Текст книги "Crashed"

Автор книги: K. Bromberg

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

I glance over at Becks again and see the smile flash on his face, and I know he’s listening in, making sure his best friend is okay. “It’s okay … watching you out there? Mine is fucked up too … but you’re ready, you can do this.”

“Aren’t we a fucking pair?” He snorts into the radio and I can sense a little of his anxiety and fear dissipating with each passing second. I see the guys around me relax some as they notice the smile widen on Beckett’s face.

“We are indeed,” I laugh before releasing an exhale in relief. God, I love you, I want to say, but refrain. The rumble increases down the backstretch and I can’t fight the grin on my face at the sound of success. “Hey, Ace, can I bring the guys back on?”

“Yeah,” he says followed quickly by, “Ry … I …”

My heart swells at the emotion in his voice. I can hear the apology, feel the absolute sincerity behind it. “I know, Colton. Me too.”

I fight the tears of happiness that well up, and when I look up at Beckett he has a soft smile on his face. He shakes his head ever so subtly and mouths the word lifeline to me.

CHAPTER 23

The car enters the pits and rolls to a stop. Beckett’s at its side in an instant while I fidget behind the wall, wanting to see Colton face to face to make sure he’s okay. He removes the steering wheel and hands it to Becks before unbuckling his helmet. Becks helps him unfasten it from the HANS device, and when he pulls it from his head, removing the balaclava with it, the crew erupts into a roar of cheers.

Chills dance at the celebratory sounds as Becks helps him out of the car. I step over the wall with the rest of the crew, unable to stay at a distance any longer because now Colton stands there hot, sweaty, and oh my God sexy. Pride tinged with desire spears through me at the sight of him.

Attending to the car is forgotten as his crew pats him on the shoulders and welcomes him back. Beckett just looks at him with a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. “I’m proud of you, dude, but fuck, your lap times sucked.”

Colton laughs again, slinging an arm around his friend. “I can always count on you to knock me down a few pegs.” He goes to say something else and then stops when he sees me.

I have a déjà vu moment, Colton standing amidst the whirling chaos of his crew, eyes locked on mine, sexy-as-sin grin wide on his lips. Time stops again as the world falls away and we stare at each other.

I know there are so many things we need to talk about—need to figure out from the last time we spoke—but at the same time I need this connection with him. Need the carnal physicality between the two of us that hits me like a shock wave as it crosses the distance between us and crashes into me before we can figure the rest out.

And I know he feels it too because within a beat Colton strides toward me with purpose. Within an instant of reaching me, my legs are wrapped around his waist and our mouths are on one another’s with a frenzied need. My hands grip his shoulders. One of his grabs my backside while the other grips my neck, holding my mouth to his, so he can take everything I am offering, and then some.

“God, I fucking missed you,” he growls into my mouth between kisses. And without preamble we are on the move. His powerful legs stride beneath me, and strong arms hold me secure while his lips bruise mine in unbidden possession.

Noise filters back. Hoots and hollers of the crew ring through the empty stadium as Colton makes no apologies for walking away without a second thought. Someone shouts “Get a room!” and I am so overwhelmed, so desperate to sate the desire unfurling within and shocking through my system that I answer before Colton can.

“Who needs a room?” I say before my lips crash back against his, hands fisting in his hair, hips grinding into his as his erection rubs against me with every step.

Laughter rings out followed by catcalls, but they’re only background noise to the freight train of desire bearing down on us. “Hurry,” I tell him in between desperate kisses.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he tries to find an open door at my back without wanting to take his mouth from mine.

“Oh, you better plan on it,” I reply as I pull back so he can find the handle. He belts out a laugh as my tongue glides to his neck, the taste of salt on my tongue, the vibration of his laughter beneath my lips.

We’re on the move again, up a set of stairs in a darkened corridor, and I have no clue where we are. I hold on for the ride, laughter bubbling up, relief flowing through me as my body tenses with the anticipation of what’s to come.

We’re suddenly bathed in a muted light, and I turn my head and blink my eyes to take in our surroundings. We are in one of the luxury boxes on pit row: plush couches, a concessions bar on one side, a table spanning the length of the wall of tinted windows that looks down on the track, where his crew is tinkering with his car.

That’s all I have time to take in because Colton’s lips find mine again, his mouth a toxic concoction of need and lust. My legs fall from his hips, feet dropping to the ground, as we move toward the counter in a clumsy choreography of steps. We reach the lip of the counter, and I lean my hips back against it, as Colton’s hands roam down my torso, before I feel bare hands beneath my shirt on my ribcage.

