Driven

“Say yes, Ryles,” he murmurs with a quiet desperation as he kisses the top of my head. “It’s unimaginable how much I want you to say yes.”

I lean back, shocked by the vulnerability I hear in his voice and sense in his body language. Why is he afraid I’ll say no when everyone else would say yes? I raise my eyes to his, trying to read the emotions flashing through the stark green of them. I see passion and humor, desire and challenge, promise and fear. Why does this beautifully tormented man want to spend time with ordinary me? I don’t have the answer but I know in this moment, looking at him, I can see so much more in his eyes than I think he wants me to. And what I see, it scares me on so many levels that I have to tuck it away for later when I’m all alone. I can analyze it then. Replay it then.

Hope then.

I raise a hand to run it against the roughness of his slight stubble, liking its coarseness beneath my fingers. The texture tells me that this moment is real. That he is really here with me. I lean up on my tiptoes and place a soft, closed-mouth kiss on his wonderfully sculpted lips. “Yes,” I breathe and with my answer, regardless of all of the psychological propaganda I barrage myself with, I know that Colton Donavan has just put the first fissure in the protective wall around my heart.

He nods his head subtly, a shy smile on his face, no words expressed. He pulls me into him one more time. “Tonight?” he asks.

I still, mentally looking over my calendar, knowing that I have no plans but not wanting to seem too eager.

“I’ll be here at six to pick you up, Rylee,” he decides for me before I have a chance to answer. He releases me and looks me in the eye to make sure that I hear him. All trace of vulnerability is long gone when I meet his eyes. It’s been replaced with the implacable confidence that is synonymous with his public persona.

I bite my bottom lip and nod in agreement, suddenly feeling shy.

He cups my chin, running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “See you then, sweetheart.”

“Bye,” I exhale, already missing him.

He walks to the front door, opens it, and then turns back to me, “Hey, Ryles?”

“Hmmm-hmmm.”

“No more running away from me,” he cautions before flashing a quick grin and closing the door behind him. With his departure, I can suddenly breathe again. His presence is so strong, so overpowering, it overwhelms the room. Infiltrates my senses. With him gone, I feel like I can process what just happened. Finally breathe.

I stand facing the door, and close my eyes absorbing everything that has just transpired. Nothing is solved. None of my questions are answered: Why he doesn’t do the girlfriend thing? What is this between us since it’s not a one-night stand? What was he really going to say when he said I made him, but never finished? What is he trying to protect me from? What kind of baggage fills his 747?

I sigh heavily. So much has been left unanswered, and yet I feel like so much has been expressed without being said. I sit down on the couch, my head reeling from my whirlwind of a week.

“Is he gone?” I hear Haddie’s hushed voice from the other side of the wall.

“Yes, nosy girl,” I laugh, “Come out here and give me your two cents.”

“Holy crap!” she shouts as she hurries around the wall and flops down on the couch next to me. “Hot date tonight!” she sings loudly, raising her arms up in the air. “Whew, I need to take a cold shower after that.”

“You watched?” I blush quickly, embarrassed at the thought of having an audience.

“No, no, no, it wasn’t like that,” she corrects. “I was in the kitchen when you guys came in the house. If I would’ve left, you’d have seen me, and I didn’t want to distract from your floor show,” she teases, referring to my stretching routine. “I heard only.”

I blush at the thought of her listening to our conversation, but find comfort in the notion that she’d listened. Now I can get an unbiased opinion about our exchange.

“Ace? Does he know what that stands for?”

“Nope!” I smirk, recalling Haddie and my private acronym and the words it represents.

“Damn, Ry,” Haddie shakes her head, “the man’s got it bad for you.”

I falter in my immediate response. Her statement blindsides me. I pick at the cuticle on the side of my nail for a moment, trying not to jump to conclusions. “Nah, it’s more like pure, unadulterated lust.”

“Not how I see it,” Haddie responds, my eyebrows quirking up in question to her comment. “Smitten is the word that comes to mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon, Rylee! Hard and fast?” she sputters.

“That’s just sex,” I shrug, “Not commitment.”

“It’s unfathomable how much he wants you?” she tries.

“Sex again,” I correct.

“Unimaginable how much he wanted you to say yes to tonight?”

“Because he thinks it will lead to sex,” I reply, a smile on my face from having fun with this game.

“How about when he said it wasn’t a one-night stand?” she tries again, eyes full of humor. Her heart shaped lips form a smile, thinking she’s proven me wrong this time.

“Semantics,” I answer. “Maybe he wants a thirty-night stand? I mean he only said it wasn’t a one-nighter.”

“Your incorrigible,” she laughs at me, grabbing my knee and squeezing it lightly. “But hell, at least it’d be thirty days worth of great sex, Rylee!” she gushes, her excitement for me palpable. “You’re going out with him again tonight! On a real date!”