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Authors: K. Bromberg

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary

Raced (9 page)

BOOK: Raced
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Want my cake and eat her too.

The thought staggers me, fucks with my head, because I don’t know how that’s going to be possible when all I’ve thought about since she left the hotel last night was seeing her again. So I do what I came here for, the one thing I know that will settle the war of shit inside of me, quiet my head for just a second, so I can think this through. I reach out to touch her.

I tug her hair out of the bun and fist my hands in the curls as they fall. Her eyes shock open as I pull her head back and parted lips distract my thoughts as I’d hoped.

And just when I’m about to break our stare because she’s looking at me again in that way that says she sees more than I intend to give her, she throws out a challenge to my comment.

“How so?” Her voice may be soft, might even reflect a hint of nerves, but she’s still asking.

“Well, it seems that your baggage makes you so scared to feel you constantly pull away. Run from me.” I trace my finger down her bare arm, the need to touch her consuming me like an addiction. “Whereas mine? My baggage? It makes me crave the sensory overload of physicality—the stimulating indulgence of skin on skin. Of you beneath me.”

I mean it as a kind of warning, a simple you’re going to fall for me while I just want to fuck you. What a woman wants versus what a man wants. Simple, uncomplicated, right up until she sighs that soft sigh she did last night when I pushed into her for the first time and fuck if I can hold back any longer. I lean in and kiss her, tell myself to slow the fuck down when all I want to do is own her lips.

Her lips, Donavan, not her heart, because I’m trying to keep this on my simple terms.

Because that’s
all
I want.

And fuck if I’ve not kissed a woman like this before—slow and relentless—but something happens with Rylee. Each taste, every sound I coax that hums in her throat begins to seep into parts of me that have been dead for so long. I deepen the kiss. I have no intention of doing this, feeling this way, and I’m sure if my lips weren’t drugged by her taste, I’d be pulling away, wanting the end game and not enjoy the fucking journey to get there.

But when she slides her hands up my torso, skin to skin, something happens. It’s like the whip of desire snaps and imprints everything about her inside of me.

Fuckin’ A was I wrong. Touch her, kiss her to quiet my head? More like set it on fucking fire with thoughts of possibilities I don’t want and lust I need to sate. That flutter of panic I had last night flashes through me as I pull back from her lips, needing a minute to settle the shit I don’t want to feel but is back with a fucking vengeance.

I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her so she can’t look into my eyes and see the shit I don’t even understand. And I’m trying to process it all, trying to tell myself it’s a fucking fluke that it happened again, just the need to fuck her again, that’s all. I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts the words are out of my mouth before I can filter them. “It’s unfathomable how much I want you, Rylee. How much I’m drawn to you.”

An unexpected confession for both her and for me.

“Rylee …” I’m flustered and I never get flustered. Fuck! I need some time to figure this all out. My reaction to last night, to right now, to how she fits so fucking perfect in my arms. Man, I’m all for turning over a new leaf, trying new shit out, but this is more like shaking the goddamn tree bare.

Breathe, Donavan. Fucking Breathe.

I close my eyes and then she makes a hmm sound as she nuzzles under my neck and I say, “Go out with me—on a real date. Go out with me, not because I paid for a date with you but because you want to. Say yes, Ryles. It’s unimaginable how much I want you to say yes.”

Where the fuck did that come from, Donavan? I’m freaking the fuck out and want to put it back where I’m comfortable, have a talk to mitigate her expectations of where this can and can’t go, but I go and say something like that? How am I ever going be able to fix this now, rein it in before she starts getting too close and I start doing what I do best—shove her away?

She leans back, like she’s as shocked as I am from my words, and looks at me. And for some reason I don’t break our gaze and let her see just a glimpse of the riot inside of me before I glance away. But she pulls me back to her when she runs a hand against my cheek and then steps on her toes and presses a kiss to my lips.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I nod my head at her and pull her back into my chest. “Tonight?”

Rylee, what the fuck are you doing to me?

She falls silent and a part of me freezes while the other part hopes she says yes. I can’t give her too much time to think about the shit she’s seen in my eyes and the baggage I told her about. She’s a smart girl, she’ll figure out I’m bad fucking news, a heartbreak waiting to happen, and head for the fucking hills.

And the thought scares the shit out of me. I keep telling myself once I talk with her, I’ll set things straight and she’ll fall in line like all of the other arrangements I’ve had. There will be nothing more between us but great sex, a date for an event, and a kick-ass charity partnership. But if that’s all I want, why am I here? Why do I care if she says yes or no to another date?

Why do I want her like no fucking tomorrow?

“I’ll be here at six to pick you up, Rylee.” Time to find out. Test the waters and then jump ship.

Or walk the plank.

She looks back up at me, her bottom lip between her teeth, and hell if I know what I’m doing but fuck if I’m not going to have a good time trying to figure it out.

I lift my thumb and rub it over her bottom lip. “See you then, sweetheart.” I walk to the front door as she says goodbye, my dick begging for those lips and my head hoping to make sense of the door I just turned the key in that I have no business unlocking.

I stop and turn to look at her one last time. “Hey, Ryles? No more running away from me.”

I flash her a quick grin before I leave and I wonder who I’m talking to about not running away, her or me.

