Page 60 of The Break Out

His words only make me squirm more, again unsure if it’s in discomfort or because I can feel the wetness in my panties. Fuck this guy, seriously. I tighten my arms around him again as the light turns green. It’s taking everything in me to continue to hold onto all the reasons I don’t like this man. Other than how much of a dick he can be, he knows what he’s doing when it comes to my body. Including all the right words to make it react to him.

Though, I never promised him anything sexual tonight. That wasn’t a part of the deal, so as long as I can hang onto my self-control for dear life, I may be having some fun torturing him.

We get to his house, and I waste no time putting some distance between us as I get the helmet off and adjust my dress. Colton isn’t far behind, taking his own helmet off and shaking out his hair. The second his eyes lock on mine he’s closing the distance between us, gripping me by the back of my neck and moving to press our mouths together.

I stop him with a hand over his mouth, not breaking our eye contact. “I’m thirsty,” I say simply, doing everything in my power to hide the fact that my heart is pounding.

His grip on me loosens, so I slide my hand down off his face, tracing a teasing finger down his chest before taking it away completely.

The look he gives me isn’t mad or disappointed, but that same cocky smirk he always has, and I feel like he knows what I’m up to. “Then let’s get you something to drink, Princess.”

He leads me inside and I give myself a mental pep talk that I will get through the night without sleeping with him. No part of him will get to touch any part of me. Not tonight. I can control myself. I don’t need to fill the loneliness void I have with him. Even if it feels good at the time.

And kind of afterwards.

He’s never hurt me or anything.

Maybe he’s not that bad and I could just enjoy this.

No. Fuck, Brynn, stop it.This is how I’ve continued to get myself into these situations.

Tonight is going to be different.

Which is what I keep reminding myself as Colton leads me into his kitchen, gesturing for me to sit on one of the barstools as he starts to make some drinks.

“I just want water,” I say flatly after he’s already mixed the drinks.

He chuckles, gulping down one of the drinks in one swallow. “Water it is.”

He gets me a large glass full of ice water I ignore, standing up to look around his house. I hear his bark of laughter behind me as I walk into the living room taking in the décor that was clearly done by a professional because there’s not a single personal touch here.

I wonder if he has any pictures of his family anywhere, anything to remember his brother by. But I won’t ask. Especially because I don’t have anything to remember my brother by. Sometimes I wish I did, but there’s really nothing that I could have since we didn’t have very many personal memories together.

Making my way through the large space, I look at the artwork, one piece in particular catches my eye and try to decipher what the seemingly random color splotches could symbolize. This is why I could never be a part of the art world because it all just looks like random paint splatters to me. It’s not exactly colorful, the background a tannish brown color while splotches of black and white decorate a majority of it with random pinkspots on it.

I feel the second he steps up behind me, the woodsy smell mixed with the whiskey he just drank hits my nose right before his fingers gently move my hair from my shoulder, and he grazes his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck.

“What do you think this painting is supposed to be of?” I ask, making an extreme effort to sound unaffected by him.

He huffs out a breath that I thought would be annoyed, but it’s more of another laugh. “Paint,” he answers simply, sliding a hand over my collarbone and starting to move down my arm.

“But like what does it symbolize?”

“Hm,” he stops his caress, stepping up behind me so I can feel the heat of him, but we aren’t touching. When I glance behind me, I see him looking at the picture and he actually seems to be thinking about it. I’m kind of curious what bullshit he’s going to spew. “I think it’s about pain.”

My head snaps back to look forward at the painting again, trying to see what he is because maybe he’s actually taking this seriously. Especially when he continues.

“The black I think is the pain, and the white is happiness because it looks like they’re battling. Then the pink is coming in and that’s healing.” He sounds so serious as he speaks, I’m unsure what to say.

I go with humor, turning back toward him, smacking his chest lightly. “You’re drunk.”

He looks down to me, and I catch the flash in his eyes, whatI think is the pain he sees. The pain that mirrors mine. But it’s gone in a second as he slips easily back into the obnoxious man I know. “Not drunk. I am hungry, though. But not for food.”

I roll my eyes, stepping away from him, brushing off the seemingly one good moment we had just then. “I want to go to bed.”

“Damn right, Baby Collee.” He steps up to me, but I stop him with a hand on his chest.

“To sleep. I said I would stay the night and not sneak out. I never said I would have sex with you.”

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