Page 16 of Tortured


  Brecken rolled his neck, his gaze drifting away. “Is that why you waited a whole hot minute after I ‘died’ to hook up with Crew Graves?”

  My breath caught. He hadn’t just said what I thought he had.

  “Speechless?” he added as my silence continued.

  He really had just said that.

  I scooted away, unable to stand being close to him. “You have no idea what happened. No idea why I did what I did.”

  His expression stayed unaffected. Like he didn’t give a shit how upset he was making me. “Well, it sure wasn’t because you were hung up on me and mourning my death.”

  I couldn’t stay seated. I couldn’t stay beside him. I couldn’t stay in the same universe. Jogging down the steps, I didn’t stop until I’d put some space between us. The sand was cool against my feet, the night air coating me like a blanket.

  My eyes narrowed on him, my whole body shaking. “How fucking dare you.”

  He refused to look at me. He looked over my shoulder. Above my head. Below my feet. Everywhere but at me. That made me angrier than his words.

  “I loved you. I loved you.” I glared at him, wishing so badly I could hate him right now. Knowing how much easier this would be if I did. “How dare you question that.”

  That was when his face betrayed him, a crack forming in that crafted facade of indifference. He lowered his face so I couldn’t see it, his hands clasped in front of him. “Why did you marry him? Why him? Why right after?” He exhaled, his voice quiet. “Why?”

  The band on my left hand cut into my skin when I crossed my arms, reminding me of its presence. “Because I had to.”

  Brecken’s head lifted just enough his eyes could reach mine. I was looking at a man I’d known my whole life, but I was staring into unfamiliar eyes. “Because you were afraid of being alone.”

  I fell back a step as though he’d just shoved me. Like fists, words carried just as much force.

  I recovered, taking that step back. “You son of a bitch.”

  He flinched when the words hit him. Barely. Just enough for me to see it.

  “I loved you like crazy. I thought about you every day you were gone. I’ve thought about you every day since I thought you were killed. I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone. Like I never thought I could love anyone. I still love you.”

  His head lifted, his eyes not so strange anymore.

  I didn’t know what I was saying anymore, just that I had to say it. “How dare you try to make what I did seem so cheap and desperate. It killed me to move on. It killed me. I died with you that day. So don’t pretend you’re the only one who knows pain and loss. I might not have been trapped behind those bars with you, but I’ve been in my own kind of jail. And I might not know torture the way you do, but the kind I know is pretty damn cruel too. Don’t pretend you’re the only one who lost something.” My words were an avalanche spilling out of me, my body a swirl of motion. I’d carried this inside me for so long, and I felt like I could breathe now that I’d said it. “This person today is not the same one you left behind. There’s nothing left of that girl to love, so there’s no need to feel like you’re missing out. Save yourself the torment, and save me the guilt.”

  Brecken hadn’t stopped staring at me. He was so still, his only movement coming from his chest as he breathed, his eyes as he blinked. He sat there staring at me like I remembered he used to from before. The way he’d admire me from a distance before moving in. The way he’d appraise me with that glimmer of possession in his eyes. The confidence in his brow that read that no matter how far away I got, he knew I’d always find my way back.

  My stomach tightened as the fire surging through me receded. What took its place was a different kind of fire. The kind that burned stronger—an endless supply of tinder keeping it alive.

  He rose from the stairs, moving toward me. His steps weren’t hesitant or slow. “That girl I left behind is right here, standing in front of me,” he said, his eyes unyielding. “There’s everything of her still to love.”

  Suddenly, I wanted to get away from him for a different reason. My heels sank into the sand as I stepped back. “I’m married.”

  His steps didn’t slow. “So?” He said it in a way that suggested it didn’t matter—that it was trivial compared to the bond we shared. “You could have married the best guy in the world and never looked my way again, and I’d still be here.” He motioned at the sand separating us while he strode closer. “Loving you. Waiting for you. Biding my time.”

  My feet stopped moving. I couldn’t take another step away from him. “Biding your time? Brecken, Keenan’s five years old. He won’t be an adult for thirteen more years. That’s two times longer than you spent in prison.”

  He didn’t stop until he was directly in front of me. “Does it look like I flinched?” He waited. Not blinking. “Shit, I know I’m not supposed to. I know you’re married. But I love you. Still. Always. There’s nothing you can say or do to change that.”

  I dropped my arms at my sides, tired of crossing them, tired of closing myself off to him. “It’s been six years. Everything’s changed. I have. You have.” My eyes lifted. “Why? Why are you trying to win me back?”

  He exhaled, his lips parting. “I’m going to win you back.”

  When his hand slid around the bend of my waist, winding behind my back, I jerked. His touch was different tonight, hungry, determined. My head clouded, blocking out reason or letting it surface to the top, one or the other.

  “I married him,” I whispered even as my hand found his chest.

  “But you belong to me.”

  My eyes closed as he bowed me against him. I wasn’t sure how two bodies that had been as broken as ours could be so strong when joined. “How do you know?”

