I’m still pondering what he’s said despite the distraction of his touch. “I disagree. How can you—”
I’m stopped midsentence as he tugs on my arm and within seconds has me laying on the blanket, looking up at his face hovering over mine. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but my breath speeds up and stops at the same time. He very slowly, very deliberately uses one hand to brush an errant hair off of my face while the other rests on the base of my neck just under the crease of my chin. “Are you trying to change the subject, Mr. Donavan?” I ask coyly, my heart thumping and desire blooming in my belly. His touch leaves electric charges on my skin like a trail of fire left everywhere he touches.
“Is it working?” he breathes, angling his head to study me.
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes in thought. “Hmmm … no, I still have my questions.” A smile plays on my lips as I watch him, watch me.
“Then I just might have to do something about that,” he murmurs as with painstaking slowness, he lowers his head until his lips are a whisper from mine. I fight the urge to arch my back so that my body can press against his. “How about now?”
How is it we are outdoors but I feel as if all of the oxygen has been vacuumed away? Why does he have this effect on me? I try to slowly breathe in and all I smell is him—woodsy, clean, and male—it’s a heady, intoxicating mixture that is pure Colton.
I can’t find my voice to answer his question so I just give him a noncommittal “Hmm-hmmm.” I’m oblivious to everything around us: the seagulls squawking, the surf crashing, the sun heading slowly toward the ocean on the horizon.
Due to our proximity, I can’t see his lips but I know that he smiles because I see the lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Should I take that as a yes or should I take that as a no?” he asks enunciating each word slowly as they feather over my lips. His eyes hold mine, a dare lighting through them. When all I do is breathe in a shaky breath in reaction, his response is, “Then I guess I’ll just take.”
And with those words, his mouth is on mine.
He sets a slow, mesmerizing pace of light kisses that feather over my lips. Each time I think he is going to give me what I want—more of him deepening the kiss—he pulls back. He is leaning on one elbow next to me, and he takes that hand to cup the back of my neck. His other hand slowly travels down the side of my body, along my lines, and stops on the side of my hip. He grabs hold there, gripping my flesh through my jeans and presses my body closer to him.
“Your. Curves. Are. So. Damn. Sexy.” He murmurs between kisses. The riot of sensation he is causing within me is both exhilarating and tormenting at the same time. I run my hands under his shirt, up the plains up of his torso and then his back, feeling the strength there and the play of defined muscles bunching as he moves with me as he continues his languorous assault on my lips.
If I were the intelligent woman that I claim to be, I would step back a moment and rationally assess the situation. I’d realize that Colton is a guy used to getting what he wants without preamble or precaution. And at this time he wants me. He has tried the direct, get-to-the point approach and basically had me up against a wall within ten minutes of meeting him. He’s tried coercion, a contract, annoyance, and even admitted he doesn’t do girlfriends, commitment, or relationships. The rational part of me would acknowledge these facts and realize he’s failed the challenge thus far, so now he is moving onto seduction. I’d argue that he’s changing his approach now, taking his time by making me feel and making me want him. Letting me think this situation is on my terms now. I’d realize that this has nothing to do with emotions and wanting ‘an after’ with me, but rather he is trying to get me in his bed any way he can now.
But I’m not listening to my rational self and the snarky doubts she’s trying to cast. I vaguely push away the niggling feeling that she’s trying to force into my subconscious for my common sense has long been forgotten. It has been overrun, inundated, and is being thoroughly obliterated by my new addiction, otherwise known as Colton’s mouth. His mouth worships mine with slow, leisurely licks of tongue, grazes of teeth, and caresses of lips.
“Uh-uh-uh,” he teases against my lips as I thread my fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and try to pull him closer so that I can give into the blistering need he’s built inside of me and take more.
“You’re frustrating,” I sigh in frustration because now his lips have moved steadily up my neck lacing open mouth kisses to nip at my earlobe, causing little sparks of frisson in their path.
I can feel his smile spread against the hollow spot beneath my ear in response to my words. “Now you know how it feels,” he murmurs, “to want something …” he withdraws from my neck so that his face hovers an inch from mine. There is no doubt about the desire that clouds his eyes when they fuse to mine. He repeats himself. “To want something that someone won’t give you.”
I don’t even have a moment to register his words before his mouth crushes down on mine. This time he doesn’t hold back. His lips possess mine from the very moment we touch. He commands the kiss with a fiery passion that has my head spinning, my sanity ebbing, and my body craving. He kisses me with such an unrequited hunger, it’s as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t taste me. I have no choice but to ride the wave that he is controlling because I’m just as caught up as he is.
His tongue darts in my mouth tasting of wine before he eases and pulls gently at my bottom lip. I arch my neck, offering him more, wanting him to take more for I can’t get enough of his intoxicating taste. He acquiesces, laying a row of feather-light kisses along my jaw line before coming back to my mouth. He licks his tongue back in against mine—caressing, possessing, igniting.
I revel in the feeling of him. His hand spanning my hip in ownership. The weight of his leg which is bent and resting on mine, pressing his evident arousal into my hip. His mouth controlling, taking, and giving all at the same time. The low growls of desire that emanate from deep in his throat in pure appreciation, telling me that I excite him. That he wants me.
I could stay in this suspension of desire all day with Colton but the sound of approaching laughter brings me to my senses. Brings me to the realization that we’re outside in public view. Colton brushes my lips gently one more time as we hear the surfers walking several feet away back to their towels. His hands remain cupped on my face though and he rests his forehead against mine, us both trying to calm our ragged breathing.
He closes his eyes momentarily, and I sense him struggle with his control. He rubs his thumbs back and forth on my cheeks, a gentle caress that calms me.
“Oh, Rylee, what you do to me?” he sighs, kissing the tip of my nose. “What am I going to do with you? You’re such a breath of fresh air.”
My heart stops at those words. My fluid body tenses automatically. I flash back to three years prior, Max on one knee, ring in his hand, staring up at me expectantly. His words, chock-full of emotion, rings in my ears like it was yesterday. “Rylee, you are my best friend, my ride off into the sunset, my breath of fresh air. Will you marry me?”
I am thinking of Max, bright, open, and carefree but I am looking at Colton, reserved, unattainable, and inescapable. A sob escapes my throat as the memory takes hold of me, of that day, of the aftermath, and guilt washes over me.
Colton is startled at my reaction. He jolts back away from me, but his hands still cup my face, concern filling his eyes. “Rylee, what is it? Are you okay?”