Driven (44 page)

I mewl in protest as he pulls back from me. Unnamed emotions flicker through his eyes that are impossible to read. “You hungry?” he asks.

Yes, for you.
I bite my bottom lip between my teeth and nod my head to keep the words from slipping out. “Sure,” I say stepping back from him to turn and find a table set up to the left of us, complete with food. “What? How?”

Colton smiles. “I have my ways,” he laughs as he leads me over and pulls a chair out for me. “Thank you, Grace,” he says toward the open doors into the house, and I hear a faint reply from inside.

“Your secret weapon?”

“Always!” He pours us wine. “Grace is the best. She takes care of me.”

Lucky woman. “It smells delicious,” I say taking a sip of my wine as Colton dishes out what appears to be chicken with artichokes and angel hair pasta.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he muses, taking a bite. He watches me as I taste it, and I can see him visibly relax when I hum with approval.

Dinner is light and relaxed. The food is excellent, and I despise Colton telling me that Grace does not divulge her recipes. I tell him I’ll talk her out of it somehow, someway.

We talk about our jobs, and Colton asks how Zander is doing. I tell him that he hasn’t spoken any more words yet, but that he seems to be responding more, which is a good step. I tell him that hero status has been definitely bestowed on him by the boys, and that they can’t stop reliving how he pulled up to the school. I explain about the next process to get the permitting for some of the new facilities when Corporate Cares gets the green light.

He tells me that he’s been busy with the media side of the upcoming season along with everyday operations at CD Enterprises. In the past week, he’s filmed a commercial for Merit Rum, did a photo shoot for a new marketing campaign, and attended an IRL function.

We sink into a relaxed rhythm, mutually sharing with each other, and it feels normal in what is otherwise a surreal setting for me. When we finish dinner, he offers a quick tour of the rest of the house, which I have secretly been wishing for. Colton tops off our glasses and grabs my hand. He shows me a state-of-the-art kitchen with warm-hued granite contrasted by top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances.

“Do you cook, Ace?” I ask running my fingers over the enormous island as I wander, my thoughts flashing back to a different kitchen island. When he doesn’t answer, I look up to meet his eyes and I flush, knowing that he is remembering the same thing I am.

He just shakes his head and smirks at me. “I can throw a little something together when I need to.”

“Good to know,” I murmur as he leads me to the next room, a sunken family room that the kitchen overlooks. Deep, chocolate leather couches that look like you could sink into oblivion in are shaped in a semicircle facing a media unit. He takes me into an office oozing of masculinity in rich leather and dark wood. A broad desk takes up a large portion of the space, the walls lines with bookshelves, and a lone acoustic guitar propped up against the far wall.

“You play?” I ask, nodding my head toward the guitar.

“For myself.” His answer mixed with the unexpected softness in his voice has me turning to look at him. He shrugs, “It’s what I do to help me think…to work though stuff in my head.” As he talks, I step further into the office and run my fingers across bookshelves, looking at the scattered pictures of his family. “I don’t play for others.”

I nod my head in response, understanding the need to have something to help when your head is troubled. I continue perusing the bookshelves and one photo causes me to do a double take. A younger Colton looks exhausted yet jubilant in his race suit standing in front of his car, arms raised in victory, smile wide with pure accomplishment, and confetti raining down. The only distraction in the picture is the woman wrapped around his torso. She stares up at him, love, adoration, and reverence plastered blatantly on her face. I’d know her face anywhere.

“What’s this picture of?” I ask casually as I turn to him where he’s relaxed against the doorjamb, watching me as I look at his things.

“What’s that?” he asks tilting his head and walking toward me. I lean back and point toward the photograph in question.

A reflective smile graces his lips and his eyes light up. “That was my first win in the Indy Lights circuit.” He shakes his head in remembrance, “God, that was a year.”

“Tell me about it.” He arches an eyebrow at me as if he is questioning whether I really want to hear about it. “I want to know,” I prompt.

