CHAPTER 15
Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. I reiterate Haddie’s advice as I get ready for my date with Colton. The song in the background makes me smile. It is the song that Colton’s earlier text referred to:
Dress casual. Since you still seem to run away rather than talk to me, I’ll use your method of communication to relay my message. Taio Cruz, “Fast Car.” See you at six.
Haddie had smiled knowingly when I showed her the text and scrambled for her iPad to play the song for me. We laughed out loud at the song’s words. “I want to drive you like a fast car.” Perfectly fitting for Colton to send.
We then scrambled to find a song I could send back to him. “Something to make him think about you the rest of the day and knock his socks off,” Haddie had said while scrolling through her vast library of music. After several minutes of silence, she yelled, “I’ve got the perfect song, Rylee!”
“What is it?”
“Just listen,” she said as the opening line of the song started. I started laughing out loud, knowing the song and liking the sexiness of it. Before we knew it, Haddie and I were dancing around the living room singing at the top of our lungs. The song was perfect! Sexy, suggestive, and confident—everything I felt but was too shy to be in front of him. So before I lost my nerve, I grabbed my phone and texted Colton back:
Nice song, Ace. It fits you perfectly. Now, I’ve got one for you that fits me. Mya, “My love is like whoa!” I’ll be waiting for you at six.
A few minutes later, I received a response back:
Shit. Now I’m hard. Six o’clock.
I smile at the thought of our earlier exchange, a small thrill running through me that I have such an effect on him. I look in the mirror and scrutinize my outfit, heeding Colton’s advice from the text to dress casual. I have my favorite True Religion jeans on with a violet-colored cashmere sweater that has capped sleeves and a sexy but tasteful low V-neckline. I’ve forgone the Haddie makeover tonight, opting to do my own make-up and hair. My make-up is natural and light; a little blush, some lip-gloss, smudged eyeliner, and thick mascara to highlight my eyes. Despite playing around with my hair for a while, I opt to keep it down, my curls loose on my back. I add simple diamond studs to my ears and some gold bangles to my wrist.
I twist my ring around and around on my finger, contemplating whether I should wear it or not. I take it off and look at it; three thin, wavy, intertwined diamond bands. Past, present, and future. I can still hear him whisper those words in my ear as we stared at it on my finger the night he proposed. I close my eyes and smile at the memory, surprised when the tears that usually threaten don’t come. I play with it on my finger a moment more before hesitantly twisting it off. I stare at it for a beat before I place it in my jewelry box. I pick it back up in indecision, the war of emotions raging inside of me.
Fresh start, I remind myself with a deep, steadying breath, and place it back in the box. I’ve worn the ring, in one way or another, everyday for three years. I feel naked without it, both inside and out. I wiggle my fingers and look at the lighter band of skin marked by time. I feel a weight lifting off of me and at the same time a sadness in the acceptance that it’s time to move on. I kiss the spot on my finger and say a silent I love you to Max, taking a moment to absorb the importance of this moment before turning to do my last minute touch ups in the mirror.
I’m slipping on my black, heeled boots when the doorbell rings. I press a hand to my belly, finding it oddly strange that I’m nervous. The man has seen me naked and yet I still have butterflies. Haddie calls out to me that she’ll answer the door. I grab my cropped leather jacket and purse, check myself in the mirror one last time, and make my way down the hallway. I nervously run my hands over my sides and hips, smoothing down my shirt, the clicking from the heels of my boots muted by the runner on the hardwood floor. I hear Colton laugh out loud as I turn the corner near the family room.
His back is to me when I enter the room. I suck in my breath when I see him. A pair of dark blue jeans hangs low on his hips, hugging his ass and thighs. The man can fill out denim, no question about that. His broad shoulders and strong back stretch the cotton of his plain white t-shirt. The back of his hair curls up at the nape of his neck, and I itch to run my fingers through it. He oozes sex appeal, smolders with rebellion, and radiates confidence. One look at him makes me crave and want and fear all at once. And he’s all mine for the night.
Before Haddie can acknowledge my entrance into the room, Colton stops midsentence. My body tightens at the anticipation, and the deep-seated ache he’s awakened in me rises to new heights as he looks over his shoulder, his body sensing my presence. I swear I can feel the air crackle with electricity as our eyes meet, our bodies vibrating with the awareness of each other’s.
“Rylee.” My name comes out in a breath. The single word laced with so much promise for the night.
“Hi, Ace.” It’s impossible to mask my pleasure at seeing him again. I smile, hoping he sees how much I want to spend time with him and fearing he might read the emotions simmering beneath the excitement.
We step toward each other as he flashes his megawatt grin at me. I fumble with the strap of my purse anxiously as he simply stares at me. “Gorgeous as ever,” he murmurs finally after I feel like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. He reaches out and runs his hand up and down my bare arm, the contact casual but resonating. “You ready?”
