by K. Bromberg
I watch her chest rise and fall as the anger fires within her. I feel like telling her that if what she feels is anger, then I’ve got a fucking inferno of fury in comparison. And I’m just getting started. “It must suck for you, Tawny, when all you have to look forward to in life is being Colton’s sloppy seconds. Thinking you’re only good enough to go back to once he’s tried everybody else that he thinks might possibly be better. Talk about a hit to that overinflated ego of yours.”
“You bitch!” she sputters. “You can’t fulfill his needs. You’re—”
I turn quickly toward her, the look on my face stopping her words. “Oh, doll, I just did. Was it you he was fucking on the hood of Sex in the parking garage before dinner? I didn’t think so,” I patronize with a smirk, but my eyes tell her he’s mine and to back the fuck off.
The look on her face is priceless: eyes wide, lips parted as she digests what I’ve just said. “Colton would never. .” she huffs getting herself worked up “. .the Ferrari is his baby. He’d never risk scratching it.”
“Well I guess you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.” I give her the same catty smirk she’s graced me with several times. “Either that or you just didn’t mean more to him than his car.” I twist my lips and look at her while her ego tries to process what I’ve just said. “We’re done here then,” I say with a laugh as I walk away from her toward Colton.
God, that felt good! Serves her right.
When I reach Colton, he extends a hand to me and wraps it around my waist, pulling me into his side as he finishes his conversation with Vincent. They say their goodbyes and as he walks away, Colton leans down and kisses me gently. “What was all that about?” he asks warily.
I angle my head to the side as I look at him and run my fingers along the line of his jaw. “Nothing…it was inconsequential,” I tell him, scrunching up my nose at the word.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE NOT too cold?”
“Uh-uh,” I murmur as Colton rubs his hands up and down my arms, the ocean breeze a biting chill against my bare skin, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. This evening—post garden argument—has been one that I’ll never forget.
Something has changed in Colton with the evening’s progression. It’s not something I can put my finger on exactly but rather several things that are subtly different. The little looks he’s given me. The casual touches here and there for no specific reason other than to let me know he’s at my side. That shy smile of his that I noticed he’s reserved for only me tonight. Or maybe it’s always been there, and I’m looking at things through different lenses now that I know Colton is going to try for the possibility of an us. He’s willing to try to break a pattern that he swears is ingrained in him. For me.
The pitch-black night is lit solely by the sliver of moon hanging in the midnight sky. I close my eyes, hum softly to Kiss Me Slowly floating from the speakers, and lift my face as the salty breeze drifts up onto the terrace where we stand. Colton rests his chin on my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind. I melt into his warmth, never wanting him to let me go. We stand there, lost in our separate thoughts, soaking in the dark night’s atmosphere, and completely aware of the underlying current of desire between us.
Baxter barks at the gate to go down to the beach, and Colton reluctantly releases me to take him out. “Do you want a drink?” I ask, my body chilled the minute his warmth leaves mine.
“Beer, please?”
I wander into the kitchen and get our drinks. When I walk back out, Colton is standing, hands propped on the railing, looking out toward the empty night, completely lost in thought. His broad shoulders are silhouetted against the dark sky—the white of his untucked dress shirt a stark visual contrast—and once again I’m reminded of my angel fighting to break through the darkness.
I place my wine glass down on a patio table and walk up behind him, the crash of the waves drowning out the sound of my footsteps on the deck. I slip my hands through his arms and torso, my front to his back, and wrap my arms around him. A second after my body touches his, Colton spins around violently, a harsh yelp echoing in the night air, his beer flying from my hands, and shattering on the deck. As a consequence of his actions, I am shoved to the side, my hip smarting against the railing. When I clear the hair out of my face and look up, Colton is facing me. His hands are fisted tight at his sides, his teeth are gritted in rage, his eyes are wild with anger—or is it fear—and his chest is heaving in shallow, rapid breaths.
His eyes lock with mine, and I freeze mid-movement with my hip angled out, hand pressing on it where it hurts. A myriad of emotions flash through his eyes as he stares at me, finally breaking through the glaze of fear that masks his face. I’ve seen this look before. The utter and consuming fear of someone traumatized when they have a flashback. I purposely keep my eyes on Colton’s, my silence the only way I know how to let him breach through the fog that’s holding him.
My mind filters back to the last morning I spent in this house and what happened when I curled up behind him. And now I know, deep down, that whatever happened to him, whatever lives within the blackness in his soul, has to do with this. That the action—the feeling of being hugged, taken, held from behind—triggers a flashback and brings him momentarily back to the horror.
Colton breathes in deeply—a ragged, soul cleansing drag of air— before breaking eye contact with me. He looks down at the deck momentarily before shouting a drawn out, “Goddamnit!” at the top of his lungs.
I startle at his voice as it echoes into the abyss of night around us. That one word is filled with so much frustration and angst all I want to do is gather him in my arms and comfort him, but instead of turning to me, he faces the railing, bracing himself against it once again. The shoulders I admired moments before are now filled with a burden I can’t even begin to fathom.
