Fueled

by K. Bromberg

  He takes another step closer, his jaw clenched, his eyes unforgiving as they leave mine and roam over my bikini-clad torso. My swimsuit seemed to provide more than adequate coverage when I bought it, but standing here in an elevator with Colton’s eyes scraping over every single curve of my body, it feels indecently suggestive. And I know it’s because even though he’s not touching me—even though I’m hurt and want nothing to do with him—my body remembers all too well the havoc he can wreak on my system with the simple graze of his fingertips or caress of his tongue.

  I tell myself to snap out of it. To remember what he did to me, but it’s so damn hard when his heady after-workout scent is dominating the small space. The ache resurfaces deep within my body at the sight of him, creating desires I know only he can satisfy. The man’s pull on me is relentless, even when he doesn’t even realize it. “Now’s not a good time, Colton.”

  He chuckles a sliver of a laugh, but his face doesn’t depict a single trace of humor. He takes a final step toward me, my retreat leaving my back pressed against the wall. He leans forward and presses his hands on either side of me, boxing me in. “Well, you better make it one, Rylee, because I really don’t care. This ends right here, right now. Non-negotiable.”

  My breath hitches, betraying my false façade as his body brushes against mine. The heat of his skin radiates off of him and into me. His lips are mere inches from mine. All I’d have to do is lean forward to feel them. To taste him again. And then I realize that this is exactly what he wants. He wants to remind me physically so I forgive and forget about what happened emotionally.

  Wrong tactic to use with me.

  I want him—God yes I want him—but not on these terms. Not with lies still hanging between us. Not with the hurt from his deception poisoning my heart.

  We breathe each other in, our eyes unwavering, and I’m proud of myself for holding my own. “I think you’ve forgotten how good we are together,” he grates out in frustration when he realizes that I’m able to resist him.

  I angle my head and look at him. “It’s easy to forget when Tawny opens the front door of your whorehouse with nothing but your T-shirt on, Ace.” I sneer, timing it perfectly so my last word coincides with the elevator’s ding to our destined floor. I take the sound as my cue and duck quickly beneath his hands, bolting into the hallway to the sounds of a cursing Colton. I should know better by now how fast he is, but my mind is jumbled with everything else.

  I can hear his footsteps behind me as I fumble with the keycard into my room. I think I may be in the clear, but the minute I have the door open, his hand slams against the door forcing it open with a bang. I don’t even have a moment to yelp before he spins me around and crashes my back against the wall with the full force of his body.

  “Then let me remind you,” he growls, and in my surprised state, I barely register his words, but they seep into my fuzzy conscience the moment before his lips claim mine. It’s amazing that regardless of how long it’s been—how hurt I am—when we connect, I feel like I’m home. A home currently set ablaze, but a home nonetheless. His mouth fervently possesses mine, and his hands map over every inch of my exposed flesh. Kneading. Stimulating. Possessing. I get lost in his taste; his touch; the low groan emanating in the back of his throat; the hard length of his body pressing into mine as one hand wraps around the waterfall of curls down my back and holds me captive to his mind-altering onslaught.

  It takes a moment for my mind to work through the chaos and the bang of arousal he’s just created between my thighs. I struggle out of the desire-induced haze that renders my body boneless. Shit! Shit! Shit!

  “No!” It’s a broken, strangled cry but a cry nonetheless. I push forcibly on his chest, tearing his mouth from mine. “I can’t. I just can’t! This doesn’t fix anything!”

  I stand there staring at him with our chests heaving and pulses racing—a sure sign that our chemistry still remains—and his more than addictive taste still on my lips. His hands are wrapped around my wrists, holding my hands against his damp and alluring chest. “Rylee…”

  “No!” I try again to push against his chest, but my strength is no match for his. “You don’t get to just take what you want, when you want it.”

  “My God, woman, you are driving me insane!” he mutters into the air.

  “Why? Because you got caught?”

