Driven (Page 54)
“Christ, Rylee,” Colton swears, sitting himself up without stopping his voracious tempo, taking control to allow me to lose myself in my orgasm. He wraps his arms around me, strong biceps holding me tight, and brings his lips to mine in a devouring, soul-emptying kiss. The onslaught of sensations pulling at me from every nerve in my body is so overwhelming that my only comprehension is I’m drowning in all that is Colton Donavan.
I can feel his body tense, his hips thrust harder, and his arms squeeze tighter with hands splayed wide on my back. Colton buries his face in my neck before yelling out my name, a benediction on his lips, as he crashes over the edge. I feel him convulse wildly within me as he finds his release.
We stay like this, me sitting astride him, arms wrapped around each other, heads buried into one another for some time, neither of us speaking. I am overcome with emotion as we hold each other.
Oh, shit! How stupid was I to think that I could actually do casual sex? Feelings bubble up inside me. Feelings that I know Colton will never reciprocate, and I find myself struggling to maintain composure. I tell myself to hold it together, that I can wallow in the notion and break down once I’m alone.
Colton shifts his legs some and leans back. He takes my head in his hands and transfixes me with his intoxicating stare. “You okay?” he whispers to me.
I nod my head, trying to clear the worry from my eyes.
He leans in and kisses me. A kiss so gentle and affectionate that I have to fight back the threatened tears because his tenderness disarms me and strips me to the core. When he opens his eyes, he stares at me for some time. I see something flash through them quickly, nameless emotions that I can’t read since I’ve only known him a short time.
He shakes head quickly and lifts me off of him before scooting off the bed without a word. He stands hastily, averting my questioning look and runs his hand through his hair, the muttered word “fuck” coming out in an exhale. I watch his toned, broad shoulders and very appealing ass as he walks to the bathroom. I hear the water run and another muffled swear.
I pull the sheet around me, alone and uncomfortable all of the sudden in my unfamiliar surroundings and unknown predicament. After a few moments, Colton reappears from the bathroom with a pair of black boxer briefs on. He stands in the doorway and looks at me. Gone is all of the warmth and emotion that was in his eyes minutes before. It’s been visibly replaced by a cold, aloof appraisal as he looks at me in his bed. He is no longer relaxed for the tension around his eyes and in the strain of his jaw is obvious.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks, his voice a curt rasp. “I need a drink.”
I shake my head no, afraid that if I speak, the hurt I feel from his sudden detachment will make matters only worse. At my response, he turns and walks out to the main room of the suite. I guess I have my answer. I was just a challenge to him.
Challenge conquered, now I’m disposable.
I hold the heel of my hand to my breastbone, trying to stifle the pain inside. Trying to lessen the feeling of being used. I think of Max and the way he used to treat me after we made love as if I was so fragile I’d break. He would caress me and hold me and make me laugh. Make me feel cherished. My beautiful, idealized Max. What have I done to him and to our memory by sleeping with someone when I’m technically engaged to another?
His mother’s yells echo in my ears as she tells me it’s all my fault his life is over—that I killed him and every hope and dream that went with him. Guilt and shame and humiliation wash over me. I have to get out of here. These thoughts fill my head as I throw the covers off of me and gather all of my discarded garments from the floor before scurrying to the bathroom.
The pressure in my chest is unbearable from trying to hold back my tears as I fumble clumsily to try and get my bra clasped. I throw my dress over my head, struggling to get my arms in the proper places in the straps. I don’t have any underwear. They’re ripped apart somewhere on the floor and are no longer worth the hassle of finding. I’m missing an earring and at this point, I really don’t care. I quickly tug its matching counterpart out as I glance in the mirror noticing misery mingled with regret heavy in my eyes. I take a tissue and wipe away the smudged eyeliner as I steel myself for my departure. After a few moments of masking my emotions and gathering my thoughts, I’m ready.
I open the door to the bathroom and peak out, relieved and at the same time saddened that Colton is not sitting there waiting for me. Then again, what did I expect after how he just acted? For him to be sitting on the bed, waiting to profess his dying love for me? “Fuck ’em and chuck ’em,” I mutter under my breath as I walk out of the bedroom door to the main room of the suite.
Colton is standing in the suite’s kitchenette, his hands pressed against the counter, his head hanging down. I stand for a moment and watch him, admire the lines of his body, and wish for so much more than he apparently can give. Colton shifts and takes a long draw on the amber liquid in his glass. He sets it down harshly, the ice clinking loudly before he turns. His step falters as he sees me standing dressed and ready to go.
“Look, Colton,” I begin, trying to control the situation before I can be humiliated further. “I’m a smart girl. I get it now,” I shrug, trying to prevent my voice from breaking. He looks at me and I can see the cogs in his head turning as he tries to figure out why I appear to be leaving. “Let’s face it, you’re not a spend the night kind of guy, and I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.”