Fueled(book two)(115)

Rylee’s hand tracing absent circles on my tattoos jolts me back to the here and now. The irony in that—her touching the tattoos that represent so much—is enough in itself. I force myself to breathe calmly, try and clear the revulsion in my stomach. Quiet the tremor in my hand so she doesn’t notice. Fuck. Now I know the feeling earlier really was a fluke. How can I want to protect and take care of Rylee when I can’t even do that for myself? Breathe, Donavan. Fucking breathe.

“I wonder if we’re drawn to each other because we’re both f*cked up emotionally somehow,” she murmurs aloud, breaking the silence. I can’t help the breath that hitches in my chest. I swallow slowly, digesting her words—realizing they’re just a coincidence—but how true they ring for me.

“Well gee thanks,” I say, forcing a chuckle, hoping to calm both of us with some humor. “Us and everyone else in Hollywood.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, snuggling deeper into me. The feeling is so f*cking soothing to me I wish I could pull her inside of me to ease the pain there as well.

“I told you, a seven forty seven baby.” I leave it at that. I can’t force any more words out without her catching on that something’s amiss with me.

She moves her hand from my tattoo to tickle through the slight smattering of hair on my chest. “I could lie here forever,” she sighs out in that throaty morning voice of hers. I pray for my dick to stir at the sound. Need it to. Need to prove to myself that the unexpected reminder of my mother and my past can’t affect me anymore. That they aren’t who I am.

My thoughts flicker to what I’d normally do. Go call up my current flavor and use her. Fuck her into oblivion without a second thought of her needs. Use the fleeting pleasure to bury the endless goddamn motherf*cking pain.

But I can’t do that. I can’t just walk away from the one person that I want and fear and desire and have f*cking grown to need. Balls in a f*cking vice.

And before I even think, the words are out of my mouth. “Then stay here with me this weekend.” I think I’m as shocked as Ry is at my comment. She stills at the same time I do. The first time my lips have ever uttered those f*cking words. Words I never wanted to say before, but know without a doubt I mean right now.

“On one condition,” she says.

One condition? I just handed her my balls on a platter in exchange for the whip to her * and she’s going to add a condition? Fucking women.

“Tell me what a voodoo * is.”

For the first time this morning I feel like laughing. And I do. I can’t contain it. She just looks up at me, with those eyes that do wild things to me, like I’m crazy. “Fuck, I needed that,” I tell her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Well?” she asks in that no-nonsense tone she has that usually turns me on. And I breathe a slight sigh as I start to harden at the thought of her wet heat I plan on taking advantage of in mere moments.

“Voodoo *?” I choke on the words.

“Yeah. You said it last night in the garden.”

“I did?” I ask, unable to hide the amusement in my tone, and she just nods her head subtly with her eyebrows arched waiting for an answer. Oh yeah. Definitely hard and raring to go now. Thank Christ. “Well…it’s that * that just takes hold of your dick and doesn’t let go. It’s so f*cking good—feels, tastes, everything good—that it’s magical.” I feel so f*cking stupid explaining it. I don’t think I ever have. I just say it and Becks knows exactly what I mean.

Rylee laughs out loud and the sound is so beautiful. Beautiful? Fuck. I am * whipped. “So you’re telling me that I have a magical *?” she asks as her finger trails a circle around my nipple before looking up at me and licking her lips. I can’t manage a word at the moment because all of the blood needed to supply a coherent thought in my brain has just traveled south, so I just nod my head. “Well maybe I should show you—”