Love in the Dark

by 12 Book Boxed Set (epub)

  I exhale, his words foreplay to my already thrumming libido. He leans back and brushes a teasing kiss on my lips. He pulls back, triumph on his face. He quirks his eyebrows at me, glancing down to my chest and then back up. “Besides, Rylee, your nipples are betraying your ploy to play hard to get.”

  What? I glance down to note that the tightened buds of my nipples are pressing tautly against my sweater in an all-out announcement of my arousal. Damn it!

  Colton stands abruptly, smiling brazenly before reaching out his hand to me. “Come,” he says, and all I can think is that I hope to very soon, my body yearning with the desire for him to touch me again.

  We exit the restaurant from a rear door that Rachel directs us toward to avoid the paparazzi waiting at the front. We make it to his car unscathed, and Colton quickly maneuvers the car onto Highway One. We drive in silence, the air in the car crackling with the unrequited sexual tension between us.

  I’m unsure where we’re going but I’m smart enough to know that both of us desire the same thing. No words are needed. I can see it in the way Colton grips the steering wheel. In the invisible waves of anticipation and need rolling off of him.

  We eventually exit the highway on the outskirts of Pacific Palisades and turn down a street a couple of blocks from the beach. Colton parks in front of a Tuscan-style townhouse and exits the car without saying a word. His home perhaps? By the glow of a streetlight I can see a stucco façade with wrought iron accents and a courtyard enclosed with a rustic gate. It’s comfortably charming and not at all what I think I expected of where Colton lives. I guess I figured him for modern architecture, clean lines, monochromatic. He opens the door behind me and gathers our stuff before opening my door to help me out of the car. He grabs my hand to lead me up the cobblestone walkway without speaking or making eye contact.

  I wonder if maybe I’m reading into things because suddenly I feel uncomfortable. Why the sudden change in behavior? Did I miss something? Nerves hit me as I realize that when I walk through this door my previous supposition of what I thought was going to happen has now changed. Shifted for some unknown reason. I stop behind Colton in the cozy courtyard where a small swinging bench seat sits amongst hydrangea and plumeria plants.

  I hear keys clinking, him swearing at trying the wrong one, and then Colton is pushing open the distressed front door before placing his hand on the small of my back and ushering me in. He enters the alarm code but it continues beeping as he tries the code two more times before the beeping quiets.

  The house is painted in soft browns and tans with a few bold splashes of color in pillows and vases. There are little touches here and there, feminine touches, that make me think maybe he had a female interior designer at some point. Or a female living with him. I walk hesitantly into the main room, my hands clasped in front of me, unsure what I should do or say. For the first time tonight, I feel awkward in Colton’s company. I hear the door close and then I hear Colton’s boots on the hardwood floor as he walks behind me and over to the kitchen area.

  All the playfulness of earlier is gone, hidden seamlessly away beneath his masked façade. I watch him open a cupboard looking for something and then mutter a curse when it’s not there, before opening two more and then he exhales. “What the fuck?”

  My sentiments exactly. I can see the tension in his shoulders. In the lines around his mouth. Uncertainty and anxiety fill me as I take a step toward him. “You have a beautiful home.” The words squeak out, betraying my uneasiness.

  Colton’s eyes flash up at my words, meeting mine, gauging me. “That depends,” he mutters as I look on perplexed. He shuts the cupboard door and rounds the counter toward me. His eyes are expressionless. Guarded. “I drove here without thinking …” He shakes his head apologetically. “It was stupid of me to bring you here …”

  His words, the sudden rejection, sting like a slap to my face. I look down at the floor in humiliation and wrap my arms around my torso, a useless form of protection against him. I can feel the threatening tears burn in the back of my throat. This is the second time he has led me down this road and then detached without explanation. One minute he makes me feel like I am the only person in the room he has eyes for and then the next it’s like he can’t stand the sight of me. I shift my feet, telling myself I will not cry in front of him. Will not give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he already has on me despite the short time we’ve known each other.

