Breaking Him(11)

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.