Two simple words. That’s all they are really, but with Colton, he makes those two simple words sound seductive with the implication of so much more. I nod my head and murmur, “Hmmm-hmmm,” and am caught off guard as he leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. Such a simple gesture but so unexpected from someone like him.
“Let’s go, then.”
I glance over my shoulder and flash a smile at Haddie, my silent goodbye. I catch the quick thumbs up she flashes me before we exit the front door.
Colton places his hand on the small of my back as he walks me toward the Range Rover, the simple placement of his hand a comfort to my unsettled nerves. Before he reaches for the passenger side door handle, Colton moves the hand from my lower back around to my stomach and pulls me backwards into him so that his body ghosts mine. I hold my breath, the unexpected contact with him awakening the smoldering burn he’s set fire to. He wraps his other arm around my shoulders and he lowers his head to nuzzle his face in the crook of my neck. The warmth of his breath, the sandpaper feel of his shadowed beard, the suggested intimacy of the touch, and the rare glimpse at the affectionate side of Colton causes me to close my eyes momentarily to steady myself and quiet the mixture of sensations rioting inside of me.
“Thank you for saying yes, Ryles,” he murmurs before kissing the hollow spot just below my ear. “Now, let me show you a good time.” I angle my head against his cheek, and close my eyes enjoying the firm heat of him against me. And all too soon he’s released me from his arms and is opening the car door for me, ushering me in.
By the time Colton has reached the driver’s side, the glimpse inside his tough façade is gone and has been replaced with his brooding silence. He clicks his seatbelt and glances over at me. Despite the apprehension I see flickering his eyes, he reaches over and places a hand on my knee, squeezing it in reassurance.
We drive in a comfortable silence as I watch the tree lined street of my neighborhood pass by us. The moon is out, full and bright lighting up the warm January night sky. I look over at Colton, the dash lights casting a glow on his face. A shock of his dark hair has fallen haphazardly over his forehead and I watch his eyes, framed by thick lashes, scan the road ahead of us. The line of his profile is stunning with his imperfect nose, strong bone structure, and sensually sculpted lips. My gaze trails down to take in his strong arms and competent hands on the wheel. The combination of dark hair, translucent eyes, and bronzed skin mixed with the potency of his indifferent attitude—an attitude that makes you want to be the one who matters and be the one who can break through that tough exterior—that combination, it should be illegal. He really does take one’s breath away.
When I look back at his face, Colton glances over at me and his eyes holds my gaze before flicking back to the road. A shy smile forms on his lips, his only acknowledgement of my quiet observation of him. The car revs, gunning forward on the freeway, and I laugh freely at him.
“What?” he feigns innocently, squeezing my knee.
“You like to go fast don’t you, Ace?” I realize the innuendo behind my words the minute I say them.
He looks over at me, a wicked grin on his lips, annunciating every word of his answer. “You have no idea, Rylee.”
“Actually, I think I do,” I reply wryly. Colton throws his head back in a full-bodied laugh and shakes his head at me. “No, seriously. What is it about speed that’s so attractive to you?”
He mulls it over momentarily before answer. “Trying to tame …” he stops to reconsider his answer, “No, rather trying to control the uncontrollable, I guess.”
I snort in jest. “That’s a fitting metaphor if I’ve ever heard one.” And I can’t help but wonder if he’s referring to something deeper than the tongue-in-cheek response.
“Whatever do you mean?” he plays along innocently.
“Someone once told me that I should research my dates,” I look over at him, his eyebrows rising at my comment. “Quite the wild child, aren’t we?”
Colton gives me his brighter than the sun mega-watt smile. “No one can ever claim that I’m boring or predictable,” he muses, looking over his shoulder to change lanes. “Besides, outrunning your demons has a way of doing that to you.” Before I can even process the words, Colton skillfully changes the subject, “Food or fun first?”
I want to ask questions, figure out what he means by his comment, but I bite my tongue and answer. “Fun. Definitely fun!”
“Good choice,” he responds, before muttering a curse when his cell phone rings on the car speaker. “Sorry,” he apologizes before tapping a button on the steering wheel.
The screen on the dash says the name Tawny, and I immediately bristle at the sight. Researching my date certainly gave me more information than just his run-ins with trouble. I now know what Tawny looks like, that she’s been his date to numerous functions over the years, and this is the second out of the last three times I’ve been with Colton that she’s called him. My sudden pang of jealousy surprises me, but it only gets stronger when I hear Colton’s familiarity talking to her.
“Hey, Tawn. You’re on speaker,” he warns.
“Oh!” I can’t help but find a tiny bit of joy when I hear the surprise in her voice. “I thought that you’d called it off with Raq—”
“I have,” he responds in a clipped tone. “What do you need, Tawny?” Irritation is prevalent in his tone.
