Fueled (Driven, #2)(53)
“Ha!” I smirk at him. “How do you like them apples?” I taunt as I follow him to the little office at the edge of the track and out of the spectators’ view. The minute we’re out of the boys’ line of sight, Colton spins me around and has me pinned against the wall. His long, lean body presses against every curve of mine as if we fit together like yin and yang.
“Do you have any f*cking clue how turned on I am, Rylee?” He growls at me. “How much I want to take what you’ve been flaunting in front of me all afternoon?”
It takes every ounce of my concentration to appear unaffected by him. Every ounce. I arch my eyebrows at him in nonchalance. “Well I have a feeling that your dick pressing into me is an indication.”
“God, I want to f*ck that smirk off your face right now.”
His words alone incite my core muscles to clench at the mere thought. I never realized that the act of seducing can provoke equal parts of desire in both parties.
My nipples harden at the feeling of his firm chest pressed against them. His breath feathers over my face and his eyes remain locked on mine. He tilts his head forward and meets my lips, his tongue licking between them, and tangling with mine. There is a quiet passion to his kiss, and I groan as he releases me, leaving me wanting more.
“I couldn’t agree more, Ryles, but I gotta get going…and I have a feeling your fan club is going to come barging through that door any moment.” He takes my helmet from my hand and places it on the table at the same time the door opens up and the boys come barreling through. Colton looks over at me and arches his eyebrows as if to say I told you so.
I bite back a careless giggle when I see all of the boys carrying bundles of cotton candy. My thoughts revert to my more than memorable experience with the confection and Colton. He groans, his own little acknowledgement, causing my lips to twitch with a devious little smirk.
“One second, guys!” I yell above their raucous noise as I take a pinch from Ricky’s funnel. I step back toward Colton and deliberately run my tongue over my lips before placing the fluff of sweetness on my tongue. I close my eyes and play up savoring its taste. When I open them back up, Colton’s eyes have darkened and his jaw is set with frustration and desire—just the response I was looking for.
I lean close to his ear, purposefully withholding any touch of my body against his, my voice a seductive whisper for his ears only. “Hey, Ace?” He looks over and arches a brow at me. “I’m not wearing any panties.” I smirk. He audibly sucks in a breath in acknowledgement before I sway my hips a little more than normal as I walk away from him.
What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him, I think as I picture the pair of white cotton underwear I’m wearing beneath my Levis.
Colton glances over at me as he listens to his publicist give him the order of events for the evening. We’re gliding through Los Angeles in a limo headed toward a charity gala. This is the first of several events in the coming weeks where Colton and I will make the rounds, formally promoting our companies’ joint venture, and hopefully enlist some participants for the car’s lap sponsorship program.
I stare at him unabashedly as I hum to Hero/Heroine floating gently through the background from the speakers. I take in everything about him that has become so familiar, so addictive, so everything to me in such a short period of time. He’s so striking in the formal tuxedo—the clothing that he’s already confessed to detesting several times—and I can’t stop thinking what a lucky girl I am. His face is clean-shaven again, and yet even without the usual shadow of hair, he still exudes the aura of careless bad boy.
It’s just something that oozes off of him regardless of what he’s wearing. He’s almost sexier with his look tonight because I know that beneath his sophisticated exterior lies a reckless rebel at heart.
Colton glances over me again, feeling the scrutiny of my stare, and a salacious smirk spreads on his lips. His eyes meet mine and I know he is aching just as bad as I am to feel our bare skin connect. The remainder of our week since the go-kart track has been filled with provocatively taunting emails and texts explaining in depth what we want to do to one another once this evening is over. My God, with words alone the man can make a woman need, crave, desire—and most likely beg if it takes too long—like I’ve never known possible. But I’m pretty confident that the unfulfilled ache goes both ways though, from the hissing of his breath when I answered the front door in my sexy, red dress.
“Okay, so we’ll be there in about five minutes. I’ll jump out before your call time and get into place while the car circles around the block,” Chase says, looking at both of us above her black-rimmed glasses. I hold a hand to my stomach at the thought of being photographed on the red carpet in front of all of those people. Yikes! I thought this was a little function. I didn’t realize it was a full-blown Hollywood filled gala with questioning press. The publicity will be good for the charity, but can’t I just sneak in the back door and avoid the spotlight?
Obviously that will never be the option if I’m with Colton.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t be nervous.” He winks at me. “I’ve got you covered.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I smirk at him, our eyes doing the talking for us. I swear I can see the electricity crackle in the air as sexual tension fills the limo. Chase busies herself by keeping her head down, her cheeks staining red at our silent yet obvious exchange.