Breaking Him(26)

Oh God. Who was this man? What was he doing to me?

He watched me finish the first piece. I took another sip of tea, then picked up the second. I could’ve stopped after that one slice, but having all of his attention on me was too addictive. I found I wanted to please him, and if that meant eating another piece of toast, I would. I also loved the way he was touching me while he watched. He was lying on his side, eyes on my lips, moving over my face, and his hand never stopped petting me, teasing me. I was tingling all over, goose bumps prickling my skin. Like a contented cat, desperate for another stroke from her master.

I shivered, not sure how that made me feel. Eli had sneaked up on me. Everything about him was a surprise. And every small piece of himself he revealed just made me hunger for more.

“You don’t like it when I’m hungry?” I said into the silence.

He shook his head.

I thought I knew, but I wanted him to open up, just a little, to share some of that burden with me. “Why?” I whispered.

He didn’t look at me. Instead he watched his hand, following the path it took over my skin. “Being hungry hurts,” he rasped, then lifted his eyes to mine. “Don’t ever want you to hurt, Abigail.”

Tears immediately stung the backs of my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Elijah.”

“Don’t…don’t pity me, Abigail.” He shook his head. “Not you.”

He’d said that to me before, and it killed me he thought I felt that way. “I don’t pity you. I feel…” I released a shaky breath, trying to release some of the anger suddenly surging through me. “I feel fucking furious that you had to go through that, that half this shitty town knew and did nothing.”

His hand stilled on my hip, and his fingers flexed, pressing into my skin, something new and beautiful transforming his rugged face. “I’m okay, darlin’,” he said roughly.

In some ways, yes, he was more than okay. But my belly had barely rumbled, and he’d bolted out of bed to get me food, like the sheets were on fire. He would’ve been very young when he became aware of the abuse in his home. His mother must have suffered at the hands of his bastard father for a lot of years before Eli was old enough to do something about it. I got the feeling that’s where this need to take care of me came from. Did he believe he’d failed her in some way?

“Is it true? Did you kill him?” I could barely believe I’d said it out loud, but I realized as soon as I did that the answer didn’t matter to me. It never had.

His eyes lifted to mine, held, and I could see him physically brace himself. “Yes.”

“Good,” I rasped.

His entire body quaked. “Good?”

“You had to protect yourself and your mom. No one else was doing it. You did the only thing you could.”

“Christ, darlin’.” He dropped his head to my lap, wrapping his arms around my legs, and I ran my fingers through his rumpled hair. We didn’t talk anymore about that. We didn’t need to. It changed nothing, not for me.

Instead we talked about the ranch, plans to get things back on track, what I’d make for dinner that night. If he wanted to share more with me, I’d be here, but I wasn’t going to push.

I still had half a piece of toast left, but I’d had enough. “I’m full,” I said, and he lifted his head.

I held it to his lips. He obviously believed me, because he bit it in half. I handed him my tea and watched him finish it off. Even the way he ate was appealing, the way the muscles in his jaw jumped when he chewed. Damn, it was sexy.

He finished the drink, then handed the cup to me to put on the side table. He shifted closer then, leaning over me, taking me to my back, one hand on the mattress at my side, the other lifting to my jaw. He touched me with such tenderness my heart squeezed. Those fingers skimmed my throat, my breasts. He cupped one, holding it in a grip that could only be described as possessive, and squeezed, swiping his thumb over the hard peak until I was panting. He kept going, trailing the coarse, callused tips of his fingers over my quivering belly. The expression on his face, the way he touched me, it was like I was uncharted territory and he was discovering every dip, curve, and valley for the first time.

“I like knowing you’re full. It makes me feel”—he looked like he was struggling to find the right words—“full as well, but in a different way. It’s hard to explain.” He slid farther down my body and gripped my thighs, spreading them, exposing my bare sex to his hungry gaze.

I whimpered, his words swirling through my head mixed with the way he was affecting my body. I didn’t know which way was up. Just his eyes on me, his voice sliding over me, had me squirming.