The Driven Series Boxed Set - Limited Edition (Driven #1-4)

by K. Bromberg

  “Yes, we were just speaking about her company’s new project,” his mother replies, studying him closely, a bemused look on her face.

  “Rylee’s done a great job,” he says, the pride brimming in his eyes surprises me. “If you saw the boys—the ones that are currently under her charge—what great kids they are, you’d understand why becoming involved was a no-brainer. Why this project needs to be completed.” His enthusiasm is heartfelt and that is endearing to me. “But you already know that, don’t you, Mom?”

  We speak for a few moments before Andy excuses himself to go get a drink, and I do the same heading for the restroom. I take a few steps away when Colton places his hand on my lower back and stops me with the murmur of my name. His body presses up behind me, connecting us together like puzzle pieces.

  “Don’t even think about getting yourself off in that bathroom.” He growls quietly into my ear causing spirals of need to electrify my every nerve. “I know you’re desperate to feel me buried inside you as much as I am. I know the ache is so intense it burns. But, baby, I’m the only one allowed to take you there.” He runs his hand up the side of my ribcage. “Not your fingers. Not a toy. Not any other fucker in this room.” He exhales and I’m envious of his ability to breathe at this moment. “Just me. And I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” He presses a kiss to the back of my head. “Mine. Understood?”

  I swallow, trying to find my voice. His words were just so seriously hot that I swear I can feel the moisture pooling between my thighs. I nod my head and only when I am several feet away from him—when I can actually think without him clouding my coherency—am I able to draw a breath.

  The bathroom is empty when I enter, and I head to the furthest stall against the wall. I just need a moment to myself. I’m finishing my business when I hear the door creak open and two pairs of heels clicking on the concrete floor, and their laughter echoing off of the tiled walls.

  “So who’s he here with tonight? He seems pretty serious about her seeing as his eyes aren’t wandering astray as usual.”

  The other woman laughs a throaty reply and something about the familiarity of it causes me to pause with my hand on the door to the stall. “Oh her? She’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  I hear the smack of lips as if someone is blotting their freshly applied lipstick. “Well by the looks of Page 6, you seem to be right.”

  “You saw that?” throaty-voiced girl says.

  “Yes! You and Colton looked so great together. Like the perfect fucking couple.” I bristle at the words when I recognize that throaty-voiced girl, the one saying that I am nothing to worry about, is Tawny.

  “Thanks, doll! I think so too. It was such a great evening, and as usual Colton was his ever-attentive self.”

  Whoa! What in the hell is she talking about? Evening? As usual? My conversation with Colton’s parents comes back to my mind. Andy telling Colton that his mother saw a picture of him and someone else before Dorothea cut him off. The picture was with Tawny? I swallow the bile that rises in my throat, trying to calm my thoughts from getting too far out of whack and reading into the comments. I try to push away the pounding rush of my pulse filling my ears, desperate to eavesdrop some more. I feel nauseous, so I back up and sit back down, fully clothed, on the toilet seat.

  “I can’t believe you ever let him get away in the first place!”

  “I know.” She sighs. “But he’s a man that’s definitely hard to sway once he makes his mind up. I’ve made sure that he knows without question that he can no longer use the excuse that I’m like a sibling to him though.” She giggles suggestively. “And I’ve made sure to be there every step of the way so that in the end he’ll turn to me.”

  “Shut-up! No you didn’t…”

  “Someone’s gotta whip that boy into shape.” My stomach revolts at her words.

  “Well, I don’t think it’ll take him much longer now by the looks of that picture,” her friend says, and I can mentally see the smirk she has spreading across her lips.

  “Yeah, I know.” Tawny replies. “She can’t give him what he needs. She’s so damn naïve. The two of them are like Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. He’s going to eat her alive, spit her out, and then move on to the next.”

  “He does have quite the sexual appetite. Big Bad Wolf…hmm, that fits. Definitely some of the best sex I’ve ever had.” Wait a minute! Colton’s been with the friend too? Deep breath, Rylee. How fucking many of his exes are there here tonight? Deep breath.

