Real (Real, #1)(17)
But f*ckin’ A, if complicated is flexible like that, I’ll take it.
And there she goes again. Making me lose my train of f*cking thought as she lies on her back, pulls one leg up, and lifts her head to look at me over the mound of her *.
She thinks she can just sit and stretch and she’s going to win this little unspoken war we have going? That I’m just going to kowtow because it looks like she can wrap her feet behind her head and makes me think of the positions I can put that body in? That I’d give up the battle of wills here over something that clearly was mind-blowing?
It’s time I get some answers myself because if we’re both warming up on the same field, then f*ck if I’m not ready to go one-on-one with her. I admit that I’m an * for treating her like shit last night because I couldn’t handle that weird f*cking pressure in my chest, but what does that make her? Leave with tears but now flirt with me like she’s up for another go?
Goddamn women.
Too compli-f*cking-cated is what they are. But if I’m going to test the waters again, I need to get my head wrapped around what’s in hers so I can get us back on the sex-without-a-future plan, then I need to know what she’s thinking. “Why’d you leave? Why’d you run away? Again.”
She switches legs and moans in pleasure, followed by my name. “Colton—”
Just like she f*cking did last night.
“Can you please stop?” I can’t help it but if she keeps this shit up I’m gonna come in my pants like a goddamn teenager. And there she goes again, rolling over so her ass is my face. Thoughts of taking her from behind fill my head: hands gripping her hips, dick bottoming out as my pelvis slaps against her ass. “Christ! You in those yoga pants all limber and bending in half—you’re making me lose my concentration here.”
And something else if you keep it up.
Those violet eyes taunt me as they look over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
Oh, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing. And so do I. You can’t beat this player at his own game.
“You’re gonna make me forget my apologies and take you right here on the floor. Hard and fast, Rylee.”
“Oh!” It’s all she can say, and I feel a slight thrill of victory for knocking her off stride. But f*ck if her lips formed in that little O shape don’t have my thoughts drifting back to my couch blowjob fantasy from moments before. “Although I’m sure it’s me who should be apologizing, Colton.”
And there she goes, f*cking up my thoughts of how I don’t want to feel anything for her by taking the blame for last night. The selfless saint martyring for the selfish sinner.
I’m starting to get irritated. Don’t make me feel. Don’t make me think of things outside what I can give you. I’m here trying to be bigger than the man I usually am by making sure she’s all right. That’s it. Simple and uncomplicated. And she says something like that and knocks me back. Makes me feel like she did last night when I shoved up out of the bed and left her naked body I would have rather lost myself in, long into the early hours of the morning. But no, I can’t allow anyone to get close to me and f*ck if she’s not bringing us right back there with her attempt to apologize.
“Why’d you leave, Rylee?”
The harshness in my tone causes her to stare at me a moment before she answers. “A number of reasons, Colton. I told you, I’m just not that kind of girl. I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Who said it was a one-night stand?” I throw her own excuse for leaving back at her and immediately question myself and the implication I’ve now left open for interpretation. That’s exactly what I need with her to avoid the shit she unknowingly brought to life last night. What the f*ck am I doing here besides muddying up the f*cking complicated water even more?
“What?” Confusion flickers over her face. “You lost me. I thought commitment wasn’t your thing.”
I lost me too, sweetheart.
“It isn’t.” I shrug. Time to turn the subject back to you. Make you explain because f*ck if I’m going to delve into my closet of nightmares to explain myself. “I don’t believe you.”
“What?” She’s confused. Good, because that makes two of us. Thank f*ck, though, I’m the one with the reins now.
“Your excuse for running last night. I don’t buy it. Why’d you leave, Rylee?” Give me a real reason. Tell me you got spooked the f*ck out too. That it just wasn’t me. Tell me you hate me. That you want me. Tell me anything to ease the f*cking schizophrenic thoughts owning my head right now because you’ve turned this man who never needs anything to one who needed to see you. And f*ck if I can figure out why.
I need to get this—us—back to where I’m comfortable. A good time with no future.
“I just—” She sighs, fiddling with her ponytail thing, and I can now see her nerves. Can sense her unease. And when she meets my eyes again, she knocks the gas from my tank because they are so full of conflicting emotion. “You made it clear that you were done with me. With us, cursing adamantly to demonstrate why my presence was no longer needed.”
No longer needed? That’s what she thought? “Sweet Jesus, Rylee!” Why is it with any other woman I’d be ecstatic that she thought that. Would make it easier to have the talk with her that I need to have and lay down the law about the only things I can give her, but hearing the words from Rylee causes a tightness in my chest.