“Tell that to the people who’ve been chomped on,” I challenge, and despite the fact that he’s behind me, I cover my face in embarrassment when I say, “When I was little I was so scared of them that I never swam in our pool because I used to think they’d come out of the drain and eat me.”
Colton laughs. “Oh, Rylee, didn’t anyone ever tell you that there are much more dangerous things on dry land?”
Yes. You.
As I try to think of a witty retort, my ear catches the song playing over the speakers and I murmur, “Great song.”
Colton stills as he listens to the music, and I can feel his head nod against the side of mine. “Pink, right?”
“Hmm-hmm. Glitter in the Air,” I respond, distracted as I listen to the words of one of Haddie’s and my all-time favorite songs. Colton runs his hands up my arms and starts to knead my shoulders. His hands are powerful and add just the right amount of pressure. “That feels like heaven,” I breathe as my already relaxed body turns to gel beneath his skillful fingertips.
“Good,” he whispers. “Just relax.”
I close my eyes and hand myself over to him, humming softly to the song. Colton runs his fingers down the line of my spine and rubs my lower back, my head lolling to the side at the sublime feeling.
“Here comes the best part,” I say. I sing along as the words wash over me, moving me as they always do. “There you are, sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee, calling me sugar. You called me sugar.”
“I don’t get it,” Colton says, “Why is that the best part?”
“Because it’s the moment she realizes that he loves her,” I say, a soft smile on my face.
“Why, Rylee, you’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” he teases.
“Oh, shut up.” I shift to swat him, but Colton grabs my wrist before I can, and pulls me into him. His lips slant over mine and make a languid sweeping pass before licking mine. He tastes of chocolate and beer and everything that is uniquely Colton. He cradles my head with one hand while the other runs aimlessly over my bare thighs. Fingertips graze softly, without urgency, or attention to any one spot. I could sit in this moment forever, his actions unraveling me.
Colton brushes a kiss on the tip of my nose before resting his forehead to mine, his hand still cupping the back of my head, fingers still knotted in my hair, his breath fluttering over my lips. “Rylee?”
“Hmm-hmm, Ace?”
He flexes the hand in my hair. “Stay the night with me.” He says quietly.
I still, holding my breath. Oh. My. I can feel the emotion behind his request and can sense a change from the last time he said it to me. He’s not saying it out of obligation but because this is what he wants..
“I’ve never said that before and truly meant it, Rylee.” His voice is a hushed plea that tugs at my heart. He wraps his arms around me, cradling me in his lap, and pulls me with him as he leans back in the chaise, fingers playing in my hair. I remain silent, trying to clear the emotion from my voice before I speak.
“Hmmm, I don’t think I could move even if I tried,” I murmur.
“You’ll stay?” The eagerness in his voice surprises me.
“Yes.”
“In that case,” he muses, “I might have to take advantage of you again.”
“Again?” I laugh. His response is to grab my hips, lift me up, and place me astride him. He situates me on him so that our bodies fit together perfectly, each movement from him traveling through my thin panties and hitting me in just the right spot.
He sits up and kisses me forcefully, his tongue plunging between my parted lips, his hands pressing my body to him possessively. I grow dizzy wanting more of everything from him.
“I. Want. You. So. Much. Rylee.” He pants between kisses down my neck. I bring my hands to his face, fingers touching coarse whiskers, and draw his head up to meet my eyes. “You’re addictive.”
“I know,” I whisper, telling him with my eyes that I feel addicted to him too. The muscle in his jaw tenses momentarily before he crushes his mouth to mine, the connection between us a necessity like air.
“Ride me,” he pants. Such a simple command, but the way he says it—as if the sun won’t rise in the morning if I don’t—has me pulling back. I stare into his eyes, so hypnotizing, so intense and so full of desire I wouldn’t deny him even if I could.
So I begin to move, surrendering myself to him. Again.