  I hear the zipper of a purse close. “He’ll tire of her soon enough when she can’t fulfill him. I mean look at her…she doesn’t have a seductive bone in that body. She’s too boring…too plain…too blah to keep his rapt attention. And if she’s like that on the outside, I can’t imagine how utterly lackluster she is between the sheets. You know how he is, predictability is one thing he doesn’t tolerate.” She laughs. “Besides, I dropped a few hints to him the other night to let him know I was still game. And more than willing to be anyone or do anything he wanted.”

  Her friend hums in agreement. “Who wouldn’t be when it comes to him? The man’s a tireless fucking God in the sack.”

  “I know that better than anyone.” Tawny chuckles, the sound crawling up my spine. “Besides, I can be patient. Time is most definitely on my side.”

  “You ready?” I hear a second purse zip and the clicking of heels again until the door closes shut, bathing me in silence.

  What the hell? I fumble in my purse for my phone. I click on Google and type in “Page 6, Colton Donavan.” I click on the first link that pops up and brace myself when the image fills the screen. It is a picture of Colton walking out of the Chateau Marmont. His hand is placed on Tawny’s lower back, who is decked out in a stunningly sexy, red dress. She is turned, looking up at him, her hand on his lapel, adoration filling her eyes, and a suggestive smile on her face. Colton is looking down at her, his face crinkled in laughter as if they’ve just shared a private joke. When I can finally tear my eyes away from the obvious chemistry between them, I glance at the date of the photo.

  The date is this past Wednesday. The same day that Colton took the kids and me to the go-kart track. I groan out loud in the empty restroom at the realization that I got him all riled up in sexual frustration, and then I sent him off to a function with Tawny. Fucking great! I glance at the photo again, hoping maybe it is a stock photo the paper used to fill space, but then I take a closer look and notice that Colton is clean-shaven. He’s never clean-shaven. Wednesday was the first time since I’ve known him that he’s been like that. I feel a sharp pain in my gut as I stare at the picture again. Colton had told me that he had a work function to go to. At the Chateau Marmont with Tawny? What the hell type of function were they at, and why were they leaving together looking so damn cozy?

  I take a deep breath, my thoughts rioting violently around in my head as Tawny’s verbal digs enter my conscience again and take hold.

  I start to feel suffocated in the confines of the bathroom stall. I fumble with the lock on the stall and hurry past the vanities. I glance at myself in the mirror quickly and am shocked that my appearance is so calm and collected when my insides twist over this newfound information.

  I force myself to calm down and not jump to conclusions. Tawny is a family friend and a business associate. Of course they have to go to functions together. The picture was probably snapped at just the right moment to capture a scene people could talk about. One they could make assumptions about. There are probably twenty other pictures in that scene that are boring and non-gossip worthy. Besides, the fact that Tawny still has a thing for Colton shouldn’t surprise me; she let me know as much at the track.

  When I exit the bathroom, I’m still trying to talk myself down from the ledge of insecurity. I can’t find Colton, so I head toward the bar, needing another drink to soothe my frayed nerves. I tell myself that I know Colton’s had his share of women, but he told me in Vegas that I’m who he wants. It’d
be so much easier to accept if he’d just admit to me that we were something more—that we were exclusive—anything to tell me verbally that emotions are a part of the picture. That I’m not just his physical plaything.

  Get that out of your head, Rylee! I have to accept that he shows me with actions, not words. That’s all he’s willing to give me, and I have to accept this or walk away. I sigh in frustration. I thought I was mentally okay with this. Really I did, but then you add the mix of bimbos tonight and my insecurities have resurfaced. And having them thrown in my face repeatedly by Tawny and then tonight by Teagan—as well as bimbos three through five—makes it that much more difficult. Colton’s the total package. I should be flattered that other women want to be with him.

  Keep telling yourself that, Ry, and maybe someday you’ll believe it.

