Driven (20 page)

I can take that answer so many ways, so many variations, and all of them paint his opinion of women to be in a less than stellar light.

“
Inconsequential
?” I question, “Is that what I’d be to you after you fuck me?” I stand my ground, shoulders squared to him. “
Inconsequential
?”

He stands there seething. At me? At my response? He takes a step toward me and I retreat one, my back pressing into the wall behind me. I have nowhere left to run. He reaches out a hand toward me and pulls it back in indecision, the muscles in his jaw clenching, pulse in his throat pounding. He angles his head to the side, closing his eyes, swearing silently to himself. He looks back at me—frustration, anger, desire, and so much more burning in the depths of his eyes. Their intensity as they look into mine is unnerving, as if he is asking for my consent. I nod my head subtly, giving him the permission to take. The next time he reaches out, there is no hesitation.

Within a beat, his lips are on mine. All of the pent up frustration, irritation, and antagonism of the evening explodes as our lips clash, hands fist, and souls ignite. There is nothing gentle about our union. Rapacious need burns through me as one of his hands snakes around my back, grasps my neck and yanks me against him so his mouth can plunder mine. His other hand slides between the wall and my arching back, splaying against me in a sign ownership. Gone are the gentle sips and the soft caresses from yesterday.

His lips slant over mine and his tongue darts in my mouth, tangling, teasing, and tormenting mine in a dizzying barrage. His hands slide over mine where they’re fisted in his shirt. He grabs my wrists and pulls them over my head, presses them to the wall, and handcuffs them with one of his hands. He brings his free hand down and cups my jaw as he breaks from our kiss. He draws his face back, and his eyes darkened and vibrant with arousal, hold mine.

“
Not inconsequential
, Rylee. You could never be inconsequential,” he shakes his head subtly, the vibration of his voice resonating within me. He rests his forehead to mine, our noses brushing each other’s. “No—you and me—together,” he grinds the words out, “That would make you
mine
.” His words feather over my face, enter my soul, and take hold. “
Mine
,” he repeats, making sure that I understand his intentions.

I close my eyes to savor the words. To relish the thought of Colton wanting me to be his mine. Our foreheads remain touching as I surrender to the moment, to the feeling, and to the easing of doubts. He steps back from me and gently releases my hands from above my head. Our eyes stay connected and I see what I think is a momentary flash of fear blaze through his.

I reach out tentatively to him and touch his hips, working my hands under his untucked shirt so that I can place my hands on his skin. So that I can feel this vibrant, virile man beneath my fingertips. It’s always been his hands on my skin. Him in control. I haven’t had the chance to appreciate the feel of him beneath my palms yet.

I find my purchase, my fingers caressing the firm warmth of his defined muscles as they tense at my touch. I slowly run them up the front of his torso, feeling each delineation, each breath he takes in reaction to my touch. It’s a heady feeling to hear his response, see his pupils dilate in desire as I glide my hands from his pecs, smooth them over ribs, and under his arms to scrape my nails up the plains of his back.

He closes his eyes momentarily in rapture, clearly enjoying my slow, teasing assault on his senses. I lean up on my toes and hesitantly lean into him and brush my lips against his and press my hands into his shoulders, pulling his body into mine. I slant my mouth over his and run the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip.

His fingers slowly brush against my cheeks, his palms resting on the line of my jaw to frame my face as he tenderly deepens the kiss. His lips sipping, his tongue slowly, sweetly, parting my lips and melding with mine. His quiet affection touches me in my core, slowly unraveling me and winding me into a ball of need simultaneously. He takes my breath away with each caress. I sigh into the kiss, my fingers digging into his shoulders, the only sign of my impending impatience at wanting more. At
needing
more.

I can feel Colton’s struggle to control his need, his body taut beneath my hands, his impressive erection pressing into my belly. He continues his tender and unrelenting assault on my senses by concentrating solely on my mouth. Seducing my lips. His breath is mine. His action is my reaction.

