Fueled (Driven, #2)(74)
I lean my weight on my elbows and look up at him standing before me as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt. My mouth waters and desire coils as I get an inch by inch glimpse of the magnificence beneath. The hunger in his eyes is a promise of what he wants to do to me, and it leaves me revving with need. He shrugs off his shirt, the hard-edged muscles of his chest and abdomen leave my fingers itching to touch them. He crawls onto the bed, his knees nudging my legs apart as he sits between them. His fingertips trace heated lines up and down my inner thighs. My muscles tense at the feeling and tremble in anticipation.
“Colton,” I plead as his touch ignites the ache deep inside me. The need is so intense my hands snake down my abdomen and my fingers dig into the flesh at my hips in restraint. I’m bound up so tight that I need release.
“Oh yes.” He groans. “Touch yourself, sweetheart, and let me watch. Show me how much you need me.”
His words are all I need to throw my modesty out the window. My fingers dance down my mound, and I part myself, sighing in relief as my fingers begin to add the friction I need over my most sensitive part. Colton groans in lust as he watches, and the sound urges me on. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth as the sensation starts to pull me under.
“Rylee.” He rasps out a tortured breath. “My turn.”
My eyes flicker up to meet his, lids weighted with desire as I drag my fingertips over my clit one last time before pulling them away. His lips part in reaction to the moan that escapes between my lips and then curve in a wicked smile that has me arching my back, begging for more of his touch. His eyes hold mine as he leans down. I feel the gentle draw of his warm mouth on my aching hot spot and once again he drowns me. His passion swallows me whole.
We lay on our sides facing each other, our heads propped on pillows, our bodies naked, and our current desire temporarily sated. Craig David plays softly through the speakers in the ceiling. I drink in Colton, our eyes speaking volumes despite our lips remaining silent. So many things I want to say to him after what we’ve just exchanged. It wasn’t just sex between us. Not that it ever has been for me, but tonight especially, the connection was different. Colton has always been a more than generous lover, but how he was tonight—his slow, worshipping touch—has left me in a state of blissful daze. I find myself becoming so lost in him, so blanketed by everything that he is, that in a sense, I have found myself again.
I am whole again.
“Thank you.” His words break our silence.
“Thank me? I think I’m the one who’s just come multiple times.”
The crooked, cocky grin fills me with such happiness. “True,” he concedes with a nod of his head. “But thank you for not pushing earlier.”
“You’re welcome,” I tell him, feeling like the smile on my face is a permanent fixture.
We fall silent again for a bit before he murmurs, “I could look at you for hours.” I blush under the intensity of his stare, which is funny considering I should be blushing rather in regards to all of the various things he just did to please me. But in this moment I realize that I am blushing because I am completely naked to him—stripped, bared, open—and not in just in the literal sense. He is looking at me, seeing into my eyes and through the guard I have lowered to reveal the transparency of my feelings for him.
I shake myself from my thoughts. “I think I should be the one saying that,” I tell him, the dancing flames from the fire bathing a soft light across his dark features.
He snorts at me and rolls his eyes. Such a childish reaction from such an intense man that it softens him, makes my heart stumble that much more. “Do you have any idea how much crap I got as a kid for being so pretty,” he says with disdain. “How many fights I got in to prove that I wasn’t?”
I reach out and run my fingertips over the lines of his face and then down the crooked line of his nose. “Is that how you got this?” I ask.
“Mmm-hmm.” He chuckles softly. “I was a senior in high school and had the hots for the football captain’s girl. Stephanie Turner was her name. He wasn’t too thrilled when the school rebel snuck out of a party with his girl.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was...I had quite a rep back then.”
“Only back then?” I tease.
“Smartass,” he says, giving me that bashful smile. “Yes, only then.” When I roll my eyes at him, he continues. “Anyway, I was quite the hot head. Got in fights constantly for no reason except to prove no one had a say in what I could do or how they could control me. I had a lot of anger in my teenage years. Because of that, the next day he got his buddies to hold me down while he beat the shit out of me. Broke my nose and f*cked me up pretty bad.” He shrugs. “Looking back, I deserved it. You don’t touch another man’s woman.”
I stare at him, finding his last comment oddly sexy. “What did your parents say?”
“Oh they were pissed,” he exclaims before continuing on to explain how they reacted. We talked like this for the next hour. He explained what it was like growing up with his parents, filling in little stories here and there that had me laughing at both his rebellions and his shortcomings.
We fall back into a comfortable silence after a while. He reaches out and pulls the covers up my back after noticing I’ve become chilled and tucks an errant curl behind my ear. “I’m proud of you,” he says softly, my drowsy eyelids opening fully in question. “You walked into that storage closet tonight and didn’t freak out.”