What a bitchy comment from her. What if I had been Raquel in the car with him? I sense her making a claim on her territory, Colton.
Silence fills the line. “Oh. Um. I was just calling to tell you that the formal letters went out today for the sponsorship.” When he doesn’t say a word in response, she continues, “That’s it.”
What? She works for him? With him? On a daily basis? That’s just what I need filling my head as jealousy rears it’s bitchy head. The blonde glamazon sees him on a daily basis and then gets to go out with him occasionally to events. F*cking lovely.
“Great. Thanks for letting me know.” And with that he pushes a button and the line disconnects abruptly. Colton sighs out loud and a part of me is happy at his impatience toward Tawny.
“Sorry,” he says again, and I’m sure he’s referencing Tawny’s mention of Raquel. So they were an item. She just wasn’t some chick he found at the club. The catty side of me at least revels in the fact it was me he left with that night. The compassionate side of me winces for I know that Colton isn’t someone who would be easy to get over.
“No biggie,” I shrug as I take notice of our location. We’re heading out of the city, the opposite direction from where I would expect to be going.
We ride in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes then Colton turns a corner and the bright lights of a Ferris wheel light up the sky. I glance over at him, and my heart tumbles slowly upon seeing the boyish grin on his face. Colton drives between the flagged gates and pulls the car slowly down the bumpy, dirt road.
My eyes widen at the massive scene before me. The entire dirt field is crammed with every typical carnival ride one can imagine, complete with a flashing sign denoting a Midway section with games impossible to win, and signs advertising horribly fattening food. I’m so excited. So thrilled that Colton opted to have fun outdoors with me in an arena that’ll allow me to see more of the real him, rather than the cultured persona he’d have to be in one of the upscale, paparazzi-watched restaurants that he’s known to frequent.
He parks the car and turns to me, “Is this okay?” he asks, and I swear I can hear nerves tinge his voice, but I know that’s not possible. Not from the ultra-confident, always-sure-of-himself Colton Donavan. Or is it?
I nod my head at him, bottom lip between my teeth as he exits the car and comes around my side to open my door. “I’m excited,” I tell him as he takes my hand and helps me out. He shuts the door and turns to me, my back against the car. His eyes blaze with desire as he stares at me, brings his hands up to the side of my neck, and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks.
I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he shakes his head softly, silently responding to some internal conflict that causes a ghost of a smile to play on his lips. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to do this since I left your house this morning.” He leans in, eyes still connected with mine, “… since I got your text.” He raises his eyebrows. “You intoxicate me, Rylee.” His words surge into my soul as he closes the distance between us. His mouth captures mine in a dizzying kiss, tempting me with his addictive taste so that I’m left fighting to regain my equilibrium. His mouth possesses mine with a quiet demand, yet the kiss is so full of tenderness, so packed with unnamed emotions that I don’t want it to end.
But it does, and I’m left to grip my fingers onto his biceps to steady myself. He kisses my nose softly before murmuring, “You ready to have some fun?”
I don’t know how he expects me to respond since he just stole my breath, but after a moment I manage to say, “Definitely!” as he releases me to open the rear door. He pulls out a black baseball hat, well worn with a threadbare spot on the tip of the bill. The logo is a sewn-on patch of a tire with two wings coming out from the hub, and it’s curled up at the edges, the stitching giving way to obvious use.
Colton tugs it down on his head, using both hands to adjust the brim properly before turning to me with an embarrassed grimace. “Sorry. It’s just easier in the long run if I go try to go incognito from the start.”
“No problem,” I say reaching up to tug on the lip. “I like it!”
“Oh, really?” he grabs my hand, and we begin weaving through the parked cars toward the entrance.
“Yeah, I kinda have a thing for baseball players,” I tease, looking over at him and keeping my face straight.
“Not race car drivers?” he asks, tugging on my hand.
“Not particularly,” I deadpan.
“I guess I’ll have to work a little harder to persuade you then,” he responds suggestively.
“That might take a lot of persuading.” A playful smile is on my face as I look over at him, his eyes hidden by the shadow cast from the lid of his cap. I swing our hands back and forth. “Do you think you’re up for the challenge, Ace?”
“Oh, Rylee …” he chides, “Don’t ask for something you can’t handle. I told you, I can be very persuasive. Don’t you remember the last time you dared me?” He tugs me closer and puts his arm around my shoulders.
How can I forget? I’m here right now because of that pseudo-dare.
We approach the ticket booth, and Colton releases his hold on me to buy our tickets as well as a wristband giving us complete access to all rides and games at the carnival. We enter through the gates, Colton tugging his hat down low, covering his eyes before placing his hand on my lower back. The smell of dirt, oil for frying, and barbeque fill my nose, while my eyes take in the dazzling, blinking lights. I can hear the rush of the small roller coaster to the right of us along with the screams of its riders as it plunges downwards. Little kids wander around with dazed looks, clutching balloons in one little hand, holding tightly to a parent with the other, their excitement and wonderment palpable. Stuffed animals hang ceremoniously from game stations guaranteed to catch the eye of grade-school children. Teenagers walk hand in hand, not caring that they’re actually at the carnival but rather thinking they’re so cool that they’re here without their parents. I can’t help my smile because despite my age, I’m excited—I haven’t been to a carnival like this since I was their age.