  I order a drink from the bar and when I turn to walk away, I spot Colton talking to some gentlemen across the room. I smile, the sight of him dissipating all of my doubts. As I start to walk toward him, his conversation ends and before he turns to walk away, a woman walks up to him and embraces him in a hug that lasts a little too long for my liking. And of course she is a blonde, breathtaking beauty that rivals him in the stunning looks department. When she turns so I can see her, it’s none other than bimbo number five from the bar line earlier.

  The flames of irritation flicker to life inside of me.

  Here we go again. I stop in my path and watch their interaction. Whereas Colton’s exchange with Teagan was pleasant but detached, his conversation with bimbo number five is anything but distant. When I see him smile sincerely at her and leave his hand pressed to her lower back instead of moving it, I bite back the jealousy that streaks.

  He’s done nothing wrong or improper, but the familiarity between them is obvious. I force myself to look away, and it is then that my eyes meet Tawny’s from across the room. Her blue eyes hold mine, contempt and condescension thrown at me in the simple glare. She crosses her arms across her torso as she flicks her eyes over to Colton and then back to mine. A derisive smirk lifts one corner of her mouth as she shakes her head. She makes a show of looking down to her watch and tapping on the face of it before looking back up at me. The clock’s ticking, Rylee. Your time is almost up.

  I turn back toward Colton, careful not to give her any reaction in my facial expression despite my surmounting anger. There’s not enough alcohol in this room right now for me to hold a conversation with her. I could use a good Haddie-pep-talk right now. Where the hell is she when I need her?

  I start to make my way toward Colton when the blonde he’s with lifts her eyes from his to meet mine. She gives me the same quick but appraising look she had earlier, but his time it’s followed by the flash of an insolent smile. Yet another female that wants me out of the picture so that she can make her move. Then again, it doesn’t seem like anyone’s waiting. They don’t seem to have any problem making their moves right in front of me.

  I need a break from all of this frickin’ drama and the inferno of irrationality that’s smothering all of my oxygen. I decide to head outside to get some fresh air and regain my sense of self that these blonde leaches seem to be sucking from me bit by bit.

  Colton’s gaze follows bimbo number five’s and meets mine. A smile lights up his face as I approach, but it falls slightly when he sees the look on my face. “You okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, purposely avoiding looking at his companion. “I just need to get some air,” I say and continue right past him without stopping to answer the questioning look on his face.

  I hurry out of the ballroom, making it to the exit unscathed. I push open the doors and draw in the fresh, night air. It’s cold but more than welcomed. I need it after the stifling atmosphere inside. I walk hastily toward the gardens I’d noticed on the way in, hoping that they’re empty at this time of night.

  Needing solitude.

  “RYLEE!” COLTON CALLS MY NAME but I keep walking, needing some momentary distance from him. “Rylee!” he repeats, and I can hear the heavy fall of his footsteps on the sidewalk behind me. They echo off of the concrete walls, confirming how I feel—that no matter how far I go, Colton will always be there. In thought. In memory. In everything. He’s ruined me for anyone else. I have no other option but to stop when I come to the end of a path.

  “Stop running!” He pants from behind me as he catches up. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Colton’s technically done nothing wrong tonight, but all of my angst and insecurity brought on by the various women from the night boils inside of me. Even the most confident, self-secure woman would be affected by his many admirers tonight. I know I should be confident in the notion that Colton came here with me—will be leaving with me—but then again, isn’t that what Raquel thought the night of the Merit Rum launch?

  I need words from him. I need to hear it. And he hasn’t given me that yet. Actions can be misconstrued. Words cannot...and let’s face it, I’m female. Aren’t we programmed to read into things?

  When he reaches out to touch my arm, it all comes to a head. I whirl around. “How many, Ace?” I shout at him, my breath turning white against the cool night air.

  “What?” His face is a mixture of confusion and surprise. “How many what?”

  “How many of your exes are here tonight?”

