I don’t even have a moment to register his words before his mouth crushes down on mine. This time he doesn’t hold back. His lips possess mine from the very moment we touch. He commands the kiss with a fiery passion that has my head spinning, my sanity ebbing, and my body craving. He kisses me with such an unrequited hunger, it’s as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t taste me. I have no choice but to ride the wave that he is controlling because I’m just as caught up as he is.
His tongue darts in my mouth, tasting of wine, before he eases and pulls gently at my bottom lip. I arch my neck, offering him more, wanting him to take more because I can’t get enough of his intoxicating taste. He acquiesces, laying a row of feather-light kisses along my jawline before coming back to my mouth. He licks his tongue back in against mine—caressing, possessing, igniting.
I revel in the feeling of him. His hand spanning my hip in ownership. The weight of his leg, which is bent and resting on mine, pressing his evident arousal into my hip. His mouth controlling, taking, and giving all at the same time. The low growls of desire that emanate from deep in his throat in pure appreciation, telling me that I excite him. That he wants me.
I could stay in this state of desire all day with Colton, but the sound of approaching laughter brings me to my senses. Brings me to the realization that we’re in public view. Colton brushes my lips gently one more time as we hear the surfers walking several feet away, back to their towels. His hands remain cupped on my face though, and he rests his forehead against mine, both trying to calm our ragged breathing.
He closes his eyes momentarily, and I sense him struggle with his control. He rubs his thumbs back and forth on my cheeks, a gentle caress that calms me.
“Oh, Rylee, what do you do to me?” He sighs, kissing the tip of my nose. “What am I going to do with you? You’re such a breath of fresh air.”
My heart stops. My body tenses. I flash back to three years prior, Max on one knee, ring in his hand, staring up at me expectantly. His words, chock-full of emotion, ring in my ears like it was yesterday. “Rylee, you are my best friend, my ride off into the sunset, my breath of fresh air. Will you marry me?”
I am thinking of Max—bright, open, and carefree—but I am looking at Colton: reserved, unattainable, and inescapable. A sob escapes my throat as the memory takes hold of me, of that day, of the aftermath, and guilt washes over me.
Colton is startled at my reaction. He jolts back away from me, but his hands still cup my face, concern filling his eyes. “Rylee, what is it? Are you okay?”
I put my hands on his chest and push him away as I rise up to sit, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them. I shake my head for him to give me a minute and take in a deep breath, aware that Colton is watching me very closely, curious about what caused my reaction.
I try to push the words out of my head. His mom yelling at me that I killed him, his dad telling me he wished it had been me instead, and his brother telling me it was my fault. That I don’t deserve to ever know that kind of love again.
I shudder at the thoughts, collecting myself, preparing myself for the questions I’m waiting for Colton to ask. But they never come. I look over at him, his face somber as he studies me, and I look back out to the sea. He rubs his hand over my lower back, the only form of solace he gives me.
I shake myself out of my thoughts, upset at what they interrupted. Why can’t I just let it all go and enjoy this man—this virile man within my grasp—who for some ridiculous reason wants me? Why can’t I just give in to his sordid excuse of a one-night-stand-type relationship just to get me out of this revolving nightmare? Use him, as he wants to use me.
Because that’s not you, I whisper to myself. You are a breath of fresh air.
I’m thankful to Colton for his silence. I’m not sure if it is a silent understanding, or a detachment from someone else’s drama, but regardless, at this point I’m glad that I’m not being asked to explain myself.
I reach back to grab for my plastic cup of wine. Colton hands it to me as he takes his and sips. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re outside,” I say, trying to defuse the awkwardness with humor.
“Why’s that?”
I take a long swallow of my drink before I continue. “To keep us from getting out of hand in public,” I respond, turning my head so that I can smile at him.
“What makes you think that being outside would stop me?” He flashes a devilish grin before laughing out loud, throwing his head back when he sees the shocked look on my face. “The danger of being caught only heightens sensation, Rylee. Increases the intensity of your arousal. Your climax.” His voice wraps seductively around me, spinning me in his web.
I stare at him, trying to unwrap my thoughts from his snare. Trying to find my wits about me so I can respond and appear to be unaffected by his hypnotic words. “I thought you said you wanted somewhere private the first time?” I smirk, arching an eyebrow at him.
He leans in close to me, his breath feathering over my face and amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well at least I just got you to admit that there’s going to be a first time.”
My eyes widen as I realize what I’d just willingly walked into. I can’t help the smile that breaks across my lips as I take in the mischievously wicked one on his. He shakes his head and as his eyes break from mine he says, “Look at that.” He points to the horizon where the bottom of the sun hits the edge of the water, a bright ball sinking and spilling pastels across the sky.
Grateful for the change in topic, I turn my head to look. “Why is it that the sun seems to take forever to reach the horizon and the minute it gets there it sinks so fast?”
“It reflects life, don’t you think?” he asks.
“How so?”
“Sometimes our journeys in life seem to take forever to get to the culmination of our efforts—to achieving the goal. And once we do, it goes so fast and then it’s over.” He shrugs, surprising me with his introspection. “We forget that the journey is the best part. The reason for taking the ride. What we learn the most from.”
