Page 15 of Breaking Him

“Yes.”

His voice sounded raw, and it skittered down my spine, my blood starting to boil all over again. “That son of a bitch.” Fury vibrated in my voice.

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Don’t think about it, Abigail.”

What the hell was wrong with me? He didn’t want to talk about this. I’d made him dinner, then dragged up some of the worst memories of his life before he’d even finished. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling like an insensitive fool.

He lowered his knife and fork. “Don’t pity me, darlin’. I can’t take that, not from you.” Then he looked back at his dinner and carried on eating.

I didn’t know what to say. I ached for him. I didn’t pity him. But I’d already jammed my foot far enough down my throat for one night, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Where did you go today?” he asked a few minutes later.

I’d hoped to avoid this conversation, but Eli worked here, so he deserved to know what was going on. “The bank. Things are…they’re not great at the moment. I asked Connor Jacobson for a loan extension.”

His brow scrunched. “That bad?”

“Yes.” Humiliation heated my face. I hated that I was failing. Maybe Connor was right…

“Will the horses cover it?”

The two that were nearly ready for sale would definitely free things up. “Yes, but they’re not there yet.”

“They’re close. I’ll have them ready in a week.”

“You’re putting in enough hours as it is…”

“One week, Abigail. Start looking for buyers.”

I was as independent as the next woman. I liked it that way. But the way he’d said that, the way he made it impossible to doubt him, impossible not to trust that he’d come through for me… God, it made me want to crawl across the table and climb into his lap. He’d taken my troubles on himself instantly and offered up a solution, was willing to put in the extra time, take on the extra work to help me. I think he took a little piece of my heart in that moment.

We ate in silence after that, and despite the conversation we’d had so far, it wasn’t uncomfortable. But I was restless—and achy, and going a little bit nuts having him this close and not touching me. The fact that he’d now finished eating and was watching me wasn’t helping one goddamn bit, either.

I finally finished, put down my knife and fork, and looked up at him. “Dessert?”

He shifted in his seat, then shook his head.

Was he going to go? I didn’t want him to go. I wanted more of what he gave me in the barn.

I didn’t mind the silences, but I hated that I didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling. Was he as desperate for me as I was for him? I stood and collected our plates, then headed back to the table to grab his empty beer bottle and what was left of the bread. I leaned over the table…

His hand pressed against my lower back and I stilled. Just that, that simple touch—and I was an addict getting a much-needed hit of my favorite drug.

It slid up along my spine until his hand was between my shoulder blades, heat radiating through the fabric of my dress. He touched my hair gently, making my head tingle, then dragged his palm down again, until it rested just above my ass. Oh God.

His fingers flexed, dipping farther, and he stilled, making a throaty sound.

He’d discovered my lack of underwear. The heat of that wide, rough palm dropped lower, down to my butt cheek, and he lightly squeezed.

I moaned softly, holding my breath as slowly, ever so slowly, he slid the fabric higher. His breathing had grown choppy, choppier than my own. “You’re bare under this pretty dress?”

“Yes.” Cool air kissed my thighs, then higher.

“Oh, darlin’,” he said huskily.

I squirmed. He was still seated, right there. Could he see how slick my thighs were? How much I wanted him? Then his hand was on me again, this time with nothing between us.

“So pretty,” he murmured, then my dress was lifted higher, and the hot press of his lips grazed the base of my spine. Fire shot between my thighs, knees turning to jelly. And the whole time, his hand squeezed and massaged my ass. He continued with the soft kisses, grip firm, holding me where I was, bent over the table, where he wanted me.