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I’ll break her.
I’ll break her heart so it matches my mind.
I’m going to do it, and I can’t stop myself.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice harsh and hateful, not unlike the one of my father. My chest aches further to the point I don’t know how much more I can take.
“I could make you breakfast,” she squeaks out, nervously biting on her bottom lip.
She’s a gorgeous mess. I should have stayed in bed. I should have carried her into the shower with me. I should have claimed her again and again and again.
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
She winces at my words and looks past me at the heavily falling snow. “Okay,” she breathes out and walks over to the windows. “Would you like to come over and have lunch later? I make a mean grilled cheese.”
Yes, Cerys. I would love to have a motherfucking grilled cheese.
“I have a meeting,” I bark out.
Her chin lifts, and she points at the windows where Olivia chatters on her cell phone. “What a great view,” she says softly, all sarcasm gone.
Where did you go, Cerys?
Did I accidentally shove you into the box too?
I rub at the tension on the back of my neck and let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll have one of the bellhops see to it that you make it home okay.”
She jerks her head my way and regards me with watery eyes. “Just like that, huh?”
My nostrils flare because her scent is intoxicating. It makes me want to forget my responsibilities, let down my guard, and slide into bed with her. Take the time to stroke the tangles from her hair. Take all day to remind her how beautiful and funny and interesting she is to me.
“Not all of us are children who live with their daddies. Some of us have work to do.” I close my eyes, hating how my words sound. I’m cruel. Just like him.
When I reopen my eyes, she’s gone. Seconds later, she has her coat and shoes on. As she retreats in her yellow coat and messy hair, I can’t help but follow. I wonder if it’ll always be this way. She’s running away from me because I’m a fucking psycho and me following because I’m a fucking psycho.
She turns the knob, but I slam my hand on the door above her and lean my body against hers. I inhale her hair and run my fingers through the ends.
“Cerys,” I murmur, begging for her to find me in my inner darkness and shine a goddamned light on me. God, how I need her light.
“I’m leaving.” Her voice cracks, and I can hear the emotion in it.
Suddenly, panicked and fearful of her not within my sight, I clutch onto her hips. I nuzzle my nose in her hair and nip at her shoulder through the strands. She lets out a surprised gasp, and then laments, “James.”
So desperate, like the way my head is chanting her name on repeat in my head.
So sad.
“I’m a fucked-up man.” That’s my only explanation. It’s the only bone I’ve ever offered anyone. I don’t know how to explain myself. This is me trying with every fiber of my being to do so. I can feel her slipping from me, and I don’t know what to do.
“No shit?” Her sarcastic, almost amused tone, has me eager to rekindle what we had last night.
I slide an arm around her waist and haul her over to the couch. The need to have this woman—to show her with my body how much I physically need her—is overpowering.
“I don’t understand you,” she proclaims, her voice tearful and confused. “I don’t understand you, James.”
Hell, I don’t understand me.
“I know,” I grind out. “I’m sorry.” I am, but I don’t know what to do about it.
I bend her over the back of the couch and shove her dress up. Her panties get yanked down her thighs as I simultaneously free my cock from my slacks. I slap at her cunt from behind with my cock, and I can tell she’s not wet for me. Gently, I finger her sensitive clit. I hardly know her, but I already know exactly what her body likes. As though my fingers were created to pleasure this part of her. And much to my delight, she rocks her hips and gives me the sounds that indicate she’s enjoying my touches. It doesn’t take long before her legs are quivering and she’s crying out my name.
James.
It crawls from her lips like a question.
As though she’s asking, “Why are we doing this? What are we doing?”
I have no answers because I don’t know. I just know I need her more than anything I’ve ever needed. Gripping my throbbing cock, I slide the tip along her now wet entrance and drive all the way into her with one quick thrust. She screams—fuck, I know she’s still sore—and fists the cushions on the couch.