And I’m not sure if it’s the heightened arousal from the adrenaline of the race track, or our reconciliation, but I feel like I can’t get enough of him—his touch, his taste, the sound in the back of his throat, my name on his lips. I reach up and unfasten the Velcro against his throat so I can pull his zipper. And even this small action pains me because I have to pull away from his lips. But the minute I yank the zipper down, my mouth meets his again. Our hands unfasten, arms pull out of our sleeves, fingers shove down my shorts and underwear, clothes thrown haphazardly to the floor, our mouths never leaving one another’s.

“Ry,” he says between kisses, one hand gripping my hair tightly while the other tests my readiness for his entrance. Foreplay isn’t an option right now. We’re so pent up, so desperate to right the wrongs of our last conversation that without speaking, we both know we need this connection. Talking will come later. Cuddling and niceties later. Right now desire consumes, passion overwhelms, and love takes hold. “Fuck, I need you right now.”

“Take me.” Two simple words. They’re out of my mouth without a second thought, but within a second of saying them, Colton has me flipped over, hands braced on the counter, his hands gripping my hips, his throbbing cock lined up at my entrance from behind. He rests the crest in between my folds and then slides it up and back causing my body to tense and a moan to fall from between my lips.

And there’s something about this moment, about Colton on the precipice of taking me without asking, that has every part of me aching for release, begging for more of his touch. “Please. Now,” I pant as my sex quivers with need, body so in tune to his every action that my body automatically responds, opens, invites.

I rear back and try to take him on my own, trying to demonstrate the need spearing and spiraling throughout my every nerve, robbing my rationality, and making my senses crave more. “Behave!” He chuckles out a laugh of pure male appreciation as one hand fists in my mane of hair as his other lands smartly on the left side of my ass. The sting shocks my head back but has nothing on the assault of sensation that occurs as he enters me in one slick, earth-shattering thrust. I can’t help the hitched breath followed by a soft sigh that falls from my mouth as sensation ripples and my walls convulse around him.

He pulls on my hair, angling my head back, so when he leans forward his lips are at my ear. “That is the sexiest fucking sound in the world,” he growls before his lips find my bare shoulder, stubbled beard tickling the usually forgotten erogenous zone of my back. His teeth nip my shoulder followed by the press of his lips as his hips grind into me, and I moan in pure rapture as the scrape of his beard moves down my spine.

And now it’s my turn to enjoy the sounds he makes as we start to move in rhythm with each other. Goose bumps appear despite the heat spreading through my body. One hand grips the flesh on my hip, controlling each pleasure inducing drive in and subsequent withdrawal tantalizing every single nerve. My body quickens, overtaken by the animalistic nature of his hold on my hair and my body.

“Oh God!” I pant, needing, wanting, not being able to take any more all at the same time. My hands start to slide on the surface of the counter as they dampen with sweat.

“Fuuuuccckkk!” he grates out, his desire to control his tempo apparent in his voice. And call it a challenge, or me just channeling the inner vixen he’s helped me find, but I want to break that control. I want to push him harder, faster—to take with reckless abandon—because my God, the guttural sound in his throat, the fullness as he seats himself to the hilt when he thrusts into me, the clockwise motion of his hips as he moves within me pushes me harder, faster, than I’ve ever known. Makes me want to bring him an ounce of the pleasure that his body gives me.

I reach a hand down between my legs, fingers sliding over the temptation to caress my own clit, and instead grab a hold of his balls as he grinds his hips into me again. Fingers caress, nails tease, and hands cradle as he pulls back tighter on my hair. I can hear the sounds he’s making, know he’s clenching his jaw, that he’s riding that razor-thin edge of being controlled versus relinquishing to the carnal nature of the act. To take for himself without thought. And it eggs me on, tempts me to push him harder, force him over that edge that much quicker, because fuck if he’s not driving me there in the process.

I get lost in the feeling, the sounds of his body smacking against mine, the feel of his hand possessing my hip, the fall of my name from his lips and without realizing it, I’m there, teetering on my own razor thin edge. I crash into the endless free fall of bliss as my climax overwhelms me, my body an inferno of warring sensations.

“Colton!” I cry, over and over as he slows his pace, sliding his tongue up the plain of my back to help draw out my orgasm.

I can feel my muscles pulse around him still within me, moving slowly, and then a feral cry fills the air as he can’t hold back anymore. His hips thrust a few more times before his arms suddenly wrap around my torso and hold my weight as he pulls me to a standing position, his front still to my back.

