Colton glances over at me as he listens to his publicist give him the order of events for the evening. We’re gliding through Los Angeles in a limo headed toward a charity gala. This is the first of several events in the coming weeks where Colton and I will make the rounds, formally promoting our companies’ joint venture, and hopefully enlist some participants for the car’s lap sponsorship program.
I stare at him unabashedly as I hum to Hero/Heroine floating gently through the background from the speakers. I take in everything about him that has become so familiar, so addictive, so everything to me in such a short period of time. He’s so striking in the formal tuxedo—the clothing that he’s already confessed to detesting several times—and I can’t stop thinking what a lucky girl I am. His face is clean-shaven again, and yet even without the usual shadow of hair, he still exudes the aura of careless bad boy.
It’s just something that oozes off of him regardless of what he’s wearing. He’s almost sexier with his look tonight because I know that beneath his sophisticated exterior lies a reckless rebel at heart.
Colton glances over me again, feeling the scrutiny of my stare, and a salacious smirk spreads on his lips. His eyes meet mine and I know he is aching just as bad as I am to feel our bare skin connect. The remainder of our week since the go-kart track has been filled with provocatively taunting emails and texts explaining in depth what we want to do to one another once this evening is over. My God, with words alone the man can make a woman need, crave, desire—and most likely beg if it takes too long—like I’ve never known possible. But I’m pretty confident that the unfulfilled ache goes both ways though, from the hissing of his breath when I answered the front door in my sexy, red dress.
“Okay, so we’ll be there in about five minutes. I’ll jump out before your call time and get into place while the car circles around the block,” Chase says, looking at both of us above her black-rimmed glasses. I hold a hand to my stomach at the thought of being photographed on the red carpet in front of all of those people. Yikes! I thought this was a little function. I didn’t realize it was a full-blown Hollywood filled gala with questioning press. The publicity will be good for the charity, but can’t I just sneak in the back door and avoid the spotlight?
Obviously that will never be the option if I’m with Colton.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t be nervous.” He winks at me. “I’ve got you covered.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I smirk at him, our eyes doing the talking for us. I swear I can see the electricity crackle in the air as sexual tension fills the limo. Chase busies herself by keeping her head down, her cheeks staining red at our silent yet obvious exchange.
“Well, here’s my stop,” she mumbles, gathering her papers as Colton rubs the back of my hand with his thumb.
“Thanks, Chase. We’ll see you in a few minutes,” he tells her, never taking his eyes off of mine.
The minute the limo door shuts, Colton shifts and has me pressed against the backseat. His hand tangles in my loose curls, and I arch my chest off the back of the seat, aching to feel the heat of his body against mine, but he stops inches from my face. My lips part and my breath quickens as I look into his eyes. The quiet intensity held within that flash of green undoes me.
Strips me.
Fuels me.
“Do you have any idea how many times this week I’ve wanted to do this to you?” He ever so slowly lowers his lips to mine, just a whisper of a touch that has me groaning with a teeming desperation.
“Colton,” I plead as his lips withdraw a fraction, leaving my body focused solely on the slow slide of his hand up my ribcage to just below the underside of my breast before it makes the slow descent back down. My breath exhales in a shuddered sigh that has his lips turning up and eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Is there something you want?” he whispers against my lips as he pulls my hair gently back so my neck is exposed. His tongue glides a slow trail down the column, clearly drawing out the anticipation that we’ve built over the past couple of days, but I’m so addled with need, I just want him inside of me. Now. To fill the void aching for him.
“Yes. I. Need. You. In. Me. Colton. Now,” my splintered voice pants as his tongue licks at my proffered cleavage.
His laugh is low and throaty, the tenor of it filling my ears, stoking my fire of need until his tongue leaves my skin. I open my eyes, looking at him from beneath eyelids weighted with desire to find his gaze trained on my face. “You didn’t think I’d let you off—or rather let you get off—that easy did you?” He smirks and I can see the mirth dancing in his eyes. Oh shit! My body already taut with need tenses further. “You’ve given me blue balls all week, and I think turnabout’s fair play.” He smirks. “To use your term.”
As much as I want to take pride in the fact he’s confessed that I’ve successfully driven him crazy, the knowledge that my itch is not going to be scratched any time soon causes me to groan in frustration. Colton’s smile only widens at the sound, and the mischief in his eyes has my own narrowing at him in turn.