  “I can see it in your eyes. Every time you look at me.” His other hand lifted to my chin, tipping it until our eyes connected. His brow rose slowly, like I was proving his point right that very moment.

  “That’s a rather confident statement.” My voice shook, but my body felt steady. Unwavering.

  “It’s the truth.”

  My chest was moving so hard, it brushed his with every breath. What was I doing? Where had I found myself? The man holding me had died only to be resurrected six years later. It was too late, but it wasn’t over.

  No matter what, Brecken Connolly and I would never be over.

  “Twenty-six days,” I said slowly. “That’s all I have to give you. That’s all I have to give. Four weeks. Once he’s back, you know the way it has to be.”

  His face broke, but his hold didn’t budge. “It’s not enough.”

  My fingers curled into his shirt, looking for some way to hold on to him. “I know.”

  His other arm suddenly looped around me and he lifted me off the ground, his grip going around my backside when my legs tied around him. “But a fucking eternity wouldn’t be enough either, so it’ll just have to do.”

  He carried me through the sand and up the stairs of the cabin, then he propped me against the wall so he could open the screen door. Something slipped out of my mouth when he flexed his hips into mine.

  “Told you it wasn’t a morning issue,” he whispered in my ear, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “Just a Camryn one.”

  He made the same motion with his hips, applying a little more friction this time, causing a louder sound to echo from my lungs.

  Opening the screen door as silently as he could, he carried me inside, both of us glancing at the futon. Keenan was out—nothing was waking him. Brecken closed the door and locked it before slowly moving around the room to switch off the lights. His hold never loosened.

  “You can set me down, you know?” I whispered.

  His brows came together like I was crazy. “I know,” he said, his arms tying tighter. Once all of the lights were off, the cabin closed up for the night, he padded down the hall.

  “You know where you’re going?”

  His head nodded beside mine. “I
’ve always known.”

  My hands went behind his neck. His skin was warm and familiar. “And where’s that?”

  He exhaled against my skin as he closed the bedroom door. “Toward you.”

  He set me down once he’d untied my legs from around his waist, and he took a few steps back. He stared at me for a moment then reached for the lamp on the dresser.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Turning on the lights.”

  I watched him flip on another. “Why?”

  “Because I want to see you. Because I want to watch your face as I move inside you. Because I want to see your skin flush when I make you come.” He flipped on one more light, then all of his attention turned to me. “Because I want to see everything.”

  My heart took off as I imagined being intimate with him with every light in the room on. My body wasn’t the same one he’d left. It had since carried a child, it had carried a burden, it bore the scars of a shattered soul and a broken body. “I don’t want you to see me. Not like that. In the dark, you can imagine the way I was before.”

  When I reached for the closest lamp to switch it off, he stopped me. “I don’t want to imagine.” His hand curled around mine, guiding it away from the lamp. “I want the real thing. I want the real you.”

  “You’ve seen my body. You know what I look like beneath all of this.” I motioned at the fresh clothes hanging off of me, covering me from my wrists to my ankles to my neck.

  “When I look at you, I see beauty and strength, and the one person in the world who gives me a reason to live and a reason to die.” He drew me to him, his face creased in lines of concentration. “That’s what I see when I look at you.”

  When his fingers skimmed beneath the hem of my shirt, starting to slide it up, I went stiff. Noticing, he let go of my shirt and reached for his instead. He had it up and over his head in one seamless motion.

  He threw his shirt across the room and stepped back, holding his arms out at his sides. “What do you see when you look at me?”

  He swallowed, waiting, then began to turn. I studied his back as he revolved, but what I’d noticed last night wasn’t what I saw tonight.

  My eyes were waiting for his when he finished his revolution. “I see the man I love.”

  His chest froze, his expression doing the same. Then his whole body relaxed, like a lifetime of burdens had just been lifted. “Then fuck the scars,” he whispered, half of his mouth turning up. “They don’t define us. We define them.”

  Whether it was courage or stupidity, something had me reaching for my shirt. I didn’t think I breathed as I pulled it up my body, removing it over my head with my jacket. My instinct was to cross my arms over myself, to curl into a lesser self, but I fought it. I let Brecken’s eyes steady me as I dropped the clothing onto the floor.

  He wet his lips, taking a large stride toward me, but he stopped in his tracks when I reached behind my back to undo my bra. Quickly peeling each strap down my arms, I let it fall to the floor with the rest and forced my arms to rest at my sides as he stared at me.

  “Blinking.” I fought a smile from the way he was looking at me. “It’s good for the eyes. Keeps them from drying out, that kind of thing.”

  “It’s not my eyes I’m worried about.” He managed to blink a few times as his fist came to his chest. “It’s my damn heart.” He pounded on his ribcage a few times, like one knocked on a door. “If this thing gives out before we finish, I’m going to be seriously pissed.”

  Still fighting a smile, my thumbs hooked under the waistband of my leggings. “Then we’d better hurry.”

  “Okay.” Brecken was fighting with his belt then his jeans. They clearly couldn’t come off fast enough. “At least this time.”

  “Stamina confidence?”

  “It’s been six years, Blue Bird.” He balled up his jeans and tossed them over his shoulder. “That’s a lot of celibacy to make up for.”