  “You have to do something wrong to get caught!” he shouts, releasing my wrists and pushing away from me, his face a mix of exasperation, frustration, and unsatisfied desire. “Nothing! Fucking! Happened!” His voice bellows around the empty room and echoes in the emptiness of my hurting heart.

  “Tigers can’t change their stripes, Ace.”

  “You and your fuckin’ tigers and ducks,” he mutters before turning his back and walking farther into my room and away from me.

  “Don’t forget jackasses!” I shout.

  “Goddamn frustrating, pig-headed woman!” he says to himself before turning back around.

  The man is infuriating, thinking he can just waltz in here and kiss me senseless so that I forget everything else. “C’mon, since when does the infamous ladies’ man, Colton Donavan, resist a half-naked woman?” I sneer, taking a step toward him, infusing sarcasm in my next comment. “And to think you were even generous enough to offer her the shirt off your back.” I snort. “With a track record like yours, I'm sure you offered what was in your pants as well. Oh, I’m sorry—we know you did because you made sure it was jacketed up. Nothing happened? Just a kiss? And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “Yes!” he shouts loud enough to make me wince. “Just like I was supposed to believe your excuse at Shane’s party. It was bullshit and you know it.”

  “Don’t you dare turn this on me!” I yell at him.

  “You really believe that we were just sex?” He grates out, jaw clenched, voice challenging.

  “Oh, were we something more?” Sarcasm drips from my words.

  “Yes goddamnit!” He pounds his fist against the wall, “and you know it!”

  I take a step toward him, anger overriding any intimidation I normally would have felt. “Well by you acknowledging it, it just makes what you did even worse?”

  “What did I do, Rylee? Tell me exactly what I did!” He shouts at me, stepping well within the realm of personal space.

  “Now you want to rub it in? You want to shove my face in it by making me say it out loud? Fuck you, Colton,” I shout at him, anger starting to snake through my body and permeate through the hurt.

  “No. I want to hear you say it. I want you to look in my eyes and see my reaction for yourself. What did I do?” he commands, giving my shoulders a slight shake. “Say it!”

  And I refuse to. I refuse to watch the little smirk that I know will play at the corners of his mouth if I obey him so instead I say the only thing that comes to mind. “Quack!”

  “Now you’re just acting like a child!” Exasperated, he releases me and shoves his hand through his hair before taking a few steps from me to control his temper.

  “A child?” I sputter, shock radiating through me. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. “A fucking child? Look who’s talking!”

  “You,” he says with a sneer and an arch of an eyebrow, “the child throwing the goddamn tantrum. The one so wrapped up in your own head, that you don’t realize your little fit is for all of the wrong fucking reasons.”

  I stare at him for a moment, our eyes locked on one another’s and I realize that we’re tearing each other apart and for what? We obviously can’t get past this. Me accusing. Him denying. “This is such a waste of time,” I say quietly, a single tear slipping down my cheek and resignation in my voice.

  He takes another step toward me, and I just shake my head at him, unable to let go the tumultuous emotions inside of me. How can I love this beautiful man before me and despise him at the same time? How can I crave and desire him, all the while wanting to throttle him? I sag against the wall as I try to process everything
that I was afraid of happening transpire.

  “Why was she there, Colton?” I stare unflinchingly into his eyes, asking but not really wanting to know the answer. His eyes look down for a moment, and his hesitancy makes me miserable. I gather every ounce of hurt I have in my voice, and when I speak, it drips with it. “I told you that cheating was a deal breaker for me.”

