Fueled (Driven, #2)(70)
Several moments have passed but our chests are still heaving for air. Our bodies are still pulsing with the adrenaline from our union. I open my eyes first. Colton is still gripping my hips, his cock still within me, but completely clothed otherwise. He stands before me, so tall, so imposing. It’s no wonder he dominates both my thoughts and my heart. My everything.
My whole world.
His eyes flutter open slowly, looking down at me through heavy lids, a Cheshire cat grin lazily spreading across his lips. He exhales a sated sigh, and we both wince as he withdraws before slowly lowering my legs. He grabs my arms to help me up before the jacket beneath me slides me off of the too low hood of the car. My dress makes an odd sound against the immaculate paint as he pulls me up, and I gasp aloud. In my desperate need to have Colton, the thought never crossed my mind that I might scratch—or even worse, dent—the car. A car that probably costs more than I make in several years.
“What is it, Rylee?” he asks, looking over his shoulder thinking someone has just been voyeur to our escapade, and then looking back at me after seeing no one.
“Your car…Sex.” I cringe but at the same time feel ridiculous calling the car that name. “I hope I didn’t scratch it.”
Colton angles his head and looks at me as if I’m crazy before he throws his head back, a full bodied laugh flowing from his mouth. He tucks himself back inside his slacks and zips them up. “Relax, baby, it’s just a car.”
“But—but it’s worth a small fortune and—”
“And it can be fixed or replaced if damaged.” He leans in and catches my mouth in a dizzying kiss and then pulls back with a smirk. “Then again, if it’s damaged, I may just have to keep it just like it is as a reminder...” He lifts his eyebrows at me as he straightens his vest before reaching up to straighten his bow tie.
“A souvenir of sorts,” I muse, smoothing my dress down over my hips.
He cocks his head and looks at the car over my shoulder before looking back at me. “That’s one helluva souvenir, sweetheart.” He whistles between his teeth, a lascivious smirk on his handsome face. “And now her name has a whole new meaning to me.”
“Yes, it does.” I smile shyly in return as he pulls me into him and tightens his arms around me. He looks at me, that naughty smirk I can’t resist lighting up his features and those intense eyes filled with so much emotion. He leans down and brushes a soft kiss on my lips—the kind that is nothing more than lips on lips—that is so soft, so packed full of meaning, it causes my whole body to ache in the sweetest way.
Colton pulls back and places his jacket back over my shoulders before holding his hand out to me. “Come. We should get back or people will be wondering what we’ve been doing.” I snort loudly in the most unladylike way. As if the flush in my cheeks and glimmer in my eye won’t be a dead giveaway. He squeezes my hand as we walk toward the elevator, my head still reeling from the intensity and thrill of what just happened. Colton pulls me closer into his side, a laugh falling from his mouth. “What?”
“A car experience,” he says looking at me and raising his eyebrows.
It most definitely was. “Nope. Not even close,” I tease him back at his creative yet hopeless attempt.
By some stroke of luck, we slip back into the function a moment after dinner service is announced. Colton guides me to our assigned table just as the other patrons are sitting down. He pulls out my chair for me and removes his jacket from my shoulders, placing it on the back of the chair. I catch the libidinous smirk on his face as he shakes his head at me before leaning in and whispering, “Homerun.” I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles up at the thought.
During dinner I watch Colton interact with the other guests at the table, championing his various causes at the same time answering questions about his upcoming race. The older women at the table are charmed by him, and the men are envious of his good looks and bucket list lifestyle.
He’s such a mix of contradictions. Emotionally closed off and isolated, but at the same time so open and giving in regards to the causes he cares about. He’s arrogant and overly confident, and yet has a quiet understated vulnerability that I’m getting sneak peeks of when he doesn’t close himself off. He can hobnob with the extremely wealthy in this room and also understand a traumatized seven year old boy and his needs. He’s brash and aggressive, yet compassionate and considerate. And my God can the man infuriate me one moment and then make me weak in the knees the next.
I smile at the checkered flag cuff links and know that only Colton could get away with making such a novelty item appear sophisticated and classy. But more than anything, I find myself staring at his hands and wondering what it is about them that I find so incredibly sexy. I watch his fingertips absently toy with the stem of his wine glass before sliding it up and over the condensation forming. My mind wanders to those fingers and their skillful mastery on other things.
When I look up Colton is watching me, an amused look in his eyes, and I know he knows my thoughts are anything but innocent. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, his eyes remaining on mine.
He leans over, his lips a breath from my ear. “Every time I take a drink, I can smell you on my fingers. It’s making me count the minutes until I can take my slow, sweet time with you, Rylee,” he whispers. The resonance in his voice permeating every nerve in my body. “I want to explore every delicious inch of you.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. “And then I’m going to f*ck you senseless.” He growls.