In an unexpected move of tenderness in complete contrast to the thorough dominance of my body, he squeezes me back into him and buries his face into the curve of my neck. We stand like this for some time, absorbing each other, accepting the silent apologies.

CHAPTER 24

The silence descends around us as we pull our clothes back on. Now that we’ve had our way with each other physically—now that our bodies are no longer connected—my mind worries about how we’re going to connect verbally.

Because we can’t leave things as is. And we can’t ignore them. Hopefully the miserably lonely time apart has helped us so we can move forward.

But even if we can, where exactly do we go from here?

I steal a glance over at him as he zips up his fire suit and looks through the tinted window at the crew below, and I just can’t get a read on him. I pull my shirt over my head and lick my lips as I try to figure out how to start this conversation.

“We need to talk,” I say softly as if I’m afraid to disturb the blanket of silence smothering the room.

“I’m putting the Palisades house up for sale.” He speaks the words quietly, never once looking my way, and I’m so focused on him and his lack of emotion, it takes a moment for his words to sink in.

Whoa! What? So that’s how we’re going to play this? Classic avoidance?

Even though he’s not looking at me, I know he’s aware of me so I try to visibly hide the shock from the words he’s just hit me with, as well as the ones he hasn’t said.

“Colton?” I say, his name like a question—one that asks so many different things. Are we going to address this? Are we going to ignore this? Why are you selling the house?

“I don’t use it …” he answers my unasked question, sliding a glance over at me, before he looks back at his guys down below. And the way he says it, almost apologetically, makes me feel like this is something he’s doing to tell me he’s sorry for everything that’s happening—Tawny, a possible baby, the space he needs.

When I don’t respond and just watch him patiently, he turns and faces me. Our eyes lock and we stare at each other for a moment, asking unanswered questions without words.

“I don’t need it anymore,” he explains as he watches me for a reaction.

And as much as there is unresolved drama between us, what he’s just said tells me he’s really in this for the long haul. That even with everything thrown at us over the past week that might turn his world upside down, he’s selling the one place I’d vowed never to return to. That I mean enough to him that he’s willing to get rid of a place signifying his old way of life full of stipulations and mitigations.

“Oh …” It’s all I can manage to say because I’m at a loss for words, so we just continue to stare at each other in this room that still smells like sex. I can see him thinking, trying to figure out what to say—how to go from here—so I begin. “What’s on your mind, Colton?”

“Just thinking,” he says, pursing his lips and running a hand through his hair, “about how I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear your voice today out on the track until you came through the headset.”

The gentle sigh of satisfaction comes from every part of me, warming me inside and out, as it weaves its way around the hold he has on my heart. And the old me would have rolled my eyes at his comment and said he’s trying to get on my good side, but the old me didn’t need and miss Colton as much as I do now, didn’t know all he had to offer.

“All you had to do was call me,” I say softly, reaching a hand out and placing it on top of his beside me. “I promised you I’d be here your first day back.”

He emits a self-deprecating chuckle with a shake of his head. “And say what? I’ve been an asshole—haven’t called at all—but I need you on the track with me today?” The sarcasm is thick in his voice.

I squeeze his hand. “It’s a start,” I tell him, my voice trailing off. “We agreed to figure our shit out, get our heads straight, but I would’ve been here in a heartbeat if you’d called me.”

He sighs, angling his head out toward the track beyond. “I’m sorry for what I said to you … the things I accused you of … I was an ass.” Emotion causes his voice to waver, which makes what he’s saying that much more endearing.

I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I have to let him know. “You hurt me. I know you were upset and lashing out at the person nearest to you … but you hurt me when I was already torn apart. We struggle day to day with our pasts, and then something like this happens and … I …” I can’t find the right words to say it, so I just don’t finish my thought.

Colton steps toward me and reaches out to grab my hand, pulling me gently toward him so the only barrier between us is our clothes. “I know.” He draws in a shaky breath before he continues. “I’ve never done this before, Ry. I’m trying to figure it out as I go and fuck, I know the excuses are getting old and pretty soon aren’t going to be excusable, but … fuckin’ A, I’m trying.” He shrugs.

I nod at him, words escaping me because he’s doing something he’s never been good at: communicating. And they may seem like baby steps to him, but they gain us massive ground in our relationship.

