Raced Read online

  Every primal urge in my body begs to touch her, to claim her as mine. I drag one hand down the curved lines of her hips, our bodies vibrating with adrenaline and desire. I put one hand on her back pressing her into me, my cock against her stomach, my knee wedging between hers. She responds instantly, the Holy Grail between her thighs rubbing against my leg so I can feel her wet and wanting pussy through my slacks.

  So fucking responsive. Her body just complies with the subtlest hints from mine, reacts to the slightest touch. Takes selflessly. Submits willingly.

  God, I want to corrupt her.

  And then she makes the softest, most erotic fucking sound I’ve ever heard. A gentle moan that begs and pleads and offers all at the same time.

  And I’m decided. Consumed. Determined.

  Fuck the game.

  Mine.

  I want her. Have to have her. I’m calling the shots now. Adrenaline hits me, coursing through me like the wave of the green flag.

  I need to make her mine.

  I nip her lower lip then lick away the sting. Pleasure to bury the pain. “Christ, I want you right now.” I murmur against her lips between kisses, my dick throbbing at the thought of slamming into her. My hands move to possess now. Desire fueling my fire. Fingers rub over hardened nipples just begging to be tasted as we crash against the wall. My hands roam to connect with naked flesh. I reach the silk of her nylons and skim my way up until I trace the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings. I groan into her mouth.

  Motherfucking perfection. Silk, lace, and skin. If it’s possible to get any harder, I just did.

  I guess fangirl doesn’t want to be considered a dime a dozen.

  As she gains confidence, her tongue taunts mine in a dizzying barrage of maneuvers. My fingertips snake up the bare skin of her inner thigh—smooth softness just pleading for me to lick, suck, and nip. I reach the swatch of lace at my awaiting heaven just begging to be ripped off.

  “Sweet Jesus,” I murmur as I feel how wet the material is, how ready she already is for me.

  “No. No—I can’t do this!” She pushes me back a step, and I watch her bring a trembling hand to her mouth. Her eyes tell me no, but her body? Her treacherous body vibrates with anticipation: chest heaving, lips swollen, nipples pebbled.

  I force myself to swallow. To breathe. To regain the equilibrium she just shook and pulled out from under my always steady feet. I’ve had more women than any guy could ever ask for, but she just rocked my fucking world with her lips alone.

  She’s not going anywhere.

  Mine.

  “It’s a little late, sweetheart. It looks as if you already have.” Like you have any fucking choice now. You started this, fangirl, and I’ll say when it’s finished.

  Fire leaps into her eyes and she lifts her chin in insolence. My God, that look alone gives new meaning to the word sexy.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” she spits at me. “Touching me like that? Taking advantage of me that way?”

  We’re back to the damsel in distress thing again? “Really?” I scoff at her, running my hand over my jaw as I ponder what to say next.

  It’s a little late for self-preservation, sweetheart.

  “That’s how you want to play this? Were you not participating just now? Were you not just coming apart in my arms?” I can’t help the sliver of a laugh that escapes. “Don’t fool your prim little self into thinking that you didn’t enjoy that. That you don’t want more.”

  I take a step closer and I can see a mixture of emotions flicker in her eyes. But most of all I see fear and denial. Resistance. Is she going to ignore what just happened between us? Fangirl just might be crazy after all. But fuck-all if I don’t already crave my next taste of her.

  And I have every intention of having it.

  She watches as I lift my hand and trace a finger along the line of her cheek. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she instinctively moves her face ever so subtly in response to my touch. Oh yeah. She’s definitely still interested, so why is she fighting it so hard?

  “Let’s get one thing clear,” I warn through gritted teeth, trying to mask my irritation at having to fight for something that all of a sudden became complicated. “I. Do. Not. Take. What’s. Not. Offered. And we both know, sweetheart, you offered. Willingly.”

  She jerks her chin from my fingertips. Who knew defiance could be so goddamn arousing? And irritating. I can’t remember the last time I had to work to get a woman beneath me.