“Are you trying to tell me something in a round about way, Colton?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says, a smile lighting up his features. “Just making an observation. That’s all.”
I eye him cautiously, still unsure what he’s trying to tell me despite his denial. I dig my toes into the sand still warm from the sun’s rays. I scrunch my toes back and forth, loving how it feels.
I hear Colton move next to me before I hear the paper bag from the deli rustling. I turn to see him stretched out across the blanket, pulling two Saran-wrapped squares from the bag. He sits back up next to me, crossing his legs like a kid in grade school. He holds a square up between us. “The cure for all woes,” he says, handing it to me.
Our fingers brush as I take the brownie from him, his touch welcome. “You thought of everything on this twenty-five thousand dollar date, didn’t you?” I tease him, making quick work of the package. He watches me as I take my first bite, the scrumptious chocolate is delectable and has me rolling my eyes in appreciation, and moaning with ecstasy. This is the way to get to my heart.
I look from the brownie back up to Colton, a captivated look on his face. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now?” His voice is gruff, pained even.
I stop chewing, mid-bite, at his comment. How is it he can make such simple words so spellbinding at the oddest times? The candor on his face throws me off. We just sit there, a few feet apart on a blanket on a beach, and stare at each other. No pretenses. No audience. No expectations. The unspoken words that flow between us are so powerful I’m afraid to blink, afraid to move, afraid to speak for fear of ruining this moment. I’m seeing the true Colton Donavan—the unmasked version with a vulnerability that makes me want to reach over and take away the hurt that often flickers through those green eyes and make it better. To show him that love and commitment are possible without complications. That it is real and pure and much more powerful than ever imagined
when it is built and shared between two people.
I feel a phantom ache in my heart as a tiny piece tears off, lost forever to Colton in this moment.
I finally break eye contact, lowering my eyes back to watch my fingers pick at my brownie. I know that I’ll never get to express this to him. I’ll never get the chance. At some point in the near future I will give my body to him willingly, despite my head telling me it’s a mistake. I will revel in that moment with him which will be filled with reverent sighs and entangled bodies, and I’ll be devastated when he walks away after having his fill of me. I blink away the tears that burn in my eyes.
It has to be the approaching anniversary, I tell myself. I’m never this emotional—this unstable.
I pick a chunk off the corner of my brownie and push it in my mouth. I look back up at him, a shy smile creeping onto his face, telling me that he felt the moment between us as well. I shiver .
“You cold?” he asks, reaching out with his thumb to wipe a piece of chocolate from the corner of my mouth. He brings his thumb and holds it out to my mouth. I open my lips and suck the chocolate off. A groan rumbles in the back of his throat, and his lips part slightly as he watches me. If I knew it’d be this erotic to watch his reaction, I’d leave a Hansel and Gretel trail of brownie crumbs all over my body and enjoy watching him find them.
I shiver again in response to his question, despite the heat burning within me.
“Since this was so impromptu, I didn’t bring a jacket or an extra blanket for you,” he says with disappointment in his voice. “We can go somewhere else if you’d like?”
I look up at him, a sincere look on my face. “Thank you, Colton. I really had a good time …”
“Despite the heavy conversation,” he adds when I pause.
I laugh at him. “Yes, despite the heavy topics, but I’ve had a really long week and I’m exhausted,” I apologize, “so I think it’s best if we head back.” I really don’t want to, but I am desperately trying to keep a level head here.
“Ooooh, the blow off!” he teases, pressing a hand to his wounded heart. “That’s harsh, but I understand.” He laughs.
I help him start to wrap up the left-over food and place it back in the bag. I start putting my socks and shoes back on when he says, “So Teddy signed the deal today with CDE.”
“That’s great!” I say sincerely. Excited for the opportunity and uncertain about the effect it will have on my personal life—being forced to be with him. “I can’t express how thankful I am—”
“Rylee,” he says with enough force to stop me short. “That, the donation, has nothing to do with this,” he says, gesturing between the two of us.
Like hell it doesn’t. I wouldn’t be here with him if it weren’t for that arrangement.
“Sure,” I mumble in agreement, and I know that I haven’t convinced him.
“That’s mine,” I point toward my red and white Mini Cooper parked on the street outside of The House. He pulls up behind it, pushing the button to quiet the sexy purr of the engine. The streetlights are on and the one nearest The House keeps flickering on and off. I can hear a dog barking several houses down, and the smell of meat cooking on charcoal hangs in the air. It feels like home, normalcy, just what the seven boys tucked inside the house in front of me deserve.
Colton comes around the side of the car and opens the door, holding a hand out to help me from my seat. I clutch my purse to my chest, suddenly feeling awkward as I make my way to my car with Colton’s hand on the small of my back.
I turn to face him, leaning my back against my car. I have my bottom lip between my teeth and worry it back and forth as my nerves seem to be getting the better of me. “Well … thank you for a nice evening, Colton,” I say as I look around the street unable to meet his eyes. Am I afraid that this might be it? Of course not, because I know I’ll have to see him for work. Then why do I suddenly feel a mixture of unease and sadness over parting with him? Why am I mentally kicking myself for not taking him up on the offer to go somewhere else?
