She has a restless night filled with nightmares from her past. She and Haddie have a come-to-Colton talk about how it’s okay to have mindless sex with him to get over Max, about how it’s okay to clear the cobwebs and live a little.

Rylee wakes up with a new resolve from the tearful woman who left the hotel the night before. She’s going to try to just go with the flow when it comes to Colton. See what happens. She goes for a run and when she returns, guess who’s standing in her driveway waiting for the woman who ran out on him?

There was something humorous in figuring out Colton’s reaction to Rylee’s transformation from the upset woman the night before to this confident temptress challenging him with her words and her body. It was also a hard scene to write because once again, Colton’s motivations were almost schizophrenic in nature. His continual need to explain to himself why he’s there, that he’s just trying to be a good guy, apologize for being an ass, makes you want to shake him so he sees what’s right in front of him.

Why the fuck am I here? Seriously, Donavan? Chasing her like a damn chick after last night. After I fucked her and then freaked the hell out and basically pushed her away. Like that doesn’t have douchebag written all over it.

Walk away, Donavan. Lift the right foot, then the left, and walk around the fucking Rover. Leave the complication alone and ease what-the-fuck-ever is that weird pressure in my chest.

Do it.

Now.

Move your ass.

I look up, conviction in my head but resistance in my soul, and the air punches from my lungs. Lead now weighing down my fucking flip-flopped feet.

My God she’s gorgeous. Like knock me to my knees gorgeous. What girl can be sweaty in workout gear, jeans and a T-shirt, or dressed to the hilt like last night and be hot as fuck in all three?

She runs the rest of the way toward me and hell yes I look at the way her tits bounce in her snug little tank thingy. I groan inwardly as I remember the weight of them in my hands. The taste of them on my tongue.

“Hi.” She breathes out and although she looks winded I like to think her quickened breath is because of me.

“Hello, Rylee.” It’s all I can manage to say. Thoughts flicker through my head. How I should apologize. How I should demand to know why she makes me feel like this when I don’t even know what this is.

“What are you doing here?” Confusion mars her gorgeous face as those eyes of hers search mine for an explanation I can’t even give her. One that I know but am not able to put sound to the words because then it would make her … make this too fucking real.

And I don’t do real. I do quick. I do easy. I do rules and draw lines that never get crossed.

So why the fuck am I here, then?

I look at her, such a goddamn contradiction in everything she is, and have the urge to tell her the truth but know the truth will push her away. I want to tell her she burned me last night. Fucked me into feeling more than just the physical when I’m so used to being numb. Made me feel raw and vulnerable when I’m always guarded.

And I couldn’t handle it. She looked in my eyes so deeply I could see the truths she saw there reflected in her own eyes and it scared the fuck out of me.

Demons best be left untouched or else they destroy. Collateral damage be damned. Been there, done that shit.

She angles her head at me. Her eyes still reflect hurt, but I also see surprise and thank fuck for that because it means I still have a shot. The question is after last night and the goddamn hurricane of emotions that ripped through me during and after we had sex, I’m not quite sure what the shot I’m looking for is.

Redemption? Apology? Forgiveness? Another chance?

Pick one, Donavan, because she proved last night she doesn’t play the games you’re used to so figure out the answer to her question, the one you don’t even know the answer to yourself.

“Well, according to you, I took the checkered flag last night, Rylee …” I say as I take a step toward her trying to snap my thoughts in line, make up a reason for being here besides the need to make sure she’s okay when I could have just picked up the fucking phone. I resist the urge to reach out and touch her because I know if I do, my dick will rise to the occasion and do the talking for me. And fuck if I know what it will say.

She licks her lips, dick beginning to win the internal thought process, when I suddenly figure out my angle … my in … my stupid-ass excuse for showing up the morning after like some pussy-whipped douchebag. Because Christ, you can’t get pussy whipped after just one taste. Shit like that takes time to acquire.

Or so I’ve heard.

This man might be drawn to the pussy palace but fuck if its queen will hand out orders that I’ll obey.

I take another step toward her, still undecided about my excuse for being here when I glance down momentarily and see her nipples harden through her tank. That’s always a plus. At least I know she’s still attracted to me. Let’s see if I can make her like me again. Give me another chance.

Bingo. Truth shall set me free. There’s the answer. I just want another chance when I’ve never wanted one before.

And therein lies the second question, another chance at what though?

I shake the thought, her eyes asking me to finish the question I left hanging. “… but I seem to have neglected to collect my trophy.”

“Trophy?”

Hmm. Maybe not such a good idea, now that I think about it. Fix this, Donavan. Fix how you just compared her to something that sits on the shelf and collects dust.

Play, player, play.

“Yes. You.” I reach for her hand and pull her into me. Her breath hitches: check. Her heart’s pounding: check.

I’ve still got my game despite feeling like she knocked it off its field last night. Thank fuck for that.

And then she looks up at me and that damn defiance is back, and I know we’re about to go a round. She might be affected but fuck if she’s going to back down. Let’s see if this gets us where we need to be.

Bring it on, baby.

“Well, Ace, I think you’ve got your eyes on the wrong prize.” She pushes against my chest and steps back, a smirk on her face. “If all you’re looking for is a trophy, you have your bevy of beauties you can pick from. I’m sure that one of them would be more than willing to be a trophy on your arm.” She steps past me and when she turns around, our eyes meet and she holds her ground. “You could probably start by calling Raquel, is it? I’m sure she’ll forgive you for last night. I mean, you were … decent. She’s probably thrilled with decent.”

Knee-jerk reaction has me grabbing her arm and spinning her around when she goes to walk away again.

Decent? Decent? You want to play dirty, huh? I have a whole chest full of toys we can use if you want to go that route, but first things first.

“Decent, huh?” I step in closer to her, wanting so bad to taste the defiance on her lips but refraining. I came here today expecting to find her hurt and all I’m getting is obstinance. I’m confused how the woman who left me last night with tears in her eyes is the same fucking one that stands before me. What has happened in the last ten hours? Shit, I came here to apologize, salvage the chance to have her again so I can figure out what the fuck kind of hold she has over me. Try to see what it is about her that has me coming back for seconds when I prefer my meals to be more varied because shit, if you keep on moving, keep on sampling, no one can get too close.

I’m trying to figure this all out and then she goes and calls my abilities on the carpet when we both know last night was anything but decent. Hell, she blew the doors off the damn bedroom and chiseled away at everything I guard. She wants to pretend I was decent, that she’s wasn’t affected? Go right ahead because I know avoidance when I see it and fuck if she’s not using this newfound confidence to cover something up. The question is what?