“Where to first?” Colton asks as we stroll lazily hand in hand down the midway, smiling and politely refusing the offers to “win a prize” from the game vendors.
“The rides definitely,” I tell him as I look around. “Not sure which one yet, though.”
“A girl after my own heart!” He pats his free hand against his chest, smiling at me.
“Adrenaline junkie!” I tell him, bumping my hip up against his thigh.
“Damn straight!” he laughs as we approach what appears to be the center of “Ride Alley” as the sign above us advertises. “So which one, Ryles?”
I look around at the rides, noting several different women staring at us. At first I worry that they recognize Colton, but then realize they are probably just looking in pure female appreciation at the man that stands beside me.
“Hmmmm,” I contemplate all of the rides, settling on a long-running favorite. I point toward the ride closest to us, “I used to love this as a kid!”
“Good old Tilt-A-Whirl,” Colton laughs, tugging me in its direction. “C’mon, let’s go.” His enthusiasm is endearing. A man who whirls hundreds of miles an hour around a track, rubs elbows with some of the brightest stars in Hollywood, and could be somewhere upscale right now, is excited about going on simple carnival ride. With me. I have to pinch myself.
We get in line to wait our turn. He bumps me softly with his shoulder. “So tell me more about you, Rylee.”
“Is this the job interview part of a date?” I tease playfully. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s your story? Where you’re from? What’s your family like? What are your secret vices?” he suggests grabbing my hand in his again and raising it to his lips. The simple sign of affection sneaks over the protective wall around my heart.
“All the juicy details, huh?”
“Yep!” His grin lights up his face and he pulls me toward him so that he can casually lay his hand over my shoulder. “Tell me everything.”
“Well, I grew up in a typical, middle-class family in San Diego. My mom owns an interior design company and my dad restores vintage memorabilia.”
“Very cool,” Colton exclaims as I reach my hand up to link it with his that’s casually resting over my shoulder. “What are they like?”
“My parents?” He nods his head at me. His question surprises me because it’s beyond just the superficial. Its as if he really wants to know me. “My dad’s a typical Type A, everything in its order, whereas my mom is very creative. Very much a free spirit. Opposites attract, I guess. We’re really close. It killed them when I decided to stay in Los Angeles after college.” I shrug, “They’re great, just worry too much. You know, typical parents.” We move forward some in the line as the current set of riders vacate their cars and the next set moves on. “I’m very lucky to have them,” I tell him, a little pang of homesickness hitting me for I haven’t seen them in a couple of weeks.
“Any siblings?” Colton queries, playing with my fingers as he holds my hand.
“I have an older brother. Tanner.” The thought of him makes me smile. Colton hears the reverence in my voice when I speak of my brother and smiles softly back at me. “He travels a lot. I never know where he’s going to be one week to the next. He’s a foreign correspondent for the Associated Press in the Middle East.”
He notes my furrowed brow, “Not exactly the safest job these days. Sounds like you worry a lot.”
I lean into him, “Yeah, but he’s doing what he loves.”
“I can definitely understand that.” We start to shuffle forward again. “What do you think? Are we going to make it this time?”
I step in front of him and stand on my tippy toes and gauge the line. A small thrill moves through me as I feel him place his hands on both sides of my torso, where my waist and hips meet. I look a bit longer than I need to, not wanting him to remove his hands. “Hmmm, I think next time.” I respond, sinking slowly off of my toes.
Rather than remove his hands, Colton wraps his arms around me and sets his chin on my shoulder. I sink into him, my softness against his steel, and close my eyes momentarily so I can absorb the feeling of him.
“So finish telling me about you,” he murmurs in my ear, the coarseness of his whiskered jaw rubbing the crook of my neck as he speaks.
“Not much else to tell really,” I shrug my shoulders subtly, not wanting him to move. “Played lots of sports through high school. Went to UCLA. Met Haddie as my roommate freshman year. Four years later, I majored in psychology with a minor in social work. Got my job and have been doing it ever since. Pretty boring really.”
“Normal’s not boring,” he corrects. “Normal is desirable.”
I am about to ask him what he means by his comment when we move forward and are directed onto the uneven surface of the ride. We slide into the car, lower the safety bar, and wait for the rest of the ride to be loaded. Colton slides his arm around my back before he continues, “So what about vices? What do you need to have?”
Besides you? The words almost slip out but I catch myself before its too late. I look at him, squinting my eyes in thought. “Don’t laugh,” I warn him.
