Driven Page 2

  Fury flashes through me at his sardonic comment. I’m intelligent enough to infer that I’ve just become another in the line of his evening’s conquests. I look back at him, and the smug look on his face makes me want to hurl insults at him.

  “Who the hell do you think you are? Touching me like that? Taking advantage of me that way?” I spit at him, using anger to ward off the hurt I feel. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at myself for my willing submission to him or the fact that he took advantage of me in my frenetic state as a means of amusement while killing time. Or is it that I feel ashamed because I succumbed to his mind blowing kiss and skilled fingers without even knowing his name? Something that I would never do under normal circumstances.

  The maddening fact is that I’m not sure who I’m more upset with, him or myself.

  He continues to observe me, his anger simmering, eyes glowering. “Really?” he scoffs at me, cocking his head to the side and rubbing a hand over his condescending smirk. I can hear the rasp of his stubble as his hand chafes over it. “That’s how you’re going to play this? Were you not participating just now? Were you not just coming apart in my arms?” He laughs snidely. “Don’t fool your prim little self into thinking that you didn’t enjoy that. That you don’t want more.”

  He takes a step closer to me, amusement and something darker blazing in the depths of his eyes. Raising a hand, he traces a finger down the line of my jaw. Despite flinching away, the heat from his touch reignites the smoldering craving deep in my belly. I silently castigate my body for its betrayal. “Let’s get one thing clear,” he growls at me. “I. Do. Not. Take. What’s. Not. Offered. And we both know, sweetheart, you offered,” he smirks. “Willingly.”

  I jerk my chin away from his fingertips, wishing that I were one of those people who can say all the right things at all the right times. But I’m not. Instead, I think of them hours later and only wish that I’d said them. I know that I’ll be doing that later, for I can’t think of a single way to rebuke this overconfident yet completely correct man. He has reduced me to a mass of over stimulated nerves craving for him to touch me again.

  “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.” he shrugs, “but admit it, sweetheart, that’s boring.”

  “My boy—” I stutter, “I’m not fragile!”

  “Really?” he chides, reaching up to hold my chin in place as he looks in my eyes. “You sure act that way.”

  “Screw you!” I jerk my chin from his grasp.

  “Ooooh, you’re a feisty little thing.” His arrogant smirk is irritating. “I like feisty, sweetheart. It only makes me want you that much more.”

  Prick! I’m just about to make a retort about what a manwhore he obviously is. That I know about his “getting acquainted” with someone else down the hall not too long ago before moving onto me. I stare at him, the thought rattling around in the back of my head that he vaguely reminds me of someone, but I push it away. I’m just flustered, that’s all.

  Just as I’m about to open my mouth, from behind me I hear Dane’s voice calling my name. Relief floods me as I turn to see him standing at the end of the hallway, looking at me oddly. Most likely perplexed at my disheveled state.

  “Rylee? I really need those lists. Did you get them?”

  “I got sidetracked,” I mumble. I glance back at Mr. Arrogant behind me. “I’m coming. I just … wait for me, okay?”

  Dane nods at me as I turn to the open door of the storage closet and quickly grab scattered paddles off of the floor as gracefully as possible and shove them in the bag. I exit the closet and avoid meeting his eyes as I start to walk toward Dane. I exhale silently, glad to be heading toward more familiar ground when I hear his voice behind me. “This conversation isn’t over, Rylee.”

  “Like hell it isn't, A.C.E.,” I toss over my shoulder, the thought fleeing through my mind how perfect the acronym fits him before continuing hastily down the hall, keeping my shoulders squared and head held high in an attempt to keep my pride intact.

  I quickly reach Dane, my closest confidant and friend at work. Concern etches his boyish face as I loop my arm through his, tugging him back toward the party. Once we’re through the backstage door, I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding and lean back against the wall.

  “What the hell happened to you, Rylee? You look like a hot mess!” He eyes me up and down, “And does it have anything to do with that Adonis back there?”

