Fueled (Driven, #2)(37)
“Of course not.” He snorts sarcastically.
“I’m a big girl.” I continue ignoring his flippant comment. “I can buy my own damn drinks and pay my own way, especially if when you pay it means that you have some kind of ownership over me.”
His eyes widen at my words. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Does he not realize he does this? That he gives so charitably in exchange for people to like and love him? “Look, you’re a very generous guy. More so than most people I know, but why?” I place my hand on his arm and squeeze. “Unlike most people in there, I don’t expect you to pay my way.”
“No girlfr—no one I’m with pays when they’re with me.”
“That’s very chivalrous of you.” I run my hand up his arm and lay it on his cheek, my voice softening, relieved that we have seemed to skirt around having this argument. “But I don’t need any of that pomp and circumstance to want to be with you.” He just stares at me, emerald irises trying to comprehend the honesty in my words. “You have so much more to give to someone than material excess.”
I think my words have hit their mark because Colton falls silent, a war of emotions flowing through his eyes before they break from mine and look out at the city of sin. The muscle in his jaw tics as he pushes down whatever demons he’s fighting internally. I notice his posture stiffen as he shakes my hand off his face, and I can sense his discomfort with the direction our conversation has taken. “You let a guy put his hands on you,” he says in a dangerously quiet voice.
At first I’m hurt by his accusation, but when I look in his eyes, I see it. I see the truth behind Beckett’s revelations about his feelings for me. I see that he’s scared by it and unsure of how to handle it. I see that he’s looking for a reason to pick a fight as a way to deny his feelings.
He wants a fight? I’ll give him a fight because just below my surface is the fear that maybe I’m just what he needs and he might never acknowledge it. That he is exactly what I need and someone like Cassandra just might take that chance away from me. My mind flashes back to the thought of her hands on him. “And your point is what?” I counter with more confidence than I feel. “I’m not going to apologize because someone else finds me attractive.” I shrug. “You sure as hell weren’t paying any attention to me.”
He ignores my comment as only he can, shrugging it off as if I’m at fault here. “I’ve told you before, Ry, I don’t share.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well neither do I.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The bewildered look on his face tells me he really has no clue as to what I’m talking about. Typical, clueless male.
“Oh c’mon, Colton. Most of those women in there want you, and you were more than willing to be touchy-feely with them.” I throw up my hands in frustration when he looks at me as if I’ve gone crazy, so I figure I’ll give a specific example. “You seem to have no problem having your hands on Cassandra and hers on you,” I accuse, flipping my hair like her and placing my hand on his chest, batting my eyelashes.
“Cassie?” he stutters incredulously. “Oh please.”
“Really? It was obvious to every person up there that she wants you. Roll your eyes all you want and pretend you didn’t notice, but you know you loved every minute of it—Center of attention, Colton. Life of the party, Colton. Playboy, Colton,” I accuse, turning my back to him, rolling my shoulders and shaking my head. I briefly lock eyes with Beckett who’s still standing against the limo, arms crossed over his chest and stoic face devoid of judgment. I turn back to face Colton. “Why is that okay for you? Isn’t turnabout fair play? At least I told the guy you punched to get his hands off of me. I didn’t see you asking Cassie to stop…”
Colton takes a step toward me, lights from beyond playing against the shadows on his face. The devil has once again surfaced and is indeed trying to pull me into his darkness. “I believe it was you I was f*cking up there tonight. Not any of them.” His voice implacable and holding just a hint of edge as he watches for a reaction. I cringe knowing that Beckett just heard that.
“Yeah, you’re right. You were with me, but I find it funny minutes later you were with her!” I shout back at him. “You punched a guy for touching me tonight and yet you stood there and let her rub up against you without so much as a thought to pushing her off you. Well I don’t share either. The irony, huh?”
Colton’s jaw flexes before he raises his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type.”
“And I didn’t take you for my type at all,” I counter, my voice icy with contempt.
“Watch it,” he warns.
“Or what?” I goad, taking a fortifying breath. “Like I said, I can take care of myself. The guy offered to buy me a drink. I was in the process of telling him no thank you in so many words when you stormed up to save the day.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to lie about this. Maybe I’m trying to prove to Colton that I can in fact take care of myself. That I don’t need the macho bullshit. I’m not sure, but I’ve thrown it out there, I might as well follow through with it. He doesn’t have to know that I was getting a little unnerved at the situation. “The guy didn’t deserve to be hit.”