He laughs loudly, “Now you have me very curious.”
“Well, besides the obvious female things, wine, Hershey kisses, mint chocolate chip ice cream,” I pause to think, a smile turning up the corners of my mouth. “I’d have to say music.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “It’s not very scandalous, I know.”
“What kind of music?”
I shrug. “All kinds, really. Just depends on my mood.”
“When you need it the most, what type do you listen to?”
“I’m embarrassed to say this,” I shield my eyes with my hand in mock shame, “Top 40, cheesy pop music in particular.”
“No!” he yells out in mock horror, laughing loudly. “Oh God, please don’t tell me you like boy bands,” he sneers sarcastically. When I just look at him with a smug smile on my face, he starts laughing. “You and my sister will get along just fine. I had to listen to that crap for years growing up.”
He plans on me meeting his sister? I quickly wipe the shocked look off of my face and continue. “She must have great taste in music then!” I kid him. “Hey, I live in a house full of teenagers, I hear all kinds of Top 40 music, all day long”
“Nice try, but nothing justifies liking boy bands, Rylee.”
“Spoken like a true guy!”
“Would you rather I be something else?” he asks tapping a finger to the tip of my nose as I laugh, shaking my head no. He leans forward and looks around the ride to see when we’re going to start. “Here we go.”
It’s not lost on me that our conversation has been solely about me. I begin to think about this as the ride starts to twist and turn and spin violently in circles. I am thrown against the side of Colton’s body, and he clutches his arm around me, holding me tightly to him. He is laughing hysterically at the rush of the ride, and I tell him to close his eyes because it heightens the sensation. I swear I hear him say something about showing me more of that later, but I’m distracted from asking because as soon as it begins, the ride is over.
Colton and I proceed to ride the tea-cups, the swings, sneak a kiss in the Fun House’s lover’s lane, raise our hands high above our heads as we plummet downward on the roller coaster, and sling back and forth on the dragon ship. We step off of the freefall ride after having our stomachs jolted up into our mouths, and Colton declares his need for a drink.
We stroll over to a food vendor and buys two drinks and a mammoth funnel of cotton candy. He looks over at me, dead serious. “No carnival is complete without making yourself sick on the pure goodness of spun sugar.” His grin is that of a mischievous little boy, and it just melts my heart.
I laugh at him as we stroll over to a nearby bench. We are almost there when we hear a voice behind us. “Excuse me?”
We both turn to see a middle-aged woman standing behind us. “Yes?” I ask, but it’s obvious she couldn’t care less about me for her eyes are completely fixated on Colton.
“Sorry to interrupt, but, my friends and I have a bet going … are you Colton Donavan?”
I can feel Colton’s hand tense in mine, but his face remains impassive. A slow smile spreads across his face as he glances over at me and then back to the woman in front of us. “That’s flattering of you to think, ma’am, but I’m sorry to disappoint you. I actually get that a lot.” The woman’s face falls in disappointment. “Thank you for the compliment, though. My name’s Ace Thomas,” Colton improvises as he holds out his hands to shake hers. The mixture of my nickname for him and my last name makes me smile softly at the idea that he is thinking of the two of us as being intertwined. Connected.
She shakes his hand reluctantly, muttering, “Nice to meet you,” embarrassed at her intrusion, before she turns quickly and walks back to her friends.
“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.” Colton calls after her, the rigidity in his shoulders easing as we turn our backs to her and continue to the bench. He lets out a soft sigh. “I hate doing that. Lying like that,” he verbalizes, “Its just that once one person realizes, then it’s nonstop. Out come the camera phones and the Facebook posts and before you know it, we’re surrounded, the paparazzi show up, and I’ve spent the whole evening tending to strangers and ignoring you.”
His reasoning takes me by surprise, and I’m flattered that he’s put it in these terms. “This is my life,” he explains without apology, “for the most part. I grew by default with a famous family, but I made the choice to be a public person. I accept the fact that I’m going to be followed and photographed and hounded for autographs. I get it,” he says, sitting down on the bench beside me, “and I don’t mind it, really. I mean I’m not complaining. I’m usually very accommodating, especially when it comes to kids. But sometimes, like tonight, I just …” he tugs his hat down further on his head, “I just don’t want to be bugged.” He leans forward, angling his head so that the brim of his hat clears my forehead, and says, “I just want it to be you and me.” He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in a brief but tender kiss, emphasizing his last words.
I pull back and smile tentatively at him, raising my hand to toy lazily with the curls flipping over his cap at the back of his neck. We stare at each other for a moment, exchanging unspoken words: lust, desire, enjoyment, playfulness, and compatibility. My grin spreads wider, “Ace Thomas, huh?”
He grins back at me, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It was the first thing that came to mind,” he shrugs, raising his eyebrows. “If I’d have hesitated, she would’ve known I was lying.”
