Page 7 of Breaking Him

Sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades, dirt smearing my arms, as I pulled weeds from around my struggling tomato plants. I’d neglected a lot of things after Dad died; it was hard taking on full responsibility of running the ranch. I’d been doing most of the work before he passed on, but we’d been a good team—we picked up each other’s slack. It’d been just the two of us for a long time, and I missed him like crazy.

I didn’t know why I was so melancholy. I’d woken up feeling low, and that dark cloud had hovered over my head all day. Lifting a hand to shield the sun, I looked out to the field where Elijah was working with the mare again. He had a halter in his hand, letting her scent it, while he continued to touch her face. Getting her used to the sensation, the smell.

The horse’s ear pricked up. I couldn’t see Eli’s face, but I knew he was talking to her, comforting her, encouraging her, praising her as he slid a hand into his pocket for a treat—rewarding her for being a good girl. That’s what he’d be murmuring in her ear. “Good girl. That’s my girl.” His deep voice low, gentle, but with that ever-present growl that lifted the hair at the back of my neck.

There was something in him, something hungry and wild, something I didn’t know if even he was aware of. He’d obviously closed himself off from everything and everyone, from his own needs and feelings. Not surprising with the way people treated him. But I knew it was there, lurking just below the surface. A part of him he’d locked down tight, constantly fought against. I craved that part of him. I wanted to be the one to set it free.

I wanted to break through, break him—so I could put him back together piece by piece and make him whole again.

Then I wanted him to turn all that newly unleashed hunger on me, have those scarred, rough hands on my skin, demanding, taking whatever they wanted. I wanted him to make me scream his name until I forgot my own.

I wanted him to gentle me, praise and encourage me as he bent me to his will.

A shiver slid through me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

A gust of wind came out of nowhere, whipping around me, and a crack rang out as a bolt of lightning rent the sky. I shivered again, but this time for another reason. I hated storms. Had since I was a little girl. Though I’d welcome this one, welcome the fears that came with it, if it would bring blessed rain.

I looked back to the field, and Eli was heading toward the barn, the mare left to graze. Troubled by my thoughts of him, the way they’d affected me, confused me—aroused me—I realized I wasn’t ready to face him again just yet. Not when I could still taste him on my tongue, when I could still feel the way he’d trembled under my hands, could hear the lust-filled noises he’d made when he’d come ringing in my ears.

Spinning around, I raced toward the house. Darting up the porch stairs, I slammed the door after me, leaning against it, breathing hard, right as a low, building roll of thunder reached its peak. It was so damn close the windows rattled. My arms flew up to cover my head, and I shrieked.

It was just a goddamn storm, not an omen, or a sign something bad would happen. Logically I knew this, but no matter how hard I tried not to let it get to me, every time one blew through I reverted to a scared kid, waiting for my world to implode. I could still hear my father’s voice, competing with the thunderstorm raging outside, lightning flashing, flickering bright through my bedroom window, as he told me my mother had gone away and wasn’t coming back. That she’d decided to leave her family and start fresh somewhere else without us. And I could still see the doctor’s somber expression, the way he’d shaken his head, eyes sad as he’d walked out of my father’s room, thunder rumbling overhead, drowning out the blood roaring through my ears, as he’d told me it was too late, my dad was gone.

Goose bumps prickled my skin. Climbing into my dad’s old armchair in the living room, I pulled up my knees, wrapped my arms around myself, and squeezed my eyes shut. I don’t know how long I sat like that, trying desperately to block out the sounds of the storm, trying to ignore the way my belly twisted and curled.

Someone knocked heavily on the door.

“Shit.” I jumped, the urgent sound yanking me back to the present. Dread instantly unfurled in my chest as I climbed out of the chair and headed to the door. All sorts of scenarios swam through my head, none of them good. The knock came again, this time louder. Gripping the handle, I pulled it open. Lightning split the rainless sky in two, lighting up Elijah’s face. His jaw was hard, eyes boring into me, big body seeming to heave with every breath he took.