“It was my second year and I thought I was going to lose my ride if I didn’t pull a win. I had come close so many times and something always happened to prevent it.” He reaches out and takes the picture off of the shelf to look at it. “Looking back, I know now that I made a lot of rookie mistakes that caused the problems. But back then I was just frustrated and scared I was going to lose the one thing I really loved—too much ego, too little listening. Some things never change, huh?” He glances up and I smile at him. “Anyway, everything seemed to be going bad this race. We couldn’t get the car adjusted right because the weather was erratic. Too many variables to explain. But we found ourselves with five laps left and I made a run at the lead. Passed the leader in a stupid risk that I never should have taken, but it paid off and we won.”

“First of many victories, right?” I ask as I take the picture from his hand and study it again.

“Right,” he smirks, “And hopefully more this season.”

“Who’s this?” I ask pointing to Tawny, getting to my real question.

“You didn’t meet Tawny at the track the other day?”

“Oh,” I play stupid, “is that who you were speaking with before you tested?”

“Yeah. I apologize. I thought you’d been introduced.”

“Uh-uh.” I place the frame back on the shelf and follow him as he steps out of the office. “Did she work for you way back then?”

“No,” he chuckles, showing me into a den complete with some of his racing memorabilia, a huge flat screen television, and a pool table. “She’s a family friend and we kinda of grew up together. We, uh, actually dated a while in college, and it was a long-running joke between our families that we would end up married some day.”

Whoa! Did I just hear that right?
Only a guy would think nothing of making that comment to the woman he is currently doing whatever we are doing together with. Their families think they’ll end up married some day? Fuck! I swallow loudly as he takes me into a guest suite. “Why’d you guys break up?”

“Good question,” he sighs giving me an odd look, and I wonder if I am being too obvious in my probing. “I don’t know. She was just too familiar. I thought of her like a little sister. It just didn’t work for me,” he shrugs. “When that picture was taken we were still dating. In the end, we remained good friends, seeing as she’s one of the few people I can really trust and depend on. When she graduated from college with a degree in marketing and I started CDE, she helped me out. She was good at what she did, so when the company became a reality, I hired her.”

Well, at least the platonic edge is from his side because she sure wants more than that. I turn from looking out the wall of glass at the ocean and look at him. He holds his hand out to me, “C’mon, let me show you upstairs.”

We ascend the wider-than-normal freestanding staircase on stone steps, and I find myself impressed with the lived-in feeling of his stone fortress. I tell him I assumed it was going to be cold and uninviting but it’s the exact opposite. He tells me he opted for the stone exterior to limit the maintenance required from the continual wear of being exposed to the harsh beach conditions.

When we reach the top of the stairs, we come to an open room that is the patio portion I saw from the front of the house. “I think I found heaven,” I murmur as I take in the indoor/outdoor patio. Lights wrap around an overhead trellis covered in a growing vine, twinkling in the darkening sky. Four chaise lounges I could sink into and get lost in are artfully arranged around the space.

Colton laughs at me as he tugs my arm, “We can enjoy out there later,” he says wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Man with a one-track mind,” I tease as my words falter when he brings me into the doorway of his bedroom. “Wow,” I breathe.

“Now this is my favorite place in the house,” he says and I can see why. An oversized bed is situated in the room with the footboard facing the view of the ocean. The room is done in soft browns and blues and greens. A love seat is situated on an angled wall and a coffee table is in front of it where magazines and books are haphazardly thrown. A large dog bed sits in another corner beneath a fireplace with chewed toys and a rumpled, blue blanket. The focal point of the bedroom is similar to downstairs, a wall of glass consisting of opened windows and the breeze blowing in off the ocean.

“I can see why,” I tell him as I’m drawn to the windows and stand to watch the distant lights of boats at sea making their way home. I can see the silhouettes of surfers waiting to catch one last set before paddling in. “Your place really is magnificent.”

Colton takes me by surprise when I feel his arms slide around my waist and pull me into him, his front to my back, and nuzzles his nose into my neck. “Thank you,” he murmurs as I angle my head to the side to expose the span of skin where he lays a trail of feather-light kisses down to my shoulder and back up. My body shudders in reaction to his touch and a soft sigh escapes between my lips. His hand splays over my stomach and presses me against him, my pliant curves molding to his firm lines. His mouth is at my ear again, kissing that sensitive spot just underneath. “Can I tell you how much I enjoy having you here?” he whispers, licks of his breath tickling my ear.

