I hear, rather than feel the snap of fabric as Colton falls back on his heels. And I’m so pent up with my denied release that I don’t even find it amusing that he’s claimed yet another pair of my panties. The low, guttural groan he emits has me flashing my eyes up just in time to see him wipe my moisture from his mouth with the remnants of my red silk panties. I just stare at him, lips parted, eyes wide, breath panting, and heart racing.

And frustrated.

“Is there something you want?” He smirks.

My head is clouded with need. Screw the game he’s playing. All I want is him. Right now. Urgently. “Yes. Please, Colton. Please.” I basically beg and don’t care one bit that I did.

Our silent stare is broken when his phone chirps a text. He looks at it and then up to me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Perfect timing. It’s our turn in line.”

I just shake my head at him as my body remains in its suspended state of negligence. He smirks, smoothes my gown back down over my legs, sans panties, and sits back in the seat next to me.

And in this moment I can see it in his eyes. The razor thin edge his control is teetering on. How his body is driven with such an incredible need and fueled by such an intense, overwhelming desire. How much this little seduction of his is killing him as much as it is me.

“A single word,” he says, slowly leaning forward so one of his hands can cup the side of my face. He brushes the pad of his thumb back and forth over my bottom lip. “Anticipation.”

The simple word sends a tingle of awareness through my body. He grazes his lips tenderly against mine before pulling back a fraction. I lean in wanting to deepen the kiss and drown in the taste that I’ve been craving, but he withdraws, denying me with a seductive chuckle and a mischievous yet naughty gleam in his eye.

And for some reason, my mind picks this moment to remember the comment he’d made moments ago. “Underdressed?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in thought, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He holds up my panties and works his tongue inside his mouth as he figures what words to taunt me with. “You see, now these have been exactly where I’ve wanted to be nestled all fucking week long. And since I haven’t been allowed to be there, neither will these.” He leans in to place the most tender of kisses on my lips before resting his forehead against mine. “Tonight, Rylee,” he murmurs against my lips, “I want you thinking about me all night long. More specifically everything I plan on doing to you later when I have you alone.” He breathes out, his voice a seductive whisper that has the desire within me igniting into a raging inferno. “Where my tongue is going to lick. Where my fingers are going to grip. Where my mouth is going to taste. Where my cock is going to stroke. How my body is going to worship every incredible inch of yours.”

My hands reach out to squeeze his biceps as my mouth goes dry and my sex gets wet from the provocation of his words. He has to know I’m affected—has to know that I’m desperate for his touch already—but he continues.

“I want to know that while you are talking to all of these potential donors, looking so poised, elegant, and fucking breathtaking, that beneath this dress you are wet and dripping with need for me.” I draw in a ragged breath, his words almost too much to hear in my current state. “That you ache so much it hurts. That your pussy pulses at the thought of how later tonight my cock is going to be buried in it. For hours.” His voice is pained as he says the last words, and I have some degree of satisfaction that he is suffering as deliciously as I am. I can’t help the hum of desire in the back of my throat, as I feel his mouth curl in a smile at my response.

“Every time I look at you I want to know that I’m killing you slowly on the inside while you look so perfectly proper on the outside.” He angles his head forward and gives me the kiss that he’s been withholding from me. I’m breathless by the time he releases me. “And knowing that will leave me wanting just as much as you will be.”

He pulls back from me and shifts in the seat beside me. I’ve said nothing this entire time, and yet I feel exhausted and totally overcome from our conversation. “Underdressed,” he says, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he holds up my panties and starts folding them. “You are no longer overdressed with these taken out of the picture…” He tucks the scrap of red silk into his pocket square opening and winks at me. “and now I’m perfect.”

I stare at him wondering what depths of desire he is going to bring me to tonight. A blush spreads over my cheeks and he smirks, knowing that I’m more than along for the ride. I shake my head softly at him. “You can really be naughty, you know that?”

Something flashes through his eyes which I akin to fear, but I know that’s not possible. What does he possibly have to fear from me? “You have no idea, Rylee.” His jaw clenches as he looks at me, the mood is suddenly serious and I’m confused as to why. We sit staring at each other in silence for a moment before he turns to look out at the passing scenery. His voice is eerily soft and contemplative when he finally speaks. “If you were smart…if I could let you…I’d tell you to walk away.”

I stare at the back of his head, confusion bewildering me. What does he think is so horrible within him that he’s not worthy of me? The fact that after all of this time he still feels that he’s tainted by his childhood kills me. If only he would let me try and help him. I reach out and lay my hand on his back. “Colton, why would you say that?”

He looks back at me, his face guarded. “I like your naivety way too much to give you the sordid details.”

Naivety? Does he not know the horrors I have seen working at The House? Either that or it’s another excuse to run from his past. “Whatever it is Colton, it doesn't affect how I feel about you. I need you to know that—”

“Colton?” I startle as the intercom from the front of the car buzzes to us in the back.

“Drop it, Ry,” he warns quietly. “Yeah, Sammy?”

“ETA two minutes.”

He lowers the privacy partition dividing us. Sammy turns his head toward Colton. “Sammy, please get Sex here. I feel like driving tonight.”

Sex? Driving? What the fuck is he talking about?

“Sure thing,” Sammy says, a crooked smile lighting up his face before the partition slides back up.

“Sex?” I look at him like he’s crazy, glad for the change of topic to add some levity to the sudden heaviness of our conversation.

“Yeah. My F12. My baby. That’s her name.” He shrugs as if it’s the most perfectly normal thing in the world, but he lost me at F12, baby, and sex.

“Ummm, can you explain that in a language for those of us with dual X chromosomes?” I laugh bewildered.

He gives me a boyish grin that would melt my panties if I had any on. “F12 is my favorite of all of my collection. She’s a Berlinetta Ferrari. The first time Beckett drove her he told me that the feeling was equivalent to the best sex he’s ever had. It was a joke at first, but the name stuck. So…” he shrugs his shoulders, and I just shake my head at him “...Sex.”

“Collection?”

“Women have shoes. Men have cars.” It’s the only explanation he gives. I’m about to ask more when he announces, “We’re here.” He shifts in his seat so that he’s closer to the door and butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Show time.”

Before I can mentally prepare myself any further, the door to the limo opens. Even though Colton’s body standing in the doorway partially blocks the flash of cameras, I am temporarily blinded by their intensity.

Colton calls out a casual laid-back greeting to the paparazzi as he buttons up his jacket before turning to help me. I take a deep breath as I take his hand and scoot out of the limo. I exit the car and look up at him, a reassuring smile on his face. Gone is the brooding guy in the car from moments before. Hello Hollywood playboy.

“You okay?” he mouths to me and I nod my head subtly, overwhelmed by the onslaught of people yelling at us along with the repeated camera flashes. He pulls me toward him, his mouth resting against my ear. “Remember to smile and follow my lead,” he murmurs. “You look stunning tonight.” He pulls back, squeezing my hand and graces me with one of his panty wetting smiles before turning to walk the carpet.

And the only thought that breaks through the buzz surrounding us is that from this point forward, I am no longer anonymous to the press.



My eyes still have bright white spots in my field of vision, but I survived the red carpet. I feel so disoriented and oddly taken advantage of by the press’ invasive questions and incessant picture taking. I have no idea how Colton can be so relaxed in such a situation. Maybe years of practice. He was calm and polite, and avoided answering the questions thrown at him—were we an item, how long had we been together, what was my name?—and deflected them with the flash of his smile, giving them the perfect picture for their cover page instead.