“Colton?” He doesn’t respond but rather keeps his face straight ahead. “Colton? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Just don’t do it again, okay?” he snaps. I try not to be upset by the vehemence in his tone, but I see him hurting and all I want to do is help.
“Colton what happen—”
“Look...” he whirls to face me “...we all didn’t have perfect-fucking-suburban-white-picket-fence childhoods like you, Rylee. Is it really that important for you to know I’d go days without food or attention? That my mom would force—” He stops himself, his fists clenching and his eyes getting a far off look in them before refocusing on me. “That she’d make me do whatever was needed to ensure her next fucking fix?” His voice is void of all emotion except anger.
I suck in my breath, my heart breaking for him and the memories that plague him. I want to reach out to him. Hold him. Make love to him. Let him lose himself in me. Anything to make his mind forget for just a moment.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He sighs with remorse, scrubbing his hands over his face and looking up to the sky. “I find myself apologizing a lot around you.” He looks back down and meets my eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, Ry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay to feel that way.” I take a step toward him and raise my hand and place it on his cheek. He leans his face into my hand, turning it briefly to press a kiss to the center of my palm before closing his eyes to absorb whatever emotions he’s processing. His acceptance of comfort from me warms my soul. Gives me hope that in time he might talk to me. His unfettered vulnerability tugs at my heart and opens my soul. Draws me in. When he opens his eyes, I look into them, searching their depths. “What happened, Colton?”
“I told you before. Don’t try and fix me...”
“I’m just trying to understand.” I rub my hand over his cheek one more time before I run it down and rest it over his heart.
“I know.” He exhales. “But it’s something I don’t like to talk about. Shit…it’s something no one should have to talk about.” He shakes his head. “I told you, my first eight years were a fucking nightmare.
I don’t want to fill your head with the details. It was—fuck!” He pounds his hand on the railing beside us, startling both Baxter and myself. “I’m not used to having to explain myself to anyone.” He clenches his jaw, making that muscle pulse. We stand in silence for a while before he looks down at me with a sad smile. “I swear to God it’s you!”
“Me?” I stutter flabbergasted. What did I have to do with what just happened?
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs, staring at me intently. “I’ve never let my guard down. Never opened myself up to…” He shakes his head, his confusion and clarity written on his face. “I’ve been able to block things out for so long. Ignore emotions. Ignore everything, but you? You tear down walls I didn’t even know I was building. You make me feel, Rylee.”
I feel as if all of the air has been sucked from my lungs. His words render me thoughtless and yet inundated with thoughts at the same time. Possibilities flicker and flame. Hope sets in. My own walls crumble. My heart swells at his acknowledgement.
He purses his beautifully sculpted lips as he brings a hand up and sets it on my shoulder, his thumb aimlessly rubbing back and forth over my bare collar bone. “Feeling like this when I’m so used to living life in a blur…it’s drudging up old shit…old ghosts that I thought I’d buried long ago.”
He reaches his other hand out and places it on my waist, pulling me into him. I nuzzle my face into the underside of his neck, inhaling the uniquely Colton scent that I can’t seem to get enough of. He wraps his strong arms around me, clinging to me as if he needs the feel of me to help wash away some of his memories.
“I’ve lived for so long trying to close myself off from people. From this kind of emotion…Rylee? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
His words nurture the love blooming in my heart, but I know he’s uncomfortable with his unexpected admission, and I don’t want him to suddenly freak out when he realizes it. Call for a pit stop. I feel the need to do something—add some levity—to chase away his demons if just for the night. I lean into him and brush a slow, intoxicating kiss on his lips until I can feel his erection thickening against my midsection and wiggle against it. “I think I can feel that easy enough,” I murmur against his neck.
His laughter vibrates through his chest against mine. “So beautiful.” He brings a hand up to my chin and tilts it back as he leans down and teases my lips with his. My name is a reverent sigh on his lips. His tongue caresses mine over and over, teasing me with a dance intent on complete seduction and utter surrender. I never thought it was possible to make love to someone by kissing alone, but Colton is proving me wrong.
He flutters his tongue gently against mine, the softness of his firm lips coaxing me to need more from him—to need things I never thought possible or could even exist again. His tenderness is so unexpected, so overwhelming, tears sting the back of my eyes as I lose myself in him. Lose myself to him.
“You are so breathtakingly beautiful, Ry. Not what I deserve, but just what I need.” He breathes into my mouth, his hands cupping my neck. “Please let me show you…”
As if he even has to ask.
I step up on my toes and thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. I look up at him, his eyes framed with thick lashes and chock-full of all of the unspoken words his actions are trying to express. I tip my head up and bring my lips to his as a response.
I laugh as he leans down and places his arm behind my knees, picking me up and carrying me over the broken glass of his beer that’s scattered all over the decking. He continues inside and carries me up the stairs into his bedroom. He flicks a switch with his elbow as we enter the room and a fire roars to life in the fireplace in the corner of the room.
He stops at the edge of the bed and places me on my feet.
“Is this the part where you take your deliciously, slow, sweet time with me?” I whisper, using his words from earlier.
