“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Donavan. I’ve been warned about guys like you.”

He smirks at me, finding my comment amusing. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine and the patronizing manner of his smile irks me. He takes another step closer, causing my pulse to quicken.

“What do you want? Why are you here?” I huff.

“Because I want my date with you,” he says annunciating every word, “and I always get what I want.” He places both hands on the doorjamb, leaning into it, his silhouette blocking the afternoon sun. His dark features haloed by the bright light.

I shake my head at his nerve and boundless conceit. “Not this time,” I disagree. I push the front door to shut and turn on my heel back down the hallway.

In less than a heartbeat, Colton grabs my upper arm, whirls me around, and has me pressed up against the doorjamb. “Keep fightin’ me, sweetheart. The feistier you are, the harder you make me.” There is a dangerous amusement to his tone that scrapes over me and prickles my senses.

Shit! How can he make those words sound like a seductive promise?

He presses his hips against mine, holding me against the hard, unforgiving wood. We’re both breathing harshly, and I’m unsure if it is from the physical exertion or from our proximity to each other.

Colton releases my upper arm and brings both of his hands to cradle my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing at my jaw line. The implied intimacy of this touch has me momentarily closing my eyes, absorbing the sensation. His translucent eyes burn into mine, and I can sense an internal struggle in him, his jaw tensing in deliberation.

“As much as I’d like to warn you away from me, Rylee—for your own sake,” he murmurs inches from my mouth, “all I crave is the taste of you.” His finger trails a line down the side of my neck, lighting my skin on fire. “It’s been too long since I’ve savored you. You. Are. Intoxicating.” His words a staccato that match the quickening of my heart.

Oh fucking my! If that comment didn’t make desire flood every inch of my skin, nothing will. The man can seduce me with words alone. He’s pulling at me, testing my willpower, and making me want way more than I should. We breathe each other in for a moment as I try to form words in my head. Gain some semblance of coherence. His mere presence makes my synapses misfire.

“Why are you warning me,” I breathe, completely immobilized by the intensity of his stare, “when you’re going to take what you want anyway?”

I see his grin flash momentarily before his lips are on mine, his hands on me, proving my point and then some. This kiss is not gentle by any means. I can sense his hunger, his fiery need as our teeth clash momentarily. His lips and tongue move at a frenzied pace against mine while his hand grabs hold of my ponytail and tugs down, holding me in place.

I relish this kiss as much as he does, for all of my pent-up frustration over him from the past few days explodes within me. I am caught up in the hurricane that is Colton. I take as he is taking. I curl my arms around his torso, running my hands up his back, enjoying the firm delineation of his muscles as he moves with me. I nip at his bottom lip, aroused by the low moan that comes from the back of his throat. We press into each other, unable to get enough of each other’s touch—the only thought running through my head is that I want more.

I’m suddenly shocked back to reality like an angel losing her wings when I hear the boys cheering loudly in the family room at something to do with the basketball game. I push Colton back with two hands against his chest.

I try to catch my breath and my bearings by placing my hand against the wall and trying to steady myself. What the hell am I thinking? I’m making out in the doorway at work. For the second time. What the hell is this guy doing to me? When I’m around him it’s as if I’ve lost all sense of reality. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I’m shaken. Really shaken. No one has ever elicited such a blatant carnal reaction from me, and it scares me.

Colton stands across from me calm as can be, keenly watching me. Why do I feel as if I have just run a marathon and he looks like his is an uninterested bystander? He exhibits no indication beyond his mussed hair of what has just occurred.

I finally find my voice. “You’re right,” I say ruefully, “I most definitely should stay away from you.” I look back toward the hallway as I catch a slight grimace glance across his face. “I need to check on the boys. You can see yourself out,” I tell him as I turn abruptly and walk back toward my responsibilities. My reality.

I enter the great room trying to plaster a natural smile on my face, failing miserably. All the boys are where I left them and for that I am thankful—glad that no one ventured in the hallway to see their guardian acting like a teenager filled with raging hormones.

