Fueled (12 page)

I just shake my head as I peel the label on my bottle and keep my eyes down. “Fucking Rylee,” I mumble, knowing I’ve just opened the proverbial can of worms by admitting it to him.

“That so, huh?” he muses. I lift my head up slowly and meet his eyes, surprised by the lack of smartass comments that are his typical style. He peers at me over his beer bottle as he takes another sip, and I just nod my head. “What the fuck’d you do to her?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Becks.” I laugh. “Who says I did anything?”

He just gives me a look that says
look who we’re talking about here
. “
Well…
”

“Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutley nothing,” I bark out, tossing back my shot to help bury the fact that I’m lying to my best friend. “She’s just frustrating.”

“Like that’s a fucking news flash. We’re talking about a woman here, aren’t we?”

“I know. She’s just gotten under my skin and now she’s playing the hard to get card. That’s all.” I sigh, leaning back in my chair so I can meet Beckett’s stare.

“She told you no?” Becks coughs out in shock. “Like no, no? Are you shitting me?”

“Nope.” I catch Connie’s eye again for another round.

“Well shit, Wood. We
are
leaving for the city of sin in a couple of hours. I’m sure there’s a hot piece of ass there that you could tap for the night to forget about her. Or for that matter, several hot pieces.” He shrugs and a slight, antagonizing smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Since all you’re doing is just fucking Rylee…because that is all you’re doing, right? Fucking her? There’s no commitment there to ruin. No voodoo pussy hex.”

I know he’s trying to push my buttons. Get a reaction one way or another as to where I stand when it comes to Ry. But for some reason I don’t take the bait. It’s gotta be the alcohol running through my veins. Instead, I shrug at him in agreement about finding someone else for the night, but for some reason I have no desire to. None. And why the fuck does that kind of comment—
that I’m just fucking her
—piss me off. This is Beckett I’m talking to. My best friend and brother for all intents and purposes—the man I discuss everything with, and I mean
everything
—so why does his off the cuff remark bug me?

It’s like she still has my balls in her grip.

Fuck me
.

“She’s got a hot friend.”

Becks looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Come again? I’m not following you.”

“Well, we can swing by Rylee’s place on the way to the airport and the two of them can come with us.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain can process the thought.

Beckett chokes on his swallow of beer and starts coughing. The look on his face is one of complete shock. Apparently I did grow an extra head.

I ignore him and turn my concentration back to my beer’s label. Where the fuck did that come from? Taking Rylee to Vegas with me? The one place I can most likely forget about her for a while?
The ultimate place to use pleasure to bury the pain
. Taking a girl to Vegas with you is like taking a wife to your mistress’ house. That’s why I’ve never done it. Never even thought about it. Avoided it at all costs. Companions, dates, whatever they’re called, always stay home. They never even know I go. No exceptions. So why in the hell did I just suggest it? And more importantly, why the hell do I want her to go more than anything?

I must be outside of my fucking mind.
Voodoo pussy
.

Motherfucker.

“Holy shit…” Beckett says on a long drawn out drawl. “I never thought I’d see the day that Colton Fuckin’ Donavan would say that.” He whistles out a sigh, and then I swear I can hear something click in that head of his. “You’re
barebacking
, aren’t you?”

I can’t help my eyes from snapping up to his with the comment. Our universal guy speak for sticking with one woman. For thinking of more than just sex without strings. For fucking without a condom because you have complete trust in the other person.

For being pussy-whipped.

Neither of us have ever barebacked. Ever. Kind of a silent solidarity we have between us. Neither of us that is, until now.

“Motherfucker!” Becks jumps up in his seat. “You are, aren’t you, you cocksucker!”

“Shut the fuck up, Beckett.” I growl as I toss back the rest of my beer and raise my empty shot glass up to Connie who hasn’t stopped waiting attentively five feet away. Becks just sits and looks at me in silence until the newest round of shots are placed in front of us. I sit and stare back at him a while longer and let my comment settle between us, get comfortable rolling the idea around in my head…and then it hits me.

Fuck yes
, I want Ry to go with us.
Now what the fuck does that mean?
I throw back the shot, hissing at its burn before scrubbing my hand over my face as numbness spreads into my lips. Beckett keeps looking at me like I’m some kind of circus show freak. I can tell he’s biting his cheek to keep from grinning at me, from saying the shit that’s flying through his eyes at a lightning pace.

He holds his hand up to his ear and leans over the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly. What the fuck was your answer?”

I can’t help the grin that pulls up one corner of my mouth. This is being tame for Beckett, so I’m grateful that he’s keeping himself in check against my obvious discomfort.

“
Well fuck me
!” he says, shifting in his chair to stare at me for a little while longer with disbelief on his face. He looks down at his watch. “Well, if we’re going to take off on time, loverboy, we best be going.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” I ask incredulously.

“I haven’t even started yet, Wood! I need time to process…it’s not every day Hell falls below zero.”

Fine by me. If I can get away with only that being said right now, I’ll take it. I nod my head at him and start typing away on my phone. “I’m texting Sammy to come get us.” I tell him. The background music in the bar is playing, and I laugh at the fucking song playing. Of course it’s Pink. Rylee and her fucking Pink. I send my text to Sammy and then hover over her name on my phone. Before I know it, I’ve entered a quick one to Rylee as well.

I’m in this far, might as well go balls deep.

“You really said that to him?” Haddie asks incredulously, the look on her face over-exaggerated and hilariously funny.

“I swear!” I told her, holding up my hand in testament. I look down at my phone where a text just pinged. It’s from Colton, and all it says is:
Get this Party Started – Pink.