  Her body vibrates with anger. Or desire. Of which I can’t tell. I step back into her personal space, pissed at myself that I’ve allowed her to affect me this much.

  “That poor defenseless crap may work with your boyfriend who treats you like china on a shelf, fragile and nice to look at. Rarely used.” I shrug as if I don’t care, but all I want is a reaction out of her. Anything to tell me what she’s thinking behind her stoic façade. “But admit it, sweetheart, that’s boring.”

  “My boy—“ she stutters, hurt flashing in her eyes. Hmm. She must have just broken up with him. Perfect time for a pump and dump, then. “I’m not fragile!”

  Bingo!

  “Really?” I want to push more buttons. Get her to admit she wants me. I reach out and grip her chin with my thumb and forefinger to make sure she can’t hide from my stare. “You sure act that way.”

  She jerks her chin from my hand as “Screw you!” grates from between her beautiful lips. The heat in her eyes holds me captive.

  And to think I was going to pass up fangirl without a second thought.

  “Oh, you’re a feisty little thing!” I can’t help the smirk on my lips. If she’s this lively now, I can only image how wild she’ll be between the sheets. “I like feisty, sweetheart. It only makes me want you that much more.”

  So many emotions pass over her face that I can’t begin to comprehend them. She steps to the side of me, putting distance between us in our silent stand-off. Just as I think she’s about to speak, the door down the hallway opens, flooding the quiet corridor with noise from the party beyond. Right before fangirl whirls around at the sound, I see a flicker of relief on her face.

  I glance around her to see an average-sized guy standing with his back to the door, eying us with blatant curiosity. For a second I can’t place him, but then realize I saw him earlier with some of the Corporate Care bigwigs. “Rylee? I really need those lists. Did you get them?”

  Rylee? What the fuck?

  “I got sidetracked,” she mumbles to the guy as she glances back at me, her expression a mix of relief, regret, and disappointment. She works with him? For Corporate Cares? She says something else to the guy that I don’t hear because I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that crazy fangirl isn’t a fangirl at all.

  Or crazy.

  Rylee. It sounds vaguely familiar. I mentally roll her name around on my tongue, liking the way it sounds, the way it feels.

  She skirts past me and avoids making eye contact before stepping into the storage closet. I stop myself from reaching out for her because we’re far from finished here. I follow her, hold the door open, and watch her jerky movements as she hurriedly shoves auction paddles into a bag. I can feel her co-worker’s eyes boring holes in my back as he tries to assess the situation. Guaranteed he’s telling me to step off.

  The same way that I feel about him. Step off buddy so we can finish what we started here. I glance back to Rylee and she straightens up with the bag in hand, squares her shoulders, and walks past me without a second glance.

  Anger fires in my veins. I do not get dismissed. “This conversation isn’t over, Rylee.”

  “Like hell it isn’t, Ace.” She throws the words over her shoulder as she stalks down the corridor.

  I watch her walk away. Hips swaying with purpose. Curves begging to be touched. Heels—heels I want left on with nothing else but those fucking lace top stockings—clicking against the floor.

  Since when have I ever considered a woman walking away to be one of the hott
est fucking sights I’ve ever seen?

  The door closes behind them, and it’s silent once again. I run a hand through my hair and lean back against the wall, trying to wrap my head around the past twenty minutes. I blow out a loud breath, confused as to why I’m pissed.

  You must be losing your touch, Donavan.

  Shit, when they walk away, it’s supposed to be a good thing. Lessens the chance of complications. I don’t chase. It’s not my thing—never has been, never will be. There are too many willing women; why bother wasting my time on the ones that make things difficult? Why work for it when life’s complicated enough as it is? I fuck whom I want, when I want. My pick. On my terms. To my benefit. Rules two through six.

  But shit … that … her … how can I just let her—Fuck me!

  Nobody walks away until I say I’m done. And I have every intention of finishing what I started with her. Checkered flag’s mine. I’ll definitely be crossing that finish line.

