I start to speak and am stopped as his mouth closes over mine again, the sweet sugary taste on his tongue. It’s a soft, tender kiss. A gradual easing of lips and tongue that lacks urgency yet screams of simplistic desperation. His lips travel down my exposed neck and back up, nipping at my earlobe. A slow and welcome torture that is making me want like never before.

I can feel the cotton candy slowly move down my torso to my sex. The confection leaves my skin, and I feel his fingers roaming over me, caressing my folds, and pandering to my body’s addiction to his touch. I gasp in our kiss and Colton absorbs my voracious moan of desire. He skillfully teases me with his dexterous fingertips, and I push my pelvis against his hand, wanting more. Needing the friction to inch me closer to the edge.

I hiss out a breath as he parts me, very slowly slipping a finger into my core. Heat flashes through me as I feel my muscles tighten around him, clenching as fire burns through my veins. He cups me, leisurely rocking his hand as his thumb finds and stimulates my nub of nerve endings. He withdraws his finger and then slowly tucks two back into me. He curves them, rubbing against the sensitive spot deep inside, his fingers and tongue mimicking each other as he intensifies his pace. I fist my hands inside my bindings, my nails digging into my palms, as he quickens the rhythm.

I am so gloriously close to crashing into the oblivion and then all of the sudden I’m not. Colton has withdrawn all touch from me. I cry out his name in frustration. In desperation. I hear a low, rumbling chuckle from him. “Not yet, sweetheart. Turnabout’s fair play,” he croons in my ear. “I want to drive you crazy like you do me.” I feel a softness tickle my lips and I open them, accepting the sweet bite of cotton candy on my tongue. “I want to drive you to the crest, Rylee. Take you to the brink so that your only thought is of me. So that you cry out my name when your body detonates into a million splinters of pleasure.”

His hypnotic words entrance me. Seduce me. And without a hint of what’s next, Colton’s mouth closes over my clit as he slips two fingers back into me. I call out inarticulately at the exquisite pleasure that pulses through me. He sucks, gently teasing me until my legs tighten in impatience. His fingers slowly press in and out of my channel, rubbing, teasing, and urging me higher. I lift my hips to him, reeling from his languorous manipulation, but still wanting more. I pant in need then moan in ecstasy as I feel the quickening start to build again beneath his skilled touch. I am so close. Within a few grazes of my climax. Abruptly, Colton withdraws his mouth. His fingers remain, yet stay motionless deep within me.

Damn him! My chest heaves for air as my body stays wound tight, waiting for the slightest movement to set me off. “Greedy little girl,” he admonishes, his breath whispering over my slick flesh. “I may have to rectify this,” and before he can finish his last word, he withdraws his fingers and slams into me, burying himself to the hilt in my heated depth.

“Oh God, Colton!” The sudden fullness, the unexpected stroke against my patch of interior nerves, makes me writhe against the granite slab.

Colton eases out of me slowly before plunging back in. He continues this slow withdrawal followed by his greedy drive back in, setting a delirious pace that pushes me to the edge. “Come for me, Rylee!” he growls at me.

His words are my undoing. My breath quickens. My pulse races. My muscles tense. My hips grind into him, deepening the burning ache until I am pushed over the edge. I explode like a firecracker. Detonations of little lights explode behind my closed eyelids and a white-hot heat flits though my body. Sensation shatters around me as the first wave of my orgasm explodes. I yell out, all thoughts incoherent as I pulse around him. He stills, allowing me to absorb the intensity of my climax. I release the breath I’ve been holding, my taut muscles, slowly relaxing before another wave shudders through me.

This wave is more than he can bear. My muscles milk his orgasm out of him. He rears back and pushes into me a few more times, my body gripping his. He yells out my name, his own climax tearing through him, and his hips jerking against me until I can feel his warmth erupt within me.

He collapses on top of me, pressing his face into the curve of my neck. Our chests heave in uneven unison, and I can feel his lips form a smile. My breath shudders as I exhale, the frantic tattoo of my heart beginning to ebb. That was … Wow! I go to remove the blindfold and remember that my hands are still tied.

I wiggle underneath him. He laughs into my neck, the vibration of it seeping into my chest. “I take it you want your hands back?”

“Hmm-hmmm.” I don’t think I can speak. My body is still processing what has just happened.

He lifts up and I can feel his hands tugging at my bindings. When one hand is free, I reach down and pull off my blindfold, my eyes easily adjusting to the dimmed light in the kitchen. Colton’s face is above me, etched in concentration as he works the other knot free. I see the lines ease as my other hand releases from what appears to be a velvet type of braided rope.

I reach up to run my hands over his cheeks as he looks down at me, an errant lock of hair falling over his forehead. A shy smile lights up his face. I lift my head and brush a soft kiss against his lips, the only way I can express how I feel, how much what just happened meant to me without having him run for the hills.

I lay my head back down yet Colton’s eyes remain closed, the corners of his mouth still soft in a smile. He shakes his head subtly before opening his eyes and easing his weight off of me. “C’mon,” he says, pulling me up by my arms, “This can’t be all too comfortable for you.”

I hop off of the counter, suddenly modest in my nudity. I look around for my clothes as Colton pulls his jeans up over his naked hips. I put my arms through my bra straps as I watch him button up the first four buttons, leaving the top one undone. I have to stifle a sigh as I stare at him naked from the waist up in pure appreciation of his toned physique.

