Fueled

“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!”

He says nothing to me, just sits there, jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and eyes staring at me, a mixture of reactions crossing his shadowed face. I’m not sure what I expect him to say, but I’d hoped that he’d at least say something. I thought that maybe he’d put up a fight to keep me with him, to prove to me that I’m worth it.

I guess if I’m going to make ultimatums than I’d better be prepared to stand by them. Fear snakes down my spine when he doesn’t utter a sound. I stare at him, willing him to speak. To prove my words wrong. To prove them right. Anything.

But he says nothing. Just a shell of a man staring at me with eyes emotionless, lips silent, and patience wearing thin.

Anger fills me. Hurt consumes me. Regret weighs heavy. I knew this was going to happen. He predicted it, and I ignored it. I thought I was enough to change the outcome. “You know what, Colton? Screw you!” I yell, the only words I can verbalize to portray how I feel. Not very intelligent sounding, but it’s all I have. “Just tell me one thing before you walk away and move on to the next willing candidate…besides the obvious, what does screwing all of these women do for you, Ace?” I step closer to him, wanting to see the reaction in his eyes, needing to see some type of response from him. “What need does it fulfill that you refuse to acknowledge? Don’t you want more? Deserve more out of that connection than just a warm body and a fleeting orgasm?” When he doesn’t respond but rather has irritation flash across his face, I continue. “Fine, don’t answer that question…but answer this one: Don’t you think that I deserve more?”

I see pain in his emerald eyes and a flicker of something darker, deeper, and I know that I’ve churned something within him. Hurt him. But I’m hurt too. He remains silent, and that pisses me off even more.

“What? You’re too chicken shit to answer that?” I goad. “Well I’m not! I know I deserve more, Colton! I deserve so much more than you’re willing to even try for. You’re missing out on the best part of being with someone. All of the little things that make a relationship special.” I throw my hands up to emphasize my point, all the while he stares at me, stone faced and jaw clenched. I pace back and forth in front of him trying to contain my pent up frustration. “Your four to five month time limit doesn’t give you any of that, Ace. It doesn’t give you the comfort of knowing someone cares for you so much that they are there for you even when you’re being irrational. Or an asshole.” I sneer at him, my blood pumping and thoughts coming so fast I can’t spit them out of my mouth fast enough. “You rob yourself of knowing what it’s like to surrender yourself—mind, body, and soul to someone. To be completely naked—exposed and selfless—when you’re fully clothed. You don’t understand how special any of that is,” I rant, realizing how sadly deprived he is with his choices. “Well I do. And that’s what I want. Why has this always been about what you want? What about me? Don’t I deserve to feel how I feel and not hold back because of some implied rules?”

He just stares at me, his body tense, his voice silent, and I can feel him slipping away. A tear slides silently down my cheek, my breath panting out in white puffs after my verbal diatribe. I don’t feel any better because nothing’s been solved. The wall he’s hid behind for so long—that he’s been slowly peeking over—is suddenly reinforced with steel.

I look at him, the man I love, and my chest tightens and heart twists in pain. This is what I was afraid of. What my head and heart fought over and against. And yet here I am, scared and scarred, but still fighting for him, because Teagan is right. He’s just that good. His words run through my head.

You burned me, Rylee.

You. This. It scares the shit out of me, Rylee.

I can’t seem to get enough of you.

I step forward, wanting to touch him. Craving any kind of connection with him, needing to remind him of that spark between us when we touch and to try and prevent him from slipping through my fingers. Like trying to grab the wind. I reach my trembling hands out, his eyes following their movement, and lay them on his chest. I feel him stiffen in response, a proverbial slap at my attempt to connect with him that pushes me over the edge.

My eyes flash up to his, and I see that he knows how much he just hurt me with that small flinch—the nonverbal rejection that just spoke volumes. He instinctively brings his arms up to wrap them around me, to try and placate me, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him pull me into the one place I want to be more than anywhere else right now because nothing between us has changed. And I know if I’m wrapped in his arms, I will succumb to everything all over again so I won’t lose what I fear the most—him. But I deserve the whole him that he’s unable—no, unwilling—to give me.