He stops abruptly, placing his two hands on the wall beside my shoulders and braces himself, letting his forehead drop to my shoulder so that his nose and mouth buried in the nape of my neck. I feel his chest heaving for air like mine is, and for some odd reason I’m relieved that he appears to be as affected by our entwinement as I am. I’m a little confused at his actions, but I take the moment to allow him to collect himself while I settle my racing heart amidst our rasping breaths. I subconsciously squeeze my knees together to try and quiet the relentless pressure at the delta between by thighs.

I can feel the warmth of his breath as he pants against my neck, struggling for control. “Sweet Jesus, Rylee,” he murmurs as he shakes his head, rolling it on my shoulder, before scattering innocent kisses along my collarbone. “We need to get out of here before you unman me right here in the hallway.”

He raises his head to look at me as I still from his words. There is no doubt that this is what I want. That he is whom I want. But I can’t deny the fact that I’m nervous—anxious—afraid I’ll disappoint him with my more than lack of experience in this department.

“Come.” He doesn’t give me time to speak before he grabs my hand, wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him, and walks us deeper into the corridor. “I have a room here for the night.” His strong arm helps support me, leading me toward my apple in the Garden on Eden.

I follow obediently, trying to quiet the doubt and noise in my mind, for it is actively chattering away now that his mouth is not on mine, blunting my ability to reason. We quickly make it to an elevator at the end of the hallway and within seconds we are stepping in. Colton pulls a key card out of his pocket and inserts it into the panel, effectively unlocking the top floor. The penthouse.

He steps back toward me as the elevator lifts and places a hand on the small of my back. The silence between us is audible and only intensifies the butterflies that are churning in my stomach. “Why the change?” Colton asks as he tugs on my straightened hair, trying to ease my mounting anxiety.

“Just trying to fit the mold,” I quip reflexively, referring to the numerous pictures on the Internet of him with straight haired women. His brow furrows at my comment, trying to figure out its meaning when I offer up, “Sometimes change is good.”

He uses his hand on my back to turn me toward him, extending his other arm clasp with it on my lower back. He angles his head down so that we are eye to eye. “I like your curls,” he says softly, my ego preening from the compliment. “They suit you.” Now that he has me positioned, he raises a hand up to wipe an errant strand of hair off my face. He then places his fingers on the side of my jaw and holds me there, his eyes searching mine. “You have one chance to walk away,” he warns me as the elevator alerts us we’re at the destined floor. The husky tone in his voice wreaking havoc on my willpower.

My heart beats erratically at his words. I shake my head in an unconvincing acceptance for I can’t find the words to speak to him.

He ignores the opening elevator door behind him and continues to look intently into my eyes. “I won’t be able to walk away, Rylee,” he says as he scrunches up his eyes as if the admission is painful. He blows out a loud breath, releasing me and running his fingers through his hair. He turns his back to me, reaches out, and stabs the door open button, bracing his hands against the elevator wall. His broad shoulders fill the small space. His head hangs down as he mulls over his next words. “I want to take my time with you, Rylee. I want to build you up nice and slow and sweet like you need. Push you to crash over that edge. And then I want to fuck you the way I need to. Fast and hard until you’re screaming my name. The way I’ve wanted to since you fell out of that storage closet and into my life.”

I have to bite my lower lip to stifle the immediate groan I feel at the dark promise of his words. I fight the need to sag against the wall for some kind of relief from the tension on my core.

“Once we leave this elevator, I don’t think I’ll have enough control to stop … to pull away from you, Rylee. I. Can’t. Resist. You.” His voice is pained, quiet, and chalked full of conviction. He turns back to me, his face swarming with emotions. His eyes reflecting a man tinkering on the edge of losing control. “Decide, Rylee.
Yes. Or. No
.”

CHAPTER 12

I look up at him through my lashes, my bottom lip between my teeth, and nod in consent. When he just continues to look at me, I find my voice and try to push the nerves out of it. “Yes, Colton.”

His mouth crushes down on mine instantly, his hunger palpable, as he pulls me out of the elevator in a clumsy movement toward the door of the penthouse. I giggle freely as he tries to insert the key in the door while trying to keep his lips on mine. He finally gets the key in and the door opens as we continue our ungraceful entrance, mouths never leaving each other’s. He kicks the door shut and presses me up against it, his hands sandwiched between the door and my butt. His fingers grip my flesh fervently, pressing me into his muscular frame.

