The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  I’m a lucky fucking bastard.

  I breathe in, my chest aching, and when the oxygen hits my lungs I’m able to think a little clearer. My eyes obey the command to take in the whole package, take a chance to remember this one moment for the rest of my life.

  And then I see it.

  I laugh out loud—can’t help myself—when I see the checkered flag wrapped around her waist. Only Rylee would do this for me. Add something as an ode to the significance of our checkered past and of her being my checkered flag.

  I can’t keep my eyes off of her. She’s everything right now. Fucking everything.

  I shake her dad’s hand and vaguely hear his kind words because all I see is her.

  “Nice checkered flag,” I tell her with a laugh when all I want to do is kiss her. I feel like it’s been weeks since we have, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours. Pathetic but true as fuck.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t know which one I was,” she says, referring to her text as I take her hands in mine.

  And now I feel like I can breathe again, feel like myself again because Rylee’s right where she belongs. “Baby, I’d know where you are even if I were blind.”

  I smile at her, see so many things in those eyes of hers that I don’t even realize the officiate has begun. And fuck if the nerves aren’t beginning to hum now.

  The vows I had planned to say all jumble in my head, crossing lines and not making any sense. I hear my cue and in the split second decide that this self-proclaimed player is going to do something a year ago I would have hidden from.

  I decide to let it all out. Speak from the heart. Lay it on the line so she has no doubts.

  “Rylee,” I say, shaking my head and looking down at our hands, calling to my superheroes asking for help to not fuck this up, before looking back up at her. “I was a man racing through life, the idea of love never crossing my radar. It just wasn’t for me. And then you crashed into my life. You saw good in me when I didn’t. You saw possibility when I saw nothing. When I pushed you away, you pushed back ten times harder.” I close my eyes momentarily, a nervous laugh falling from my lips as I hope she understands how important that is to me. How she never gave up on me. Ever.

  I squeeze her hands as so many emotions fill me. I have to clear my throat to continue. “You showed me your heart, time and again. You taught me checkered flags are so much more valuable off the track than on. You brought light to my darkness with your selflessness, your temerity …” The tears start falling down her cheeks and I know they’re from joy but I have to brush them away.

  “You’ve given me a life I never even knew I wanted, Ry. And for that? I promise to give myself to you—the broken, the bent, and every piece in between—wholeheartedly, without deception, without outside influences. I promise to text you songs to make you hear me when you just won’t listen. I promise to encourage your compassion because that’s what makes you, you. I promise to push you to be spontaneous because breaking rules is what I do best,” I say, trying to smile at her as it all catches up with me—the moment, the meaning, the woman willing to accept me—and I can’t help the tear that falls when I try to blink it away. I need something funny here, something to make her laugh so the sound of it will make me more at ease. “I promise to play lots and lots of baseball, making sure we touch each base. Home run!”

  She laughs and I breathe a sigh of relief knowing I’ll be able to make it through the rest of what I have to say and that I won’t fuck them up. That I’ve got this.

  “And that right there … that laugh? I promise to make you laugh like that every single day. And sigh. I like hearing your sighs too.” God that blush on her cheeks makes me want to take her upstairs and put it there from exertion. Soon, Donavan. Soon.

  “I promise nothing will be more valuable in my life than you. That you will never be inconsequential. That those you love, I’ll love too.” I look over toward the boys, knowing how important it is to acknowledge them. To let them know that they are part of this package deal too. “As I stand here promising to be yours, to give you all of me, I already know that a lifetime will never be long enough to love you. It’s just not possible. But, baby, I’ve got forever to try, if you’ll have me.”

  My last words tumble out. Hope I said everything I’m supposed to say in a set of vows but don’t really care if I didn’t because Rylee heard. She gets me.

  I pull the ring from my pocket and slide it on her trembling fingers. And the sight of my ring, the diamond band against her engagement ring, sends an adrenaline rush through me. Fills me with a pride I’ve never known and don’t think I can explain.

  She chokes out a yes and I think I say I love you. Scratch that. I know I did, but it’s all a blur because I realize that it’s my turn to listen. To be put on the hot spot because fuck if it’s not easier to say the words than it is to hear them, accept them, believe them.

  Earn them.

  And then she touches my cheek and motherfucker … her hand on my face makes every ounce of testosterone in my body beg to take her. I glance over at the person marrying us, giving her the help a brother out look, to see if I can kiss her but am met with a deadpan expression.

  And as much as I want her lips on mine, I can wait. This moment means too much to me and I’ll have the rest of my life to kiss Rylee.

  Among other things. And hell if that’s not a great fucking motivating thought to keep my hands to myself right now.

  “Colton, as much as I tried to fight it, I think I’ve been in love with you since I fell out of that storage closet and crashed into your arms. A chance encounter. You saw a spark in me when all I’d felt for so long was grief. You showed me romance when you swore it wasn’t real. You taught me I deserve to feel when all I’d been for so long was numb.” Her voice is shaky at first and then she evens it out and it’s so goddamn sexy—that rasp in it—that I fall under her spell like I did that first night. I squeeze her hands to let her know it’s okay, I’m right here. That I can’t wait to listen to the rest of what she has to tell me.

