Fueled Read Online Free PDF

thinking that a change in topic is just what is needed to add a little levity to our extremely somber and intense morning.
    “You surprise me at every turn.”
    “How so?”
    “Did Max ever treat you this way?”
    What ? Where is he going with this? His comment takes me by surprise. When, I turn and face him, he just tightens his arms around my torso and pulls me closer. “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “Did he?” he insists, the master of deflection.
    “No,” I admit contemplatively. Sensing I’ve relaxed some, he unlaces his fingers from mine and moves them back up to draw aimless lines on my arms. I look down at my hand and watch as I poke absently at the bubbles. “You were right.”
    “‘Bout what?”
    “The first time we met. You told me that my boyfriend must treat me like glass,” I whisper, feeling like I’m betraying Max’s memory. “You were right. He was a gentleman in every way. Even during sex.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Colton concedes, bringing his hands up to massage the base of my neck. I don’t speak, shocked at myself for feeling how I do. “What is it? Your shoulders just tensed up.”
    I exhale a shuddered sigh, embarrassed at my train of thought. “I thought that was how it was supposed to be…that was what I wanted sex to be. He was my only experience. And now…”
    “Now what?” he prompts with a hint of amusement in his voice.
    “Nothing.” Heat rushes into my cheeks.
    “Rylee, talk to me for Christ’s sake. I just fucked you in my shower like an animal. Used you basically for my own reprieve, and yet you can’t tell me what you’re thinking?”
    “That’s exactly it.” I aimlessly draw circles down his thighs that cradle my sides, the admission tackling all of my modesty and throwing it to the ground. “ I liked it. I never realized it could be different. That it could be so raw and…” Oh my God I’m drowning here. I don’t think I even spoke to Max about sex like this, and we were together for over six years. I’ve known Colton less than a month, and we’re discussing how I think it’s a turn on to be manhandled. Sweet fucking Jesus as Colton would say.
    “Carnal,” he finishes for me, and I can hear a tinge of pride in his tone. He kisses the side of my head, and I shrug, embarrassed at my lack of experience and unfiltered admission. Sensing my discomfort, Colton squeezes me tighter. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. Lots of people like it lots of different ways, sweetheart. There’s a lot more out there to experience than just the missionary position with whispered sweet nothings.” He breathes into my ear, and I wonder how even he can turn me on with that statement.
    My mind flickers back to Colton demanding that I tell him that I want to be fucked our first time together. Of him pushing me to the brink by taking me hard and fast. Of him whispering the explicit things he wants to do to me when we have sex—lifting me up, pressing me against a wall, and grinding us toward release. Of how the knowledge of any and all of these things can cause me to ache with a need so intense that it unnerves me.
    My cheeks flush at the thoughts, and I am grateful he can’t see my face because he’d know exactly where my mind has wandered. I exhale a shaky sigh, trying to stifle my mortification at the direction of conversation and my own self-revelations.
    “That’s one of the things I like about you. You’re so uninhibited.”
    What? I feel like looking around the room to see whom else he is talking to. “ Me? ” I croak.
    “Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs. “ You’re amazing .” His voice feathers over my cheek, the movement of his lips grazing my ear.
    His words leave me motionless. He’s echoed my thoughts of him despite the chaos and hurt from earlier. Maybe this combustible chemistry between us is because I possibly mean more than some of his others? He’s sending me all of the signals to validate this claim, and yet