But I’m not listening to my rational self and the snarky doubts she’s trying to cast. I vaguely push away the niggling feeling that she’s trying to force into my subconscious for my common sense has long been forgotten. It has been overrun, inundated, and is being thoroughly obliterated by my new addiction, otherwise known as Colton’s mouth. His mouth worships mine with slow, leisurely licks of tongue, grazes of teeth, and caresses of lips.
“Uh-uh-uh,” he teases against my lips as I thread my fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and try to pull him closer so that I can give into the blistering need he’s built inside of me and take more.
“You’re frustrating,” I sigh in frustration because now his lips have moved steadily up my neck lacing open mouth kisses to nip at my earlobe, causing little sparks of frisson in their path.
I can feel his smile spread against the hollow spot beneath my ear in response to my words. “Now you know how it feels,” he murmurs, “to want something …” he withdraws from my neck so that his face hovers an inch from mine. There is no doubt about the desire that clouds his eyes when they fuse to mine. He repeats himself. “To want something that someone won’t give you.”
I don’t even have a moment to register his words before his mouth crushes down on mine. This time he doesn’t hold back. His lips possess mine from the very moment we touch. He commands the kiss with a fiery passion that has my head spinning, my sanity ebbing, and my body craving. He kisses me with such an unrequited hunger, it’s as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t taste me. I have no choice but to ride the wave that he is controlling because I’m just as caught up as he is.
His tongue darts in my mouth tasting of wine before he eases and pulls gently at my bottom lip. I arch my neck, offering him more, wanting him to take more for I can’t get enough of his intoxicating taste. He acquiesces, laying a row of feather-light kisses along my jaw line before coming back to my mouth. He licks his tongue back in against mine—caressing, possessing, igniting.
I revel in the feeling of him. His hand spanning my hip in ownership. The weight of his leg which is bent and resting on mine, pressing his evident arousal into my hip. His mouth controlling, taking, and giving all at the same time. The low growls of desire that emanate from deep in his throat in pure appreciation, telling me that I excite him. That he wants me.
I could stay in this suspension of desire all day with Colton but the sound of approaching laughter brings me to my senses. Brings me to the realization that we’re outside in public view. Colton brushes my lips gently one more time as we hear the surfers walking several feet away back to their towels. His hands remain cupped on my face though and he rests his forehead against mine, us both trying to calm our ragged breathing.
He closes his eyes momentarily, and I sense him struggle with his control. He rubs his thumbs back and forth on my cheeks, a gentle caress that calms me.
“Oh, Rylee, what you do to me?” he sighs, kissing the tip of my nose. “What am I going to do with you? You’re such a breath of fresh air.”
My heart stops at those words. My fluid body tenses automatically. I flash back to three years prior, Max on one knee, ring in his hand, staring up at me expectantly. His words, chock-full of emotion, rings in my ears like it was yesterday. “Rylee, you are my best friend, my ride off into the sunset, my breath of fresh air. Will you marry me?”
I am thinking of Max, bright, open, and carefree but I am looking at Colton, reserved, unattainable, and inescapable. A sob escapes my throat as the memory takes hold of me, of that day, of the aftermath, and guilt washes over me.
Colton is startled at my reaction. He jolts back away from me, but his hands still cup my face, concern filling his eyes. “Rylee, what is it? Are you okay?”
I put my hands on his chest and push him away as I rise up to sit, pulling my legs to my chest, and hugging them. I shake my head for him to give me a minute and take in a deep breath, aware that Colton is watching me very closely, curious as to what caused my reaction.
I try to push the words out of my head. His mom yelling at me that I killed him, his dad telling me he wished it had been me instead, and his brother telling me it was my fault entirely. That I don’t deserve to ever know that kind of love again.
I shudder at the thoughts, collecting myself, preparing myself for the questions I’m waiting for Colton to voice. But they never come. I look over at him, his face somber as he studies me, and I look back out to the sea. He rubs his hand over my lower back, the only form of solace he gives me.
I shake myself out of my thoughts, upset at what they interrupted. Why can’t I just let it all go and enjoy this man—this virile man within my grasp—who for some ridiculous reason wants me? Why can’t I just give in to his sordid excuse of a one-night-stand-type relationship? Just to get me out of this revolving nightmare. Use him, as he wants to use me.
Because that’s not you, I whisper to myself. You are a breath of fresh air runs through my head again.
I’m thankful to Colton for his silence. I’m not sure if it is a silent understanding, or a detachment from someone else’s drama, but regardless, at this point I’m glad that I’m not being asked to explain myself. I’ll decipher the meaning behind his distance later, for now I’m too tired to think and want to enjoy the remainder of the evening I’ve unexpectedly put a damper on.
I reach back to grab for my plastic cup of wine. Colton hands it to me as he takes his and sips. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re outside,” I say trying to diffuse the awkwardness with humor.