He pulled his cap off his head. “I came to check on you,” he rumbled, giving the thunder a run for its money.

I stared up at him. How did he know? How could he?

His brows lowered. “You always run inside first sign of a storm,” he said, like he could read my mind.

It’d been a while since I’d heard him string so many words together. Talking made him uncomfortable for some reason. That he’d come to me, had done something that was hard for him, to make sure I was okay? It hit me like a raging bull. And I just…reacted. I couldn’t explain or control it. Before I could think better of it, I’d taken the two steps separating us and literally leaped into his arms, burying my face against his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. He caught me effortlessly, a soft grunt puffing past his lips. He stood stiff for a second, from shock or confusion I didn’t know which, then his heavy arms tightened around me, holding me there.

He murmured something against my hair and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. I should have been embarrassed, humiliated by the way I was acting, but right then, I needed someone, needed him. I needed the distraction, anything to get me out of my own head, to distance myself from the pain, the memories.

He walked farther into the house. The hand on my ass flexed, the other was on my shoulder, his forearm locked across my back. He squeezed me even closer, then sat on the couch. With him sitting, I ended up straddling his thighs. He was extremely hard, and I bit my cheek to stifle a needy moan. He planted his hands on my hips and scooted me back a little, and when I glanced up at him, his cheekbones had deepened in color. His face remained impassive, though, concern clearly etched there, eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.

Suddenly I was embarrassed of the way I’d acted. Showing weakness like that wasn’t me. I never showed my hand, never gave people ammunition to hurt me. And even though I knew Eli wasn’t like that, I planted my hands on his chest to climb off him, mumbling my apology. His hands were still on my hips and his fingers dug in, holding me where I was.

I glanced up at him, and he shook his head. Then without a word, he pulled me in, tucking my head under his chin. His fingers curled around my nape, while the other slid down my back to my ass, and he effortlessly dragged me closer, so I was perched on his hard cock, his powerful frame wrapped around me. I sat there stunned. His warmth surrounded me, his smell an intoxicating mix of hay, leather, and clean sweat. We stayed like that for a while, neither one moving. Then finally his fingers twitched and slowly, ever so slowly, he started to rub my back. The movement was cautious, unsure, his heart hammering under my cheek. Mine picked up as well, my breath growing choppy as the need between my thighs grew. The heavy swell behind his zipper got bigger, harder, and I had no control over the way my hips did a little circle, my body reaching for more of his.

My nipples were hard and aching, and the fear had subsided to a low hum at the base of my skull. The need to banish it completely, to have Eli be the one to chase it away, was becoming impossible to resist. He confused me and turned me on like no one and nothing else ever had. The mix of innocence, his size and strength, and that undercurrent of danger and iron control had my head spinning, made me swollen and wet with the need to be fucked hard. The need to have the impressive cock that I was currently grinding against thrusting in and out of me deep and hard.

My hand shaking, I reached back and grabbed his, sliding it to my front. The pulse on the inside of his wrist as I turned it and pressed it against my aching breast was pounding thick and fast. I whimpered from the contact. “Please. Please make me forget, Eli.” I barely recognized my own voice, so filled with unrestrained desperation.

He shuddered, his entire body convulsing under me, then I was off his lap and planted on the couch beside him. At first I thought he was pushing me away, but then his eyes lowered to the front of my jeans and his trembling hands followed, grasping the button, popping it, then sliding down the zipper.

Oh God, I was on fire, burning the hell up.

Gripping the denim on either side of my hips, he slowly dragged my jeans down my legs and threw them aside. His nostrils flared when he stared down at my pink underwear, growling when I parted my thighs shamelessly. His hand dropped to my thigh, so wide it spanned the width, then slid higher until it reached the point my thigh ended and the aching heart of me began.

He swiped his thumb over my opening, through the soaked fabric of my panties, and I bucked and arched. His eyes darted to my face, then down again as he snagged the fabric at my hip and tore right through. I gasped in surprise, and his eyes immediately shot back to mine.