“True,” I concede, taking a pinch of the cotton candy that Colton offers me. “My God, this stuff is over-the-top sweet!”
“I know. Pure sugar,” Colton chuckles, widening his eyes at me, “That’s why its so damn good!” He looks out at the rides, “Man, when I was a kid, after—” he pauses quietly, “after I met my parents, they’d spoil me by taking me to baseball games. I’d get so sick eating this crap.” The corners of his mouth turn up in a ghost of a smile at the memory. And I can’t help but wonder what life was like for him before he met his parents.
We lapse into an easy silence, watching the rides and the people around us, taking small nibbles of cotton candy. I am really enjoying myself and spending this time with Colton. He is attentive and engaging and seems as if he really is interested in me as a person. I guess I was expecting more of a surface get-to-know-you, so being proved wrong is a welcome acknowledgment for me.
Colton moves his hand over to squeeze my knee and points over to the only ride left in our vicinity. “You ready to take on the Zipper, Ryles?”
I blanche at the thought of the small enclosed cage tumbling endlessly through the air. Being jolted and shoved backwards and forwards while being confined. I swallow loudly. “Not really,” I shake my head.
“C’mon, be a sport,” he pressures jokingly.
I can feel the impending claustrophobia of the ride, and I move my shoulders back and forth to ward the phantom feeling away. “Sorry. I can’t,” I mutter, feeling the heat of embarrassment flush through my system. “I’m super claustrophobic,” I tell him, pushing my hair off my face.
“I’ve noticed,” he says wryly. When I raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, “Remember? Storage closet? Backstage?” he says with a suggestive smirk on his face.
“Oh. Yes.” I can feel my cheeks burn red at his comment, mortified at my, then, actions. “How could I forget?”
“Were you always that way or did your brother lock you in the closet and forget about you as a kid?” he chides, laughing with amusement at the thought.
“Uh-uh,” I shake my head and quickly shift my eyes away from his, hoping he misses the tears that fill them momentarily at the memory. Although it has been two years, it still hits me like yesterday when old demons resurface. I reach over to twist my ring around my finger and find the spot empty. I exhale shakily, closing my eyes momentarily to control my emotions that seem to be unraveling. I’m angry with myself for reacting so strongly to the suggestion of a damn carnival ride.
His laugh stops immediately when he notices my agitation, and he places an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. “Hey look. I’m sorry, Rylee. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay,” I shake my head, leaning forward out of his grasp, escaping the heat of him and embarrassed at my reaction, “There’s no need to apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry.” He nods his head in acceptance to me, his eyes imploring me to say more. “I—um, I was in a pretty bad car accident a couple of years back … I was trapped for a while,” I shake my head to clear the vivid memories pressing in on me. “Since then, I can’t stand being in small places. Feeling trapped.”
He places his hand on my back and reassuringly rubs up and down. “The scars?” he asks.
“Uh-huh,” I answer, still trying to find my voice.
“But you’re all healed now?” The genuine concern that fills his voice makes me look back and smile at him.
“Physically, yes,” I tell him, as I lean back into the comfort of him, resting my back partially on his torso, his arm instinctively goes around me. “Emotionally,” I sigh, “I have my days. I told you, Colton, excess baggage.”
He places a kiss to the side of my head, keeping his lips pressed there. I can feel the questions he wants to ask me in our silence. What happened and how bad was it? Why an accident has baggage that makes me run from him? I don’t want to mar the night with sadness so I pinch off a piece of cotton candy and turn my body so that I face him, my bent knee resting on his thigh. I wave the piece of cotton candy in front of his face, “How sweet do you like it, Ace?” I flirt with him before I lick my bottom lip and then provocatively place the fluff of sugar between them.
He leans into me, need darkening his eyes, a salacious grin playing his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you taste sweet enough already,” he bites at the cotton candy hanging out between my lips, purposefully nipping my bottom lip, pulling on it. The quick bite of pain is replaced by a quick lick of his tongue. The low moan of pleasure that comes from the back of his throat turns me on. Makes me want to drink him in. Right here. Right now.
“I definitely like the taste of that,” he murmurs against my lips. “We just might have to wrap this up and take this with us for later.” He lazily brushes his lips against mine, “In case you need a little sweetener after I dirty you up.” I can feel his mouth curve in a smile against my lips. His suggestive words send a tightening pulse deep down in my belly. The promise of more to come with him dampens my sex and turns my soft ache into a smoldering burn.
I sigh against his lips, completely bewitched and totally enchanted by him. I lean my forehead against his, taking the time to steady myself from being overwhelmed with the emotions running rampant in me.
“So,” Colton says pulling back and pressing a soft kiss on my forehead before continuing, “we have two necessities left that must be done before we leave here.”
He raises from the bench, tucking the wrapped bag of cotton candy under his arm, a smirk on his face after looking at it, and grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Oh, really? And what would those be?”
