t let them know they’ve succeeded. Instead I stop just as I pass them and turn back. I don’t care how I feel on the inside. I’m not letting bimbos numbers three, four, and five know that they’ve gotten to me. I look up to meet their judgmental eyes, take in their condescending sneers, and shrug off their disapproving glares.

  “Hey, ladies.” I smirk, leaning in closer. “Just so you know, the only road map I need is the little moan that Colton makes as I lick my way down his delicious happy trail that points straight to his obscenely large dick. Thanks for your concern though.” I flash a catty smile of my own before walking away without looking back.

  My hands are shaking as I walk, veering towards the hallway near the restrooms for a moment to collect myself. Why did I let them get to me? If I’m with Colton, isn’t that the only answer I need? But am I really with Colton? I see it in his eyes, hear it in his unspoken words, and feel it in his skillful touch. In Vegas he told me that he chose me, but when I asked him to try and give me more than his stupid arrangement, he never answered me, never gave me any of the security a simple, “Yes, I’ll try,” would have given me.

  Maybe it’s noticing all of, what I assume to be, his cast-offs here tonight—seeing them still want what they can no longer have and parading around in front of me. Couldn’t he have at least warned me?

  And then the thought snakes into my psyche. Is that going to be me in a couple of months? One of the many women scorned by the notorious Colton Donavan. I’d like to think not, but after seeing them here tonight, why do I think that I even have a shot at taming the uncontrollable man? Why would he change for me when the myriad before didn’t even tempt him to?

  I can think that I’m different all day long, but my thoughts mean nothing when his words could mean everything.

  I sigh, my nerves calming and unsettled simultaneously as I look down into my empty glass. I let out a little shriek as hands slide around my waist from behind. “There you are,” Colton’s voice murmurs into my ear, his lips grazing the curve of my shoulder up to my neck. “I couldn’t find you.”

  “Well hello there, Ace,” I say back to him, the whisper of his lips momentarily quieting my doubts.

  “Ace, huh?” He chuckles and I try to turn into him, but he keeps his body ghosted to mine with his arms around my torso. He starts walking forward, my legs instinctively moving from the momentum of his. With each step, I can feel him hardening against my lower back. The ache that never really left roars back to life.

  Colton’s resonating chuckle against my ear snaps me out of thoughts of what I want him—no need him—to do to me right now. It’s just too much for me to have our bodies connected from thigh to shoulder. Begging is within the realm of possibilities right now.

  “A closet experience?” he asks, and it takes me a moment to get that he’s offering up another lame attempt for the meaning behind Ace.

  “Nope,” I laugh at him, “Where’d that one—”

  “God, it couldn’t be any more fucking perfect if I’d planned it.”

  And I see it the minute the words are out of his mouth. He’s walked us down toward the isolated end of the janitor’s alcove, and ironically we are standing in front of a door marked Storage.

  I start to laugh but before it can even escape, he has me turned around and pinned against the wall, his body pressing into me, his steel into my softness. Colton props his hands on either side of my head and leans his face into mine, stopping a whisper from my lips. Our chests press together as our desperation to taste one ano
ther consumes our air, hijacks our ability to breathe, and steals the process of reason.

  Despite our close proximity, our eyes remain open, the connection between us unwavering. Electric. Combustible. “Do you have any idea how desperate I am to fuck you right now?” he murmurs, the movement of his lips brushing ever so slightly against mine.

  I drown in the liquid heat his words evoke, begging him to pull me under and take me there, but all I can do is exhale an unsteady breath. He leans in and tastes me. My hands itch to fist in his jacket and rip open his shirt, buttons be damned.

  Colton pulls back when he hears the click of heels but pulls open the closet door and presses me inside. The minute the door shuts to the darkened closet, Colton has my arms pinned above my head. The only illumination in the closet is the light seeping through the crack of the doorjamb. My mind never once registers my internal demons—the claustrophobia from the accident that usually smothers me at the first inkling of being confined. My only thought is Colton. Fear ceases to exist. I shudder, anticipating the moment his body will crash into mine, push me against the door, and take from me what we’ve both been so desperately needing.

