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 fucking 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 pussy 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?”