I push against his chest, but his hands tighten their grip on my shoulders. He tries to pull me into him, but I struggle against him. When he doesn’t react…I lose it. “Fight damn it! Fight, Colton!” I yell at him, desperation seeping as my voice wavers and tears threaten. “For you. For us. For me,” I plead. “You don’t get to pull away from me. You don’t get to walk away without a second thought.” I’m still trying to resist his hold, but the dam breaks and the tears overflow. “I matter, Colton. I deserve the same more that you do. What we have is not inconsequential!”

Overcome with emotion, I succumb to my tears, my fears, the emptiness looming. I stop resisting him and he gathers me in his arms and pulls me to him, his hands running up and down over my back and arms and neck. The feeling is bittersweet because I know it’s fleeting. I know that the words I so desperately want and need to hear—that this is something…that we are something…anything to him—are never coming.

I consciously etch this moment to my memory.

His warmth.

The rasp of his calloused fingers across my bare skin.

The clenching of his jaw against my temple.

The timbre of his hushed murmurs.

His scent.

I close my eyes to absorb it because I know I’ve scared him. I know I’m asking for too much when there are so many others willing to settle for so much less.

“Rylee…” My name is a whispered hush over my now tearless sobs.

I fall silent, my hitching breath the only sound in the night. I lean back, his hands on my shoulders guiding me so he can see my face. I steel myself before looking up to meet his eyes. I can see fear and confusion and uncertainty in them, and I’m waiting for him to verbalize what’s on the tip of his tongue. His internal struggle plays out on his usually stoic face before he reins it in. My chest aches as I try to draw in a breath and prepare myself because what I see makes me panic. Has me resigning all of my fate because I know he’s preparing himself to walk away.

To say goodbye.

To break me apart.

“I deserve more, Colton.” I breathe out, shaking my head as a single tear trails down my cheek. His eyes follow it before looking back at me, and for a moment they soften with concern, his throat working a swallow as he nods his head in agreement. I reach a hand out and place it on his jaw, his eyes cautiously tracking my movements. I feel his jaw muscles tighten beneath my palm. “I know this is the whole reason you have your rules and stipulations, but I can’t abide by them anymore. I can’t be that girl for you anymore.”

I lower my head at my last comment, avoiding his eyes because I can’t bear to see the reaction. Wanting and not getting one or wanting and being rejected—either one will shred my heart more than it already is. I sigh deeply, eyes focused intently on his impromptu pocket square and my mind marveling how simple things seemed just a couple of hours ago when he was underdressed and I was overdressed.

He tenses his fingers on my biceps, and I force myself to look back up at him—glad I did because the look in his eyes takes my breath away. My gorgeous bad boy looks like a child—panic stricken and petrified. I struggle to find words to speak because standing there with that look in his eyes; he looks just like one of my damaged boys. It takes a moment, but I’m finally able to find my voice.

“I’m sorry, Colton.” I shake my head. “You did nothing wrong tonight but be the man that you are…but seeing your exes here tonight still wanting more...” I sigh “...I don’t want to be them in three months. On the outside looking in. I can’t stand by and blindly obey the parameters you dictate anymore. I want to have a say.” He shakes his head back and forth, automatically rejecting the idea, and I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. The grip of his hands tightens on my arms, but he says nothing to refute what I’m saying.

“I’m not asking for love from you, Colton.” My voice is barely a whisper when I speak, but my conscience is screaming that I am. That I want him to love me the way I love him. His eyes widen at my confession. His sharp intake of air audible. “I’m not even asking for a long-term commitment from you. I just want to be able to explore whatever this is between us without worrying about overstepping imaginary boundaries that I don’t even know exist.” I stare at him, willing him to hear my words. Really hear what I’m saying, not just what he wants to hear. “I’m asking to be your lover, Colton, not your happily ever after or your structured arrangement. All I want is a chance...” My voice trails off, asking for the impossible. “For you to tell me you’ll try…”

“You were never an arra—”

“Let’s call a spade a spade.” I arch my eyebrows at him, trying to summon the fire that coursed through my veins moments before that has since been replaced with desolation. “You have an uncanny way of putting me in my place any time I overstep one of your asinine boundaries.”

