Breaking Him Read online

  He jolted, muscles tightening under my fingers. God, I felt tiny standing this close to him. He finally answered, voice low, “Ma’am.”

  My nipples tightened painfully. He didn’t pull away. “I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did back there.”

  His head was still down, not allowing me to see those dark eyes. Without thought, I reached up, threading my fingers in his hair, and tipped his head back. My only thought had been to get those eyes on me again. I needed them on me.

  My belly dipped and swirled at the rough sound that tore from his throat. I was about to pull away, to apologize, but he tilted his head, pressing more firmly against my palm, moving the tiniest bit closer. Finally, he raised his chin, thick lashes lifting, and I had them. My body zapped, sparked, breath escaping in a rush, heat curling and growing like a wildfire was spreading over my skin.

  “You like my hands on you?” I whispered before I could think better of it.

  His breathing had grown ragged, a softness, a vulnerability in his eyes that made me want to give him everything I didn’t think he’d allow himself to ask for. His gaze darted to my bare shoulder, where Kyle had yanked my shirt down, and his wide chest expanded with his sharp inhalation. He didn’t like the reminder of what happened, of Kyle touching me that way.

  “Do you want to touch me, Eli?” I could barely believe the words that just came out of my mouth, but I didn’t want to take them back, I wanted those massive hands on me, had wanted them on me for the longest time.

  The tip of his tongue darted out, sliding across his bottom lip, then his head dipped, just a fraction.

  “You do, don’t you?”

  He stared down at me, his large frame, thick with muscle, towering over me, looking like he could pick up that tractor beside us and fling it halfway across the field, which made the almost innocent curiosity, the restrained excitement he was currently aiming my way all the more surprising.

  “Yes,” he rasped, cheeks darkening further.

  He made no move to touch me, though, kept his arms at his sides, fingers curled in loose fists, bracing for I didn’t know what. I reached down, taking one of his hands in mine, lifting it slowly. The skin was as rough as I remembered and hot, so damn hot. He smelled of clean sweat, the outdoors, the soap he used. The combination was incredibly sexy. I uncurled his fingers and rested his hand just above my heart. My top was low cut, so we were skin to skin, and my body went up in flames from that simple touch.

  I watched him, gauging his reaction. His eyes were locked on his fingers. His hands were scarred with cracks and gouges, dark and stained, as clean as they ever got. The contrast against my lighter, smooth, unblemished skin was startling—exciting.

  “Is this what you want?” I asked softly.

  He dipped his head again, fingers flexing slightly, stare intent, scorching.

  “More?”

  “Yes…please.”

  Oh God, the way he said it, deep, rough… I jammed my legs together, the throb between my thighs making me reckless, making me do things, say things I might not usually. But here in the barn, so quiet and still, it was just us and this moment. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

  Wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist, the coarse hairs tickling my skin, I lowered his hand slowly, until his palm grazed the swell of my breast. “You ever touched a woman here, Eli?”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, jaw tightening, then shook his head.

  I could barely believe it. No, he didn’t talk much, kept to himself, but he was smart, gorgeous, and a harder worker I’d never met. “Why not?”

  He didn’t answer, just kept his eyes locked with mine. An answer wasn’t necessary. I knew why—the same reason everyone in this town kept their distance. Fear. I moved his hand lower, struggling to breathe when the rough skin of his palm dragged over my hard, aching nipple. He swallowed audibly and made another one of those hungry, low sounds.

  “Your skin’s so hot,” I whispered, curling my fingers around his, encouraging him to squeeze me. He flexed them, but he didn’t let up this time, no, he pressed in, tightening around me in a way that had me soaking my panties. “Feels good?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” When he said those words, there was a spark of something thrilling in his eyes. His nostrils flared. “Better than good.”

  Dear God, it was. What the hell was I doing?

