Crashed(book three)(55)

“Ryles, when have you ever known me to play it safe?” He smirks that devilishly handsome grin he knows I can’t resist. “Please … let me exert myself,” he pleads, but I know that beneath the playful tone is a man scavenging what’s left of his restraint. “I’m dying to take the driver’s seat and set the pace.”

I can’t help my laugh because his words cause a certain comment to come back to me. “When we first met, Haddie wondered if you f*cked like you drive.”

He snorts out a laugh, a mischievous grin gracing his lips and leaving that dimple I love. “And how’s that?”

“A little reckless, pushing all the limits, and in it until the very last lap …” I let my voice trail off as I tease a fingernail over the midline of his chest, his muscles flexing as he anticipates my touch.

He angles his head to the side and his arrogant smile grows wider. “Well, was she right or do I need to take you for another spin around the track to refresh your memory?”

I love seeing the Colton I know, the Colton I missed, so vibrant that I decide to have a little fun—play him at his own game. He wants sex that I’m not going to give him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put on a good show to tide him over. Give him a little something to ease the burn.

Or intensify the ache.

I run my fingers back down his chest and then to my parted knees and up and over my thighs. His eyes follow their wanton progression as they sit on top of the triangular swatch of fabric covering my sex. “Not sure I remember, Ace. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in action.”

He sucks in a hiss of breath and the reaction drives me, spurs me to go one step further. I rub my hands over my naked stomach and up to cup my breasts already weighted with desire. I purposefully drag my lip over my bottom teeth, breathing out a soft moan as I pinch my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, the sensation ricocheting through my every nerve. Colton’s eyes darken, his lips part, and I feel his cock throb under my core at the sight of me pleasuring myself.

His reaction empowers me, allows me to have the courage and confidence to carry this out. A few months ago I would have never done this—touch myself so brazenly under the scrutiny of his stare—but he’s done this for me, shown me that my curves are sexy; the body I used to readily criticize is something he desires, something that turns him on. Is more than enough for him.

And because of that knowledge, I can give him this gift with steady hands and complete confidence.

I let another moan fall from my mouth, and as much as I can see the desire swell in green eyes, I can tell the minute he’s on to me. The slow, lopsided spread of a smile turning up one corner of his deliciously handsome mouth. He just shakes his head subtly, mirth dancing over his expression as he shows me he’s more than willing to play this game.

“Baby, if you’re trying to get me to stop, then you shouldn’t throw around comments like that.”

He rolls his hips beneath me, his rock hard length pressing exactly where I ache for it to fill—where I’m silently begging for it to stroke—and feeds my pleasurable pain. I try to stifle the reaction on my lips, try to play coy, but it’s no use when he does it again. My mouth falls lax, a satisfied purr comes from deep within my throat, and my hands fall without thought to press against the outside of my damp panties. Needing something to stifle the urge to take what I so desperately need, so desperately want.

Him.

When his hips settle, my fingers dig into the flesh of my thighs to prevent me from taking what I want—fingers ripping down boxer-briefs, taking his steeled length in my hands, guiding him into me, stretching me to sublime satisfaction—I gain enough composure to raise my eyes back up and lock onto his. To feign that I have a tight hold on the control that’s begging to be snapped.