Rage turns into desire. Hurt expels into yearning. Absence fuels our fervor. His touch blocks out all rationality. A soft moan catches in my throat as his mouth continues to tempt and torment every spot of my lips and within.
At some point Colton realizes that I’m struggling against him not to get away but rather to touch him. He releases my wrists and my hands go immediately to his chest where they fist into his shirt, aggressively pulling him into me. His hands, now free, are on the move, mapping the lines of my curves over and over again as our mouths convey the unbridled desire we still have for one another.
Every action and reaction reflects urgency. Necessity. Hunger. Longing. Desperation as if we’re afraid that at any minute we’re going to be pulled away from one another to never experience this again.
Colton brings a hand to cup the rounded curve of my butt as he jerks me into him while the other holds my neck still. I don’t even realize that the moan in the room is from me when the hard length of his arousal rubs against the V of my thighs as he pushes us backwards to the dresser behind me. He lifts me up and settles my backside on the top of it, pushing my dress up my thighs as he steps between my legs, all the while continuing his mind-numbing dexterity to my lips and tongue.
I lock my legs around his hips, pulling him farther into me. I know this is wrong. I know that after what he just told me, I shouldn’t be here doing this with him. But I am so sick of thinking. So sick of wanting him when I know we don’t belong together. Our two completely different worlds just don’t mesh. But I am so tired of missing him. So tired of wanting to hear his voice when I pick up the phone. So tired of needing him.
So tired of loving him without being loved in return.
I need this connection with him. I need the silence in my head that the all-encompassing feeling of him against my skin brings to me. There is a peace in the physicality of it all that I never realized before. A peace that I know Colton has used over and over in his life to numb his pain.
And right now, I need to numb mine.
I know its temporary, but I turn myself over to him. To the feel and taste and sound and smell of him. My troubling, all-consuming addiction. I willingly let myself get lost in him to forget for just a moment the pain I know I’ll feel when we’re no longer one.
I grip the waist of his shirt and pull it up over his head; our lips break for the first time since we’ve reconnected with each other. Immediately after the material is gone, we crash back together again. He tugs the straps of my dress off of my shoulders as his mouth laces open mouth kisses down the line of my neck and to the lacy edge of my bra. I cry out in shock and need as he yanks down one of my bra cups and closes his mouth over my nipple. I throw my head back at the sensation while one of my hands fists in the hair at the back of his neck. The burn in my core turns into a raging inferno directing my free hand to fumble with his belt and undo his pants.
I successfully unzip them, shoving my hands between the cotton of his briefs and his heated skin. I grab his rock hard erection in my hands, and he groans at the feeling of my skin on his flesh. His hands are instantly on my thighs, shoving my dress up higher and yanking my dampened thong to the side. He slides a finger along my seam, and I buck my hips at the feeling of his fingertips on me again. I press my hips into his hands, greedy and unashamed to lose myself in the pleasure. I cry out as he slips a finger into my core and then spreads my wetness around.
Before I can open my eyes and notice the absence of his fingers, he enters me in one fervent thrust. We both cry out as he stills and seats himself as far as possible within my wet heat. My walls clench around him as I adjust to the over-fullness of him within me. The muscles in Colton’s shoulders strain beneath my hands as he tries to hold onto his control. I feel it slipping—know that he’s a man about to snap—so I take the reins and start to move against him, moving my hips to tell him to go. Urging him to lose his control. To be rough with me. I don’t need foreplay right now. All I need his him. I’ve craved this for the past couple of weeks, and he feels so damn good right now I don’t need anything else to push me over the edge.
Colton grips his fingers, bruising the flesh at my hips, and holds me still on the edge of the dresser as he pistons his hips into mine. Over and over. Drive after delicious drive.
“God, Rylee!” He moves relentlessly within the confines of my thighs. He brings his mouth down and devours mine again, his tongue mimicking the actions below. And from one kiss to the next he pulls me into him, cupping my ass so we remain connected as he lifts me up and turns me around so we fall onto the bed behind us.
His mouth claims mine as he finds his rhythm again. I can feel the pressure building—can feel the conflicted bliss just within my reach—and grab the back of Colton’s neck and hold his mouth to mine as I drink him in. “You. Feel. Incredible,” he murmurs against my lips.
I can’t speak. Don’t trust myself to. Don’t know who I am right now. So instead I just I arch my back into him so I can change the angle of my hips allowing him to hit that nerve-laden spot deep within, over and over.
Colton knows my body so well already—knows what I need to bring me to climax—that he takes the hint of the subtle repositioning. He rears back onto his knees, grabs my legs, pushes them back, and places my feet flat against his chest. The angle allows him to surge even deeper, and I can’t hold back the moan of utter rapture as he bottoms out inside of me before pulling back out slowly and driving back in.
I look up at him, a sheen of sweat on his face and shoulders with my pink painted toenails bright against his tanned torso, and I meet his eyes. I hold his stare as long as I can until it’s too much for me to bear; it’s the first time since we’ve met that there is nothing guarding the emotion flickering through his eyes. It’s too much for me to comprehend—too much for me to think about when all I want to do is lose myself in this moment and block out everything else. To lose all train of thought.
I throw my head back, my eyes closed and hands gripping the sheets beneath me as the sensations threaten to overtake me. Colton must sense my impending release from my rapid breathing and the tightening of my thighs.
“Hold on, Ry.” He pants. “Hold on, baby.” He plunges into me, picking up his pace until I can no longer hold it back.
“Oh God!” I cry out as my body fractures into a million pieces of mindless pleasure. Release surging though me and consuming my every breath, thought, and reaction. The continual pulsing of my orgasm milks Colton to his climax. He cries out my name brokenly and throws his head back, welcoming his own release and jerking harshly within me. When he comes back to himself, I am still catching my breath and my thoughts with my eyes closed and my head angled back. I feel him remove my feet from his chest, and without breaking our connection, flanks his body over mine, resting his weight on his elbows propped on either side of me. He brings his hands to the side of my face and cups it, running his thumbs gently over the skin on my cheeks.
I can feel his breath feathering over my lips—know that his eyes are staring at me—but I can’t bring myself to open mine yet. I need to get a hold on my emotions before I open my eyes because no matter how wonderful that just was, it doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t take away the fact that he ran away when I told him I loved him. It doesn’t erase that he slept with Tawny to bury the very idea that someone might actually want more than just an arrangement with him. All it solidifies is that we can have incredible, mind-numbing sex.