  “Rylee—”

  “Don’t Rylee me,” I yell at him, stepping back so I can have the space I so desperately need to keep my head clear. “If you’re going to bring me here tonight and parade your bevy of blonde beauties in front of me—all the women that you’ve fucked—the least you can do is give me a heads up.” When he starts to interrupt me, I meet his eyes and the look in mine causes the words on his lips to falter. “It’s bad enough that you have Tawny—your permanent go-to-girl—who still wants you and is around constantly. Working for you. Pushing her perfectly manufactured tits in your face. Making sure you know that she’ll be there for you when you tire of the current flavor of the month.” The look of utter shock on his face is priceless. He looks as if I’ve told him the sky is yellow. Has he never noticed this? Her willingness? A part of me sags in respite knowing that he doesn’t see Tawny this way, but what about all of the others from tonight? “And then you bring me here tonight and parade more in front of me? The least you could have done was forewarn me…prepare me for the onslaught of nasty looks and catty barbs. So how many, Ace?” I demand, “or do I even want to know?”

  Colton looks at me and shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning up sheepishly. “C’mon, Ry, it’s not that bad. Tawny’s just an old friend—she works for me for fuck’s sake—and the others…we just run in the same circles. We’re bound to see each other sometimes.” He takes a step toward me, a lascivious smirk spreading across his gorgeous face. “You’re just frustrated because you’re on edge...” he moves closer, his voice suggestively smooth “...and you have needs. You’re sexually frustrated.”

  I stare at him, my mouth falling open. Did he really just say that? That’s his fucking response to my reasons for being so upset? To why I’m going off the deep end? I need to come and it will make everything better? After that all of his whores will go back and bury themselves in the holes they’ve been hiding in?

  “C’mere, let me take care of that for you.” He reaches out, unbeknownst to him how angry I am at his callous comment and tries to pull me toward him. And as much as I want him to take care of the ache burning deep inside of me, as much as intimacy with him would assuage my doubts for how he feels about me, my anger and dignity override my needs. I shrug my arms from his grasp and take a step back.

  Colton’s face blankets with shock, his mouth parting slightly as he stares at me. “You’re telling me no?” he asks incredulously.

  I snort out in disgust. “A new concept for you no doubt, but yes.” I sigh. “I’m telling you no.”

  He stares at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing and then his face softens into acknowledgment. “You have more restraint
than me. I see what you’re trying to do here,” he murmurs, shaking his head, and for some reason I get the sense that he thinks I’m toying with him. That I’m telling him no, just to play hard to get.

  “Sex isn’t going to fix things, Colton.” I huff at him, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to ward off the chill.

  “It might just a little bit,” he jokes, trying to get a smile out of me. While I continue to glare at him, shaking my head and sighing deeply, he mutters a curse and walks away from me a few steps. He brings a hand to his neck and pulls down while angling his head up to the night sky and exhaling loudly. “Shit!” he mutters before falling silent for a beat. “I can’t change my past, Rylee. I am who I am and I can’t change that. You knew that going into this when you started all your goddamn talk about not being able to accept the only thing I can give you.”

  “What? So now we’re back to that? An arrangement? I’m not one of your whores, Colton. Never have been. Never will be.” My voice cuts through the silence of the night around us.

  He steps back toward me, lowering his head and looking at the ground in front of him, his jaw clenching as he finds his next words. When he finally speaks, his voice is unbending. “I told you I’d fuck this up.”

  His words—his excuse—followed on the heels of everything tonight, enrage me. “Don’t be such a martyr!” I shout at him. “Grow the fuck up and quit using your so-called goddamn defense mechanism as an excuse, Colton!” The words are out before I can stop them, anger overriding common sense. He snaps his head up, his eyes blazing with anger as they meet mine. He takes a step back from me, the physical distance just emphasizing the emotional detachment I can sense happening. I know I’m probably overreacting. But that knowledge does nothing to stop the freight train of emotions running through me. “Fuck. This,” I mutter. “If you’ve had your way with me and don’t want me anymore…if you want one of your cookie cutter blondes inside…then man-up and just tell me!”