  Sighing deeply, I prepare to make my obvious exit now that I’m suddenly unwelcome here. When I know that I can face him, I look up again to see Colton in front of me tugging his shirt over his head. When the collar clears his face, he throws the shirt onto the couch without looking. His eyes are completely focused on me, his jaw set, hands restless as if he’s itching to touch me. The intensity in his stare steals my breath.

  Now it’s my turn to say it. What the fuck? I’m thoroughly confused. Dr. Jekyll has turned into Mr. Hyde and is making a repeat performance. One minute I think he’s apologizing for bringing me home with him because he wants to back out, and the next he’s deliciously naked from the waist up, staring at me as if he’s going to devour me without stopping for so much as a breath.

  I break from his stare and run my eyes down the length of his body. His torso flexes under my gaze. His jeans hang low on his hips, the V-cut of his muscles dipping beneath the denim. I find myself thinking how I want to taste him there. How I want to run my lips along that ridge of muscles to where it trails down to the end of the inverted triangle. How I want to take him in my mouth, tempt him with my tongue, and make him lose all control. The ache in my body surges, pulses, and itches to be sated.

  “Do you have any clue what you do to me?” he asks softly. I lift my eyes from his body to meet his. The unspoken emotions in his eyes shock me, envelop me, and scare me. “You don’t, do you?”

  I shake my head no, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. I only know what he does to me. The power he has over me to make me feel again. To make me forget. How his touch alone can quiet the doubts in my head.

  He takes a slow step toward me. “You stand there with that innocent look in those stunning violet eyes. With your hair cascading around you like a fairy. And those lips … hmmm, God … those sexy lips that get swollen and so soft after being kissed. I dream about those lips.” His words wrap around me, a slow seduction to my ears. He steps closer, reaching out to take my hand in his. “Your face shows vulnerability, Rylee, but your body? Your curves? They scream sin. They make my mouth water to taste you again. They evoke thoughts in me I’m sure would make you blush.” He wets his lower lips with his tongue. “The things I want to do to that body of yours, sweetheart.”

  I suck in a breath, the stark honesty behind his words stripping me bare. Entrancing me. Emboldening me. Creating another crack in the armor protecting my heart.

  “You make me need, Rylee,” he whispers hoarsely as he takes one more step closer.

  Goose bumps run up my arms when he reaches out his other hand and runs it up the flank of my torso, stopping casually so that his thumb can brush over the underside of my breast. I respond instantly to his touch, my nipple pebbling in arousal. He leans into me, his face so close to mine that I can see the dark flecks of green floating in his irises. So that I can understand the unspoken words. “And I don’t ever need anything from anybody.”

  His admission is like a match to my gasoline. His incendiary words stroke that small part of me deep down that hopes there might be more here. I look into his eyes, recalling random comments from our time together, and dare to think of possibilities. He has softened me, worn me down, and built me up all in a single space of time.

  “Colton?” My voice waivers, riddled with emotion. “I … Colton—”

  I never finish my thought because he yanks me into him and crushes his mouth to mine. All the idle flirtation from the night explodes between us in a torrent of seeking lips and groping hands. The urgency is palpable. Our need to feel our skin on each o
ther’s is paramount. Colton releases his grip on my hips and grabs the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head, and only breaking our kiss when it passes over my head. He tosses it on the floor as his mouth crashes back to mine.

  Hunger. That is what his kiss tastes like. What his hands feel like on my body. What I feel inside. I want every inch of him and then some. I want to lose myself in him, get lost in the sensation, and become overwhelmed by his touch alone.

  “Christ, Rylee …” he pulls back from me, our chests heaving against each other’s, our hearts both beating a frantic rhythm. He cups my face in his hands, the look in his darkened eyes tells me that he understands. He feels the hunger too. “You’ve stripped me, Rylee. You’ve teased me all night. I. Just. Don’t. Have. Any. Control. Left.” He squeezes his eyes shut as I feel his cock pulse against my belly. “I don’t think I can be gentle, Rylee—”

  “Then don’t be,” I whisper, my own words surprising me. I don’t want to be treated like glass anymore. Like Max treated me. I want to feel that violent passion of his wash over me as he takes me with reckless abandon. I want him to dominate me so that I surge up and crash down without a thought.