Something in my periphery catches my eye. I turn to see Colton standing at the edge of the hallway, thumbs hanging in the pockets of his jeans, shoulder casually leaning against the wall. His face is expressionless, but those iridescent eyes say so much more.

What now? Can’t he just leave me alone?

I glare at him, hoping my angst is reflected in my eyes. I see that Shane has taken notice of the stranger standing in his home. He turns his attention to Colton, sizing him up. His face scrunches up as he contemplates the stranger, trying to place his familiarity.

“What do you want?” I scowl despite trying to keep the contempt out of my voice. The last thing the boys need to witness right now is a confrontation. I notice Kyle and Ricky’s heads pop up to look over the table like a pair of meerkats.

Colton glances at the boys, smiles politely at them although I can see the tension in his eyes. “I told you, Rylee, I’m here to collect my winnings,” he drawls. “To collect what’s mine.” He smiles insolently at me, waiting for my reaction, trying to push my buttons.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You owe me a date, Ryles.”

I can see the boys have all turned their attention to the two of us now. The basketball game has been forgotten. Shane is smirking for he is old enough to sense sexual tension when he sees it even if he doesn’t quite understand it.

Colton walks toward me purposely placing his back to our audience, blocking me from their vision so they can’t watch our interaction. I am grateful when he stops and stands at a respectful distance from me.

“Sorry, Ace,” I say sweetly so only he can hear me. “Hell hasn’t frozen over yet. I’ll let you know when it does.”

He takes a step closer to me, his voice just above a whisper, “It seems you know all about being cold, Rylee. Why stay frigid when you know I can heat you up?”

His targeted words take their direct hit right at my self-esteem. I seethe anger at his arrogance but know I must calm myself down before I cause a scene here at work, in front of my kids.

I break my glare from Colton when something over his shoulder catches my attention. I step to the side so that I can get a better look at what it is. I stifle a gasp as I watch Zander, holding his stuffed animal tightly, move slowly around the couch toward us. He has a curious look on his usually stoic face as he approaches.

Colton turns around to see what I’m reacting to. He starts to ask me a question, and I raise my hand up forcefully telling him to be quiet. Fortunately, he complies. The other boys in the room have all turned to watch, expectant expressions on their faces for this is the first time that Zander has ever purposely taken the initiative to interact with someone.

Zander walks up to us, staring at Colton, his mouth opening slightly and closing several times. His eyes are saucers in his pale face. I kneel down to be at eye level with him. I sense Colton next to me trying to grasp the seriousness of my reaction.

“Hi there,” I hear Colton say gently.

Zander stops and just stares. I fear that something about Colton’s looks or that he is wearing has triggered a reaction in Zander. Some negative memory that is forcing him to come see for himself if it’s real. I’m waiting for the fallout to start—the screaming, the fighting, and the terror to fill his eyes.

“Zander. It’s okay, baby,” I croon to him, wanting to break through his trance, letting him know that a familiar, comforting voice is nearby. I turn my head slightly toward Colton, locking my eyes with his, “You need to leave now!” I order him, afraid of what Zander sees in him.

Against my wish, Colton steps forward and slowly crouches down beside me. I hear his boots squeak on the tile for the house is quiet. One of the boys must have muted the television.

“Hey, buddy,” he soothes, “How ya doin’? You okay?”

Zander takes a step closer to Colton and a smile ghosts his mouth. My eyes widen. He is not scared but rather likes Colton. I quickly glance to Colton, afraid to miss anything Zander does, and he holds my gaze, nodding his head in acknowledgement. He understands that something is happening. Something important. Something that he needs to be careful and take caution with.

“Zander is it?” Haunted eyes meet Colton’s, and then he moves his head in a small, discernible nod. I suck in my breath, tears threatening as I watch a small breakthrough happening. “So Zander, do you like racing?”

I can hear the boys in the family begin murmuring excitedly as realization of who stands in their house dawns on them. The boys get louder until they see me staring intensely at them, and they become silent.

Colton holds his hand out to Zander, “Nice to meet you, Zander. My name is Colton.”