25
The cool air that wisps over my skin is a stark contrast to the radiating heat pressing against me. My sleep-induced haze slowly clears from my mind as my eyes flutter open, startled by the natural light filtering in through the open windows.
I start to shift in the sinfully comfortable bed, wanting to stretch my muscles that oddly feel sore, until I realize why. Sex, sex, and more sex. A smug smile crosses my lips.
Colton is wrapped around me like a vine. He is on his side, one leg bent and slung over mine, and his hand splays possessively over my bare chest with his palm cupping my breast. I turn to find his head half on my pillow, half on his.
I study his face: the angles, the fan of thick, dark lashes against his golden skin, the curve of his nose. I reach over and brush an errant lock of hair off his forehead, careful not to disturb him. In sleep, Colton’s dark and dangerous aura is softened by his disheveled hair, the absence of the intensity he carries around like a badge of protection, and the lack of tension in his jaw. I enjoy catching this rare glimpse of him—vulnerable and relaxed.
Staring at him, my mind drifts back to last night. I recall his complete and unyielding attentiveness to me and my every need. I think of the new experiences he introduced me to, and the pleasure he’s induced in me. My thoughts stray to leather restraints, vibrating eggs, and ice cubes inserted to melt as we became one, evoking that walk down the fine line of pleasure edged by pain. I think of how he showed me slow and soft before pushing me to the brink of oblivion with hard and fast. How, by the light of the moon, in this expanse of a bed, he hovered over me, eyes intense, voice beseeching, and asked me to submit to him. Asked that I trust him to know what my body can handle and which threshold to push it to. And in that moment, I was so captivated with him, I handed myself over to him without question, or second thought. I agreed, knowing he already dominated my mind, heart, and body.
Afterward, as I drifted off to sleep, his warm body pressed against my back and his mouth pressed softly in my hair, I questioned my judgment. Before drifting off to sleep, I wondered what the hell I was getting myself into by accepting his seemingly innocent request, for what is simple under a blanket of moonlight never seems to be when the next morning dawns.
Colton shifts beside me, rolling over so his back is toward me, and pulls the covers with him and off me. I shiver from the chill but am happy that I can now stretch out my overused muscles. I wince as I flex my feet and extend my legs. I definitely wasn’t treated like glass last night, but my body quite liked it too.
I’m starting to get cold. I look over at the artfully sculpted lines of Colton’s back and I turn into him, tucking my body around him so I can enjoy the feeling of my bare skin against his. My chin rests on his shoulder and my breasts press up against his back as I curl my arms around him. I absently run my fingers across his chest, as I slowly sink back into sleep.
I’m in the first stages of sleep when Colton suddenly emits the most gut-wrenching, feral cry I’ve ever heard. I would’ve remained frozen in shock but he bucks his body violently back against me, connecting his elbow against my shoulder. “No!” falls from his mouth in a strangled shout. He jumps from the bed and turns around, legs spread, knees bowed, arms bent, and hands fisted in front of his face. His face is the picture of terror: eyes wild and haunted, flickering, teeth clenched, and tendons straining in his neck. His chest heaves shallow breaths, body tense and vibrating with acute awareness as sweat beads on his forehead.
I instinctively grab my shoulder where it is smarting with pain. The shock of what just happen
ed is sinking in, my adrenaline is pumping, causing my body to shake. If I hadn’t witnessed this reaction from a nightmare before, from my kids, I would have been more startled than I am right now. If Colton didn’t have such a look of complete fear in his eyes, I would have laughed at him standing nude, looking like he’s ready to throw down. But I know this isn’t a joke. I understand that Colton has had a dream dredging up the past that silently chases him and continues to traumatize him on a daily basis.
I roll my shoulder, pain still shooting through it. “Colton,” I say evenly, not wanting to startle him.
