Fueled (Driven, #2)(7)
He quickens his tempo, his neck and face taut with purpose. “Oh f*ck!” he yells out, crushing me against him with his powerful arms and burying his face in my neck as he finds his release. He rocks our joined bodies back and forth gently as he empties himself into me. The desperation in his strangling grip tells me I’ve given him only an iota of what he needs.
He sighs my name over and over, lacing absent kisses between them, his emotion transparent. His utter reverence coming on the heels of his earlier insults steals my breath and completely immobilizes me.
We sit like this for a couple of minutes so that he can take a moment to compose himself. It can’t be easy for a stoic and always in control man like him to have a witness to such an emotional episode. He runs his fingers over the chilled skin of my back, the hot water running a few feet behind me sounding like Heaven.
When he finally speaks, it’s of nothing we’ve just experienced. He keeps his head buried in my neck, refusing to meet my eyes. “You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
Colton shifts and somehow manages to stand with my legs wrapped around him. “Stay right here,” he tells me, placing me in the stream of warm water before leaving the shower. I look after him confused, wondering if his display of emotion was too much for him and now he needs some distance. I’m not sure.
He returns quickly, water still running in rivulets off of his skin. He takes me completely by surprise when he swoops me up in his arms, turns off the water with an elbow, and carries me out. I shriek as the cold air from the bathroom hits me. “Hold on,” he murmurs against the top of my head at the same time I realize his intent.
Within moments he has stepped into the bathtub that is filling with water, and sets me on my feet. He sinks down in the overabundance of bubbles and tugs on my hand for me to follow. I lower myself, the blissful heat surrounding me as I settle between Colton’s legs.
“Ah, this feels like Heaven.”
I lean back into him, silence consuming us, and I know he’s thinking about his dream and the aftermath. He traces absent lines up and down my arms, his fingertips trying to tame the goose bumps that still remain.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, his body tensing against my back with my question.
“Just a nightmare,” he finally says.
“Mmm-hmm.” Like I believe it was a run of the mill monster chasing you down a dark alley type of dream.
I feel him open his mouth and close it against the side of my head before he speaks. “Just chasing my demons away.” I reach my hands up and lace them with his, wrapping our joined hands across my torso. Silence stretches between us for a few moments.
“Shit.” He exhales in a whoosh. “That hasn’t happened in years.”
I think he’s going to say more, but he falls silent. I debate what to say next and choose my words very carefully. I know if I say it the wrong way, we might end up right back where we started. “It’s okay to need somebody, Colton.”
He emits a self-deprecating laugh and falls quiet as my remark weighs heavy between us. I wish I could see his face so I can judge whether or not to say my next words. “It’s okay to need me. Everybody has moments. Nightmares can be brutal. I understand that better than most. No one’s going to fault you for needing a minute to collect yourself. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean…I’m not going to run to the first tabloid I see and sell your secrets—secrets I don’t even know.”
His thumb absently rubs the back of my hand. “You wouldn’t be here if I thought you’d do that.”
I struggle with what to say next. He’s hurting, I know, but he hurt me too. And I have to get some things off of my chest. “Look, you want to shut me out, that’s fine…tell me you need a minute—that you need…” I falter, searching for something he’ll relate to “...to take a pit stop. You don’t have to hurt me and push me away in order to have some space.”
He mutters a curse into the back of my hair, his heated breath warming my scalp. “You just wouldn’t go.” He exhales in exasperation. I’m about to respond when he continues, “And I needed you to go. I was terrified you’d see right through me and into me, Rylee, in the way that only you’ve been able to…and if you did, if you saw the things I’ve done…you’d never come back.” His last comment is barely a whisper, so soft I have to strain to hear him. The words unzipping his hardened exterior and exposing the vulnerability beneath. The fear. The shame. The unfounded guilt.
So you tried to make sure my leaving was on your terms. Not mine. You had to have control. Had to hurt me so I wouldn’t hurt you.
I know his confession is difficult. The man who needs no one—the man who pushes people away before they get too close—was afraid to lose me. My mind spins with thoughts. My heart squeezes with emotions. My lips struggle to find the right words to say. “Colton—”
“But you came back.” The utter shock in his voice undoes me. The significance behind his admission hangs in the air. He tested me, tried to drive me away, and I’m still here.
“Hey, I’ve gone up against a teenager with a knife before…you’re nothing,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. I expect a laugh but Colton just pulls me back and holds me tighter, as if he needs the reassurance of my bare skin against his.