  Chapter Two

  Eli’s throat worked as he gripped my breast tighter. His hand looked giant covering me, engulfing me completely. His breath was choppy, getting harsher by the second. Then he pressed his palm deeper, a soft huff bursting past his firm lips as he moved his hand in a tight circle that had my legs close to giving out. When he squeezed again, pleasure shot straight to my core, wringing a whimper from me. His gaze slid to mine and he stilled, then slowly, he ran the rough tip of one finger across the top of my breast, lifting goose bumps instantly, before starting its descent toward the center.

  He took his time, like he was relishing the feel of me, the discovery. His eyes were laser focused, nostrils flaring with each labored breath. That torturous finger continued until it bumped the top of my nipple. My breath jammed in my throat when he began to circle it slowly, methodically. I whimpered again, and he shuddered as he dragged his fingers lower, cupping me again, lifting me, then started sliding his thumb back and forth over the tight, hard point, watching my response.

  I was going to come. I was going to come from just that alone…

  A car door slammed, jarring me, followed by the sound of boots taking the steps to my house. Someone knocked. “Abi?” a gruff voice called.

  I stilled. No. Please God, no. I wanted to scream in frustration, to pretend I hadn’t heard it. “It’s Garrett,” I whispered, voice breathy, barely recognizable. My father’s oldest friend often dropped by unannounced.

  Elijah yanked his hand away like I’d slapped it.

  “Eli…”

  “Sorry,” he gritted out. “I shouldn’t have…I should never…” He backed up a step.

  “Elijah…wait…”

  He shook his head, took another step away, then turned and strode out the side door of the barn and into the night.

  Garrett had returned to his truck, calling my name. I wanted to go after Eli, but I knew if I didn’t go and talk to Garrett he’d freak out.

  The barn door creaked open before I could head out. “Here you are, girl.” His bushy brows raised high, relief covering his face. “I was out in my yard and saw Kyle tear past looking madder than hell.” He pulled off his cap. “Came to check you’re okay.”

  I’d told Cassie, his wife, about the date tonight. They both worried over me, more so since Dad passed. “I’m fine.” I led him to the house, reassuring him as we went, but once he finally left I had barely any recollection of what I’d said to him—not when all I’d been able to think about was Eli’s hands on me.

  …

  The next morning, nerves dive-bombed my belly as I headed outdoors. Every third Friday of the month, Eli drove into town with me to pick up supplies. It was already hot as hell; not a breath of wind so much as ruffled my blond hair, which I’d left loose for a change. I’d gotten my light hair and petite frame from my mother. My wide green eyes and delicate facial features—my dad used to call me pixie—came from my father’s side of the family. And I was glad of it. Glad I didn’t have to see her every time I looked in the mirror.

  I always made an effort on our shopping trips—a little makeup, one of my dresses. If I didn’t wear them when the opportunity arose, I’d never get the chance. Well, that’s the reason I’d always told myself. This morning, though, I’d taken extra care, pulling on my favorite yellow sundress and brown boots that were worn in just right, with one thought on my mind—getting Eli to react to me the way he had last night.

  My belly fluttered, pulse quickening. What would he do when he saw me? Had I scared him off? I didn’t know what had come over me, or why I wasn’t just trying to forget it,
pretend it never happened. For all I knew, with the way he’d run off last night, he’d either try to avoid me forever or leave the ranch.

  But I didn’t really think so, not after the way he’d reacted.

  I blew out a breath. God, I had no damn idea what he’d do, how he was feeling, and it was making me crazy.

  I’d tossed and turned all night, aching and hot, unable to think about anything but the way he’d stared at me when I’d asked him if he’d ever touched another woman the way he’d touched me. That glint of excitement in his eyes. All of it had swirled through my mind till the early hours of the morning, until it drove me out of bed, desperate to see him again.

  Because I wanted him. I wanted Elijah Hays in a way I didn’t understand, a way that had me behaving as recklessly as I had last night. In a way that kind of scared me. I wanted to be the one to show him how good it could be. To be the one to make that big, muscular body quake, to make him moan until his voice was grittier and rougher than it already was.