  His eyes widen at my words, a guttural sigh releases from his throat, and then he is against me, devouring me. Desperation pulses between us. He pushes me backward, our legs shuffling into each other, our hands grabbing at every inch of exposed skin. My backside bumps up against the hard edge of the granite on the kitchen island as Colton’s hands fumble with my jeans. He shoves them down over my hips and then easily lifts me onto the countertop.

  The chill of the granite slab bites into the bare skin of my heated core, adding a new dimension to the heightened sensation in my sex. Colton tugs my jeans and panties down off of my feet, and then spreads my knees apart. He steps into me, pressing between my legs as he brings his mouth back to mine. His hands run down my chest, cupping my breasts through the thin lace of my bra before continuing their descent to the apex of my thighs. He runs a finger over my cleft before slipping a finger between its seam to find me wet and wanting.

  “Oh, Rylee …” he hisses as he slides a finger up and back, coating me with my own dampness and pleasuring me at the same time. His other hand is fumbling with the button fly of his jeans. He looks down to watch his teasing torment of my sex and then brings his lips to mine. “I want to feel you on me, Rylee. Nothing between us,” his mouth murmurs against mine. His words deepening the ache I’m drowning in. “Can you trust me when I tell you that I’ve been tested? That I always use protection. Have never had sex without it. That I’m clean.” He kisses me again, his tongue slips between my lips, licking, tasting, tempting. “God, I just want to feel you.”

  “Yes. Me too. Please—” I gasp out as he slips a finger into me, my mind unable to form a coherent sentence. “On the pill … yes … I trust you,” I pant as his finger circles inside of me.

  “Lie back,” he commands as he frees himself from his jeans and grabs my legs just under my bent knees, raising them up.

  The cold stone on my back has me arching up the same minute he parts and thrusts into me. I cry out at the overwhelming sensation of his invasion and the sudden fullness of him. He stills, buried completely within me, allowing the pleasure and pain I feel to subside as my body stretches and adjusts to him.

  “Oh fuck, Rylee,” he rasps as I see his control slipping. His eyes blaze over my body and up to my eyes. I can see the muscles of his torso strain, his jaw clench, and his eyes glaze over wild with need as he tries to rein it back in. “You feel so damn good wrapped around me. Like velvet gripping me.”

  I gasp as he pulses inside of me, his control depleted. “Yes, Colton, yes,” I cry out as he pulls out and slams back into me. Sensation ripples through me as he grabs my hips and pulls me toward him so that my bottom rests off of the edge of the counter. He sets a punishing pace as he thrusts back into me, over and over. Not breaking rhythm, he leans his torso over me and links his hands with mine, pulling them up over my head. He holds them there with one hand while his other hand slides back down to squeeze my breast. His fingers roll my nipple between them, and he swallows the moan he coaxes from me when he captures my mouth again.

  The house is filled with nothing but the sounds of our slick flesh hitting each other, our gasping breaths, impassioned pleas between each other, and cries of ecstasy. I can feel the surge building inside of me, my channel tightening around him as he pistons in and out, each iron-hard inch of him hitting every one of my nerves. But I can also see a man on the verge of losing control and finding release as Colton lets go of my hands and braces himself on his elbows, hovering over me. He thrusts one last time before he yells out my name and then suddenly he pulls out of me.

  My body clenches at the unexpected emptiness as Colton buries his head against my chest. His body convulses with his climax. In his hand? I’m confused. He groans from the violent pleasure that is shooting through his body. I can feel the tension ease out of his body and the warm caress of his lips on my bare flesh. His touch makes my body squirm as my nerves tingle with the loss of my anticipated orgasm.

  I can feel his smile press against my abdomen and as if he can hear me thinking, he murmurs, “I want you to come for me, Rylee. I want to see how sweet you taste.”