I see his eyes spark at my words. He leans down and delves his tongue between my parted lips. “Baby, I want to enjoy every single inch of this ridiculously sexy body of yours.” I feel his hands on the zipper at my back and then my skin becomes chilled from the room’s air as he slowly parts my dress. He hints at the things he wants to do to me. His rasp of a voice caresses over me, matching the feel of the fingertip he trails down the path he’s unzipping. I feel the tug on the fabric, and it slides down and pools around my high heels.
“Christ, woman, you test a man’s restraint,” he swears at me, his pupils dilating as he absorbs the entire visual of my lingerie that he’s seen only in bits and pieces tonight.
I smooth my hands over the black lace piped with a fire engine red bra portion of my basque and continue down the fabric until I reach the garters attached to it. “You like?” I ask coyly, a smirk on my lips.
“Oh, baby.” He sucks in a breath of air closing the distance between us, his eyes devouring the sight in front of him. He wraps his arm around me and yanks me against him so we are face to face, our lips a whisper from each other’s. “I more than like. I want.” He growls as he moves us backwards and pushes me down onto the bed.
I lean my weight on my elbows and look up at him standing before me as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt. My mouth waters and desire coils as I get an inch by inch glimpse of the magnificence beneath. The hunger in his eyes is a promise of what he wants to do to me, and it leaves me revving with need. He shrugs off his shirt, the hard-edged muscles of his chest and abdomen leave my fingers itching to touch them. He crawls onto the bed, his knees nudging my legs apart as he sits between them. His fingertips trace heated lines up and down my inner thighs. My muscles tense at the feeling and tremble in anticipation.
“Colton,” I plead as his touch ignites the ache deep inside me. The need is so intense my hands snake down my abdomen and my fingers dig into the flesh at my hips in restraint. I’m bound up so tight that I need release.
“Oh yes.” He groans. “Touch yourself, sweetheart, and let me watch. Show me how much you need me.”
His words are all I need to throw my modesty out the window. My fingers dance down my mound, and I part myself, sighing in relief as my fingers begin to add the friction I need over my most sensitive part. Colton groans in lust as he watches, and the sound urges me on. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth as the sensation starts to pull me under.
“Rylee.” He rasps out a tortured breath. “My turn.”
My eyes flicker up to meet his, lids weighted with desire as I drag my fingertips over my clit one last time before pulling them away. His lips part in reaction to the moan that escapes between my lips and then curve in a wicked smile that has me arching my back, begging for more of his touch. His eyes hold mine as he leans down. I feel the gentle draw of his warm mouth on my aching hot spot and once again he drowns me. His passion swallows me whole.
WE LAY ON OUR SIDES facing each other, our heads propped on pillows, our bodies naked, and our current desire temporarily sated. Craig David plays softly through the speakers in the ceiling. I drink in Colton, our eyes speaking volumes despite our lips remaining silent. So many things I want to say to him after what we’ve just exchanged. It wasn’t just sex between us. Not that it ever has been for me, but tonight especially, the connection was different. Colton has always been a more than generous lover, but how he was tonight—his slow, worshipping touch—has left me in a state of blissful daze. I find myself becoming so lost in him, so blanketed by everything that he is, that in a sense, I have found myself again.
I am whole again.
“Thank you.” His words break our silence.
“Thank me? I think I’m the one who’s just come multiple times.”
The crooked, cocky grin fills me with such happiness. “True,” he concedes with a nod of his head. “But thank you for not pushing earlier.”
“You’re welcome,” I tell him, feeling like the smile on my face is a permanent fixture.
We fall silent again for a bit before he murmurs, “I could look a
t you for hours.” I blush under the intensity of his stare, which is funny considering I should be blushing rather in regards to all of the various things he just did to please me. But in this moment I realize that I am blushing because I am completely naked to him—stripped, bared, open—and not in just in the literal sense. He is looking at me, seeing into my eyes and through the guard I have lowered to reveal the transparency of my feelings for him.
I shake myself from my thoughts. “I think I should be the one saying that,” I tell him, the dancing flames from the fire bathing a soft light across his dark features.
He snorts at me and rolls his eyes. Such a childish reaction from such an intense man that it softens him, makes my heart stumble that much more. “Do you have any idea how much crap I got as a kid for being so pretty,” he says with disdain. “How many fights I got in to prove that I wasn’t?”
I reach out and run my fingertips over the lines of his face and then down the crooked line of his nose. “Is that how you got this?” I ask.
“Mmm-hmm.” He chuckles softly. “I was a senior in high school and had the hots for the football captain’s girl. Stephanie Turner was her name. He wasn’t too thrilled when the school rebel snuck out of a party with his girl.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was...I had quite a rep back then.”
“Only back then?” I tease.
“Smartass,” he says, giving me that bashful smile. “Yes, only then.” When I roll my eyes at him, he continues. “Anyway, I was quite the hot head. Got in fights constantly for no reason except to prove no one had a say in what I could do or how they could control me. I had a lot of anger in my teenage years. Because of that, the next day he got his buddies to hold me down while he beat the shit out of me. Broke my nose and fucked me up pretty bad.” He shrugs. “Looking back, I deserved it. You don’t touch another man’s woman.”