  I rounded the barn, my steps faltering when I finally saw him. He was leaning against the side of the truck. Soft, worn Levi’s hugged those long legs, straining over his solid thighs. He wore a dark blue T-shirt that clung to his wide shoulders, stretching around his massive biceps. I couldn’t see his face with his head dipped, the brim of his ball cap concealing all but his square, scruff-covered jaw. But he’d stilled, in that unnatural way he did when I was around him, like he was holding his breath…or tracking me like a predator about to pounce.

  As I approached, he lifted his chin, the peak of his hat coming up, but not enough for me to see his eyes.

  “Ready to head out?” I asked, trying to inject some lightness in my voice but failing miserably. I didn’t feel light, I felt weighted down, restless. He wouldn’t want me to bring up what happened, but he also hadn’t run, so I was counting that as a win.

  He dipped his chin again and, shoulders tight, rounded the truck like he always did, opening the door for me. After I got in, he climbed behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and we headed out. The drive was a quiet one, which wasn’t any different from the other trips we took to town, but this time the space between us seemed charged. Eli’s unique scent, a heady mix of dark spice and outdoors, combined with the truck’s leather seats, surrounded me, had my heart racing, made it impossible to think of anything but him.

  And the way he white-knuckled the wheel, forearms bulging and corded, jaw locked tight, I knew he felt it, too, the tension, the undercurrent of something magnetic firing between us.

  Once we hit town, we made our usual rounds, picked up the supplies we needed, and three hours later the truck was loaded up and we were ready to head back.

  He’d barely said two words to me the whole time. That wasn’t unusual, either, but after last night it frustrated me. I wanted more from him. “I’m kinda hungry. You wanna get lunch?”

  “Coopers?” His response was immediate, almost eager, but said with a gentleness that drew my belly tight.

  Eli liked watching me eat. I knew this because the times when we went to Coopers, he did just that, after he’d made short work of his own lunch. I’d keep my head down, focus on my food, pretending I wasn’t aware of his hot gaze on me, the satisfaction in the tilt of his lips when I finished everything on my plate. I didn’t really understand it, but I liked the way it made me feel.

  The smell of fresh coffee and fried bacon hit us as soon as we walked into the cozy diner, making my mouth water. We took our usual seats, the far corner in front of the window. Elijah’s back to the wall, mine to the door.

  He rested his hands on the red Formica table, and I couldn’t help but admire them. I really did love his hands—wide palms, fingers thick and long. It always amazed me how he could toss a bale of hay like it weighed nothing, swing an ax like nobody’s business, and hit that bag of sand in the barn like he wanted to tear it apart—but how gentle he always was when he tended the horses.

  And now I knew how they felt on me…

  Our breakfast arrived, and in his usual style he tucked in, demolishing it like it was his last meal. Then he pushed his plate away and sat back. His fingers curled around his coffee mug as he took a sip, his eyes sliding from the view out the window to me. A bolt of lightning shot through me. My nipples hardened instantly, and I locked my knees together. I’d been trying to ignore the persistent throb between my legs since I’d laid eyes on him this morning, but squeezing my thighs together put delicious pressure on my swelling clit and a moan slipped out before I could bite it back.

  I ducked my head and shoved a forkful of bacon and scrambled eggs in my mouth to cover it, but he’d heard. He was doing that still-as-a-statue thing he always did. He liked it when I took pleasure in my food, as much as he liked to watch, but he had no way of knowing the real reason I was moaning, why every inch of my skin was oversensitive, too damn tight for my body. I was turned the hell on, so much so that my appetite vanished completely. I pushed my plate away as well. “We should get going.”

  I went to stand, butt in the air, when those long fingers curled around my wrist, setting off sparks of pleasure all the way up my arm. I looked up at him, and he shook his head. “Finish.” Heat climbed his cheeks, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.

  “I’m not really…”

  “Please,” he added gruffly. “You’ve barely eaten.”