I lose myself in him. In his touch, his heat, his quiet words of praise as he rains kisses over my lips and neck and the bare skin in the deep V of my dress. I turn myself over to the moment and what it is to feel again. To want again.

I clumsily try to unbutton his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine but hindered by his constantly moving arms that are running fervently every any inch of bare skin his fingers can touch. His lips find my spot just under my jaw line, and I forget the buttons and fist my hands in his shirt as sensation overwhelms me. Consumes me. A strangled cry escapes my mouth, little explosions detonating from my neck down into the pit of my belly.

Colton presses his hands to my backside again, and I wrap my legs around his hips at the same time he lifts me up. One hand supports my back while the other dips beneath the fabric of my dress to palm my breast. I bow into him as his thumb and forefinger rub my pebbled nipple. The electric shock of his touch spreads heat to my sex and wildfire to my senses.

Colton starts to move while holding me, his lips feasting on the ever-sensitive line of my shoulder, his erection pressing between my thighs. With every step he takes, he rubs against me, creating a glorious friction against my clit. I press into him, a ball of tension building, surmounting, and edging toward my need for release.

We enter the bedroom of the suite, and despite the overabundance of sensations surging through me, I’m still nervous. He stops at the edge of the bed and I lower my legs, dropping my feet to the floor. I resume my attempt to free him of his shirt and this time I’m successful. He lets go of me, momentarily stepping back as he slips his arms out of his shirt and lets it fall to the floor.

I get my first glimpse of Colton’s naked torso, and he is
utterly magnificent
. His golden skin gloves over the well-defined muscles of his abdomen. His strong shoulders taper down to a narrowed waist, which in turn give way to that sexy V that sinks below where his slacks hang. On his left flank is a tattoo of some sort but I am unable to make out what it is. He has a slight sprinkling of hair on his chest and then below his belly button amidst tightened abs, he has a sexy little trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. If my hormones weren’t raging already from his adept hands and mouth, the sight of him alone would have sent my system into overdrive.

I drag my gaze back up his torso and meet his eyes. He looks back at me, eyes drugged with desire, enflamed with lust. A sexy grin spreads across his mouth as he toes off his shoes and removes his socks before approaching me again. He raises his hands to my face and frames it, his mouth on mine in a slow, tormenting kiss that has me pressing into him. His hands slide from my face, down my shoulders, and make the slow descent down my torso until fabric gives way to the bare skin of my thighs.

“God, Rylee, I want to feel your skin on mine,” His fingers play with the hem of my dress momentarily before grabbing it and slowly lifting it. “Feel your body beneath me.” His words are hypnotic. Inviting. “My cock buried in you,” he murmurs against my lips before he leans back a fraction, his eyes never leaving mine, to pull the dress over my head.

I start to take my high heels off, but Colton reaches down to grab my hand before I can reach my shoe. “Uh-uh,” he tells me smiling lasciviously, “leave them on.”

I suck in my breath, insecurities rearing their ugly head as I stand before him in a bra, a scrap of lace as an excuse for panties, and my stilettos. “I think—”

“Sh-sh-sh,” he whispers against my lips. “Don’t think, Rylee. The time for thinking is over.” He steps us backwards, the back of my knees hitting the bed, and he slowly lays me down, his mouth still lacing me with kisses. “Just feel,” his husky voice demands of me. One of his hands cups the back of my neck while the other roams slowly down to the black lace of my bra and over my rib cage before starting the path back up again. A moan escapes my lips. I need his touch like I need my next breath right now.

“Let me look at you,” he whispers, leaning back on his elbow. “God, you are beautiful.”

I freeze at the words, wanting to hide the scars that mar my abdomen, wanting to twist away so that I’m not asked, not reminded right now in this moment. I do none of that though. Instead, I remind myself to breathe as his eyes wander down my body. I know the moment he sees them for shock flickers across his face before his eyes flash back to mine, concern etched in his brow.