Fueled (31 page)

“A souvenir of sorts,” I muse, smoothing my dress down over my hips.

He cocks his head and looks at the car over my shoulder before looking back at me. “That’s one helluva souvenir, sweetheart.” He whistles between his teeth, a lascivious smirk on his handsome face. “And now
her
name has a whole new meaning to me.”

“Yes, it does.” I smile shyly in return as he pulls me into him and tightens his arms around me. He looks at me, that naughty smirk I can’t resist lighting up his features and those intense eyes filled with so much emotion. He leans down and brushes a soft kiss on my lips—the kind that is nothing more than lips on lips—that is so soft, so packed full of meaning, it causes my whole body to ache in the sweetest way.

Colton pulls back and places his jacket back over my shoulders before holding his hand out to me. “Come. We should get back or people will be wondering what we’ve been doing.” I snort loudly in the most unladylike way. As if the flush in my cheeks and glimmer in my eye won’t be a dead giveaway. He squeezes my hand as we walk toward the elevator, my head still reeling from the intensity and thrill of what just happened. Colton pulls me closer into his side, a laugh falling from his mouth. “
What?”

“A car experience,” he says looking at me and raising his eyebrows.

It most definitely was
. “Nope. Not even close,” I tease him back at his creative yet hopeless attempt.

By some stroke of luck, we slip back into the function a moment after dinner service is announced. Colton guides me to our assigned table just as the other patrons are sitting down. He pulls out my chair for me and removes his jacket from my shoulders, placing it on the back of the chair. I catch the libidinous smirk on his face as he shakes his head at me before leaning in and whispering, “Homerun.” I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles up at the thought.

During dinner I watch Colton interact with the other guests at the table, championing his various causes at the same time answering questions about his upcoming race. The older women at the table are charmed by him, and the men are envious of his good looks and bucket list lifestyle.

He’s such a mix of contradictions. Emotionally closed off and isolated, but at the same time so open and giving in regards to the causes he cares about. He’s arrogant and overly confident, and yet has a quiet understated vulnerability that I’m getting sneak peeks of when he doesn’t close himself off. He can hobnob with the extremely wealthy in this room and also understand a traumatized seven year old boy and his needs. He’s brash and aggressive, yet compassionate and considerate. And my God can the man infuriate me one moment and then make me weak in the knees the next.  

I smile at the checkered flag cuff links and know that only Colton could get away with making such a novelty item appear sophisticated and classy. But more than anything, I find myself staring at his hands and wondering what it is about them that I find so incredibly sexy. I watch his fingertips absently toy with the stem of his wine glass before sliding it up and over the condensation forming. My mind wanders to those fingers and their skillful mastery on other things.

When I look up Colton is watching me, an amused look in his eyes, and I know he knows my thoughts are anything but innocent. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, his eyes remaining on mine.

He leans over, his lips a breath from my ear. “Every time I take a drink, I can smell you on my fingers. It’s making me count the minutes until I can take my slow, sweet time with you, Rylee,” he whispers. The resonance in his voice permeating every nerve in my body. “
I want to explore every delicious inch of you
.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. “
And then I’m going to fuck you senseless.
” He growls.

My core clenches and coils at the thoughts his words evoke. “
Check, please
,” I murmur, and Colton throws his head back in laughter, drawing the attention of those at our table.

We sit through the rest of the dinner and the host’s enlivened speech about the cause of the evening. Colton sighs with relief when the applause ends and people start to rise from the tables. “Thank God!” he mutters under his breath bringing a smile to my face. At least I’m not the only one anxious for the nightcap to our garage rendezvous. “You ready, Ry?”

“Ready and willing,” I admit, enjoying the interruption to his movement from my words.

“Willing’s good,” he whispers. “Wet’s even better.”

“I’ve been that way all night, Ace,” I murmur in response, smiling to myself when I hear his sharp intake of air as he follows me through the maze of tables.

“Colton! Hey, Donavan!” a voice to the right yells out.

Colton curses under his breath as I turn to face him. “I’ll make this quick,” he says before placing a chaste kiss on my lips. He turns and walks across the room meeting the gentleman. “Vincent!” I hear Colton say in greeting as the two shake hands and slap each other on the backs like two men who are more than casual acquaintances.

I watch the exchange from afar, a soft smile on my face as I marvel at Colton and this evening’s unexpected turn of events.

“That smile on your face won’t last you know,” a voice says beside me.

I bristle at the sound of it.
Here comes the rain to fuck with my parade
. “What a pleasant surprise,” I say, my tone saccharine laced with sarcasm. I keep my eyes straight ahead, focused on Colton. “Are you having a good time, Tawny?”

She ignores my question and goes straight for the jugular. “You know he’s already getting bored with you, right? Already looking for his next willing piece of ass?” She laughs low and snidely, and in my periphery I can see her turn to face me, looking for a reaction I refuse to give her. “And you know as well as I do that there are plenty of women vying for that coveted spot.”

I’m riding high from Colton’s revelation tonight. I feel brazen and am sick of Tawny’s crap. “Oh, believe me, I know.” I smirk. “But don’t worry, I’m not as naïve as you think I am when it comes to Colton’s needs. Little Red Riding Hood, I’m not.” I hear Tawny suck in an audible breath as she realizes that I overheard her conversation. Colton glances up from his discussion and his eyes meet mine, a quizzical look crossing his face as he sees who’s standing beside me. I smile sweetly back at him as if everything is under control.