Haddie doesn’t notice the odd look on my face when I read it because she is concentrating on filing her nails. What the hell? First the text about Matchbox Twenty today, which threw me for a loop, and now this? He’s a little all over the place and a lot confusing.

“Shit! I’d have loved to see his face when you shut that door.”

“I know.” I laugh. “It felt kind of good to leave him stunned for once rather than the other way around.”

“See, I told you!” she says, pushing on my knee.

“Besides the testosterone fest with Colton, did you and Tanner have a nice visit?”

“Yeah.” I smile softly. “It was so good to see him. I don’t realize how much I miss him until—” a knock on the door interrupts me. I look over at Haddie, my eyes asking her who could be knocking on our door at seven o’clock on a Friday night.

“No clue.” She shrugs, getting up to answer it since I have a slew of work papers strewn across my lap and on the couch beside me.

Moments later I hear laughter and voices and Haddie exclaiming, “Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Curious, I start to clear my papers when Haddie enters the family room, a broad smile on her face. “Someone’s here to see you,” she says, a knowing look in her eyes.

Before I can ask her who it is, Colton comes barreling into the room in a less than graceful stride with a laughing Beckett right behind him. Something’s amiss with Colton, and I’m not sure what it is until he sees me. A goofy grin spreads across his face and it looks out of place against the intensity of his features. Luckily, I’m shuffling up my papers because he unceremoniously plops down right beside me.

“Rylee!” he exclaims enthusiastically as if he hasn’t seen me in weeks. He reaches out, calloused fingers rasping against my bare skin, grabs me, and pulls me onto his lap. All I can do is laugh because I realize that Mr. Cool and Always in Control is a tad bit drunk. No, make that well on his way to being drunk. And before I can even respond to his sudden appearance, Colton’s mouth closes over mine.

I resist at first, but once his tongue delves into my mouth and I taste him, I’m a goner. I groan in acceptance and lick my tongue against his. It’s only been a few days but God, I missed this. Missed him. I forget that other people are in the room when Colton tangles his hand in my hair and takes possession of me, holding me so all I can do is react. All I can do is absorb the feeling of him against me. He tastes of beer and mints and everything I want. Everything I crave. Everything I need. I bow my back so my chest presses to his, my nipples tingling as they brush against the firm warmth of his chest. Colton swallows the moan he’s coaxed from me when his arousal pushes up through my thin pajama pants and rubs against me.

“Should we clear the room?” I hear Haddie say before she clears her throat loudly, shocking me back to reality.

I pull my head back slightly from Colton’s, but his hand remains fisted in my hair holding my curls hostage. He rests his forehead to mine as we both draw in ragged breaths of need.

After a beat, he throws his head back on the couch and laughs loudly, his whole body shaking from its force, before choking out, “Shit, I needed that!”

I start to scramble off his lap, suddenly aware that I’m wearing a very thin camisole tank with some very aroused nipples sans bra, and Beckett—whom I’ve only met once—is sitting across from me, studying us with a quiet yet amused intensity. Before I can even cross my arms over my chest, Colton’s hands grip me from behind, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back against him.

“Hey!” I shout.

“I got it!” he shouts playfully in response. “And Colton’s inebriated.”

What?
I shift in his lap, trying to turn and look at him. “Huh?”

He chuckles and it’s such a carefree boyish laugh—so at odds with the intensity he exudes—that my heart swells at the sound. “Ace,” he states confidently. “And Colton’s inebriated.”

He busts out laughing again, and I can’t help but laugh along with him. “Nope.” And before I can say anything else, Beckett jumps in.

“You’re drunker than I thought. Inebriated starts with an ‘I’, you douchebag. Spell much?”

Colton flips him the bird, his boyish laugh returning again. “Whatever, Becks. You know you love me!” he says pulling me back against him. “Now, back to business,” Colton announces loudly. “You’re coming with us.”

Haddie raises her eyebrows, amusement on her face at my flustered expression. “Colton, let me go!” I sputter loudly in between laughs, trying to wriggle out of his iron tight grip on me. He simply holds me tighter, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Nope! Not until you agree that you’re going with us. You and Haddie are going on a little road trip with Becks and me.” I start to wiggle again, and I feel Colton’s free hand slip up to cup my breast through my shirt, his thumb brushing over my nipple. I suck in a breath at his touch and embarrassment floods my cheeks.

“Uh-uh-uh,” he teases, his breath feathering over my cheek. “Every time you fight me, baby, I’m gonna cop a feel.” He nips at the skin between my shoulder and my neck, his arousal thickening beneath my lap. “So please, Rylee,” he begs, “please, fight me.”

I roll my eyes despite the shock wave of need that’s reverberating through me at the sound of his bedroom voice, and I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out, Haddie and Beckett joining in. Drunken Colton equals a very playful Colton. I like this side of him.

“Typical male,” I tease. “Always misguided and thinking with the head in your pants.”

He pulls me tighter against him, one arm around my shoulders while the other is around my waist. “Well then, don’t be afraid to blow my mind,” he murmurs, a low, seductive growl in my ear that has me laughing from the corniness of the line all the while tensing at the suggestion of it.

“So get your asses up, pretty ladies, and get ready!” he suddenly orders, breaking our connection, pushing me to my feet, and swatting my backside.

“What are you talking about?” I ask at the same time Haddie pipes up asking, “Where are we going?”

Beckett laughs out loud at Haddie’s all-in reaction before bringing a bottle of beer to his lips. “Hey!” Colton shouts. “Don’t be drinking my beer you bastard or I’ll take you down.”

“Chill out, Wood.” He chuckles. “You left yours on the table by the front door.”

“Shit!” he grumbles. “I’m a man in need of a beer and of women to get their asses moving. Time’s a wasting!”