  “You showed me scars—inside and out—are beautiful and to own them without fear. You showed me the real you—you let me in—when you always shut others out. You showed me such fortitude and bravery that I had no choice but to love you. And even though you never knew it, you showed me your heart time and time again. Every bent piece of it.”

  If I hadn’t already known what being broken felt like, I’d say those words of hers would have just shattered me, but in a good way. Because I know the difference. I’ll never break when I have her by my side because she’ll bend with me, hold the chips that break off when times get tough and help me put them back.

  She’s opened me up for all to see and now I know why she only wanted close friends of ours here instead of the massive party I suggested. She wanted me comfortable, willing to accept the fact that she just laid me wide open with her words and be okay with that, with the tears sliding down my cheeks.

  The woman knows me better than I know myself.

  “You say I brought light to your darkness, but I disagree. Your light was always there, I just showed you how to let it shine. You’re giving me the life I’ve always wanted. And for that? I promise to give myself to you—the defiance, the selflessness, the whole damn alphabet—wholeheartedly, without deception, without outside influences.”

  I force a swallow down my throat and before I can process everything, her lips are on mine. Yep, she knows exactly what I need.

  “Rule breaker,” I say, wanting so much more than the tease of her taste.

  “I learned from the best,” she says.

  There’s my girl, learning how to live on the edge.

  “I promise to encourage your free spirit and rule-breaking ways because that’s what makes you, you. I promise to challenge you and push you so we can continue to grow into better versions of ourselves. I promise to be patient and hold your hand when you want it held the least, because that’s what I do best. I promise to text you
songs too so we can keep the lines of communication open between us. And I promise to wear dresses with zippers up the back.”

  What? She throws me but when I hear Haddie laughing and look over to her I can only begin to guess what she’s told Ry. But I’ll take it because a zipper up the back means she needs my hands on her to help.

  And hands on her naked curves are never a bad thing.

  “I promise a lifetime of laughter, ice cream breakfasts, and pancake dinners. And as much as I love waving that checkered flag? Batter-up, baby.”

  Game on. Yes, she’s taken ladies and gents. This woman is one hundred percent mine.

  “I promise that nothing will be more valuable in my life than you—because everything else is inconsequential—and you, Colton, are most definitely not. I remember sitting in a Starbucks watching you and wondering what it would be like to get the chance to love you, and now I get a lifetime to find out. And I still don’t think that will be enough time.”

  I watch as Rylee slides the ring on my finger and wait for the fear to take hold. For the what the fuck am I doing to fill my thoughts. But there’s nothing. Fucking nothing but love.

  And then Becks starts coughing.

  “You’re next, fucker.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. And when I look up to meet Ry’s eyes as everyone is around us laughing and she’s smiling wide at me, I realize just how right I got this. Letting her in. Letting her help heal me.

  Letting her love me.

  “Colton, we’ve got forever to try, if you’ll have me?”

  “You know this is permanent, right?” I stare into her eyes. The ones I know narrow and glare when she’s pissed at me, the ones that close halfway before rolling up when she’s about to come, the ones that widen in surprise or brim with tears when she’s touched, and I realize I can’t wait to wake up every morning of the rest of my life and learn how else they can look at me. Fuck I’m lucky.

  “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” I hear her suck in a breath when I glance down at my new ring and then realization hits me.

  I glance over to the officiate and I don’t give a fuck if she says no; I’m kissing her this time because I know the important shit is over.

  Vows are said.

  Rings are on.

  Rylee’s mine.

  “Yes, Colton.” She laughs at me. “You may kiss your bride!”

  “Thank Christ!” My body hums and all of the sudden my adrenaline hits me when I know we’re official. That I get these lips for the rest of my life. “This is one checkered flag I’m forever claiming.”

  I kiss her. I pour all of the words I couldn’t say to tell her how I feel into it. Fuck the peck on the lips shit because this man’s going in for the kill. Gotta make sure she knows on the first kiss of our married life exactly how I feel.

  My actions definitely speak louder than words.

  “Friends and family, may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Colton Donavan.”

  The words hit my ears while my mouth is on hers and I know I’ve never felt more whole.

  Rylee fucking Donavan.

  That has one hell of a ring to it.

  I kiss her again before I release her to hear that laugh I love falling from her lips.

  My wife.

  My life.

  Thank fuck I can drive like the wind because happily ever after is waiting for us to drive into its sunset.

  2 months later

  THE HOUSE SMELLS LIKE A goddamn bakery. I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but the sight before me is making me crave some sugar. Well, more like a specific dessert that I know from experience tastes so good it can knock this grown man to his knees. I lean against the doorjamb as Rylee moves to the beat as she hums along to some seductive ass song. All I can do is watch her: the way she sways her curves in those killer jeans, tight in all the right places, the tank top that I’d bet my ass has no bra beneath it, and her hair pulled up.

  Sweet Jesus. There may be a bag of sugar sitting on the counter beside her, but I sure as shit would prefer the sweetness between her thighs any fucking day of the week.