  “Nothing happened.” He throws his hands up as the image of Tawny legs, hard nipples pressed against his T-shirt, and her smug smile flickers through my head. "What is it going to take to make you believe me?” The sound in his voice takes me by surprise. As if he really can’t believe my doubt in him. Haddie’s comments flicker through my mind, but I push them away. She wasn’t there. She didn’t see what I saw. She didn’t see Tawny tousled from sleep with that victorious siren’s smile across her swollen lips. The condom wrapper fluttering to the ground like a nail sealing the coffin lid shut. “Rylee, Tawny came to the house. We were drunk. Things got out of control. It all happened so fast that—”

  “Stop!” I shout, holding up my hand, not wanting to hear the gory details that I know for sure will break my heart even further. “All I know, Colton, is that you pushed me to open up—to feel again after everything that happened with Max—and I did exactly what you said. I trusted you, despite my head telling me not to. I allowed myself to feel again. I gave everything of myself to you. Was willing to give so much more…and the minute you got spooked, you ran into the arms of another woman. That’s not okay with me.”

  He leans back against the wall opposite me, and we just stare at each other, sadness smothering the air between us. I can see him struggle with something but push it back. “I don’t know what else to say, Rylee…”

  “Saying nothing and running away are two completely different things.” He pushes himself off of the wall and takes a step toward me. I shake my head at him. The fact that not once has he acknowledged that I told him I loved him slingshots into my head. He’s here trying to make things right, but he can’t acknowledge the words I spoke to him. This is so fucked up. “I could’ve lived with you saying nothing. I could’ve accepted you running away. But you ran into the arms of another woman. I can’t bring myself to trust that it wouldn’t happen again. You made your choice when you slept with Tawny.”

  His shoulders sag and his eyes flash with fire at my words before settling with defeat. “I need you.” The unhindered honesty behind his words strikes me and twists my heart.

  “There’s a fine line between wanting me and needing me, Colton. I needed you too.” And I still do. “But you obviously needed her more. I just hope she was worth it.” I choke on the words and shake my head. Anything to try and erase the sound of his voice saying he needs me. Anything to prevent the doubt from creeping in.

  Hurt propels my thoughts. Devastation controls my actions. “I think it’s best you go.” I whisper, forcing the words past my lips.

  He just looks at me, pools of green silently pleading with me. “You’ve made your choice then…. ” His voice is broken. Silent. Resigned.

  I can’t bring myself to agree with him. My body is a riot of conflicting answers, and saying it out loud will just add permanence to something half of me wants over and done with while the other half would kill to have a second chance at. There is nothing left for me to say. But I say it anyway.

  “Yes, I have. But only because you did it for me.”

  “Rylee...”

  “And mine's no longer you.”

  I break from his gaze and stare at the floor. Anything to get him to leave. He stands staring at me for a time, but I refuse to raise my head and look at him.

  “This is fucking bullshit, Rylee, and you know it,” he says evenly to me before turning to walk out. “I guess you don’t love the broken in me after all.”

  The sob catches in my throat at his words and it takes everything I have to stay on my feet. And even standing proves to be too much because the minute I hear the door close, I slide down the wall until I hit the floor.

  The tears come. Hard, jagged sobs that shudder through my body and steal little pieces of my soul with each one. His parting words echo over and over in my head until I know for sure that I’m the one that’s broken, not him.

  Doubts creep through. Sorrow sets in. Devastation reigns.

  I slip back into my hotel room for a quick respite before the next event occurs. I tell myself that I just need to take a breather, but I know for a fact that I’m just being a coward and avoiding Colton as I’ve done for the better part of the day. He’s been nothing but cordial in front of others but aloof when no one is watching. Hurt is evident in his eyes, but then it’s prevalent in mine as well.

  In one of the rare instances that we were alone, I tried to talk to Colton about his parting words to me. I wanted to tell him that I do love the broken in him—that I still want the parts of him that he’s hiding away and afraid to let out—but when I opened my mouth to speak, he just dismissed me away with a glacial glare. His patience has obviously run out. It’s what I wanted, so why do I feel like I’m dying inside.

  What am I doing? Am I making a huge mistake? I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and sigh. Having him move on should make me happy. Should make me relieved that I don’t have to put up with the “let me explain” routine. Then why am I so utterly miserable? Why do I have to swallow the huge lump in my throat every time I think of him or look at him?