  It has everything to do with the Adonis, I want to confide in Dane but for some reason hold back. “Don’t laugh,” I say, eying him warily. “The closet door jammed shut, and I was stuck on the inside.”

  He stifles a laugh and looks toward the ceiling to contain it. “That would only happen to you!”

  I push his shoulder in a friendly manner, relieved to be back on more familiar ground with someone. “Really, it’s not funny. I got panicked. Claustrophobic. The lights went out and it brought me back to the accident.“ Concern flashes in his eyes. “I freaked out, and that guy heard me yelling and let me out. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?” He questions, his eyes narrowing at me in suspicion for he has known me for too long.

  I nod. “Yes. I just really lost if for a minute.” I hate lying to him but for now, it’s my best course of action. The more adamant I am, the quicker he’ll drop it.

  “Well, that’s too bad because damn, girl, he’s fine.” I laugh at him as he wraps his arm around me in a quick hug. “Go on and freshen up. Take a breather, then we need you back out to mingle and schmooze. We’re about thirty minutes out from the start of the date auction.”

  ***

  I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. Dane’s right, I look like hell. I’ve ruined a large portion of the painstaking preparation my roommate, Haddie, has done with my hair and make-up for this evening. I take a paper towel and try to blot at my makeup to repair the damage. The tears have left my amethyst eyes rimmed red, and I need not wonder why my lipstick is no longer perfectly lining my lips. Pieces of my chestnut color hair are falling out of its clip, and the seam of my dress is horribly askew.

  I can hear the dull bass of the music on the other side of the wall. It plays background to the voices belonging to the hundreds of tonight’s potential donors. I take a deep breath and lean against the sink for a moment.

  I can see why Dane questioned what had really happened and if Mr. Arrogant had anything to do with it. I look completely disheveled!

  I shift my dress so that its sweetheart neckline sits correctly, adjusting my more-than-ample girls to sit properly. I smooth my hands over my hips where the fabric clings to my curves. I start to put the wisps of hair that have escaped back into my clip but stop myself. The tendrils have returned to my naturally wavy state, and I decide that I like the softened effect the curls have on my overall look.

  I reach into my purse, which Dane has brought me, and freshen up my make-up. I add some mascara to my naturally thick lashes and reapply my smudged eyeliner. My eyes look better. Not great—but better. I pucker my lips, tracing my lipstick over the full M shape of them, rub them together, and then blot them.

  Not as good as Haddie, but good enough. I’m ready to rejoin the festivities.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jewels, designer gowns, and name-dropping are prevalent as I observe all of the celebrities, socialites, and philanthropists who fill the old theater. Tonight is the culmination of much of my efforts over the past year. An event to raise the majority of the funds needed to break ground on the new facilities.

  And I am way out of my comfort zone.

  Dane discretely rolls his eyes at me from across the room, for he knows I would much rather be back at The House with the boys in my usual jeans and ponytail. I allow a ghost of a smile to grace my lips as I nod my head at him in silent agreement before taking a sip my champagne.

  I am still trying to wrap my head around what I willingly allowed to
happen backstage and the sting of knowing I wasn’t the first person Mr. Arrogant had made his moves on tonight. I’m dumbfounded at both my uncharacteristic actions and confused at how hurt I feel. Surely I can’t expect a man looking for a quick romp to have any kind of emotion behind his actions other than to purely boost his already-inflated ego.

  “There you are, Rylee,” a voice interrupts my thoughts.

  I turn to find my boss. A bear of a man standing close to six and half feet tall with a heart bigger than that of anyone I’ve ever met. Appropriately enough, he looks like a big teddy bear. “Teddy,” I say affectionately as I lean into the arm he’s placed on my shoulders in a quick hug. “Looks like it’s turning out well, don’t you think?”

  “Thanks to all your hard effort. From what I hear, the checks are coming in.” His lips curve, the smile causing his eyebrows to wiggle. “And that’s before the auction begins.”

