Breaking Him(16)

“I regret that I didn’t step in, but you have to understand, it isn’t done around here. We keep out of other folks’ business.”

I barked out a humorless laugh. Oh, I knew how it worked around here, the way the people in this town were. “That’s horseshit and you know it. This town has more than its fair share of gossips and busybodies. They live to stick their noses in other people’s business.”

Cassie’s expression went from guilt to hurt, but right then I couldn’t muster any sympathy for one of my father’s oldest friends, for my friend.

“I’m not telling you these things to upset you,” she said. “I’m telling you so you know what that boy lived through. He’s been…changed, because of it.” She put her hand on my arm. “How could he not be after that? You need to be careful around Elijah Hays.”

The bang of the front door closing cut off my answer before I’d opened my mouth. I raced to the window, cursing when I saw Eli striding away from the house toward the barn.

He’d heard what Cassie said.

He’d heard us talking about him.





Chapter Five

Cassie left, looking pale and kind of freaked out, stuttering her apology. I wasn’t interested in hearing it, and as soon as she was heading down the driveway, I rushed to the barn after Eli.

I shoved the door open and stepped inside. It was dimly lit, but I didn’t need to see him to know where he was. He was at that punching bag again, beating the ever-loving shit out of it, his grunts as his fists connected breaking the silence.

I walked toward him, not afraid, only concerned, wanting to make it right. To tell him I didn’t believe what Cassie said about his state of mind. He might be changed after what he’d been through, anyone would be, but I had nothing to fear, not from him. He’d never hurt me.

He knew I was there—Eli was always aware of his surroundings—but he didn’t stop this time, didn’t even look at me. His bulging biceps danced as he plowed his fists into the worn leather. I moved in close and reached out, touching his back. He jerked away from me like I’d struck him. “Eli, please stop.”

He finally quit whaling on the sandbag and dropped his hands, but he didn’t turn to face me. The muscles in his wide back twitched, expanding with every panted breath.

I closed the space between us, moving in behind him, and reached up, resting my hands on his shoulder blades, breathing in his scent—clean sweat and leather. He stilled, like he often did, like I now knew he’d been doing since he was a little boy. Did he wish I couldn’t see him, that I’d go away? The idea was a pitchfork through the chest.

Biting my lip, I slid my hands up to his shoulders and leaned in, kissing the center of his bare back, his skin fevered and slick. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know exactly what I was apologizing for. That I’d been talking about him, that he’d heard what Cassie said, or that the whole town knew what he’d suffered and hadn’t lifted a finger to help him. They were small insignificant words, but they were all I had right then, all I could force past my dry, tight throat.

A tremor traveled through him, but he stayed where he was, broad back to me. He was in pain, and I hated that I’d been a part of the cause. It tore me up, and all I could think about was easing his hurt. I moved to his side, my breasts grazing his bulging biceps as I came around to his front. His jaw was tight, eyes closed, locking me out, keeping me at a distance. I hated it, loathed it.

Leaning in, I kissed his chest. His body went tight, every muscle hardening. I continued to whisper my apologies between kisses, tasting the salty, clean sweat on his chest, his ribs, his ridged abs as I dropped to my knees. Fingers trembling, I reached for the front of his jeans. He jolted but kept his eyes closed when I undid the button and eased down the zipper, when I slid my hand inside and took his quickly hardening cock in my hand, pumping the length of him several times.

His nostrils flared, but he kept his jaw clamped shut.

Releasing him, I worked the denim at his hips lower. I wanted to make this better, but I had no idea how to do that. My gut told me this was what he needed from me. I just hoped I was right.

The metallic scent of blood reached my nose, and I noticed his raw, bleeding knuckles. Taking one of his hands, I pressed my lips to his damaged skin, kissing it tenderly, and that’s when his eyes opened and he stared down at me. My own stung at what I saw. There was no anger, not even a little bit. No, there was only shame. He was ashamed of his past, and I could see he hated that I knew.

I leaned in and kissed the head of his painfully hard cock, sliding my hands up and down his heavy thighs and hips. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” I rasped past my dry throat, fighting the tears threatening to escape. His muscles bunched tighter, more pain sliding through his gaze. It killed me, but I was determined to give him what he needed and stayed where I was, on my knees with his eyes locked on me.