We stare at each other, unspoken words on our lips, and he is the first to look away and break our connection. He shrugs out of his dinner jacket, and wraps it around my shoulders, ever the consummate gentleman even in the midst of turmoil, but where his fingers would normally linger on my skin, he recoils instantly.

“I never meant to hurt you, Rylee.” His voice cracks with a quiet vulnerability I’ve never heard before. I’d never expect from him. He lowers his head, shaking it subtly, and mutters fuck under his breath. Déjà vu hits me from the night in the hotel room, and all the air punches from my lungs. “I don’t want to hurt you any further.”

This is it.

He’s going to end it right here, right now. Doing what I can’t for the life of me do myself. I press the heel of my hand to my chest, trying to press away the ache that sears through me. He runs his hands through his hair, and I tremble in anticipation, waiting for him to continue but hoping he doesn’t. He lifts his head and reluctantly meets my eyes. He is stripped bare—haunted, desolate—the emotion so transparent in his eyes it’s hard to hold his gaze.

And in this moment, it hits me. I realize that I’ve been chastising him for not fighting for me, but has anyone ever really fought for him besides his parents? Not for his material possessions or his notoriety, but for the little boy he was and for the man he is now? For the years of abuse and neglect I’m sure he endured. Has anyone ever told him they love him not despite it but rather because of it? And that all of those experiences combined have in fact made him a better person. A better man. That they accept all of him regardless—every maddening, confusing, heartwarming, piece of him.

I bet no one has.

And as much as I’m hurting and want to lash out at him in return, a part of me wants to leave him with something no one else has ever given him. Something to remember me by.

“For you, Colton…” My voice may be soft when I speak, a resignation to our fate, but my honesty comes through loud and clear. “…I’d take the chance.” I can visibly see his body stiffen at my admission. His lips part slightly and the tension leaves his jaw, as if he is shocked that I’d be willing to take the chance on him. That I believe he’s worth the risk.

He takes a step toward me and reaches a hand out tentatively to frame my jaw. He stares into my eyes with an unfettered intensity, his lips opening several times to say something but closing without a sound. I inhale a sharp breath at the resonance of his touch as he rubs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip—the roughness of his calloused fingers against the softness of my lips. A horrible sadness takes hold when I realize rough and soft is in a way a lot like us.

“For you, Rylee,” he whispers, his voice breaking. His usually steady hands tremble ever so slightly against my cheeks, and I swear I can see fear flicker through his eyes before he blinks away the moisture that pools in them. “I will try.”

He will try? My mind has to switch gears so quickly that I’m left disoriented. Talk about going from an unbelievable low to an unexpected high. “You’ll try?” my broken voice asks, not believing my ears.

Just a trace of the crooked, roguish smile that I find irresistible curves up one side of his mouth, but I can hear the trepidation in his tone. “Yes,” he repeats. His eyes burn into mine until my eyes flutter closed as he leans in and gives me the gentlest, most reverent kiss I’ve ever received. He then kisses the tip of my nose before resting his forehead against mine. His breath whispers against my lips, and his heart pounds a frantic tattoo against my chest all the while my insides are leaping for joy, bubbling over with hope.

Holy shit! Colton is going to try. He is going to fight for us. For me. For him. There is so much unspoken beneath his declaration. So much promise, fear, vulnerability, and willingness to overcome whatever plagues his dreams at night and incessantly haunts his memories—just to try and be with me.