  Here’s to a night of firsts.

  First a brunette.

  Next a pursuit.

  Bring it on.

  Wave that checkered flag, sweetie, because I’m gonna claim it.

  As the reader, we assumed Colton had something to do with the rigging of the date auction. This assumption is one I will never divulge the truth to because I think it’s important for each person to create their own scenario. Regardless, we know that Rylee’s been auctioned off and she’s not too happy about it. She’s flustered, not thinking clearly, and just wants to go home.

  As always though, her boys are front and center in her mind and that means she has to find the arrogant yet achingly handsome Donavan to collect her winnings from the bet. Little does she know the chain of events this meeting will trigger.

  I enjoyed writing this scene. I knew Colton was arrogant, but what were his thoughts behind his comments? What happened after he walked away that night and went home? How did the wavy-haired, defiant-as-fuck woman affect him?

  Fuck my rules.

  Addictive.

  Fuck her defiance.

  She’s mine.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  My eyes collide with hers as she steps out of the backstage door. The sneer on her face and fire in her eyes tells me she knows.

  But that’s not possible.

  She couldn’t have figured it out yet. But I’ll be damned if she’s not pissed off by the way she’s stalking those sexy-as-fuck curves toward me right now. I can’t help my eyes as they drag over every inch of her body, wanting more than just the taste I got earlier. I want the whole fucking meal.

  And I want it now.

  Patience is definitely not my virtue.

  And I’m sure as fuck going to steal hers.

  I can’t help the smile that threatens the corners of my lips as I push myself off of the wall when she nears. A freight train of anger and she doesn’t even have a clue that I’m her fucking fuel.

  What I wouldn’t give to push her up against the wall and taste her again—crowd around us be damned—so long as I get my fix. She reaches up and holds her hand to stop me before I speak. Fuck! The woman does everything to try and turn me off, and all it does is spur me further the opposite way, arousing me like she wouldn’t fucking believe.

  “Look, Ace, I’m tired and in a really shitty mood right now. It’s time for me to call it a night—”

  “And just when I was going to offer to take you to places you didn’t even know existed before.” I can’t help pushing her buttons. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. But fuck if it’s not true. I have no doubt we’d set the sheets—if not the fucking bed or floor or couch or wherever we crash—on fire. Those luscious lips of hers fall lax at my comment, and I figure I’ll keep her on her toes. Keep pushing those buttons. It’s just too much goddamn fun. “You don’t know what you’re missing, sweetheart.”

  She snorts. She actually snorts at me standing here in her elegant dress, and fuck me if that too isn’t a mix of sexy and adorable. “I’m wounded,” I say, clutching my heart in mock pain. “You’d be surprised what my mouth gets with those lines.”

  Let’s see what she says to that one. My eyes trace over the outline of those lips that I want wrapped around my cock, those fucking magnificent eyes looking at me with a trace of shock. Even after all of our interactions tonight, she still doesn’t know how to take me.

  Good. Keep her guessing. Confusion is my advantage.

  “I don’t have time for your childish games right now. I just had to endure humiliation beyond my worst nightmare, and I’m more pissed off than you can imagine. I especially don’t want to deal with you right now.”

  “I do love a woman who tells it like it is,” I murmur to myself, unable to tear my eyes from hers. Or comprehend being told no. That’s a new one.

  “So I’m going home in about ten minutes. Night’s over. I win our idiotic bet, so you better get your check and fill it out because you’re going home with lighter pockets tonight,” she rants and places her hands on her hips.

  Fuck, there’s that defiance again that makes my balls tighten in anticipation. In unfettered lust. And she thinks I’m just going to write her a check and let her walk out of my life without having her? She’s sadly mistaken. I’m a take it or leave it kind of guy.

  And I’m definitely taking this one. Too bad she doesn’t know it yet.

  I don’t fight my smirk this time. Game on, baby. “Twenty-five thousand lighter, in fact.”

