Real (Real, #1)(12)

Goddamn woman has me on an invisible line. Like she’s cranking the reel and tightening the hook in my mouth before I even have a chance to taste the f*cking bait.

We glare at each other, eyes devouring and warning all at the same time.

See? Complicated. Walk the f*ck away. Save yourself.

“Isn’t that what you want from me, Colton? A quick f*ck to boost that fragile ego of yours? It seems you spend an awful lot of time trying to placate that weakness of yours. Besides, why do you care what I do? If I recall correctly, you were pretty occupied with the blonde on your arm.”

I ignore the insult she hurls at me because I’m so focused on the tease of her body so tantalizingly close to mine. Tease me and insult me all at once. Contradictions like this are not supposed to be sexy. They are a downright mindf*ck that I’ve learned to keep at restraining order distance. So why the hell do I still want her so f*cking bad I can taste it?

I push away the ache to take her right now because she’s right. I do just want a quick f*ck.

Nice try, Donavan. Keep telling yourself that.

Maybe if I prove to her the * that I am, she’ll take the reins here and walk the f*ck away. Deny me what I want since I’m being such a * I can’t do it myself and ironically am only thinking with my dick. Game plan in place, time to shift it in gear.

“Raquel? She’s inconsequential.”

And I mean to sound like a chauvinistic *, that I think women are mere blips on my f*cking radar, but there’s something about that word—inconsequential—that is so fitting all of a sudden. It perfectly describes how Rylee made me feel when Raquel was at my side and she, herself, was standing in front of me.

Becks nailed it on the head the other night when I ditched sex with Raquel on the way home from the gala and he never even knew it.

“Inconsequential?” she says, eyes wide and irritation in her voice.

Good. She got the hint. Run baby, run. Let me get a good show as you walk away.

“Is that what I’d be to you after you f*ck me? Inconsequential?”

Never.

Her words are a verbal backhand. Because as much as I want her to hate me and do what I can to spare me the complications I know she’d bring, when she throws herself in the same category as Raquel, the only word that flickers through my head is never.

Fucking hell, Donavan. If I keep this whiplash up—wanting her but not wanting her—I’m going to need to start wearing my HANS device outside of the goddamn car. I just wish I knew what it is about this woman that tells me she’s not like the others. And not just because she’s kept her legs closed when most others would have theirs spread by now.

Fuck if I know, but I’m done with this game. She just threw out a challenge she didn’t even realize when she dared me to prove her different than Raquel.

I want. And I need. And hell if I’m not going to taste her again, f*ck her mouth with my tongue to try and show her how badly I want to do the same elsewhere.

Prove to her how she could never be inconsequential even though that’s all I really want her to be. The only thing I can allow when the cards fall where they may.

I take a step closer. Her back bumps against the wall, and I lift my hand toward her face but then pull it back.

Somehow I have a conscience and it’s just decided to show the hell up. Because this is perfect f*cking timing to tell me I can’t do this to her, f*ck with her to fix me. Like I didn’t know already that it’s not fair to her, something she doesn’t deserve.

Sex without strings is something I’ve always done so why am I thinking this now? Why didn’t I think it earlier when I ditched the Merit execs? I’m not a good guy so why, when all I want is to slide between her thighs and lose myself for a bit, do I suddenly feel like I need to warn her in yet another way?

I stare at her, try to convey my thoughts and hope she gets them.

Run! I want scream to her. Tell her to take the f*ck off down the hall and not look back. Explain that I’m a selfish bastard who takes what he wants without worries about collateral damage because I have a feeling that once I have her I’m going to need to destroy some things to prevent me from wanting her again.

Ease the ache. Bury the pain. Fuck her over in the end because she’ll hope there’s more when I can only give her less.

Can you handle me, Rylee? You fix the broken but there’s no hope left here. Can you live with that? Can you handle temporary when your eyes say you’re a forever? Do you want me? Can you live with sex and secrets and a selfish son of a bitch who will use you in the end?

Tell me no. Please tell me no because I can’t find it in myself to walk the f*ck away like I should. Make the choice for me. Push me away. Hurt me.

She holds my gaze and then lifts her chin in a subtle nod.

Fuck! Every part of my body screams the word, each one holding a different meaning to the reaction.

She just said yes, and I swallow the fact that my warnings were all in my head. My excuse to fall back and ease my guilt later when I walk away.

But right now? Right now, I’m taking what she’s offering. Restraint obliterated and my dick in command.

Add another demon to the pile within because I sure as f*ck don’t deserve a quick stop in Heaven before I take the long ride to Hell, but I’m taking it.

Without thought, my hands frame her face and my lips are on hers. I’m hungry for the taste of her, desperate for the feel of her. Smooth skin, gentle moans, soft against hard.