by K. Bromberg
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 my 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 his 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. Su
ch 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.
The tears come now and I don’t have to hide them anymore. They rack my body and tear through my throat. I cry and cry until I have no more tears for the man just within my grasp yet so incredibly far away. I close my eyes momentarily and steel myself for what I’m about to do. In the long run, it’s for the best.
And I move without thinking. Use the numbness to guide me before I can’t bring myself to do this. Colton’s right. He’s broken. And now I’m broken. Two halves don’t always make a whole.
I fucked him—yes, it was most definitely fucking because there was nothing soft or gentle or meaningful about it—especially after he admitted to me that he fucked someone else. Tawny of all people. That’s not acceptable to me. Ever. But when I’m near him—when he dominates the air I breathe—I compromise on things I never would otherwise. And that’s not a way to exist. Compromising everything of yourself when the other person compromises nothing.
I catch the sob in my throat as I have trouble pulling my clothes on. My hands are trembling so badly I can barely slip my clothes to their proper position. I steal a glance in the mirror and it stops me in my tracks. Pure and utter heartbreak is reflected looking back at me. I force my eyes to look away and grab my suitcase as I hear Colton drop something in the shower.
I wipe the tears that start to fall in their familiar tracks down my cheeks. “Bye, Ace. I love you,” I whisper the words to him that I can’t say to his face. That he’ll never accept. “I think I’ve always loved you. And I know I always will.” I open the door as quietly as possible and slip out of the hotel room, luggage in hand. It takes me a moment to physically release the door handle because I know once I lose the connection, it’s over. And as sure as I am about this decision, I’m still shattering into a million pieces.
I take a deep breath and let go, grab my luggage, and start to make my way toward the bank of elevators, tears flowing freely.
“I TOLD YOU, BECKS, I’M sick of her shit. I’m not buying the I’m innocent act she pulled in the team meeting.” I glance over to him as we walk down the hallway, enough alcohol humming through my veins for me to speak my mind.
Then again, I don’t need alcohol to do that.
“What the fuck did Tawny do now?”
“I don’t know, man, but she’s being squirrely and fuck if I can figure out what she’s up to.”
Sammy snorts behind me and I turn to look at him, figure what the hell he means by it, but he just looks right past me like it’s not his place to say anything. Ha. Like he’s held back before.
Becks catches my eye with his raised brows as we turn a corner because I’m heading in the opposite direction of our wing of rooms for the team. “You can deal with it when we get back home. I need your head focused on the race.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I shake my head, eyes scanning over all of the places I’ve seen Rylee since she’s arrived. I need to see her, need to set the shit right that I did earlier. My dumb-ass move to kiss bar-girl just to make Rylee jealous, show her that I can have anybody I want.
Even though it’s her I want.
So I hurt her on purpose as a payback for her twisting the knife a little more every time I see her. Sitting at appearances, promoting the fundraiser—everything beside me—but the minute the attention is off of us, she disengages. Goddamn frustrating woman.
So why are you looking for her, then? Why do you still care, Donavan? She doesn’t believe a fucking word you say, said she’s done, so how are you going to prove otherwise?
Fuck if I know but I’m so sick of this ache in my chest that I’m trying to ignore regardless of how much it continues to burn.
“So you ever going to tell me what the fuck happened between you and Rylee? Why you’re moping around like I kicked your dog?” Becks asks for the hundredth time, even though he knows Baxter would bite his ass if he kicked him.
I don’t want to talk about this. Never do. I just want it all back how it was. Ry and me in a good place. Then why the fuck did you kiss that chick? Pull your head out and fight for what you want.
I glance over and Becks is giving me the look like he’s waiting for an answer. My head’s so fucked-up right now I forgot to respond.
“Nothing. Something.” I exhale. “She thinks I cheated on her.”
Becks starts laughing and pats me on the back. “Dude, does she not see how goddamn pussy whipped you are? I saw you shove Tawny off you like a hot fucking coal that night she kissed you.” He laughs at the memory that caused the morning after that still haunts me. When Tawny opened the fucking door when Rylee knocked. “If you’re not having your fallback girl, you sure as hell aren’t locking lips—or anything else for that matter—with anyone else.”
I sigh, that ache returning with a vengeance.
“It’ll sort itself out as long as you don’t go and do something stupid, Wood.”
“I won’t,” I lie, then cringe at the memory of Rylee’s eyes filled with hurt as I locked lips with that bimbo earlier. Fuckin’ A.
I see her instantly, body turned, knees touching, and face close to some fucking douchebag sitting beside her in the bar. I freeze for a moment when I see her leaning forward. The kiss I see is all in my fucked-up mind but I don’t fucking care because I see it anyway, feel it hit me like a goddamn sucker punch. Just like she must have felt when I did it to her earlier.
The hurt barrels through me. Grabs hold and doesn’t let go.
And I don’t allow myself to get hurt. Ever. I lived a lifetime of fucking pain caused by the one that was supposed to care about me the most. I know better now. Know that the minute someone gets too close, I push them away. The minute I feel like I’m going to be hurt, I lash out without regret.
… and I let Rylee in close enough to hurt me …
She senses me, looks up, and our eyes lock. I see defiance, finality, and fuck if I’m going to let that bastard sitting beside her reinforce it being there. She told me she was going to find a guy for the night to see if it helps with her pain. Apparently she was serious.
But this isn’t like her—acting like me, throwing the confession I gave her about how I cope back in my face—so it kills me to see her do this to spite me. To hurt me on purpose.
Bar-boy leans in closer, his mouth near her ear, and she breaks her eyes from mine. And now that ache turns into motherfucking pain.