“You’ve been killing me softly all week, Rylee, with your little suggestions…little teases…and so it’s time to show you exactly how it feels.”
Oh f*cking hell! Seriously? What does he have in mind here? “I do know how it feels,” I try to emphasize but only succeed in sounding breathy. Desperate. “Your responses have done the same to me.”
He kisses my neck softly, working his way to my pleasure point just below my ear lobe. His whisper of a touch makes me slick with arousal. “No. I don’t think so, Rylee,” he murmurs, his lips moving to my ear. “Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on a meeting, trying to hide my hard-on because I can’t get your texts out of my head? What an idiot I look like when I draw a blank at a question about wing adjustments to the car because all I can think about is savoring the sweet taste of your p-ssy again?” He brings a hand up and lays his palm on the base of my neck, holding my head still, so that I have no option but to meet the challenge in his eyes. “Did it feel the same for you, Rylee?”
I bite my bottom lip and shake my head no, our eyes, violet to green, in a silent exchange. “Say it.”
“No.” I take in a shaky breath, completely under his spell. Captivated. Mesmerized.
“Then tonight I’ll show you,” he tells me, sinking to his knees on the floor of the limo as he moves between my legs and captures my mouth again. His tongue licks in and slowly moves with mine as his hand slides up the outside of my thigh, pushing my dress up as he goes. “Sweet Jesus.” He exhales as his fingers skim over the garter belts I wore specifically with seducing him in mind. For some reason though, I seem to think the tables have turned now.
I’m the one being seduced.
“Now I’m going to think about undressing you all night until you’re standing in your heels and these and nothing else,” he says, pulling on a garter strap so it snaps back against my thigh. The slight sting mainlines a jolt straight to my already quivering sex.
“I think you’re a little overdressed.” He smirks, the devilish look back on his face. I look at him with trepidation, all my focus on the carnal look in his eyes, until I feel his fingers dancing over the dampened silk of my panties. The slight fabric barrier mutes his touch, and I instinctively lift my hips up, begging for more.
“Colton,” I gasp.
“And I’m a little underdressed,” he murmurs, a teasing quality to his voice. I have a quick second to wonder what the hell he means by his comment, but then the limo’s cool air bathes my heated flesh as he pulls my panties to the side and the question falls from my mind. I keep my eyes on him, body humming with uncontrollable need as he ever-so-slowly trails one finger up and then down my slowly swelling folds. And I am gone—my thoughts lost to the dance of fingertips, the searing heat of desire, and the unyielding ache of need.
He leans in and teases me with a soft, tantalizing kiss—f*cking my mouth with reverence—that pulls all the way from my toes and back up. He’s assaulting all my senses, hindering all coherent thoughts, manipulating my body with a focused purpose.
I cry out and into his waiting lips as he tucks three fingers into me, circling them around so that they rub all of my sensitive walls. I throw my head back without shame and emit a strangled moan, his fingers invading the depths of my sex and manipulating me in the way I so desperately need. I angle my hips up, straining to be closer, his fingers to delve deeper, needing this release brought on by him. The connection.
My body climbs. Tightens with the anticipation of my mounting orgasm. I’m so close to free falling into ecstasy that I can’t hold back the moan that falls from my lips.
And then suddenly I’m empty.
“What?” I cry, flashing my eyes open to see Colton’s green ones filled with humor and a heavy dose of lust before me.
“Not ‘til later, Ry.” A lascivious smirk finds its way on to that gorgeous mouth of his. “When I can take my deliriously slow, sweet time with you. Take you to places you don’t even know exist yet,” he says, reiterating his promise from the first night we met, except right now I have no witty comeback for him. I just want him. Now. Any way possible.
Because this time I know he can fulfill that promise. And then some.
When I start to protest, he brings a finger up to my bottom lip, and coats it with my own arousal before capturing my mouth with his. His tongue licks his way into mine, the hum in the back of his throat is sexy as hell. He frames my cheeks in his hands and then pulls back a fraction, laving my bottom lip again upon retreat. He looks into my eyes—that hum rumbling through his throat again. “My two favorite tastes in the whole world.”