“We have to ride the Ferris wheel,” he says, tapping me on the butt playfully, “and I have to win you a stuffed animal.”
I laugh out loud as we head for the Ferris wheel. The line is short and we chat idly, surprised at how many things we have in common despite coming from such different backgrounds. How much our likes and dislikes are similar. How are taste in movies and television are alike.
We are ushered to the car and locked in place with the bar across our laps. We start to move slowly, Colton draping his arm around my shoulder. “So you never finished telling me about you.”
“What is this?” I laugh. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t been put on the spot yet.”
“I’m next,” he promises, kissing my temple as I snuggle into the warmth of and security of his arms as we climb higher. He points at a vendor juggling balls on the ground below. “Tell me, Rylee. What’s your future look like? A nice husband, two point five kids and a white picket fence?”
“Hmmm, maybe. Someday. But the husband has to be hot and nice,” I kid laughing out loud. “No kids, though.”
I feel his body tense up at my words, his silence deafening, before he responds. “That surprises me. You love kids. Work with them all day. You don’t want your own?” I can hear the confusion in his voice and can feel his jaw moving as it rests on the crown of my head.
“I’ll see what fate deals me,” I tell him, hoping he’s satisfied with my answer and that he won’t pry any further. “Look!” I point out to the skyline where the top part of the full moon is just rising over the hills, glad that I have something to change the topic with. “It’s beautiful.”
“Hmm-hmmm,” he murmurs as we sit watching its ascent. “You know what the rule is when the Ferris wheel reaches the top, right?”
“No, what?” I ask pulling away from the warmth of his arms to face him.
“This,” he says before closing his mouth over mine and fisting a hand in my hair. The hunger in his kiss is so tangible that I lose myself in him and the moment. His tongue slips past my lips, licking seductively at mine. I feel in sensations: The gentle whir of the ride, the heated warmth of his fingertips whispering over my cheek, the sweet taste of cotton candy on his tongue, the hush of my name on his lips. The feeling of our marked descent has us pulling back, stepping back from the depths of the fire raging between us.
“Sweet Jesus,” Colton mutters amused, adjusting in the seat so that he can shift the seam of denim pressing against his arousal. “I react like a damn teenager around you.” He shakes his head, his embarrassment becoming of him.
“C’mon, Ace,” I say, my ego preening from my noted effect on him, “you owe me a stuffed animal.”
Thirty minutes later and several games conquered, my sides hurt from laughing at Colton’s playful antics, but I’m the proud owner of an oversized and very lopsided-looking stuffed dog. I lean up against the corner of one of the permanent buildings at the fairgrounds, one leg bent at the knee with my foot flat against the building, and my new treasured prize resting on my hip. I watch Colton play one last game, take the small prize he’s won, and hand it off to the little boy standing next to him at the booth. He ruffles the little boy’s hair and smiles at his mom before sauntering back to me. Taut muscles bunch beneath his t-shirt as he moves and his body screams that it was made for sin. It’s impossible for me to take my eyes off of him. I can see that I’m not the only one as I watch the mom’s eyes follow Colton’s back as he leaves, an appreciative look on her face.
“Are you having fun?” he asks approaching me, tugging on the ear of the stuffed dog.
I grin stupidly at him. As if he even has to ask that question. I’m with him, aren’t I?
He reaches out and runs a fingertip down my cheek. “I love your smile, Rylee. The one you have right now,” he cups my neck, the pad of his thumb running over my lower lip. His translucent eyes look into mine and search inside of me. “You look so carefree and lighthearted. So beautiful.”
I angle me head, my lips parting at the touch of his thumb. “As opposed to you?” I question. He quirks his eyebrows in question to my comment. “When you smile it screams mischief and trouble,” and heartbreak, I think. I shake my head when the exact smile I’m talking about graces his lips. I run my free hand up the plain of his chest liking the hiss of his breath I hear in response to my touch as well as the fire that leaps into his eyes, “and it has ‘I’m a stereotypical bad boy’ written all over it.”
The grin widens, “Bad boy, huh?”
Right now, in this moment, there is no way I’ll ever be able to resist him with his tousled hair, emerald eyes, and that smile. I look up at him through my lashes, my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Are you one of those girls who like bad boys, Rylee?” he asks, his voice gruff with desire, his lips inches from mine, his eyes glistening with a dare.
“Never,” I whisper, barely having enough composure to find my voice.
“Do you know what bad boys like to do?” He takes a hand and places it on my lower back, pressing me forcibly against him. Flash points of pleasure explode every place our bodies connect.
