Driven(book one)(6)

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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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.