  I’m screwing this up. Maybe I need to listen to him. Give him the chance to explain. Maybe if I know the whole story it will help me push through this pain and move on once I hear all of the sordid details of his night with Tawny. And I think these details are exactly what I fear…but what if there are no sordid details? What if everything Haddie has been pushing into my ears is legitimate?

  What if I’m in the wrong?

  Crap. I am screwing this up. I can’t even think straight—thoughts fragmenting in a million directions—but I know I’m fucking this up.

  My cell phone chirps a text notification, and it drags me from my schizophrenic thoughts. It’s a text from Dane about Zander. I dial him immediately. “What’s wrong?” I ask in response to his greeting.

  “He had a pretty rough night, Ry.” He blows out a loud sigh. “Actually talked about that night. It was his dad, Ry. And he swears that he saw his dad in his window last night. Freaked out. Literally. But Avery was in the room with him, and she said that there was no one there.”

  “Oh God!” is all I can say, imagining the fear tearing through his little body.

  “Yeah…Avery did a great job with him though. In fact, he hasn’t left her side all day.”

  “Is he still talking?” My mind immediately thinks of all of the progress he’s made in the past month. Of how in therapy he’s started drawing pictures depicting what happened that horrific night and started piecing it together for both his counselors and the authorities. A set back like this could wipe all of that away and then some.

  “Not as much but it’s still fresh in his mind. I’m just keeping Avery with him. The two of them have really bonded.”

  “Do I need to come home? I can…” Guilt spirals through me. I should be there with Zander right now. Comforting him. Helping him through this. Holding him.

  “Don’t be silly, Ry. We’ve got it covered. I just know how you like to know everything about the kids when it happens.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive,” he reiterates. “How’s it going resisting the Adonis? Is the ship still sinking or are you diving into his bits of paradise?”

  I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips. “You’ve been talking to Haddie, haven’t you?” His silence is the only answer that I need. Resigned and needing someone to bounce things off of, I reluctantly respond. “It’s…confusing.” I sigh.

  “Men always are, babe.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know, Dane. I know what I saw. I’m not stupid. But between Haddie telling me I’m being stubborn and Colton’s non-stop
denial, I wonder if I’m making a mistake. I just don’t get how one plus one doesn’t equal two.”

  He just makes a non-committal sound on the other end of the line while he thinks. “Shit, Ry, not everything is black and white if you know what I mean. What does it hurt to hear him out?”

  I breathe out audibly, fear snaking through me that I really might be wrong. That I might already be too late. “My pride.”

  “Sugar, maybe you should be holding on a little tighter to that Adonis instead of your pride. That’ll just cause you to end up alone with lots of cats.”

  A silence settles between us, his words striking a little closer to home than I care to admit. “Yeah…I know.”

  “Then get off your ass and do something about it! A gorgeous man like that isn’t going to wait around forever regardless of how delicious you are. Shit, I just might try to turn him.”

  I laugh again; always appreciative of Dane and his unsolicited advice that no doubt puts me in my place. Crap! I thank him quickly and hang up, my mind made up. I scramble quickly, slipping my practical outfit over my head, and grab the sexiest dress I have in my suitcase.

  In the time I’ve had to sit and think about everything, I’ve reapplied my make-up and given myself a pep talk to regain some of my confidence. I’m not sure what I’m going to say to Colton, but I have to say something. I have to fix the damage of this cluster-fuck that we’re continually finding ourselves in.

  It’s time for me to put on my big girl panties.

  I figure if I can speak to him quickly, then I can make some plans to see him afterward and talk things through. I double-check my reflection in the mirrors of the elevator. My quick change has done wonders for both my appearance and my attitude. I head toward the ballroom where the event of the evening is taking place. An event that I had not been scheduled to attend, but I don’t care. I have to do this now.

  I can’t wait any longer. I can’t waste another minute clutching to my pride.

  And besides, I really hate cats.