Fueled(book two)(51)

Both Haddie and I turn our heads just in time to take in the longest pair of legs I’ve ever seen in what I think is the shortest skirt ever made strut toward Colton. The rest of the woman is just as spectacular as she tosses her head, throwing her long mane of blonde hair over her shoulder so that it falls just above her perfectly showcased backside.

She grabs Colton in a longer than necessary hug, her lips kissing the corner of his mouth as she leans back, a huge smile on her perfect face. It’s when I see her that I suck in a breath, realizing who she is. Recognition dawns on Haddie at the same time, and we both look at each other in surprise. She is Cassandra Miller, the current darling of Hollywood as well as Playboy’s latest celebrity centerfold. And despite completing their greeting, her hands are still resting on Colton’s bicep, and her perfectly enhanced body is rubbing up against his with his hand resting politely on the small of her back.

I’m surprised by the twinge in my gut at the sight of them together. I’ve never been a jealous person, but then again, I’ve never been with someone as all-consuming as Colton Donavan.

I don’t like her hands on him. At all.

Mine. He tells me that all the time. It’s one of those possessive statements that I oddly find to be so damn arousing. And right now, I’d like to do nothing more than waltz up between the two of them and stake my claim on Colton as he did earlier to me in TAO.

But I don’t move. I just sit and watch them interact, talk, her giggle stupidly and bat her eyelashes at a ridiculously fast pace while she keeps her hand on him. Why don’t I move?

And then it hits me. They’re stunning together. Absolutely stunning and this is who most would expect him to be with: the blonde bombshell, fantasy for many a men with the devastatingly handsome playboy, the desire of women everywhere. The picture perfect couple by Hollywood standards. He may have come here with me, and will be leaving with me, but like every woman, I have my own insecurities about my looks and my sex appeal.

And right now, looking from the blonde beauty then back to myself, those insecurities have just been put on display for everyone to see. For everyone to scrutinize. Even if I’m the only one who seems to be doing it.

I bring my fingers to my lips in thought and a cat ate the canary grin starts to spread across my face.

Fuck insecurity.

Fuck perfect, long-legged blondes.

Fuck playing it safe.

I close my eyes momentarily, remembering the feel of Colton’s stubble scraping against the skin of my neck; his fingers bruising my hips as he helped me move over him; the look on his face as he came; the slight desperation with which he held me to him afterward in the room right next to where we’re sitting now.

I remember Beckett’s warning; trying to control Colton is like trying to grab the wind. He’s gotten the playboy title for a reason. The short time we’ve been together isn’t going to change that. Women are always going to be attracted to him, want him.

Cassandra obviously does. She’s a dead giveaway with her constant touching and monopolizing demand on his attention. With how she leans in to speak to him, her hand pressed to his chest, leaving it there as he puts his mouth to her ear in response.

I’m not going to be irrational and deny the fact that I’m a tad bit jealous—alcohol most likely fueling my insecurity. Or maybe I’m just hormonal…I don’t know. I’m a woman; insecurity is just par for the course in the grand scheme of things.

I snort out a laugh. Haddie looks over at me like I’ve lost it. “You’re okay with…” She lifts her chin in the direction of Colton and Cassandra.