I sigh into him, leaning my head back to rest on his shoulder. “Thank you for tonight, Colton.”

He chuckles. “I sure hope you’re not implying it’s over yet, because I’m just getting started.” His hands run up and down the side of my torso, fingertips skimming the edges of my breasts. Tiny hints at what’s to come. I arch against him at his touch, my body humming with desire, and my heart reveling in his tenderness.

I tilt my head up and he angles down so that even in our awkward positioning, he captures my mouth with his. His tongue delves past my lips and licks at mine. Teasing. Entwining. Tasting. Worshipping. I turn into him, needing more to feed my insatiable craving. He backs me up against the wall of glass, his forearms press against it framing my head while his body pushes into mine.

A strangled sigh escapes him as I nip at his lower lip and run a tongue down the line of his unshaven jaw. I reach his ear and tug on his ear lobe with my teeth. “No,” I breathe into his ear, “the night is most definitely not over, Ace.” I make my way down the line of his throat and back up to lay a kiss at the pulse in his throat. “It’s just beginning.”

“Rylee,” he moans a sound of pure appreciation.

I feel empowered by his unbidden reaction to me. I want to show him how he makes me feel. Tell him with actions since I am unable to with words. I dip my tongue in the indent of his collarbone, his coarse hair tickling my lips, his scent enveloping me, and then trail a row of soft kisses back up to his other ear. “I want to taste you, Colton.”

I hear him suck in a breath at my request, and suddenly his hands are on the sides of my cheeks, cupping them. He pulls my face back from his, his thumbs rubbing over my lips, swollen from his. His eyes search mine, for what I don’t know, but the depth of emotion that I see in his is all I need to know. We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, trapped in our hazy state of desire. Our silent interlude lasts until he groans, “God, yes, Rylee,” before crushing his mouth to mine. His kiss is a bombardment of what I see in his eyes: greed, passion, blazing need, and an unexpected urgency. I have no chance to offer anything for Colton just takes, and I submit willingly to his unspoken commands. I hand myself over to him, mind, body, heart and soul.

I ease back from the kiss, a salacious look in my eyes that stops Colton from pulling me back to him. Our chests heave with anticipation. I bite my lower lip as my mouth spreads into a wicked grin. My thoughts turn to how I want to run my tongue down his body and feel him shudder in response to my touch.

I reach out, surprised by the wanton woman in me he is bringing out of hiding. Max’s passive, shy girl who thought of having sex with the lights on as being adventurous is no more. Colton makes me need things I never knew I wanted. He makes me feel sexy. Desirable. Wanted.

I bunch the hem of Colton’s shirt up until my hands graze his abdomen. I run a fingernail across his stomach just above the waistline of his jeans, and I smirk as his lips part and eyes darken with utter need from just my touch alone.

I start to pull his shirt up and off of him. “Let me,” he rasps as he reaches up and grabs the back of the neck of his shirt and pulls it off in one fell swoop as only a man who has no worries of messing up hair or make-up can.

“Just how I like you,” I murmur, taking in his sculpted shoulders and lean torso all the way down to the trail of hair in the middle of the sexy V of muscle that disappears beneath his waistband.

“My body is yours to take advantage of,” he breathes with a sexy smirk hinting at the dirty things he wants me to do to him. He holds his hands out to his sides, offering himself up to me.

I reach out and cup his neck, bringing his face to mine. I press my lips to his and dart my tongue in his mouth, pulling back every time he tries to control the kiss. “I. Want. You.” I whisper.

I skim my fingers down the plains of his torso, nails scratching softly so that his body twitches in reaction. My mouth follows the same path but on a much more leisurely pace. Colton lets his head fall back and groans a soft sound of pure appreciation when I stop and lick the flat disks of his nipples. His hands trail down my arms, up and over my shoulders, and fiddle with the ties at the back of my neck. “Uh, uh, uh,” I chastise, intent on my own pace of seduction. I look up at him from beneath my eyelashes as I lace openmouthed kisses down the skin-gloved muscles of his abdomen. “My turn, Colton.”