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Fueled (Driven #2) Page 63
Author: K. Bromberg

“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.

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K. Bromberg's Novels
» Sweet Ache (Driven #7)
» Aced (Driven #5)
» Raced (Driven #4)
» Crashed (Driven #3)
» Fueled (Driven #2)
» Driven (Driven #1)
» Hard Beat (Driven #8)