  Release. Connection. Intensity.

  But it doesn’t happen. The only connection between us is his hands holding my wrists hostage above my head. The closet is too dark to decipher the outline of his body, but I can feel his breath feathering over my face. We stand here like this for a moment, so close that the hairs on my arms stand up, every nerve in my body itching to feel the touch he’s yet to give, suspended in this hazy state of need.

  “Anticipation can enhance,” he whispers, and right now, it is most definitely the definition of Ace. No doubt. But I don’t have any time to comprehend let alone respond because his lips finally meet mine. And this time, they do more than just taste. They devour. Take without asking. Brand the claim being staked.

  The world on the other side of the door ceases to exist. The doubts rioting in my head fall silent. Everything is lost to the sensation of his mouth worshiping mine.

  Our tongues dance. Our reverent sighs meld. Our bodies succumb, but never touch. Besides Colton’s hands on my wrist and lips on my mouth, he doesn’t allow any other part of our bodies to connect.

  And I so desperately need to touch him, feel the tightened buds of my nipples rubbing against his chest, feel his fingers trailing up my thighs and touching my most intimate of places.

  But he refuses me that silent request, completely in control of the satiation of my detonating desire.

  He pulls back on a groan from both of us. “Christ woman,” he swears. “You’re making it incredibly difficult to pull away from you.”

  “Then don’t.” I pant as lust coils so intensely, having him so close yet so far from me in more ways than one.

  He growls in a frustrated response and just as quick as we entered the ironic storage closet, we are out of it. I momentarily close my eyes at the sudden wash of light. When I open my eyes again, Colton stands a few feet in front of me, the tension set in his shoulders a result of what I assume is the slippery hold he has on his restraint.

  He looks back over his shoulder at me, his jaw set and his eyes warring with something within. “Colton?” I ask, trying to figure out his state of mind.

  He just shakes his head at me. “I’m gonna hit the head. Meet you out there?”

  I just look at him, a stuttered, “Okay,” falling from my lips.

  He starts to walk away but stops and turns back and steps toward me. Without preamble, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me into him for a chaste kiss on the lips before walking away. I hear him call over his shoulder. “I need a minute.”

  And I need a lifetime.

  I’m immersed in a conversation about the merits of my organization and what the new facilities will have to offer when I’m interrupted.

  “Rylee!” a voice booms behind me, and when I turn around, I find myself swallowed up in a big bear hug by the arms of Andy Westin. I return the hug, his affection contagious, and then he leans back and holds my arms out to take me in. He whistles. “Wow! You’re looking absolutely stunning this evening,” he compliments, and I can see exactly who Colton learned how to charm from.

  “Mr. Westin, so glad to see you again,” I tell him, and I am surprised that I really am. In a room full of pretension, he brings vibrancy and sincerity.

  He waves a hand in the air. “I told you, please call me Andy.”

  “Alright, Andy then. Does Colton know you’re here? Can I get you a drink?”

  “Nonsense. I’ll get myself a drink in a moment,” he says, patting my arm while searching the crowd. “We haven’t seen him yet. We’ve been busy seeing old friends and hearing about this great cause.”

  “Kids Now definitely is,” I muse.

  He grins widely. “Speaking of good causes, I hear you and my boy are working on a little something together for your own organization.”

  “Yes we are!” I exclaim, a thrill shooting through me at the sudden realization that this is really happening. I am actually here promoting the new facility and its culmination. “With Colton’s help—”

  “There you are,” a sultry voice interrupts me. I turn to see its owner and find that I am face to face with Dorothea Donavan-Westin. She is absolutely stunning, and there is a gracefulness about her—in her movement, in her smile, in how she holds herself—that makes you want to just watch and admire.

  “Dottie, sweetheart! I didn’t know where you went off to,” Andy says as he kisses her cheek.

  Dorothea looks over to me, her sapphire blue eyes alight with humor. “He’s always losing me.” She laughs.