  I blinked at him, a million questions firing through my head at once. I lowered to my seat and dragged my plate back to me, desperately trying to conceal my shock at the pleased look that crossed his face, gently curving his lips. For some reason this was important to him. Why? I wasn’t comfortable asking, but I’d choke down a whole damn pig’s worth of bacon to see that look on his face again. To experience this unexplained tingle of pleasure I got from pleasing him, just one more time.

  I didn’t pretend I didn’t know he was watching when I took my next bite. I kept my eyes on him. Under the brim of his cap, I could see the glitter of his gaze, unwavering, locked on my mouth as I ate everything on my plate. When I licked my lips, his parted slightly. A small tell, but one just the same. Knowing he was getting off on watching me made me squirm in my seat.

  When I pushed my plate away it was nearly scraped clean. “Ready?”

  He stood, then came around and held my chair as I got up. We headed back to the truck.

  Thirty minutes into the drive, I risked a glance his way. I’d been studiously looking out the passenger window, trying to get myself under control. Sitting in that diner while he watched me the entire time had my underwear soaked through and my heart trying to jump out of my chest. His chin was low, sun glinting off his scruff. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to experience the texture against my fingertips—other places.

  That strong, square jaw tilted, the peak of his cap slanting toward me slightly, and his eyes slid from my knees up between my slightly parted thighs. He licked his lips then turned his attention back to the road. The urge to jam my legs together again was almost too hard to resist, but he didn’t know I’d seen him, and the thought that he’d been sneaking looks the whole time we’d been driving made me even hotter. I looked down at his lap and had to swallow a moan. His cock was hard against the front of his jeans.

  Oh God, I couldn’t take much more. I wanted that big cock inside me, badly, so much so that I’d be going straight to my room when we got home and fucking myself silly with my vibrator, thinking of Eli powering into me the whole time. Okay, that thought wasn’t helping me cool down, not one damn bit.

  I shouldn’t, but I found myself reaching down, taking the fabric of my dress between my fingers at each hip and sliding it a little higher up my thighs. When I glanced at him, his head was tilted my way again. He’d watched me do it. His chest was pumping now with his labored breaths, knuckles white, gripping the wheel, and his cock—I bit my lip—Jesus, it was huge, straining his jeans like it was trying to bust through.

  I was contemplating sliding across the seat, rele
asing that enormous dick, and sucking it dry when Eli wrenched the wheel to the right. He’d nearly driven by the long dirt road that led to the ranch. He didn’t look at me after that, just continued to grip the steering wheel like his life depended on it. When we reached the house, he drove up beside the barn and slammed on the brakes. Not waiting for the cloud of dust to settle, he shoved his door open, got out, and after coming around and opening mine, still without looking at me, he moved to the back of the truck. The tailgate dropped open a moment later, with more force than necessary, and I spun in my seat, watching him haul a bag of feed out of the back, his solid biceps bulging as he flung it over one massive shoulder. He strode toward the barn, long legs eating up the short distance.

  I shivered.

  The urge to go after him was almost too hard to ignore, but I hurt, that’s how turned on I was. So instead, I climbed out of the truck, ignoring my own supplies, rushed inside, and went straight to my room. Yanking my bedside drawer open, I grabbed my vibrator, shoved down my underwear, tore off my dress, and collapsed on the bed, my floral quilt cool against my overheated skin. Spreading my thighs, I imagined Eli on top of me, his mouth on me, those hands everywhere, rough and demanding. I was breathing faster, anticipation clawing at me. Need so fierce my thighs shook. Trailing a hand down my belly, I spread my labia and circled my clit. “Oh God.”

  I was so damn empty. Pressing the blunt end of my vibrator against my opening, I slid it deep, thrusting it in and out, over and over. It was cool and hard and not what I wanted, but it would have to do. I worked myself for a while, trying to get there, but it wasn’t Eli, and both my mind and body knew it…

  A sound like a groan hit my ears, and my eyes flew open—colliding with Elijah’s.

  He stood at my partially opened bedroom door. My shopping bags from the back of his truck on the floor at his feet. One hand gripped the doorframe; the other squeezed the massive bulge at the front of his jeans.