He dips his head down and kisses me again. A slow, soft brush of lips and dance of tongues that is so packed with unspoken words it causes tears to well in my eyes. He finishes by kissing my nose again and then pulling me into him in a crushing embrace. I sigh, welcoming his warmth, his strength, and enjoying how the long, lean line of his body fits perfectly against my curves. I drink in his scent and the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. He leans his face down, his cheek rubbing against my temple, as he emits a sigh that sounds similar to a muttered oath. And I swear it sounds like he mutters something about a voodoo pussy, but when I snap my head up to look at him, he just shakes head and smirks.

“What am I going to do with you, Rylee?” He holds me tighter, chills dancing up my spine. “What am I going to do?” He sighs again and I suppress a smothered chuckle as I wriggle against him. The mixture of his body on mine, the relief in knowing he is going to try, and the anticipated buildup of the evening has me more than desperate for just a platonic hug in a garden.

How can such a simple statement leave me breathless with anticipation and desperate for his touch—emotionally and physically? He trails a finger down the line of my neck before dipping it down into the bodice and then descending the long torturous path downward, parting the draped slit of my dress to my hypersensitive sex. His deft fingers find me weeping and wanting, and when he touches me I swear I’m ready to splinter into a million pieces of pleasure. I gasp a strangled moan from its effect.

I lean into him, my forehead pressing against his chest, my hands gripping his biceps. I’m not sure if my responsiveness is from Colton’s willingness to try or the onslaught of sensation, but my body climbs the precipice quicker than normal. I am so close. So close to the brink that my nails dig into his arms.

Colton slides his fingers back and forth one more time before emitting a feral growl. “Not yet…I want to be buried in you when you come, Rylee,” he murmurs against the crown of my head. “I’m desperate to be.”

I suck in an audible breath, my muscles so taut and nerves so aware of the feeling of his body against mine that I can’t contain myself. I launch myself at him like an addict needing a fix. One hand grips the back of his neck, automatically fisting his hair, and pulls his face lower so I can meet his mouth. My other hand reaches down to rub the hard length of his growing erection against his slacks. His guttural moan tells me he’s bound with as much need as I am.

I kiss him with a hungry desperation, passion unfurling between us, as I pour everything I’ve been holding back into our melding of mouths. He snakes his hands between his jacket that I’m wearing and my dress, his hands mapping the lines of my backside and hips, inciting a need so strong that it rocks me senseless and leaves me breathless.

“Colton,” I moan as he laces open mouth kisses down the line of my throat, sending earthquakes of sensation rocketing through me.

“Car. Parking garage. Now,” he says between kisses with a teeming desperation, restraint non-existent.

I agree with a non-coherent moan, but my body doesn’t want to let up or let go. His hand fists my hair and pulls it down so my face is forced up. The dark desire that clouds his eyes has my thighs clenching together, begging for relief. “Ry? If we don’t walk right now, you’re going to find yourself bent over that bench right there in plain view of all of these hotel rooms.” His husky warning has me swallowing loudly. He leans down and kisses me chastely, his tongue tracing the line of my bottom lip. “You’ve annihilated my control, sweetheart. Elevator. Now,” he commands.

He pulls me to his side, his hand clamped on my hip as we walk quickly. With his free hand, Colton pulls his iPhone out of his pocket. “Sammy? Where’s Sex?” He listens for a moment. “Perfect. That works.” He laughs loudly, the timbre of it echoing off of the concrete walls we walk past. “Like you read my mind. You’re fucking awesome Sammy...Yeah. I’ll let you know.” He slips his phone back in his pocket as we reach a path, and I’m mystified as to the conversation he just had. Colton looks left and then right, weighing his options with a forced urgency before veering right.

Within moments we are in an elevator at the outskirts of a concrete parking garage. The drab grey doors shut, Colton’s presence dominating the small space, and before the elevator starts to move upwards, Colton has me pinned against the wall with his hips and his mouth feasting on mine with a raw carnality. I don’t even have time to catch my breath before the car pings. He drags his mouth from mine, leaving me shaken by his consuming desire.