  “Dottie dear, this is Rylee…”

  “Thomas,” I finish for Andy.

  “Thomas. Yes,” he says, winking at me, thankful for my assistance. “Please meet my wife, Dorothea...” he turns to her “...she’s the one that Colton is working with on—”

  “Yes I know, dear...” she pats his arm affectionately “...I am on the board after all.” She turns to face me and extends a perfectly manicured hand. “So glad to finally meet you in person, Rylee. I’ve heard such great things about your work through the committee.”

  I reach out to shake her hand, surprised by my nerves. Where Andy is warm and inviting, Dorothea is reserved and regal. A person who makes you want to have their approval without so much as saying a word. Commanding. “Thank you. So lovely to meet you as well,” I smile warmly at her. “Your husband and I were just talking about that. Your son’s generous donation has made the facility become a tangible reality for us. Once his team figures the total lap match sponsorship, we just might be able to start pulling permits.”

  Pride fills Dorothea’s face at the mention of her son, and I can see the unconditional love in her eyes. “Well I guess it was a good thing I fell ill and forced him to attend in my place then.” She laughs. “Despite the incessant grumbling I had to listen to about being forced to wear a tux.”

  I can’t help but smile at her words; I heard the same grumbling earlier. “We are overwhelmed by his generosity. Words cannot express how much it is appreciated. And then to go above and beyond and try to get sponsorships to complete the funding…” I place my hand over my heart. “It just leaves us—me—speechless. Overwhelmed, really.”

  “That’s our boy!” Andy exclaims, reaching for a flute of champagne from a passing waitress and handing it to Dorothea.

  “You should be so proud of him. He’s a good man.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize it, and I find myself slightly embarrassed. My unexpected admission to his parents is insight into my feelings for their beloved son.

  Dorothea angles her head to the side and regards me over her champagne flute as she takes a sip. “So tell me, Rylee, are you here with Colton tonight on a professional or a personal level?”

  I must look like a deer in the headlights at her words and I look from Dorothea to Andy and back again. What am I supposed to say? That I’m in love wit
h your son, but he still thinks of me as a woman he fucks because he refuses to accept that he might have feelings for me? I hardly think that’s an appropriate thing to say to one’s parents regardless of its truth or not. My mouth opens to say something when Andy intervenes.

  “Don’t badger the girl, Dottie!” he says playfully, winking at me as I silently thank him.

  “Well...” she shrugs in apology, although I doubt she’s remorseful “...a mother likes to know these things. In fact, I think—”

  “What a pleasant surprise!” I hear the smooth rasp of Colton’s voice, and relief floods me that I won’t have to answer her question.

  “Colton!” Dorothea exclaims as she turns to face her son. I’m surprised when he grabs his mom in a huge bear hug, rocking her back and forth before kissing her on the cheek, his face lighting up with love for her. She accepts his affection openly and places both hands on his cheeks and looks into his eyes. “Let me look at you! It feels like forever since I’ve seen you!”

  He smiles at her, his adoration apparent. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.” He smirks at her as he pats his dad on the back in greeting. “Hey, Dad!”

  “Hey, bud,” Andy says, putting an arm around Colton’s shoulders and squeezing momentarily. “What’s this?” he asks, bringing a hand up to playfully rub Colton’s cheek. “You actually shaved for tonight? Your mother was surprised when she saw the picture from the event the other night of you and—”

  “You looked so handsome, Colton. All clean-shaven...” She cuts her husband off with a warning glance before smiling adoringly at her son. “You know how much I like when you shave that scruff off of your face. You look much better without it!”

  Colton looks over at me, a crooked smirk on his face, his eyes telling me that he remembers my comment about just how much I enjoy the scruff against my inner thighs. “I see you’ve met Rylee?” he says as he slides an arm around my waist and pulls me against him, leaning over to brush his lips to my temple. I instinctively lean into him, not missing the look of surprise that’s exchanged between his parents. Over what I’m unsure, but Andy’s look to Dorothea appears to say see what I mean.