He leans forward and brushes an unexpected kiss on my lips before murmuring, “C’mere.” He leans his butt against the ledge behind him the same time he pulls me into him so we stand with my back to his front, his legs surrounding mine. I lean my head against his chest and feel stupidly content as he brings his arms around me and holds me tight. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you for today. No one’s ever done something like that for me before.”

His words kind of surprise me but after a minute I understand his line of thinking and need to correct it. “Becks, your family, they do it all the time. You just don’t allow yourself to see or accept it.”

“Yeah, but they’re family, they have to.” He pauses and even though I can’t see the look in his eyes, I can sense his mind working as I wonder what exactly he classifies me as. “And you? You’re my fucking checkered flag.” I angle my head to the side just enough so I can see a diminutive smile spread on his lips as a full-fledged one lights up mine. “It’s a little hard to get used to the idea when I’ve never done this before. I have to get used to you being there for me and needing you, and fuck if that doesn’t knock me back a few pit stop steps sometimes because it scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

Holy shit! I’m stunned to silence once again by his attempt to explain the trepidation I’m sure is tickling the outer edges of his psyche. I put my hands over his arms that are locked around me and squeeze them in a silent acknowledgment of the growth he is trying to show.

“I’m not going to run, Colton,” I say, my voice resolute. “I haven’t yet, but you really hurt me. I know you’re going through a lot of shit, but hell if you aren’t a lot to take in. I’m going to need a pit stop sometimes too. I mean, between you, the limelight, the women still wanting you and hating me, the possibility of …” I can’t finish the thought, can’t force the word baby from my lips or rid the sudden acrid taste from my mouth.

“Hello elephant in the fucking room.” He lets out an audible sigh, and his jaw tenses on my shoulder.

I don’t want to ruin the moment—the heart-to-heart we need to have more of—but since I unexpectedly brought it up, I’d rather address it and get it over with. “What’s going on with … that?” I close my eyes and grit my teeth as I await the answer.

“I don’t care what she says about what I supposedly did or didn’t do that I can’t fucking remember. I know it’s not mine, Rylee.”

The simplicity of his statement and the vigor with which he delivers it causes my hope to soar. And then to fall. If he got the results back, then why didn’t he call me? “You got the test results back already?” I say cautiously, trying to hide my wariness.

“No.” He shakes his head as the hope I have falls completely. “I took the test two days ago. Results will come any day now. But I know … I know it’s not mine.” And from the sound of his voice, I can’t tell who he’s trying to convince more: himself or me.

“How do you know, Colton, if you can’t remember?” I say loudly, frustrated and needing this to just be over, needing more emotion from him than what I’m getting. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. “I mean even if you and Tawny did...” I stop, unable to finish the thought “...she said you didn’t use a condom.” My voice is so quiet when I speak, hating that we even have to have this discussion. Hating that once again our moment of contentment is ruined by the outside world and the consequences of our pasts.

“You’re the only person, Ry … the only woman I’ve ever not used a condom with. I don’t care if you think I slept with her, but I know, Rylee … I know I would have used a condom.” I can hear the pleading in his voice for me to believe him. For me to understand an iota of the fear he’s feeling at the prospect of a child. When I don’t respond he pushes back away from me and starts to pace back and forth on the deck. The calm of five minutes ago is now replaced with pure agitation, a caged animal needing to escape its confines.

“It’s not mine!” he says, raising his voice. “There’s no fucking way it can be mine!”

“But what if it is?” I reiterate with full knowledge of the fire I’m lighting.

“It’s not,” he shouts. “Fuck! All I know is that I don’t know fucking anything! I hate the goddamn media following you and fucking harassing you. I hate the look on your face right now that says you’re going to fucking lose it if it is my baby even though you tell me you won’t. I hate fucking Tawny and everything she represents. The bullshit lies she’s fucking spewing about you that Chase says I can’t respond to because they’ll only hound you more. I hate that once again I’m fucking hurting you … that I’m going to fuck this up because my past is what it is … ” He closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders as he tries to rein in his anger.

This is the kind of fighting I can handle. Him venting, me listening, and then hopefully a little bit of the pain in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders will be eased, even if just for a bit.

“You’ve got enough on your plate. You don’t need to worry about me.” I tell him this and yet I love the fact that he’s upset by the fallout affecting me.

“I don’t?” he says with incredulity. “It’s my fucking job to look out for you, and I can’t even do that right now because everything’s so fucked up!”

“Colton—”

“I swear to God, your life gets turned upside down by me and you’re more worried about me and the boys than yourself.” He walks toward me with a shake of his head. He points to me and I look at him with confusion. “You are most definitely the fucking saint I don’t deserve.”