I groan in frustration. Is he f*cking kidding me? He can’t talk to me like that and not think I’m going to jump him and take what I want.
“Shhhh,” he whispers. “I told you it’s your turn to be tortured with need.” I close my eyes momentarily, resigning myself to having this deep, fastidious craving remain unfulfilled for the time being. “And I intend to show you just how exquisite that torture can be all night long, sweetheart.”
The dark promise of his words has my entire body thrumming with an unrequited desire and my p-ssy pulsing in anticipation. I have a feeling that this is going to be a very long, very frustrating evening.
“Starting now,” he murmurs, flashing me a wicked grin while he slowly moves himself down my body, and lowers his mouth to take a slow, sweet taste of me. I groan wildly at the soft swipe of his tongue that immediately renders me defenseless and leaves me his for the taking.
He slides his tongue back and forth momentarily, his fingers whispering across and spreading my swollen flesh.
“Colton,” I say in a drawn out whimper as an earthquake of sensation rocks me when he plunges his tongue inside of me. I can barely breathe. Can’t even focus. My fingers grip into the flesh of my thighs—urging, pushing, building toward the earth shattering release just within reach.
“That’s it, Ry.” He blows on my seam, my head falling back against the seat, eyes closed and body willing. “I want you just like this all night.”
I hear, rather than feel the snap of fabric as Colton falls back on his heels. And I’m so pent up with my denied release that I don’t even find it amusing that he’s claimed yet another pair of my panties. The low, guttural groan he emits has me flashing my eyes up just in time to see him wipe my moisture from his mouth with the remnants of my red silk panties. I just stare at him, lips parted, eyes wide, breath panting, and heart racing.
And frustrated.
“Is there something you want?” He smirks.
My head is clouded with need. Screw the game he’s playing. All I want is him. Right now. Urgently. “Yes. Please, Colton. Please.” I basically beg and don’t care one bit that I did.
Our silent stare is broken when his phone chirps a text. He looks at it and then up to me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Perfect timing. It’s our turn in line.”
I just shake my head at him as my body remains in its suspended state of negligence. He smirks, smoothes my gown back down over my legs, sans panties, and sits back in the seat next to me.
And in this moment I can see it in his eyes. The razor thin edge his control is teetering on. How his body is driven with such an incredible need and fueled by such an intense, overwhelming desire. How much this little seduction of his is killing him as much as it is me.
“A single word,” he says, slowly leaning forward so one of his hands can cup the side of my face. He brushes the pad of his thumb back and forth over my bottom lip. “Anticipation.”
The simple word sends a tingle of awareness through my body. He grazes his lips tenderly against mine before pulling back a fraction. I lean in wanting to deepen the kiss and drown in the taste that I’ve been craving, but he withdraws, denying me with a seductive chuckle and a mischievous yet naughty gleam in his eye.
And for some reason, my mind picks this moment to remember the comment he’d made moments ago. “Underdressed?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in thought, trying to figure out what exactly he means.
He holds up my panties and works his tongue inside his mouth as he figures what words to taunt me with. “You see, now these have been exactly where I’ve wanted to be nestled all f*cking week long. And since I haven’t been allowed to be there, neither will these.” He leans in to place the most tender of kisses on my lips before resting his forehead against mine. “Tonight, Rylee,” he murmurs against my lips, “I want you thinking about me all night long. More specifically everything I plan on doing to you later when I have you alone.” He breathes out, his voice a seductive whisper that has the desire within me igniting into a raging inferno. “Where my tongue is going to lick. Where my fingers are going to grip. Where my mouth is going to taste. Where my cock is going to stroke. How my body is going to worship every incredible inch of yours.”
My hands reach out to squeeze his biceps as my mouth goes dry and my sex gets wet from the provocation of his words. He has to know I’m affected—has to know that I’m desperate for his touch already—but he continues.
“I want to know that while you are talking to all of these potential donors, looking so poised, elegant, and f*cking breathtaking, that beneath this dress you are wet and dripping with need for me.” I draw in a ragged breath, his words almost too much to hear in my current state. “That you ache so much it hurts. That your p-ssy pulses at the thought of how later tonight my cock is going to be buried in it. For hours.” His voice is pained as he says the last words, and I have some degree of satisfaction that he is suffering as deliciously as I am. I can’t help the hum of desire in the back of my throat, as I feel his mouth curl in a smile at my response.