  And that any day is going to start right about now. Long hours testing at the track make for a good day, but ending it like this? Talk about getting to claim a checkered flag when I’m not even in the race.

  I watch her. How can I not? Shit, a year ago I would’ve called myself a pussy for thinking that I’d get turned on watching a woman bake Christmas cookies. But damn, that was BR: before Rylee.

  There’s something so goddamn sexy about the way she moves to the music. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t know I’m here so she’s letting loose, or if it’s because my fingertips have memorized every inch of skin beneath those fine as fuck jeans. Regardless, it’s worth taking a moment to appreciate.

  But I think I need to appreciate it a little closer. Like with my fingers and mouth because I need all hands on deck when it comes to Ryles.

  I walk forward, take note of the counters of my kitchen lined with cookies, some frosted, some not. It’s a strange sight in what used to be my bachelor pad, but it makes me smile for some weird reason. It makes me think of a home and how fucking lucky I am that she actually said ‘I do’ a few weeks ago.

  We’re married. Talk about crazy.

  “Arrgh!” she yelps as I slip my arms around her waist, tug her back against me, and press a kiss to the addictive curve of her neck.

  “Hmm, you smell better than the cookies,” I murmur, lips against her skin, dick against the swell of her ass, and my head already filled with the things I want to do to her.

  “Good day at the track?” She asks tilting her head to the side so it presses against mine. And there’s something about the motion that just pulls on those dark parts remaining inside of me and tells them, “See? I can be loved.”

  “Yeah. Car’s handling good. Needs a few tweaks yet, but it’ll be ready to go.” I rest my chin on her shoulder as she dips her paintbrush in the icing and spreads it over the unfrosted cookie. “What’s all this for?”

  “I’m playing Betty Crocker.” She finishes painting a Christmas tree green and holds it up, “See?”

  “Can you play her in just an apron and heels and nothing else?” The thought alone has me groaning. Heels and ruffles bent over the kitchen table. Game on, baby.

  “And who, kind sir, are you going to play?” She teases, the smile on my lips automatic.

  “A baseball player.” She bursts out laughing at our long running joke that takes me back to that first date, cotton candy, and Ferris wheels. And then more cotton candy mixed with the taste of Rylee on my tongue. Fuck. What is it with this woman and sugar that makes me want to bury myself balls deep in her without a second thought? “Wanna see my stick?”

  She wiggles her ass where my dick presses against it. The woman loves to test my restraint in every way possible. “Hmm, I can feel your stick all right. Too bad you’re only getting to first base until I finish frosting these cookies.”

  Fuck that. Like she doesn’t know she just issued me a challenge I’ll take so much pleasure in winning. Sure as shit, I’ll be sliding into home in no time, frosting and all. “We’ll see about that,” I chuckle into her ear and brush my lips against her neck in that place that she likes. Her body tenses momentarily as goose bumps chase over her skin. This is going to be a piece of cake.

  Or I guess I should say a piece of cookie since they’re about to be cleared to the floor so that I can play out my dining room table fantasy.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she murmurs. I reach out to dip a finger in the icing, and she bats my hand away. “Hands off, Ace.”

  “My hands do what they want,” I say as I place them over her boobs, brush my thumbs over the hard tips of her nipples, and cause that sigh of hers that turns me rock hard to fall from her lips. “And you’ll like it.”

  “I will, will I?” She asks and when she turns around to face me, the frosting paintbrush in her hand hits my chin with the natural motion of the action. />
  Her eyes flicker down to where green frosting is coating my chin and then back up to my eyes. She fights the smile on her lips when I raise my eyebrows in a silent warning. “You want to play dirty now, do you?”

  The smirk she was fighting is now full blown as she keeps her eyes locked on mine when she leans forward to lick the frosting off of my chin. I swear to God the tip of her tongue is like an open ended livewire because fuck if an electric shock doesn’t mainline straight down to my dick and then streak back up to jumpstart my heart.

  She finishes her tantilization by sucking gently on my chin. “There was some right there,” she murmurs. “I’m just trying to play clean.”

  I laugh softly, my cock now thick and ready against her abdomen. Thoughts of wiping the counter clean in one fell swoop so I can have my way with her fill my head again. If she keeps this shit up, it’s going to be more than just a thought.

  “Sweetheart, that right there was playing dirty...” She starts to argue with me, but I cut the words off by kissing her again. The frosting on her tongue and the simple taste of her sears my goddamn memory and what feels like my balls from the ache it creates there. Just when I have her where I want her – sinking into me, lips taking, and tongue demanding – I pull back and reach for the paintbrush covered in frosting.

  “What?” She feigns innocence as those pursed lips of hers fall open in the shape of an O. And hell if my dick isn’t begging to put the space between them to good use right now.

  Before she can comprehend what I’m doing, I have the neckline of her cami-tank pulled down, and sweet Jesus, I was right. No bra. The sight of her pink nipples has every part of my body begging to take her hard and fast. And then that sound - her shocked gasp when I take the brush and paint frosting around her nipple – only serves to intensify that slow, sweet ache I have to take her.