Page 18 of Breaking Him

I looked up, and Eli’s gaze was locked on his come sliding down my thighs. I was on the pill and I’d never had sex without a condom before. I probably should have told him that before I climbed into his lap, but neither one of us had been thinking clearly.

“It’s okay,” I said gently. “I’m on the pill. I’m clean. And since you’ve never…”

He got up from the chair in a heartbeat, lifting me off the ground and swinging me into his arms. Before I could open my mouth to ask what was going on, his mouth slammed down on mine. He kissed me hard, tongue tangling with mine.

With a groan, he lifted his head. “I want to fuck you again, Abigail. And I want to watch my come slide down your legs every time I do.”

Chapter Seven

The first rays of light filtered into my room, casting patterns on our bare skin through my old lace curtains. Eli was behind me, the tip of his finger gently tracing the shadowed flower design on my hip. That’s how I woke. Neither of us had said a word. I didn’t even know if he knew I was awake…

Just the thought of last night, the kitchen, the shower, then here in this bed had my pulse quickening and heat growing between my legs. I’d never felt this way about another person before—I couldn’t describe it. There was this unwavering lust that constantly pounded through me. I craved him all the time. And yet I’d never been more content, even with all my troubles. His body behind mine, his scent, his warmth, the sound of his steady breaths… I could stay like this forever. I wanted to let him take care of me, and I wanted to take care of him in return. I didn’t have a name for it…was too afraid to try…not yet…

My tummy rumbled loudly.

Elijah stilled behind me, then a second later, he removed his hand from my hip and rolled away. His feet thudded against the floor.

I twisted to look at him and almost bit my tongue. Elijah Hays was the most exquisite man I’d ever seen in jeans and a T-shirt, but naked? Dear God, he was magnificent. Tall and broad, rippling muscle and rugged angles. The definition of masculine. He was striding away, his back and bare ass on full display as he headed for the bedroom door.

I finally got my mouth to work. “Where are you going?”

He stopped, rested a hand on the doorframe, and looked at me. “Wait there, Abigail.” He said it gently, but there was no mistaking the command behind it.

Did he know he was doing it? Issuing those quiet orders? Was he aware of the dominant side of himself? Had it always been there? Or had this new development between us brought it out in him? I had no idea why it affected me so damn much. Why that gentle order, given with that gritty rasp, low and deep, turned my belly to warm liquid, had me lying here eager for his return.

I heard him banging around in the kitchen, and it was hard not to go and see what he was doing, but I did as he said and waited right there. He was back ten minutes later. I hadn’t even heard him coming. You’d think with the size of the man that would be impossible. He was carrying a mug and a plate. His gaze swept over me as he neared the bed, and his eyes glittered in a satisfied way that sent a jolt of pleasure through me. He placed the mug on the small table beside me, then put the plate on my lap. There were two slices of toast with Cassie’s homemade blueberry jam spread on it.

My heart did a little flutter as I scooched up the bed. “You made me breakfast?”

“You’re hungry,” he said simply and climbed in beside me.

I brushed my hair away from my face. “Yeah, but you didn’t need to do that. I could’ve—” My belly rumbled again, loudly.

His whole body went tense. “Eat the toast, darlin’.”

I picked up a piece and took a bite. It didn’t take a genius to work out what this was about, why he’d reacted this way. If me being hungry caused him distress, brought back memories that caused him pain, I’d eat the damn toast. His entire body seemed to relax as I chewed.

I’d finished half of the first piece and washed it down with tea before I spoke. “How did you know I like tea and not coffee?”

He lifted a hand, sliding it up my thigh. My breath hitched. “Same way I know you only wear your beautiful blond hair down when we go to town, or after your shower in the evening. Same way I know you’re afraid of storms and that you love to dance.” He continued higher, to the dip in my waist, then up until he was skimming the underside of my breast. “I pay attention. When it comes to you, I’ve always paid attention.” He looked up at me. “Please, keep eating.”

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.”