“Every sinner needs a saint to balance them out,” I say with a smirk.

He laughs softly and reaches out to cup my cheeks in his hands. And even though we’ve already had each other, my body vibrates instantly at his nearness, at wanting him, at needing him. His eyes lock on mine, hints of what he wants to do to me dancing behind the fringe of lashes.

“God, I fucking race you.” The emphatic words on his lips are followed by a lopsided smirk and a shake of his head, as if he’s still comprehending the depths of his emotions.

How many more times can my heart fall harder for this man? Because there it is again, the unpredictability of Colton that makes what he says just that much more poignant. Every part of my body shivers at his words.

It’s useless to try and fight the moisture pooling in my eyes because those words mean so much more than just “racing” to me. They mean he’s trying, he’s apologizing for the times when he’s going to fuck up. And for a man previously closed off from everyone, he’s handing me the key to the lock, and giving me an all-access pass.

I reach my free hand out and cup the back of his neck, pulling him into me because a man this magnificent, inside and out, is just too irresistible. I kiss him tenderly, licking my tongue between his lips so it dances intimately with his. No urgency, just soft, gentle acceptance. It’s only been minutes since our last kiss but it already feels like a lifetime. As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine and I say, “I race you too.”

I can feel his smile spread against my lips, and in this moment, I know he actually gets it. He actually accepts the fact that I love him and it’s such a figurative ray of light from this dark angel of mine that I grasp onto it, silently vowing to always remember how I feel right here, right now.

We may not have everything figured out, may not know what the future’s going to hold, but at least I know we’re in this race together.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling on my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We head toward the garage area where the guys are working on the car. As we enter, Beckett shakes his head and smirks at us. I avert my gaze quickly, so very aware that every guy in the garage knows exactly what we were just doing. The walk of shame is one thing, but when you have an audience that knows you’re doing it, well … that’s a lot more embarrassing.

Colton laughs beside me and squeezes my fingers laced with his. “What’s so funny?” I mumble, still keeping my eyes trained on the ground.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he teases. “I prefer the pink parts elsewhere on you more though.”

My mouth shocks open and before I can even recover, his mouth is on mine. The clang of tools surround us and yet all I hear is the beat of my heart. The kiss is merely a tease of what we did earlier, but when he pulls back after kissing the tip of my nose, a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” Like I even care what the answer is. He can do that to me anytime, anywhere.

“You know me, sweetheart. If they’re gonna stare, you might as well give them something good to stare at, right? Besides, if it wasn’t clear enough earlier, I want everyone in here knowing you’re mine.”

My heart swells at his words before the sarcasm is off my tongue. “Staking a claim are we?”

“Baby, claim’s already been made,” he says, stopping to look at me with a smirk. “No doubt about that.”

I roll my eyes and laugh at him as I keep walking. “C’mon, Ace,” I say over my shoulder, “can’t you keep up?”

I feel his hand smack my butt. “You sure as hell know I can keep anything up,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning down so his mouth is near my ear. “My dick, you pressed against the door, my stamina, and any other thing that can be considered up … but those are the most important ones, don’t you think?” He chuckles as I shake my head and make a sound of amusement.

We sort out the fact that Sammy is going to take my car home for me and then Colton leads me to a covered parking area where Sex sits. I can’t deny that the sight of the sexy-as-sin car brings back a rush of more than memorable memories that put a smirk on my face. From my locked gaze on the hood, I stare over to Colton where a lascivious grin meets mine. He raises his eyebrows, mischief dancing in his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he opens the door for me.

“Nice choice of car today,” I tell him as I slide into the opulent interior.

“This reminds me of you, and I needed you here today,” he says before shutting my door so I can’t respond. And maybe it’s best that I can’t, because his simple statement means so very much to me.

Baby steps.

Within seconds we’re on the freeway with the sounds of the Dave Matthews Band floating around us, the purr of the motor cocooning us, and the frenzied media following us. Colton looks in the rear view mirror before looking over at me from behind his sunglasses. “You buckled in?” he asks and all of a sudden my stomach twists in knots, fearing what’s going to happen next.

I don’t even have a chance to respond before the car surges forward, the motor revving, Colton laughing as the car flies faster than the press chasing us can go. I feel a surge of adrenaline and for a split second I can understand the pull of his addiction, but then I look up as he weaves in and out of traffic, and my heart lodges in my throat as the world beyond blurs.