I see his eyes slowly come into focus and the tension in his stance slowly abate. He turns his head and looks at me, a plethora of emotions in his eyes: embarrassment, shame, relief, fear, and apprehension. “Oh, fuck!” He shudders a breath, bringing his hands up to rub the fear from his face. The only sounds in the room are his heaving breaths, hand chafing over his stubble, and the ocean outside.
“Fuuuccckkk!” he repeats again, his eyes narrowing on my hand rubbing my shoulder. I can see him clench and unclench his fists as he realizes he’s hurt me. I remain still as his eyes lower and his shoulders slouch. “Rylee—I—” he turns abruptly and grabs the back of his neck with his hand, pulling down. “Give me a fucking minute,” he mutters as he quickly strides into the bathroom.
I gather the sheets up to my chest and watch him leave, wanting to reach out to him and tell him things he doesn’t believe or want to hear. I sit in indecision when I hear the unmistakable sound of Colton vomiting. A knife twists deep down in my gut, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting desperately to comfort him.
The toilet flushes followed by a muttered curse, and then I hear the faucet turn on and the brushing of teeth. I rise from the bed, sliding Colton’s shirt on when I hear him sigh again. I enter the bathroom, needing to make sure he is okay. We stand frozen, as he focuses on the water running from the faucet. His angst is palpable and hangs in the air between us. Colton scrubs the towel over his face and turns toward me.
When he drops the towel from his face, the eyes that stare back at me are not his. The ones I’ve come to love. They are dead. Cold. Devoid of emotion. The muscle in his jaw pulses and the cords in his neck strain as he works his throat.
“Colton…” His glazed green eyes glare intently on mine causing my words to falter on my lips.
“Don’t, Rylee,” he warns. “You need to leave.” His command is flat. As lifeless as his eyes.
My heart lurches into my chest. What happened to him? What memory has reduced this vibrant, passionate man to nothing? “Colton,” I plead.
“Go, Rylee. I don’t want you here.”
My bottom lip trembles at his words, for he can’t possibly mean them after the evening we’ve just shared. I saw the emotion in his eyes last night. Felt from his actions how he feels about me. But now … all I can do is stare at him, the man before me is unrecognizable.
I’m not quite sure what to do. I take a step forward and I hear his teeth grind. I’ve worked with traumatized children but I am way out of my element here. I look down at my clasped hands and whisper brokenly, “I just want to help.”
“Get out!” he roars, causing my head to snap up in time to see his dead eyes spark to life with unfiltered anger. “Get the fuck out, Rylee! I don’t want you here! Don’t need you here!”
I stand there frozen, his unprovoked anger immobilizing me. “You don’t mean that,” I stutter.
“Like hell I don’t!” he yells, the sound echoing off of the stone tiles and reverberating. Our eyes hold in silence as I process his words. Colton takes a threatening step toward me and I just stare at him, shaking my head. He throws the towel with a curse, the clatter of bottles it knocks over ricocheting around the pin-drop quiet bathroom. His eyes angle back toward mine as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. When he speaks, his voice is chillingly cruel. “I’ve fucked you, Rylee, and now I’m done with you! I told you that’s all I was good for, sweetheart …”
His brow creases momentarily as the tears that burn the back of my throat well in my eyes and spill over. His callous words turn my stomach and wring my heart. My head tells my legs to move—to leave—but my body doesn’t listen. When I just stand there, dumbfounded and shell-shocked, he grabs my bag from the bathroom counter and shoves it forcefully against my chest, propelling me through the door. “Out!” he grates through gritted teeth. His bare chest heaving. His pulse pounding in his temple. His fists clenched. “I’m bored with you already. Can’t you see that? You’ve served your purpose. A quick amusement to bide my time. Now I’m done. Get out!”
Blinded by tears, I fumble with my bag and run blindly down the stairs. I can feel the weight of his stare on my back as I descend. I race through the house, my heart lodged in my throat and my head an absolute mess. My chest hurts so bad that pain radiates in it as I drag in each labored breath. Thoughts elude me. Hurt engulfs me. Regret fills me, for I thought what we had meant so much more.