Colton reaches out and places a finger under my chin, turning my face so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “What is it, Rylee? What has you so afraid to feel? Every time you start to get caught up in the moment and hand yourself over to the sensation, something flashes across your face and has you withdrawing. Pulling back and becoming unavailable. Has you bottling back up all of that potential passion of yours in a matter of seconds.” He searches my eyes in question, his fingers firm on my chin so I can’t avert my eyes. “Who did this to you, sweetheart? Who hurt you this badly?”
His eyes probe mine looking for answers I’m not willing to give him. The muscle in his jaw tics in frustration at my silence. His features, darkened by the night sky, are tense, awaiting my response. The flickering streetlight creates a stark contrast with his warring emotions.
I can feel my protective wall bristle at his unwanted attention. The only way I know how to deal, how to keep him at arm’s length, is to turn the question back on him. “I could ask you the same question, Colton. Who hurt you? What haunts those eyes of yours every so often?”
He quirks his eyebrows at my tactic, his concentrated stare never wavering. “I’m not a very patient man, Rylee,” he warns. “I’ll only wait so long before—”
“Some things are better left alone,” I cut him off, my words coming out barely above a whisper and my breath hitches.
He moves his thumb from my chin and drags it over my bottom lip. “Now that,” he whispers back to me, “I can understand.” His response surprises me, reaffirming my assumption that he is in fact hiding from something himself. Or running.
He leans in slowly, brushing a reverent, lingering kiss on my lips, and all thoughts in my head vaporize. His tenderness is unexpected, and I want to capture this moment in my mind. Revel in it. I sigh helplessly against his lips, our foreheads touching briefly.
“Goodnight, Colton.”
“Goodnight, Rylee.” He leans back, grabbing the handle of my door, opening it for me and ushering me in. “Until next time,” he murmurs before shutting the door.
I start the engine and pull away from the curb. Instinctively, I reach out and push the stereo on, shuffling for the sixth disc in the changer. I glance in my rearview mirror as I make my way down this street, music flooding the car. I can see his figure as he rocks back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, standing beneath the flickering streetlight. An angel fighting through the darkness or a devil breaking into the light? Which, I’m not sure. Regardless, he stands there, my personal heaven and hell, watching me until I turn the corner and am out of his sight.
9
I pull into my driveway and sit in the car for several moments humming to the music pouring out of the speakers, running through my time with Colton. I sing the song out of habit. The words and the rhythm are comforting to me. I place my hands on the top of the steering wheel and rest my head on top of them. It’s not like I have been out with many guys in my life, but that was one of the most intense, passionate, and strangely comforting dates of my life. I shake my head as I replay it again.
Holy shit! That’s all I can really think about my evening. About Colton’s unexpected pursuit. The devil on my shoulder reiterates to me that this is all my fault. That if I’d acted like the normal me, I would’ve never been a willing victim to his deft hands in a backstage alcove. I would’ve never been in the position to tell him “thanks but no thanks,” spurring on this whole chase—this whole challenge—a welcome change in his world of overly eager, willing women.
I scream out, startled by the knock on my car window. I am so deep in thought, I never saw Haddie approach my car. My heartbeat returns to normal as I open the door to her.
“Hi, Had. Just a sec,” I say as I reach across my seat to grab my belongings.
I sense Haddie’s presence shift into the doorway as her body blocks the garage light, throwing a shadow over the front seat. “Is that Matchbox Twenty?” she questions as she strains to he
ar the music playing quietly on the stereo system.
Uh-oh, I tell myself, she knows something is up. She knows I listen to Matchbox Twenty whenever I’m upset. Haddie knows this all too well from the dark period of my life.
I look over at her, hands on her hips, irritation emanating off of her in waves, and I’m not sure just how much she knows. And depending on what she knows is how hurt she’ll be that I’ve kept it from her.
There is no rationalizing with Haddie when she’s angry. When she feels wronged. I silently groan and know my interesting day is about to get longer. She never backs down until she gets the answers she wants. She can fool everyone because behind her innocent beauty is her razor sharp wit—but not me.
I know better.
I turn off the car quickly before she can hear which song I have on repeat, Bent. At least it’s not Unwell. I have my bag in my hand but can’t exit the car because she is standing in the way.
“I think we need to have a little chat,” she says haughtily. “Don’t you?” She moves out of the way, her hands on her hips. All she needs is to tap her foot and I’ll be transported back to being in the principal’s office in grade school.
I force a cheerful smile on my face. “Sure, Had. What’s up? You seem pissed at something?”
“You.”
“Me?” I respond, walking to the front door, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me either, Ry,” she demands as we walk through the front door.
I drop my stuff by the tall table that stands against the entry wall. I skulk over to the couch in our front room and sink into it, wishing I could just close my eyes and fall asleep. But I can’t because Haddie sits down on the other end of the couch and curls her lithe legs beneath her.
“When were you going to tell me?” Her voice is chillingly quiet. This is not a good sign. The quieter she is, the more pissed she is.
Love in the Dark Page 52