One of my favorite scenes in DRIVEN, the bad boy standing up for the bullied Aiden. We see a bit of the broken man standing up for the damaged little boy he once was by helping. A small victory of sorts.

Then we follow them to the coffee shop and see the moment Colton decides that maybe he should let Rylee in a bit, see where it takes them, and changes the direction of the entire story. Almost a new starting point if you will ...

I rev the Aston. Her purr reverberates against the concrete walls in front of me and echoes through the early morning over the collective chatter that fills the air. If the boys only knew how many times as a kid I dealt with this shit. Fucking know-it-all punks who picked on me because I was that
“pity-case”
the Westins took in—what most assumed was an attempt to keep their holier than thou public persona up.

Yeah right. If those fuckers only knew the hell my parents had saved me from. A bully’s fists and words were nothing compared to what I’d already lived through.

Sticks and stones. Sticks and stones.

Even if I didn’t look in the rearview mirror at the boys and their grins in the backseat, I’d know they were smiling from the unmistakable energy zinging in the car. They’ll get their due. I’ll make sure of it.

I rev the car again, and I can see Ry tense beside me as she prevents herself from telling me I’m breaking the rules. Rule follower and rule breaker. Opposites must really fucking attract. Huh? If she only knew how opposite we really were.

God I would love to tear into this parking lot and lay some rubber. Give the boys a real entrance that would leave the rest of the students talking for months. It takes all of my restraint not to. Instead, I slide the Aston in between the curb and the waiting line of suburbanite moms in their SUVs or minivans and their judgmental attitudes.

Time to make an entrance, boys. Time to turn the tables, give them some positive attention for once, and put those fucking bullies to shame.

I park askew up onto the dip in the sidewalk, angling the car on purpose so that the boys can make their grand entrance. I rev the motor a few more times for good measure before opening my door and climbing out of the car. I take a quick look and notice a few of the moms in their sweatpants look my way. They stop, angling sunglasses down to see if I’m who they really think I am.

Damn straight, ladies. In the fucking flesh.

I stretch my arms above my head, taking my time and groaning aloud for good measure as I watch mouths fall lax and hands fly immediately to smooth down their unruly morning ponytails. I walk around the front of the car and stifle a laugh as I notice the shuffling through purses and sudden appearance of lipstick tubes. Fucking pretentious women.

Like I’d go for you when I have
her
in my front seat. Are you fucking kidding me? Plastic, botox, and ditz or real, intelligent, and sexy as fuck? A few weeks ago the decision may have been different, but now—since Rylee—there isn’t one to be made.

Call me crazy.

Or pussy whipped.

I open the door for Rylee. My eyes instinctively scrape over her body and recall perfectly the feel of those curves beneath mine. She smirks at me—humor and curiosity mixed in her eyes—as she wonders how the reckless, quick to throw a punch Colton Donavan is going to handle these grade school punks.

I can’t help the smile on my face as I squat down and flip the seat forward. The looks on Scooter, Aiden, and Ricky’s faces are fucking priceless. I help them from the car and place my arms on their shoulders, the whisper of my name zipping through the crowd at my back.

That’s right.
They’re with me, folks
. No fucking with them any more.

I lean over to Aiden, the look of shock and fear and pride on his face makes me want to grab him and hug him. Tell him that no matter who you are or where you come from, there’s always someone who’ll stand up for you. “Do you see the bullies, buddy?”

His bruised little face looks around the crowd, and I know the minute he sees the punks. His body stiffens and fear or shame flickers momentarily through his eyes. For that look on his face alone, the fuckers should be suspended. I look to where he’s staring and know instantly whom my targets are. Seriously? I’m transported back twenty years in time and the fuckers could be interchangeable with those that tormented my years of school.

“Well, champ, it’s time to go prove a point.”

I urge the boys forward with my hands as I stand in the middle of the three of them, purposely moving as a solid unit. Mess with one of us, you get all of us. I can sense Ry’s apprehension as to how I’m going to handle this, but she really needs to give me more fucking credit.

I plaster an easy going grin to my face as we approach the boys. Gonna kill them with fucking kindness. “Hey, guys!” I say in greeting as the boys’ eyes widen like saucers and the shit-eating grins fade from their lips. “Hey, Aid, are these the boys that didn’t believe you were my buddy?”

“Yeah,” he croaks and looks up at me. And if I already didn’t love this fucking kid, the look on his face makes me love him even more now. Eyes startled. Freckles scrunching. Lips turning up at the corners in a disbelieving smile. Yeah,
buddy
, you’re more than worth sticking up for. It’s time to start believing it.

“Oh man!” I say turning back to
dumb and dumber
. “You should’ve seen Aiden on Sunday. I let him bring six of his friends, including Ricky and Scooter here…” I squeeze their shoulders to let them know they’re just as worthy “…with him to the track to test out the car, and boy were they the biggest help to me! We had so much fun!”

I can feel all three boys stand a little taller and I know that a bit of confidence has been restored in their damaged souls. They’ve still got a long way to go, but it’s a start.

“Too bad you guys aren’t friends of his or maybe you could have gone too!” It takes everything I have to not tell
dumber
to close his mouth because he’s going to catch a fly if he keeps looking at me like that. Then again, it serves him right for picking on the weak. No, not weak—after everything these kids have been through, definitely not weak.
More like damaged
. Yeah damaged but hopefully repairable.

BOOK: Raced
9.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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