  “Just because it’s a successful way to raise money, doesn’t mean I have to agree with it,” I reluctantly admit, trying to not sound like a prude. It’s a debate we’ve had countless times over the past couple of months with regard to the date auction. Even though it’s for charity, I just don’t understand why women are willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder. I can’t help but think the bidders are going to want more than just a date in return for the fifteen-thousand dollar starting bid.

  “It’s not like we’re running a brothel, Rylee,” Teddy admonishes. He sidesteps and looks over my right shoulder as a guest catches his attention. “Oh, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is a cause very near and dear to him. He’s one of our chairpeople’s sons who—” he stops his explanation as whoever it is approaches nearby. “Donavan! Good to see you,” he says heartily as he shakes hands with the person at my back.

  I turn around, willing to make a new acquaintance and meet the bemused eyes of Mr. Arrogant.

  Well, shit! How is it that despite being twenty-six years old, I suddenly feel like a prepubescent, awkward teenager? The half an hour away from him has done nothing to dampen his scorching good looks or the forbidden pull he has on my libido. His six-foot-plus frame is covered in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that screams affluence, and my knowledge that beneath the jacket lies an obviously toned torso makes me bite me lower lip in unwanted need. And yet despite his magnetism, I’m still furious at him.

  My mind sparks again with the notion that he looks familiar, that he resembles someone I know, but the shock of seeing him again overrides the thought pinging around in my head.

  He smirks at me, his mirth apparent, and all I can think about is how those lips felt on mine. How his fingers, holding a tumbler now, felt traveling over my bare skin. About the length of his body pressed against mine.

  And how he had licentiously acquainted himself with another woman moments before moving on to debase me.

  Plastering a fake smile on my face, my eyes glare at Donavan as an unaware Teddy addresses him. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s the driving force behind what you see tonight.“ Teddy turns to me, placing a hand on my lower back. “Rylee Thomas, please meet—”

  “We’ve already met,” I say sweetly interrupting him, saccharine oozing from my words as I smile at them. Teddy looks at me oddly, for insincerity is rare from me. “Thank you for the introduction, though,” I continue, looking from Teddy to Donavan, reaching out to shake his hand as if he is just another potential benefactor.

  Dragging his eyes from me and my abnormal behavior, Teddy focuses back onto Mr. Arrogant. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Immensely,” he muses, releasing his too-long of a hold on my hand. I have to refrain from the derisive snort that I want to make in hearing his response. How can he not be enjoying himself? Arrogant bastard. Maybe I should get on the stage and take a schoolyard poll of women here tonight to see whom he has not debauched already.

  “Were you able to get some food? Rylee was able to get one of the hottest chefs in Hollywood to donate his services,” Teddy explains, always trying to be the consummate host.

  Donavan looks at me, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I had a little taste of something while I was wandering around backstage.” I suck in my breath catching his innuendo as he moves his eyes back to Teddy. “It was rather unexpected but quite exquisite,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

  I hear someone call Teddy’s name, and he eyes me again with curiosity before apologizing. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere for a moment.” He turns toward Donavan, “It’s great seeing you again. Thank you for coming.”

  We both nod in assent as Teddy leaves. Scowling, I turn on my heel to walk away from Donavan for I want to erase him and his memory from my evening.

  His hand hastily closes over my bare arm, tugging me so that my backside lands against the steeled length of his body. My breath hitches in response at my body’s reaction to the feel of him. I glance around, glad that everyone seems to be so absorbed in their own conversations that we’ve not drawn their attention.

  I can feel Donavan’s chin brush against my shoulder as his mouth nears my ear. “Why are you so pissed, Ms. Thomas?” There is a biting chill to his voice that warns me he’s not a man to be messed with. “Is it because you can’t let go of your high-brow ways and admit that despite what your head says, your body wants more of this rebel from the wrong side of the tracks?” He chuckles, a low, patronizing growl in my ear. “Or are you so practiced at being frigid that you always deprive yourself of what you want. What you need? What you feel?”