“Every time I look at you I want to know that I’m killing you slowly on the inside while you look so perfectly proper on the outside.” He angles his head forward and gives me the kiss that he’s been withholding from me. I’m breathless by the time he releases me. “And knowing that will leave me wanting just as much as you will be.”
He pulls back from me and shifts in the seat beside me. I’ve said nothing this entire time, and yet I feel exhausted and totally overcome from our conversation. “Underdressed,” he says, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he holds up my panties and starts folding them. “You are no longer overdressed with these taken out of the picture…” He tucks the scrap of red silk into his pocket square opening and winks at me. “and now I’m perfect.”
I stare at him wondering what depths of desire he is going to bring me to tonight. A blush spreads over my cheeks and he smirks, knowing that I’m more than along for the ride. I shake my head softly at him. “You can really be naughty, you know that?”
Something flashes through his eyes which I akin to fear, but I know that’s not possible. What does he possibly have to fear from me? “You have no idea, Rylee.” His jaw clenches as he looks at me, the mood is suddenly serious and I’m confused as to why. We sit staring at each other in silence for a moment before he turns to look out at the passing scenery. His voice is eerily soft and contemplative when he finally speaks. “If you were smart…if I could let you…I’d tell you to walk away.”
I stare at the back of his head, confusion bewildering me. What does he think is so horrible within him that he’s not worthy of me? The fact that after all of this time he still feels that he’s tainted by his childhood kills me. If only he would let me try and help him. I reach out and lay my hand on his back. “Colton, why would you say that?”
He looks back at me, his face guarded. “I like your naivety way too much to give you the sordid details.”
Naivety? Does he not know the horrors I have seen working at The House? Either that or it’s another excuse to run from his past. “Whatever it is Colton, it doesn't affect how I feel about you. I need you to know that—”
“Colton?” I startle as the intercom from the front of the car buzzes to us in the back.
“Drop it, Ry,” he warns quietly. “Yeah, Sammy?”
“ETA two minutes.”
He lowers the privacy partition dividing us. Sammy turns his head toward Colton. “Sammy, please get Sex here. I feel like driving tonight.”
Sex? Driving? What the f*ck is he talking about?
“Sure thing,” Sammy says, a crooked smile lighting up his face before the partition slides back up.
“Sex?” I look at him like he’s crazy, glad for the change of topic to add some levity to the sudden heaviness of our conversation.
“Yeah. My F12. My baby. That’s her name.” He shrugs as if it’s the most perfectly normal thing in the world, but he lost me at F12, baby, and sex.
“Ummm, can you explain that in a language for those of us with dual X chromosomes?” I laugh bewildered.
He gives me a boyish grin that would melt my panties if I had any on. “F12 is my favorite of all of my collection. She’s a Berlinetta Ferrari. The first time Beckett drove her he told me that the feeling was equivalent to the best sex he’s ever had. It was a joke at first, but the name stuck. So…” he shrugs his shoulders, and I just shake my head at him “...Sex.”
“Collection?”
“Women have shoes. Men have cars.” It’s the only explanation he gives. I’m about to ask more when he announces, “We’re here.” He shifts in his seat so that he’s closer to the door and butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Show time.”
Before I can mentally prepare myself any further, the door to the limo opens. Even though Colton’s body standing in the doorway partially blocks the flash of cameras, I am temporarily blinded by their intensity.
Colton calls out a casual laid-back greeting to the paparazzi as he buttons up his jacket before turning to help me. I take a deep breath as I take his hand and scoot out of the limo. I exit the car and look up at him, a reassuring smile on his face. Gone is the brooding guy in the car from moments before. Hello Hollywood playboy.
“You okay?” he mouths to me and I nod my head subtly, overwhelmed by the onslaught of people yelling at us along with the repeated camera flashes. He pulls me toward him, his mouth resting against my ear. “Remember to smile and follow my lead,” he murmurs. “You look stunning tonight.” He pulls back, squeezing my hand and graces me with one of his panty wetting smiles before turning to walk the carpet.
And the only thought that breaks through the buzz surrounding us is that from this point forward, I am no longer anonymous to the press.