  “No, we agreed on twen—” Her voice fades and I watch as it slowly hits her. The realization crashes like a tornado across her features and storms through her eyes. I can see her trying to fight it. Trying to resist the urge to throttle me.

  And shit, if I thought defiance made her sexy, then anger makes her motherfucking breathtaking.

  “No—uh-uh. This is bullshit and you know it!” She glares at me with every ounce of hatred I think she can muster, and it only makes me more determined to have her. “That wasn’t the deal. I didn’t agree to this!”

  I tuck my tongue in my cheek, trying to bite back the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “A bet’s a bet, Ryles.”

  “It’s Rylee, you asshole!” she hisses at me.

  Testy. Testy. Ryles it is, then.

  “Last time I checked, sweetheart, my name wasn’t Ace.” But when you’re screaming my name later, it can be anything you want it to be. I lean back against the wall and watch the emotions play over her face.

  She’s so frustrated. Mission accomplished, buttons pushed. And now I have one feisty hellcat on my hands, and I bet sure as fuck she’s going to be fun to try and tame. Then again, why tame her? A few scratches never hurt anyone.

  “You cheated. You-you-aaarrgh!”

  “We never had time to outline any rules or stipulations,” I explain with a raise of my eyebrows and a shrug of my shoulders. “You were pulled away. That left everything as fair game.”

  Those lips of hers that I want to taste fall open and then close again to only fall back apart. I pull my thoughts from what else I’d like them to open and close around. Sweet Christ! I force my mind to focus on the here and now and away from what exactly is under that dress. I push myself off the wall and step toward her.

  I can’t resist.

  “I guess I just proved you do in fact lose sometimes, Ryles.”

  I have to touch her.

  Irresistible.

  Mine.

  “I’m looking forward to our date, Rylee.”

  I watch her eyes follow my fingers as they move a loose curl of hair from her cheek. I catch the slight hitch in her breath, and I know I’ve got her. Know it’s only a matter of time now.

  The pull is just too great. Resistance is futile. I graze a thumb over her cheek, wanting to feel her skin. Needing to feel that spark of current that vibrates between us. “In fact, more than any other date I’ve had in a while.”

  She leans her head back, my thumb still on her cheek, and “Oh God!” f
alls from her mouth in exasperation.

  The sound of her sex-kitten voice turns my insides, calls to some part deep within me, and I don’t like it one bit. The only part of me that should be affected should be my dick and my mind counting the minutes until she’s beneath me.

  Or on top of me. Beggars can’t be choosers and fuck if reverse cowgirl isn’t a mighty nice position.

  See, Donavan? It’s the alcohol twisting things around making you think that feeling deep down is more than just the ache in your balls. C’mon, all you want is a quick, uncomplicated fuck and an attempt to tame the wildcat.

  That’s it. Nothing else.

  I swear.

  Unease creeps through me at the thought of only having her once, and I force myself to stop thinking this fucking nonsense and grab the control back my dick has hijacked. I hear those words of hers echo through my mind, and I know exactly how to do it.

  “Those words, oh God,” I mimic her and give in one last time to my need to touch her by running a finger down the side of her face. “Now I know exactly how you’ll sound when you say that while I’m buried deep inside of you.”

  I love the look of shock that flashes across her face. Love the insolence in her expression as she lifts her chin and glares at me. Such a fucking turn on.

  “Wow! You sure think a lot of yourself, don’t you, Ace?”

  Shit! She walked right into that one and I can’t resist. Just can’t fucking stop myself from pushing those buttons of hers one last time before I walk away and leave her wondering whose court the ball is really in. I slip my hands in my pocket and lean into her, the smile on my face suggesting exactly what I want to do with her. To her. For her.

  “Oh, sweetheart, there is definitely a lot of me to think about.” I laugh softly, loving the look I’ve just put on her face. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I forgo the urge to touch her one last time. Taste her one last time. And I force myself to turn around and walk away. To put one foot in front of the other when I’d much rather be dragging her back to that damn storage closet and taking exactly what I want.

  The chance to claim her.

  Game fucking on.