Driven (Driven, #1)

by K. Bromberg

My lips part and my breath hitches as he moves his hand up the line of my neck and then uses the back of it to run his knuckles softly down my cheek. I have no time to register the confusion mingled with a heavy dose of desire that surges through me when I hear him mutter, “Oh fuck it,” seconds before his mouth is on mine.

Ummmm that was quick

“Sorry, I don’t waste my time on misogynist jerks like you. Go find someone—”

“She also taught me that when I want something, I need to keep after it until I get it.” Great, so now I’ve acquired a stalker. A handsome, sexy, very annoying stalker.

“Those words, Oh God,” he mimics me, reaching out and running a finger down the side of my face. “Now I know exactly how you’ll sound when you say that while I’m buried deep inside of you.”

“Charity. Auction. Does. Not. Equal. Escort. Service.” He snarls, taking a step closer, but never breaking our stare. “Lastly,” he seethes, grabbing hold of my arm to emphasize his point, “I don’t ever want to hear you refer to yourself as a whore again.”

“As much as I’d like to warn you away from me, Rylee—for your own sake,” he murmurs, inches from my mouth, “all I crave is the taste of you.” His finger trails a line down the side of my neck, lighting my skin on fire. “It’s been too long since I’ve savored you. You. Are. Intoxicating.” His words are a staccato that match the quickening of my heart.

“Because I want to know who’s standing in my way.” He tilts his head and stares at me as my lips part in response. My mouth is suddenly very dry. “Whose ass I have to kick before I can make it official.” “Make what official?” My mind flickers trying to figure out what I’m missing. “That you’re mine.” Colton’s breath flutters over my face as the look in his eyes swallows me whole. “Once I fuck you, Rylee—it’s official, you’re mine and only mine.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious how good it will be? If it’s this electrifying with just the brush of our skin against each other, can you imagine what it will be like when I’m buried inside of you?”

“Not inconsequential, Rylee. You could never be inconsequential.” He shakes his head subtly, the vibration of his voice resonating in me. He rests his forehead to mine, our noses brushing each other’s. “No—you and me—together,” he grinds the words out, “that would make you mine.” His words feather over my face, enter my soul, and take hold. “Mine,” he repeats, making sure that I understand his intentions.

want to take my time with you, Rylee. I want to build you up nice and slow and sweet like you need. Push you to crash over that edge. And then I want to fuck you the way I need to. Fast and hard until you’re screaming my name. The way I’ve wanted to since you fell out of that storage closet and into my life.”

I. Can’t. Resist. You.”

Finally he looks back at me. “Do you have any idea … you made me—” He stops mid-sentence before standing abruptly and walking to the window.

“I just want to protect you from—” He stops again,

Finish the sentences, I plead silently as I watch his tense body framed by the mid-morning light.

He is my fire on a cold night, the sun warming my skin on a cool spring morning, the wind caressing my face on an autumn day—he is everything that makes me feel alive, and whole, and beautiful.

“Then what the fuck is this, Colton? I think I need a little clarity here seeing as I still have some of you in me, as you so kindly pointed out. Are you referring to the house or as a definition of you and me?”

“Rylee, this is not what I’d planned for me. For us.” He pauses, his eyes flooding with emotion. “You. What you are? What we are? It scares the shit out of me.”

“I will not be inconsequential, Colton. To you or anyone else.”

“Sometimes you need to crash a couple of times to learn your mistakes, and then when the smoke clears, sometimes you’re better off in the end. Lesson learned in case there is a next time.”

“But. I. Want. You. Rylee. No. One. Else.” He smirks.