It will be momentarily anyway
.

“Your time’s up, Rylee,” she antagonizes.

I take a sip of the champagne in my hand and carefully choose my next words, my voice low and spiteful. “Well, I think it’s time you get a new watch then, Tawny, because it seems to me like you’re stuck in the past. You really need to get current with the here and now…because when you do, you’ll see that you no longer have a say or hold on Colton’s personal life.”

I watch her chest rise and fall as the anger fires within her. I feel like telling her that if what she feels is anger, then I’ve got a fucking inferno of fury in comparison.
And I’m just getting started
. “It must suck for you, Tawny, when all you have to look forward to in life is being Colton’s sloppy seconds. Thinking you’re only good enough to go back to once he’s tried everybody else that he thinks might possibly be better. Talk about a hit to that overinflated ego of yours.”

“
You bitch!”
she sputters. “You can’t fulfill his needs. You’re—”

I turn quickly toward her, the look on my face stopping her words. “
Oh, doll,
I just did. Was it you he was fucking on the hood of Sex in the parking garage before dinner? I didn’t think so,” I patronize with a smirk, but my eyes tell her he’s mine and to back the fuck off.

The look on her face is priceless: eyes wide, lips parted as she digests what I’ve just said. “
Colton would never...
” she huffs getting herself worked up “...the Ferrari is his baby. He’d never risk scratching it.”

“Well I guess you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.” I give her the same catty smirk she’s graced me with several times. “Either that or you just didn’t mean more to him than his car.” I twist my lips and look at her while her ego tries to process what I’ve just said. “We’re done here then,” I say with a laugh as I walk away from her toward Colton.

God, that felt good! Serves her right.

When I reach Colton, he extends a hand to me and wraps it around my waist, pulling me into his side as he finishes his conversation with Vincent. They say their goodbyes and as he walks away, Colton leans down and kisses me gently. “What was all that about?” he asks warily.

I angle my head to the side as I look at him and run my fingers along the line of his jaw. “Nothing…it was
inconsequential
,” I tell him, scrunching up my nose at the word.

“Are you sure you’re not too cold?”

“Uh-uh,” I murmur as Colton rubs his hands up and down my arms, the ocean breeze a biting chill against my bare skin, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. This evening—post garden argument—has been one that I’ll never forget.

Something has changed in Colton with the evening’s progression. It’s not something I can put my finger on exactly but rather several things that are subtly different. The little looks he’s given me. The causal touches here and there for no specific reason other than to let me know he’s at my side. That shy smile of his that I noticed he’s reserved for only me tonight. Or maybe it’s always been there, and I’m looking at things through different lenses now that I know Colton is going to try for the possibility of an us. He’s willing to try to break a pattern that he swears is ingrained in him. For me.

The pitch-black night is lit solely by the sliver of moon hanging in the midnight sky. I close my eyes, hum softly to
Kiss Me Slowly
floating from the speakers, and lift my face as the salty breeze drifts up onto the terrace where we stand. Colton rests his chin on my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind. I melt into his warmth, never wanting him to let me go. We stand there, lost in our separate thoughts, soaking in the dark night’s atmosphere, and completely aware of the underlying current of desire between us.

Baxter barks at the gate to go down to the beach, and Colton reluctantly releases me to take him out. “Do you want a drink?” I ask, my body chilled the minute his warmth leaves mine.

“Beer, please?”

I wander into the kitchen and get our drinks. When I walk back out, Colton is standing, hands propped on the railing, looking out toward the empty night, completely lost in thought. His broad shoulders are silhouetted against the dark sky—the white of his untucked dress shirt a stark visual contrast—and once again I’m reminded of my angel fighting to break through the darkness.

I place my wine glass down on a patio table and walk up behind him, the crash of the waves drowning out the sound of my footsteps on the deck. I slip my hands through his arms and torso, my front to his back, and wrap my arms around him. A second after my body touches his, Colton spins around violently, a harsh yelp echoing in the night air, his beer flying from my hands, and shattering on the deck. As a consequence of his actions, I am shoved to the side, my hip smarting against the railing. When I clear the hair out of my face and look up, Colton is facing me. His hands are fisted tight at his sides, his teeth are gritted in rage, his eyes are wild with anger—or is it fear—and his chest is heaving in shallow, rapid breaths.

His eyes lock with mine, and I freeze mid-movement with my hip angled out, hand pressing on it where it hurts. A myriad of emotions flash through his eyes as he stares at me, finally breaking through the glaze of fear that masks his face. I’ve seen this look before. The utter and consuming fear of someone traumatized when they have a flashback. I purposely keep my eyes on Colton’s, my silence the only way I know how to let him breach through the fog that’s holding him.

My mind filters back to the last morning I spent in this house and what happened when I curled up behind him. And now I know, deep down, that whatever happened to him, whatever lives within the blackness in his soul, has to do with this. That the action—the feeling of being hugged, taken, held from behind—triggers a flashback and brings him momentarily back to the horror.