Oh my! His touch. His hard length of body pressed against mine, makes me need things I shouldn’t want. Shouldn’t need from him. But I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. I suck in a ragged breath, not trusting myself to speak. “No,” is all I can manage to say for an answer. Between one breath and the next, Colton crushes his mouth to mine in a heat-searing kiss tinged with near violent desire. He kisses me as if we are in the privacy if his bedroom. His hands run up the length of my torso, flutter over my neck, and cup my face as he slowly eases the intensity of the kiss.
He places his now-signature kiss on the tip of my nose before pulling back, the devilish look still smoldering in his eyes. “Us bad boys?” he continues, while my head still spins. “We like to,” he leans in, his lips at my ear, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin. I think he is going to tell me something erotic. Something naughty he wants to do to me for his pregnant pause leaves me suspended in thought. “Eat dinner!”
I throw my head back and laugh loudly at him, using my hand on his chest to push him away. He laughs with me, taking the stuffed dog from my arm. “Gotcha!” he says as he grabs my hand, saying goodbye to the carnival.
We make our way to the car, chatting idly as we pull out of the parking lot. Colton turns the radio on and I softly sing along as we drive.
“You really do like music, don’t you?”
I smile at him, continuing to sing.
“You’ve known the words to every song that’s played.”
“It’s my little form of therapy,” I answer, adjusting my seatbelt so that I can turn and face him.
“The date’s that bad you need therapy already?” he jokes.
“Stop!” I laugh at him. “I’m serious. It’s therapeutic.”
“How’s that?” he asks, his face scrunched in concentration at the traffic we have hit on the I-10.
“The music, the words, the feeling behind it, what’s not being said,” I shrug, “I don’t know. Sometimes I think music expresses things better than I can. So maybe vicariously, when I’m singing, everything I’m too chicken to say to someone, I can relay in a song. That’s the best way to describe it, I guess.” A blush creeps over my cheeks, as I feel stupid for not being able to explain better.
“Don’t get embarrassed,” he tells me as he reaches out and rests a hand on my knee, “I get it. I understand what you’re trying to say.”
I pick imaginary lint off of my jeans, a nervous habit I have when I’m put on the spot. I laugh softly, “After the accident,” I swallow loudly, shocked that he makes me comfortable enough that I’m volunteering this information freely to him. Pieces of me that I rarely talk about. “It helped me tremendously. When I came home from the hospital, poor Haddie was so sick of hearing the same songs over and over, she threatened to put my iPod in the garbage disposal.” I smile at the memory of how serious she’d been. How fed up she’d been at hearing Matchbox Twenty. “Even now, I use it with the kids. When they first come to us or if they are having a hard time dealing with their situation, if they can’t verbalize how they’re feeling, we use music to help them.” I shrug, “Sounds lame, I know, but it works.”
Colton glances over at me, sincerity in his eyes. “You really love them, don’t you?”
I answer without hesitation. “With all my heart.”
“They are very lucky to have you fighting for them. It’s a brutal road for a kid to have to go down. It easily f*cks you up.” He shakes his head, lapsing into silence. I can feel the sadness radiate off of him as he reaches back to some unfathomable memory. I reach down and link my fingers with the hand he has resting on my leg and give it a reassuring squeeze. What happened to this beautiful man who one minute is playful and sexy and the next quiet and reflective? What can put that haunted look in those piercing green eyes? What has given him that roughshod drive to get his way, to succeed at all costs?
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly, afraid to pry but wanting him to share what deep, dark secret has a hold on him. Me playing Ana to his Christian.
He sighs loudly, the silence thick in the car. I steal a quick glance over at him and see the stress etched in lines around his mouth. The lights of passing cars cast shadows on his face, making him seem even more untouchable than I feel he is from me despite his close proximity. I regret asking the question. Afraid I’ve pushed him further into his memories.
Colton withdraws his hand from mine and takes his baseball hat off, tossing it in the backseat, and shoves his hand through his hair. The muscle twitches as he clenches and unclenches his jaw in thought. “Shit, Rylee.” And I think that is all I’m going to get as the car descends back into silence. Eventually he continues, “I don’t …” he stops as he exits the freeway. I can see him grip the steering wheel tightly with both hands. “I don’t need to haunt you with my demons, Ry. Fill your head with the shit that’s a psychologist’s wet dream. Give you ammunition to dissect and throw back in my face at everything I do—everything I say—when I f*ck things up.”
I immediately hear the when not if in his statement. The ingrained notion that he is a screwup. The raw emotions behind his words hit me harder than the insensitivity he spits at me. My years of experience tell me that he’s still hurting—still coping with whatever happened long ago.
We stop at a light and Colton scrubs both hands over his face. “Look, I’m sorry. I—”
“No apologies needed, Colton.” I reach out and squeeze his bicep. “Absolutely none.”
He hangs his head momentarily, closing his eyes, before lifting it back up and opening them. He glances over at me, a reserved smile on his face, sorrow in his eyes before mumbling, “Thanks.” He looks back at the road and steps on the accelerator with the change of the light.