  Oh! My mind processes the reason for his sudden withdrawal. His mouth. On me. “Colton…”

  “Shh-shh-shh,” he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my lobe. I arch my head back, scraping my nails across his back. He hisses at my touch as he lays a row of kisses down my neck and around to the other ear. “You’ve teased me all night, Rylee,” his voice rasps, hoarse with desire. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

  A chill runs down my back and it has nothing to do with the cold granite that I’m laid out on. Colton’s body flanks me but I feel his hand stretch out and hear the crinkling of a bag beyond my head. I turn my head up to see what he is doing and Colton’s other hand holds steadfast to my jaw. “Uh-uh-uh,” he warns. “Keep your head still. I wouldn’t want you ruining the surprise.”

  “Colton?” I furrow my brow, curious at what he’s talking about despite my body being on high alert from his words. I’m not exactly good with surprises, especially not when I’m naked and vulnerable.

  He chuckles, deep and sexy. “That’s going to be hard for you, isn’t it?” When I don’t respond, he lifts up on an elbow and regards me momentarily. “I think it’s time you stopped thinking, Rylee. Stopped trying to figure what’s ten steps ahead when we’re only just getting started.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Stay here, Rylee. Don’t move. Understood?”

  The authoritative tone of his voice turns me on. His reasoning behind it unnerves me. His weight lifts off of me, and I can hear him pad out of the kitchen. A drawer opens and closes. Apprehension fills me. For the carefree girl inside of me dying to get out, the anticipation is thrilling. For the control freak in me, the disquiet is unwelcome. Do I trust him? Yes. Without a doubt. Why? I’m unsure, and that scares the crap out of me.

  I hear him return to the kitchen, and he leans over me, a lascivious smile curling the corners of his lips. “Do you know how gorgeous you look right now?” I don’t respond but rather bite my lip as I feel his fingers suddenly at my cleft. They part me and slowly trail up and down. I arch up to meet his touch. He immediately pulls his hand away.

  “Colton—”

  “Uh-uh, Rylee,” he teases. “I’m in control. Right here and right now.” I flutter my eyelids as I look up to meet his eyes. My heart hammers in my chest at his words. My nipples tighten at the thought. Fear tingeing the edges of my Colton-induced haze. Handing my control over to someone else is a disconcerting notion. Submitting without a thought even more so.

  “Stop thinking, baby,” he whispers as he pulls my hands above my head. “I want to take all control from you so that the only thing your mind can do is feel. You won’t be able to think five steps in front when you’re not t
he one making the moves now, will you?”

  Oh fuck! What is he— My thoughts are obliterated when he crushes his mouth to mine. I wiggle to move my hands and he laughs as we kiss. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you’re going to learn that sometimes, not being in control is extremely liberating.” He loops something around my wrists and binds them around the faucet at the other end of the island. As I register what he’s done, as I start to realize how practiced that move was and how many times before he’s done it, my world goes black as he slips a blindfold over my eyes. I gasp. “Time to take your own advice, Rylee.”

  What? When did I ever say tie me up and take advantage of me?

  “You told me to close my eyes on the Tilt-A-Whirl. That it heightens the sensation.” The pad of his thumb traces the outline of my lips.

  Oh crap! Me and my big mouth.

  Something soft but slightly coarse runs over my stomach and up my torso to circle around my nipples. I suck in a breath as whatever he has strokes me lightly down the tops of my legs and then up one inner thigh and down the other. My sex clenches from its touch, desperate for something to help ease the blistering ache. The only thing that touches my body is this object. The only sound I hear is my own breath. The anticipation that builds within me is profound as he continues his slow, tantalizing torture of my senses.

  I’ve never needed a man’s touch in my life as much as I do at this moment. My next thought is only where he’ll touch me next. There is nothing to do but focus on the sensations. My nerves are on edge awaiting his contact with my body. He has succeeded in making me forget what step ten will be, but rather revel in the step I’m in. I’ve lost all sense of my surroundings. Nothing else exists in this moment except for him, my desperation for his touch, and my body’s craving for release.