I hook my bra together and drag my shirt over my head, fearing the disheveled state of my hair. I start to run my fingers through it but stop when I catch more than just a glimpse of the tattoos that line the side of his torso. I’ve never really been able to see the whole of them, so I take a moment to look. Four symbols align vertically down his side, all are similar in their style but different in their image. The first three images are solid in color, the ink filled in completely while the fourth is just the outline. I angle my head, trying to figure out what exactly they are of when Colton looks up and notes my inquisitive stare.


CHAPTER 17


“What are your tattoos of?”

He looks up at me, turning his body and raising his arm overhead so that I can see the markings. “They’re Celtic knots.”

“What do they mean?”

“Nothing really,” he says gruffly, busying himself by opening the refrigerator, which I notice is almost empty, and grabbing a beer.

“C’mon.” I prod, curious as to why he is suddenly averting the question when he’s been so forthcoming all evening. He holds a beer out to me and I shake my head no to the offer. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who marks himself permanently without having a reason or the tattoos a specific meaning.”

I lean against the counter with my shirt and panties on as he takes a long tug on the beer, his eyes meeting mine over the bottom of the bottle. He slides them down the length of my bare legs and back up to my eyes. “The knots mean different things.” He lifts his arm again to show me as I move near him. He points to the first one just below his armpit, “This one means to overcome some type of adversity in life,” he moves to the next one. “This is the symbol for acceptance. This one is for healing, and the bottom one’s for vengeance.” He looks up slowly, a darkness in his eyes as they hold mine, waiting for my reaction. Waiting for me to probe with the obvious question asking why does he need acceptance, healing, and vengeance. We stand in silence until he sighs, shaking his head at me, disbelief on his face that he’s said so much.

I step toward him, reach out tentatively, and run my fingers down the four symbols on his body, their meanings resonating in me, telling me somehow, someway they are a marker of his past history and where he is in his present state of dealing with it. His body shivers at my touch. “They suit you,” I whisper, trying to convey to him that I understand this range of emotions. “Did you get them all at once? Why are three colored in and not the fourth?”

He shrugs away from me, taking another drink from his beer. “No.” That’s all he gives me and his tone tells me that there is no more discussion on that question. Does he get them as he accomplishes each in regards to his past? If so, the vengeance one has me a little more curious.

“You’re Irish then?”

“So my Dad tells me.”

Mr. Forthcoming. I guess he is done talking about him for the night. The theoretical switch has been flipped, and I’m back trying to catch up to his mercurial mood swings. What now? Does he drive me home? Do I stay the night? Do I get a cab? Unsettled by the unknown, I pick up my pants and tug them on, struggling to appear coordinated as my ankle gets caught in the cuff. I can feel the heat of his gaze as he watches me although I dare not look up, embarrassment eminent.

“So, Colton …” I look up as I finish buttoning my jeans to see him watching me as I’d thought, an amused smirk on his face and his eyebrows raised. He may be experienced in the protocol of this type of thing, but I sure am not. My cheeks flush. I search for something to talk about, something that will abate my anxiety until he gives me some kind of inkling as to what or where I go from here. “The boys are really looking forward to going to the track when you test the car.” He snorts his head bobbing back and forth before he stifles a laugh. “What?” I ask confused by his reaction to my seemingly non-amusing comment.

“All business now, are we?” I eye him carefully as he walks toward me, wary of the predatory look in his eyes. “How is it that ten minutes ago you were naked and compliant beneath me and now you’re nervous and uncomfortable just being in the same space as me?” Probably because you dominate any space you occupy. He reaches out to tug one of my curls. His emerald eyes darken as he watches me. “Am I that scary of a guy, Rylee?”

Shit. I have to work harder at not wearing my emotions on my sleeve. “I’m not nervous.” My over-emphatic answer a dead give away of the exact opposite.

“Oh, Rylee, it’s not exactly polite to lie when some of me is still in you.”

My blush darkens. Well, when he puts it that way … “I’m not lying. I just wanted to—to—uh get the dates so that I can tell the boys.”

He raises his eyebrows, a knowing smile on his lips. I’m a horrible liar, and I know he can see right through mine. “What an apropos time to ask,” he smirks. “Well,” he reaches out and cups my neck, laying a tender kiss on my lips, “my day planner’s at home. I’ll have to text you the dates.”

I open my eyes from his kiss as his words enter my head. What? I feel his body tense once he’s realized what he said. Did I miss something? I snap my eyes up to his and he takes a cautious step back from me. The look on his face is indiscernible.

“Is this not your house?” I shake my head. “What am I missing here?”

Colton runs a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. “It’s my place. I just don’t stay here that often.” His expression is guarded, tension in the lines around his mouth. His uneasiness unnerves me.

“Oh. Okay. Where else do you …?” And it hits me. The wrong key in the door. The fumbling with the alarm code. The inability to find something in the kitchen cupboards. The empty refrigerator. Colton saying that he shouldn’t have brought me here. How could I be so naïve? I raise my eyes to meet Colton’s and he knows that I know. The look on his face says it all. I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “So, this is your place, but not exactly where you live.” I slowly annunciate every word. “Its where you bring all your dates, escorts, whatever you call them, to fuck.” I choke on the last word. “Right?”

“That’s not what this is.” His voice is reticent. Rueful.

I snort at his response. “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?”