I burst through the front door into the bright early morning sun, but all I feel is darkness. I stagger, drop my purse, and fall to my knees. I sit like that, staring at a beautiful morning, but seeing none of it.
Letting the tears wash over me.
Allowing the humiliation to consume me.
Feeling my heart break in two.
The End
Thank you for reading DRIVEN!
Colton and Rylee’s journey continues in Book #2 of The Driven Trilogy…
What happens when the one person you never expected suddenly happens to be the one you’ll fight the hardest to keep?
Colton stole my heart. He wasn't supposed to, and I sure as hell didn't want him to, but he crashed into my life, ignited feelings within me that I thought had died forever, and fueled a passion that I never knew could exist.
Rylee fell out of that damn storage closet and into my life. Now I don't think I'll ever be the same. She's seen glimpses of the darkness within me, and yet she's still here. Still fighting for me. She is without a doubt the saint, and I am most definitely the sinner.
How is it the one thing neither of us wanted—neither of us anticipated that fateful night—has us fighting so hard to keep?
He steals my breath, stops my heart, and brings me back to life again all in a split second of time. But how can I love a man who won't let me in? Who continually pushes me away to prevent me from seeing the damaged secrets in his past? My heart has fallen, but patience and forgiveness can only go so far.
How can I desire a woman who unnerves me, defies me, and forces me to see that in the deep, black abyss of my soul there's someone worthy of her love? A place and person I swore I'd never be again. Her selfless heart and sexy body deserve so much more than I'll ever be capable of giving her. I know I can't be what she needs, so why can't I just let her go?
We are driven by need and fueled with desire, but is that enough for us to crash into love?
ONE CLICK FUELED >
Her Defiant Heart
MONICA MURPHY
Her Defiant Heart
MONICA MURPHY
Life can feel like a cruel joke. I grew up poor and motherless, with a father who never got over his wife’s abandonment. But now he's gone too, and I'm dead set on finding the woman who so carelessly tossed me aside when I was a baby.
* * *
I want revenge. And I'm going to get back at my mother any way that I can.
* * *
I change my name. Start my new life in college, and just happen to cross paths with the gorgeous, ultra-rich Rhett Montgomery. He's immediately interested in me, not that I'm surprised.
* * *
You see, I planned it that way. I meant for him to find me. He's the one connection to my mother, and I'm using him, so I can destroy her. But I didn't plan on Rhett being so charming. Sweet. Sexy.
* * *
And I definitely didn't plan on falling for him either…
Prologue
Summer
* * *
They say the taste of revenge is sweet.
I don’t know who they are, but I’ve heard that saying—or something close to it—my entire life. Revenge is sweet.
Sweet.
Let me tell you something.
Revenge isn’t sweet. Not even close.
It’s bitter and nasty and dark and vile. It chokes you, literally chokes you until you’re filled with nothing but anger and sadness and despair and you can’t even breathe, you’re so overcome with emotion.
And the rage.
The rage is what drives you, despite the awful taste. And if you have enough rage inside you, then you will do your damnedest to get back at the one who hurt you the most.
You see, I know what revenge tastes like, because I am hell-bent on revenge against the one who did me—us—wrong. I’m going to destroy her, just like she destroyed my father. My poor, heartbroken father, who lost his will to live long before he actually died.
She tried to destroy me too, but I wouldn’t let her. I couldn’t. Someone had to be strong. Someone had to be able to withstand this and survive.
My father? He’s gone.
Dead.
And now?
She’s going to pay.
And she won’t even know what—or who—hit her.
1
Fall
* * *
I watch him, the way he laughs just before he takes another drink from his glass, his hand braced, long fingers spread wide on the gleaming oak bar counter. Blue-and-black plaid sleeves rolled up to reveal glorious, carved-from-marble-but-not-really forearms that can’t be real, yet are.
Love in the Dark Page 76
