Fueled (Driven, #2)(132)
He leans in and brushes his lips so softly, so tenderly against mine. “Please be my spark, Ry…” he pleads as the words cause his lips to brush against mine.
I lean in and press my lips against his, instigating the kiss to go deeper by slipping my tongue into his mouth because the words and thoughts in my head and heart are so jumbled that I’m afraid to speak. Afraid that in this moment of his revelation—that if I pour out what’s spilling over in my heart—I will overwhelm him. So instead, I pour it all into my kiss. He gathers me to him, cradling me in his lap while he worships my mouth in the way that only he knows how. The reverence in which he breathes my name between kisses causes a tear to slide down my cheek.
“I might not be able to tell you the things you need to hear with the traditional words you need to hear them in, but I swear to God, Rylee, I will try. And if I can’t, then I’ll show you. I’ll show you with everything I have—anything it takes—where your place is in my life,” he murmurs to me, shattering every last form of protection I have guarding my heart.
He just stole it completely.
And I just more than willingly handed it over.
He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck, holding me tightly for a long while, his vulnerability palpable. My mind thinks in sensations and emotions and shuts all sensibility out so that I can just enjoy this unguarded side of Colton that is such a rarity. I breathe in the scent of us mixed together. I feel the beat of his heart against my chest. The warmth of his breath against my neck. The strength of his arms as they hold me tight. The scrape of his scruff against my bare skin. The comfort his presence brings to me by just being near. So many things to absorb—to pack away for another day—so I can remember them when I need them the most.
Because I know that being with Colton—staying with Colton—loving Colton—guarantees that I will need these memories at the most random of times to help me get by in the trying ones I know will inevitably come.
“I’m drowning here. Your silence is killing me. Can you say something? Throw me a lifeline please?” he says and the comment has me immediately thinking of Beckett’s words on the way to Vegas and earlier to me.
“C’mon,” I whisper to him as I run my hands up and down his back. He pulls me tighter and nuzzles deeper into the underside of my neck. “You have a long day tomorrow. It’s late. You need to get some sleep.”
His head startles back and in our close proximity I can see the crystalline green of his eyes—their clarity, their utter shock, their acceptance—of my unspoken words. “You’re not leaving?” he asks so brokenly. “You’re staying?”
I catch the sob that almost escapes my throat with his words. That I think he’s worth it. His hands run over my face and down the curve of my shoulder and back up. Touching to make sure that I really am before him—flesh and blood and accepting of him. Accepting the journey that he wants to try and take with me.
“Yes, Colton. I’m not going anywhere,” I’m finally able to say once the burn in my throat dissipates.
He holds my head with both hands and leans in to press a sigh of a kiss against my lips before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tightly into him. “I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he murmurs against my temple. “I don’t think I ever will.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell him softly as I lay down on the bed and pull him down with me. He shifts so that we are both on our sides, bodies pressed together, arms wrapped around each other, and my face nuzzled in his neck now.
We’ve been quiet for some time, the silence around us not so lonely anymore, when Colton sighs out a soft sound of contentment and then murmurs, “A chance encounter.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head and clears his throat. “I don’t know what it meant before me, but to me, now, it means a chance encounter. One that’s changed my life.”
I snuggle in closer to him, planting a soft kiss at my favorite spot beneath his jaw, my heart overflowing with love and my soul brimming with happiness.
After some time of just absorbing each other and our new found balance, his breathing slows and evens out. I sit there for some time, just breathing him in, feeling his warmth, and my heart lodges in my throat when I realize that my decision was never really mine to make. It was made the minute I fell out of that damn storage closet and into his life.
I turn onto my side so I can watch him. My chest physically hurts as I stare at the beautiful man he is inside and out. He looks so peaceful in sleep. Like he can finally rest from the demons that chase him so frequently while he’s awake. So much like the dark angel I think of him as that’s breaking through the inescapable darkness to grasp and hold on to the light. His spark of light.
For the first time in a month, the riot in my head is quiet as I sleep. Nightmares are non-existent. The events of last night flicker through my head as the morning hour pulls me from slumber.
That and the feel of Rylee’s weight settling over me.
I groan involuntarily as she sinks down, sitting astride me. The heat of her * has me straining to be released from the sheets she’s now pinned against my body. Talk about sweet f*cking torture.
Fuck me if this isn’t the best wake-up call ever.
Fingertips feather up my abdomen, circle around my nipples, and then trail back down to my hipbone. “Good morning,” she whispers in that rasp of hers before pressing a soft kiss against my lips. Her fingers continuing to tease my skin. To taunt me with the drug to my addiction.