  Having him tease along with me, seeing him smile and behave like the boy I’d fallen in love with lowered whatever inhibitions were still weighing me down. Lights on, more scars and bruises between us that an entire division of rugby players, so many obstacles waiting outside that door that we might never make it past the first step … my love for the human being standing before me overcame all of that. His love for me overcame it.

  I’d heard it said that love conquered all, but I’d never believed it until that moment.

  After peeling off my leggings, I took a deep breath when my fingers looped around the sides of my underwear.

  Brecken started to tug on his boxers. “Me first?”

  My teeth sank into my lip, and I shook my head. Then I slid my underwear over my hips, down my thighs, until I let them fall when they reached my knees.

  “Holy fucking hell.” A breath rushed out of Brecken’s mouth as he fell back a few steps as though he’d been shoved.

  “Isn’t that an oxymoron? Holy hell?” I settled my hand into the bend of my waist, painting on what I hoped was confidence.

  His fist went back to his chest, thumping on it. Almost like he was giving himself CPR minus the mouth-to-mouth.

  “You’re not going to have a heart attack on me, are you?” I slid closer when he kept thumping at his chest.

  “Not planning on it, but if I do, just keep going. Don’t stop. I’ll be smiling in heaven. Or hell. Or wherever a tortured soul like mine winds up.”

  I wasn’t hiding my smile anymore. “Your turn.” My eyes dropped to his boxers.

  He had them off his body and in a ball sailing across the room in one and a half seconds flat.

  Now it was my turn to feel chest pains. I restrained myself from grabbing at my chest and pounding at it, but damn, that man had always had a body capable of making a girl lose her mind. Six years later, nothing had changed. I didn’t see the scars and breaks when I looked at him, nor the burns and brands. I didn’t see his limp as he moved closer or miss the muscle that had deteriorated. I saw him. Brecken Connolly. The person I’d planned on spending a lifetime with but would have to settle for spending the next twenty-eight days with. Or twenty-six now.

  The reminder had me rushing toward him, not about to waste one moment of a second. I’d slow down time until a minute became a year, a day a decade. By the end of this, we’d have our lifetime.

  When the end came, I’d have no regrets.

  “You’re not saying anything.” Brecken moved toward me. Naked. Scarred. Beautiful.

  My gaze returned to his. “Holy fucking hell.”

  A deep chuckle resonated in his chest. “Packs a punch, right?”

  “This is the part where you close your mouth and make love to me.”

  He stalked closer until a few steps separated us. “I have to open my mouth to kiss you.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “At least to kiss you the way I want to.”

  “I guess you can open your mouth for that.”

  He stepped into me, pressing his body into mine, backing me against the wall. A sharp breath rushed out of me when I felt how hard he was against me. Not just what resided between his legs—presently pressed into the softness of my stomach—but the expanse of his chest, the planes of his abdomen, the muscles running down his legs. He was hard, strong, and felt capable of saving me from whatever the world decided to heave at me. If I could just stay tucked into the shelter of his body, I’d be safe. I’d be happy. I’d know peace.

  His head angled against mine, the heat of his breath touching my mouth before his lips did. My arms wound around his back, my hands carving around the slope of his shoulders and looking for a place to hang on. Needing a solid grip to hold onto when he carried me wherever it was he was planning on leading me to. With the way he was kissing me, it could have been anywhere.

  His mouth was gentle at first, letting me take the lead. When my tongue touched his, a baritone sound vibrated in his chest. Hearing him make that sound, feeling it rattle against my body, knowing it was the result of what I was doing, made me
feel things I hadn’t felt in years. Power. Persuasion. Control. They hit my bloodstream like a shot of the best kind of positive endorphins, swimming inside me until I felt invincible.

  The way he was allowing me to lead, submitting to my weaker physical strength, following the tenor of my need, had me feeling other things I hadn’t felt in years. Trust. Reverence. Love.

  As I lifted up to wind my legs behind his back, I arched my back, letting him feel the physical manifestation of what he was making me feel emotionally. His groan reverberated into my mouth, our kiss never breaking stride.

  “I have to open my mouth to make the sounds you’re going to force out of me,” he whispered before gently sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.

  My legs tightened around him. “You’ve made your point.”

  He leaned back just enough for me to see the glimmer in his eye. “I have to open my mouth to …” He dropped his mouth to my ear, whispering the rest of it.

  A tremble wound down my spine, the rest of my body feeling like every nerve was firing.

  “Are you—”

  “I’m ready,” I said, lifting my hips.

  “You’re sure? We don’t have to. I can wait. Until you’re ready. Being like this with you is enough, I swear.” His breath was so uneven, each word sounded like its own sentence.

  “It’s not enough.” I tipped my hips until I could feel him pushing against me. Our chests started rising and falling faster. “With you and me, nothing will ever be enough.”

  As I lowered myself onto him, his arm flew out behind him, bracing into the wall. He pushed against me until my back was hard against the wall, his chest hard against mine. His hips flexed slowly, sinking deeper into my body.