  I bristle, trying unsuccessfully to pull my arm out of his firm grip. Talk about a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I still as another couple walk past us—eyeing us closely. Trying to figure out the situation between us. Donavan releases my arm, and rubs his hand over it instead, giving the impression of a lover’s touch. And despite my fury, or maybe because of it, his touch triggers a myriad of sensation everywhere his fingers trace over my skin. Goose bumps ripple in their wake.

  I can feel his breath rake over my cheek again. “It’s very arousing, Rylee, knowing that you’re so responsive to just my touch alone. Very intoxicating,” he whispers as he trails a finger across my bare shoulder. “You know you want to explore why your body reacts the way it did to me. You think I didn’t see you undressing me with your eyes, enjoy you fucking me with your mouth?” I gasp as he puts his hand on my stomach and pulls me tightly back against him so that I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into my lower back.

  Despite my anger, it’s a heady feeling to know that I can make this man react in such a way. But then again, he probably reacts this way to the numerous women who without a doubt throw themselves at his feet on a regular basis.

  “You’re lucky I don’t drag you back in that storage closet I found you in and take what you offered. Make you cry out my name.” He nips softly at my ear, and I have to stifle the uncontrollable moan of desire that threatens to escape. “To fuck you and get you out of my system. Then move on,” he finishes.

  I’ve never been spoken to this way—would never have thought I’d allow someone to—but his words, the vigor with which he speaks them, unexpectedly turn me on.

  I’m mad at my body for its unbidden reaction to this pompous man. He obviously knows the hold he can have over a woman’s body, and unfortunately, it is mine at the moment. I’m astute enough to acknowledge that he gets my blood humming, but his arrogance is irritating as hell. And I know that I participated just as thoroughly as he did, but right now, it’s the principal that urges me to dispute.

  I turn slowly to face him and narrow my eyes. My voice is cold as ice. “Presumptuous, aren’t you, Ace? No doubt your typical MO is to fuck ’em and chuck ’em?” His eyes widen in response to my unexpected vulgarity. Or maybe he’s just surprised that I have him figured out so quickly. I hold his stare, my body vibrating with anger. “How many woman have you tried to seduce tonight?” I raise my eyebrows in disgust as guilt flickers fleetingly across
his face. “What? Didn’t you know that I happened upon you and your first conquest of the evening in the little alcove backstage?” Donavan’s eyes widen at my words. I continue, enjoying the surprised look on his face. “Did she play you at your own game, Ace, and leave you wanting for more? Aching to prove what a man you are since you couldn’t fulfill her? That you had to pick a frantic woman locked in a closet to take advantage of? I mean, really, how many women have you used your bullshit lines on tonight? How many have you tried to leave your mark on?”

  “Jealous, sweetheart?” He raises his eyebrows as his grin flashes arrogantly. “We can always finish what we started, and you can mark me any way you’d like.”

  I gently shove my hand against his chest, pushing him back. I’d love to wipe that smirk off if his face. Leave my mark that way. “Sorry, I don’t waste my time on misogynist jerks like you. Go find someone—”

  “Careful, Rylee,” he warns as he grips my wrist, looking every bit as dangerous as his voice threatens. “I don’t take kindly to insults.”

  I try to yank my wrist away, but his hold remains. To anyone in the room, it looks as if I’m laying my hand on his heart in affection. They can’t feel the steel strength of his grip.

  “Then hear this,” I snap, tired of this game and the warring emotions and sensations within me. Anger takes hold. “You only want me because I’m the first female who’s said no to your gorgeous face and come-fuck-me body. You’re so used to every female falling at your feet, pun intended, that you see a challenge—someone immune to your charm—and you’re unsure how to react.”

  Despite his nonchalant shrug, I can see his underlying irritation as he releases my wrist. “When I like what I see, I go after it,” he states unapologetically.

  Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “No, you need to prove to yourself that you can, in fact, get any girl who crosses your path. Your ego’s bruised. I understand,” I patronize patting his arm. “Well, don’t sweat it, Ace, I forfeit this race.”