Crap.
I had been kinda insensitive telling him to get over it.
But how was I supposed to know?
“How did she die?” I asked. I was curious and he was, apparently, really forthcoming about his past.
“Lung cancer,” he said easily. “She didn't smoke. But Pops did.”
Oh god.
Okay.
My story was starting to sound less horrific than his.
Not that it was a contest. But if it was... he would win. Easy.
I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes and felt a wave of horror wash over me. That wasn't me. I wasn't the crying kind of girl. I was the put your chin up, throw your shoulders back, and pretend nothing got to you kind of girl. I wasn't going to cry for little ten year old Breaker while big, manly, reasonably well-adjusted Breaker stood a few feet from me.
His eyes warmed for a second watching me. Like maybe he knew what I was struggling with. Then, his voice a little amused, “Your toast is burning.”
I whipped around, hitting the buttons and, sure enough, they were blackened. But salvageable. I rummaged around for a knife and scraped the char off over the garbage before buttering them.
“Thanks babe,” he said easily, taking a triangle and biting into it.
I hadn't thanked him for dinner.
Shit.
Okay.
I needed to like... muster up some basic social skills or something.
I munched on a piece of toast, looking out the window into his backyard. “So, um, like...” oh my god. I needed to stop mumbling. “What do you... do?”
His head tilted to the side. “What?”
“When you're not... working? What do you do?”
He shrugged. “Workout. Watch movies. Go out with Shoot or Paine.”
A part of me realized that going out with Shoot or Paine (whoever the hell that was) involved all three of them taking off in different directions with different women. I pushed down the weird twinge of jealousy.
We had sex.
That didn't give me the right to plant my flag in him.
He probably fucked around all the time.
Why was I even thinking about his former sexual conquests? That was totally none of my business. He wasn't wondering about mine. And he damn well wasn't feeling jealous about them. Not that he should seeing as they were just... pathetic compared to him.
“Alex,” his voice called and my head snapped to him. “Called you twice,” he said, making me blush slightly.
“Sorry. I was... somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Not here.”
At this, I got a brow raise. “What's with the fuckin' walls, doll?”
“What walls?”
“The ten foot tall barbed wire ones you wear around you like a security blanket.”
Well hell.
He got me.
But that didn't mean he needed to know that.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You're not trying to keep me at a distance?”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
Breaker put his mug down on the counter, shaking his head. “Babe, I'm pretty sure it was you I was inside last night,” he started and I felt my cheeks heat. He did not just say that. “I know what you feel like and sound like when you come. I know what you taste like. And you don't think you can tell me what you were just thinking about a minute ago? You don't think you can let me in just a little bit?”
“For what purpose?”
“Because that's what people do, Alex,” he said, his voice getting harsh. “You can't live a life hiding behind a computer, telling yourself vengeance is more important than living. Making connections. Going out. Sharing your story. What the fuck are you so scared of?”
“I'm not scared of anything!” I screeched, throwing away the rest of my toast, no longer hungry. I had never had an argument with a guy. Not ever. It was weird and it was making my belly twist and turn. And my old trusty friend anger was rearing his ugly head.
“Bull fucking shit, Alex. You're scared of everything.”
That wasn't true. I wasn't scared of anything. Not the way most people were. Not in a way that made them cautious, that made them second guess things they wanted to do. I just barreled ahead, to hell with the consequences. What was the worst that could happen? I'd die? So what?
“No, I'm not...”
“You're so scared of life that you're not fuckin' scared of dyin', Alex,” he said, his voice softer and his words fell with a weighted feeling inside me.
Because he was right.
He was right.
And that was, at once, really frustrating and overwhelmingly upsetting.
I was scared to live a life that didn't involve revenge. I didn't even know what a life like that would mean. If that was taken away from me, what would I have left?
I didn't even have to pause to know that answer: nothing. I would have nothing.
I felt my shoulders sag, my head looking down at my feet.
God, I was pretty pathetic.
“Don't do that,” Breaker's voice cut in and I could see his feet moving toward me. “Don't pull away just because I'm right,” he said, his hand going under the side of my jaw that wasn't bruised.
“Just leave me alone, Breaker,” I said, my voice small. Was it really so hard to see that I wanted to be alone? That I had some shit to sort through?
“That ain't gonna happen. You're gonna stop burrowing into yourself and let me in.”
“Why do you care?” I shot out, my gaze lifting to his and realizing immediately that it was a mistake.
“Because you came crashing into my life talking about twisted porn and taking down the city's worst crime lord in years. You showed me your grit and determination. Your weird brand of selfless strength. Your smart fuckin' mouth. And your phenomenal fuckin' body. You gave me that. For a day, Alex. A fucking day. And I can't get enough of it. So I want more.”
“What if I can't give you more?”
“You can,” he said simply, his thumb stroking across my lips. “But maybe that can wait a bit,” he said, his gaze falling to my mouth.
“Wait?” I asked, feeling a heaviness settling on my chest, a heat rising in my belly.
“First I think I need a reminder about that phenomenal body,” he clarified.
At his words, there was that pre-orgasm fluttering again and I pressed my thighs tighter against it.
“That I can give you,” I said carefully, watching as his eyes darkened.
“God damn right you can,” he said, stepping away. Then moving away, turning his back on me and going toward the living room. “Ain't gonna wait all day for you to follow me,” he called as he lowered himself down onto the couch. “Get your pretty little ass over here and ride me.”
Oh.
Geez.
Okay.
Alright.
Before my mind could even make the decision, my feet were carrying me toward him. I moved around the front of him, standing between his open legs.
“Tee off,” he instructed, watching me in a lazy way.
I reached for the hem and hauled off the tee, dropping it on the floor next to my feet. I took a shaky breath, watching his eyes move slowly down my body, then just as slowly back up.
“Go get a condom out of the nightstand,” he instructed and I reached self-consciously for my tee again. “No,” he said, putting his foot down on it. “Go like that.”
“Breaker...” I tried to reason.
“Like when you say my name. I like it better when you say it when I'm inside you. So go get a fuckin' condom so I can hear that again.”
Flutter flutter flutter.
He was killing me and he hadn't so much as brushed the air around me. So I swallowed hard against the insecurity, turned, and made my way back to the bedroom. I grabbed a condom out of his nightstand and made my way back, trying like hell to keep my chin up and a blush off my cheeks. A mantra like one of those ridiculous self-help hypnosis cds playing in my head on a loop: I am a strong, confident, sexually experienced woman who does not need to feel ashamed of her nudity.