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Fueled (Page 56)

I am so immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t realize Colton has maneuvered me behind a tall a bistro cocktail table. He turns his back to the room behind us and kisses me to renew my torturous need for him. He pulls his face back to watch me as his hand, blocked to the crowd beyond by his dinner jacket, cups the V between my legs. “Fast and hard? Or nice and slow, Rylee? Which way should I fuck you first?” he murmurs quietly, the timbre of his voice carrying to my ears. My breath catches in my throat as one finger presses between my folds through the fabric of my dress—not enough pressure to set me off, but just enough to cause a ripple of sensation to travel throughout my body.


A voice interrupts us from over Colton’s shoulder. I jolt in awareness from what he was just doing, while a smooth smile slides across his mouth as he turns to address the acquaintance. He greets the gentleman and introduces me even though he knows I most likely need a moment to regain my wits. I’m sure the flush of my cheeks can tell him that much, but when I glance over at him, he’s immersed in his conversation about some event they’d attended together in the past. His eyes flick over to me, a lopsided, ghost of a smirk on his face and his eyes suggesting so much more.

I watch Colton, only partially listening to what he’s saying, until the couple is called elsewhere, all the while my body humming with desire. To have him so close to me—at my fingertips really—and not be able to touch him? To slide my hands up that sculpted chest beneath that dress shirt? Run my tongue down the V at his hips and taste him? Absolute torture. He leans into me, obviously guessing where my thoughts have drifted off to, and his face brushes against my hair. “God, you’re sexy when you’re aroused,” he whispers to me before pressing a kiss to my temple.

“This is so unfair,” I chastise him, pressing a hand against his chest, a foolish grin on my lips. My smile falters momentarily as I catch a nasty look from a passing female out of the corner of my eye. What’s your problem? I want to ask her. What have I done to you?

“Do you want another drink?” he asks, breaking through my mental dress down of unknown bimbo number one. I figure I should number them because I have a feeling there might be more than a few here tonight. I nod my head to his request, knowing the night’s just begun and I need a little liquid courage if I’m going to remain at Colton’s sexual mercy. “I’ll be right back,” he tells me before squeezing my hand and heading off to the bar.

I watch him and see several A-list actors stop him on his way to shake his hand or pat his back in greeting. A statuesque blonde sidles up to his side trying to get his attention. I observe Colton, curious as to how he’ll interact with her and noting their level of familiarity—the way she touches him, the lean in her body language towards him, the way he looks at her, but at the same time seems annoyed by her presence—makes me wonder if he’s slept with her before. I can’t tear my eyes away from watching them because deep down I already know the answer.

I know that he’s had his fill of women, and I accept that, but at the same time, my acknowledgement does not mean that I’m okay with it. That I want to be privy to it with my own eyes. I watch him dismiss the blonde and continue across the room. By the time he actually makes it to the bar, he is surrounded by a group of people, all vying for his attention, ranging from young to old, men to women.

“He’s not going to keep you around you know,” an accented voice beside me says quietly.

“Excuse me?” I turn to look at the stunning beauty beside me with the requisite straight, blonde hair.

Hello, bimbo number two.

She smirks at me, her head shaking side to side in disapproval as she sizes me up. “Just what I said,” she deadpans. “He doesn’t keep us around for long.”

Us? As if I want to be any part of anything with her, let alone the newest member of the Colton Donavan Cast Off Club. Great! Another of his women scorned. “Thanks for the heads up,” I tell her, not hiding my disdain for her presence, “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

When I start to walk away she grabs me by my upper arm. Anger fires in my veins. Every polite bone in my body riots to not whirl around and show her that underneath this glamorous dress is a scrapper willing to fight for what’s mine. And right now, Colton is mine. My hand itches to reach out and slap her hand off of me. Or to just slap her in general.

“Just so you know, when he’s done with you and tosses you aside, I’ll be there to take your place.” With these words, I successfully shrug out of her grip and turn to face her. When I just stare at her with icy contempt, shocked into silence from her audacity, she continues. “Didn’t you know Colton likes to dabble with his exes when he’s in between women?”

“So what? You just sit around and wait? Seems pathetic to me,” I say, shaking my head at her and trying to hide the fact that her words unnerve me.

“He’s that good,” she rebukes.

As if I didn’t know already.

And with her words, I realize that is why all of these exes are so possessive of him, even if in memory. He’s the total package in more ways than one. Less the ability to commit of course. Suddenly, the sneer on her face is replaced by a dazzling smile. I notice her body language changing and shifting, and I know that Colton is behind me even before my body hums with the awareness of his proximity.

I turn and give him a smile, my countenance one of gratitude for saving me from this woman’s talons. “Teagan.” He nods to her, a reserved smile on his face and indifference in his voice. “You look lovely as always.”

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