Fueled (Page 22)

“And what exactly are you mulling over?”

“The shit that I’m supposed to be getting together,” he responds wryly. My eyes flash up to see a mixture of amusement and sincerity in his.

We stare at each other for a moment, my pulse accelerating from his proximity. I try to read the look on his face. Is he serious? Is he really trying to get his head straight or is he just mocking Haddie? I can’t tell. “I-I sh-should get back inside. I don’t have much more time until Tanner has to leave again.” I push myself up and stand.

Colton takes a step closer to me, and our bodies brush against each other’s briefly, his touch sending sparks of need spiraling through my system. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from leaning in against him. “Can I see you later?” he asks, trailing a finger down the side of my face.

Does that mean the pit stop’s over? Or he just needs to get laid? Either way, I need some clarity here. I fight the urge to lean my cheek into the feel of his fingertip on my cheek.

Stay strong, stay strong, stay strong, I repeat to myself. I struggle with how to answer. What to say?

“I’ll send Sammy by the house at six to pick you up,” he answers for me in my warring silence.

Wow, I guess he thinks that I’m a sure thing. And then the notion hits me that maybe all along he’s wanted his arrangement with me, went further than he’d anticipated, and used the pit stop comment to try and put me back in my place. To put distance back between us.

Haddie’s advice runs through my mind mixed with the notion that he thinks I’m going to just step back into this without a further explanation strengthens my resolve. “Sorry.” I shake my head and avert my eyes so he can’t see through my lie. “I have plans tonight.”

I feel his body tense at my words. “What?” His tone is forced but quiet. It’s obvious rejection is foreign to him.

“I have plans with Haddie,” I volunteer, afraid he might think that I’m out with another guy. And if he thinks that I’m out with another guy then it’d be okay for him to be out with another girl. My stomach twists at the thought, and I realize I’m not very good at playing these types of games because all I want to do is tell him that yes I want to see him tonight. That I’d change any plans I have to be able to see him. And then I’d press him up against the wall and take with frustration everything that I want without a second thought of spooking him or crossing imaginary boundaries.

Colton lets out a dissatisfied grunt. “We’re just having dinner at home,” I tell him, “but it’s a big deal because we haven’t seen each other.” Stop rambling, Rylee, or he’ll know you’re lying. “I can’t go back on my promise to her.”

Colton places a finger under my chin and lifts my head up to meet his green irises, studying me. “Well you’re not trying very hard then,” he admonishes despite humor alight in his eyes.

Confusion flits through me, unsure of what he’s talking about. “Trying hard at what?” I shake my head not understanding.

He smirks arrogantly at me. “At being what I want you to be.” The breath I exhale is audible as his eyes remain locked on mine. “Because if you were really trying,” he explains, finishing the game I’d started, “you’d be where I want you. Wet, warm, and beneath me tonight.”

I hold his stare while I try to think of what to say next. My body quivers at his words. It takes a few seconds for my brain to recover from his comment, and when it does, I take a step back from him. Distance is essential when dealing with him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I exhale, watching the surprise on his face from my admission. “Why would I want to be someone’s beck and call girl? Predictable is boring, Ace. And from what I hear, you seem to get bored real quick.”

When he just stands there and stares at me, a bewildered look on his face, I skirt around him. He reaches out and grabs on to my arm, turning me to face him. “Where are you going?” he demands.

“To see my brother,” I tell him, looking over at his hand and then back at him. “Let me know when you get your shit together.” I shrug from his grip and yank the door open to the kitchen without looking back. All I hear before the door shuts is Colton laughing and swearing at the same time.

Fucking temperamental women!

My lungs burn. My muscles ache. My feet pound into the treadmill belt as if I’m trying to punish it. It doesn’t matter. No matter how hard I push, my head is still fucked up. Rylee’s still mucking up my thoughts. Constantly.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I asked for the goddamn pit stop. Took my shot at putting it back on more familiar footing. So why am I the one that feels like she’s left me behind?

Fucking women. Complicated. Temperamental. Necessary. Fuck me.

The music pounds in my earbuds. The driving beat of Good Charlotte pushes me harder, but the pressure in my chest doesn’t dissipate. I count my footsteps when I run. Only to ninety-nine and then I start over again. I swear to God I’ve restarted the count a hundred fucking times so far and nothing has helped.

I’ve never played fucking games with women before, and I have no intention of starting now. I say when. I say whom. I give the terms.

I take what I want. When I want it.

And any and all of my previous bedside companions abide by my parameters without so much as a fucking flinch. No questions asked except for “Baby, how do you want me tonight? Knees or back? Cuffs or restraints? Mouth or pussy?”

All except for Rylee.