Page 11 of Fractured

What the fuck have we been exposed to that has us both acting so out of character? I’d say it’s the water, but that’s what everyone blames for this kind of thing, along with suddenly finding a collection of hot-as-sin men.

His hold loosens, but I don’t try to escape again. I’ll have a better chance of trying to figure out his motives if I stay here. “No, you're not. You’re planning on fucking him. Do you really think that’s the smartest decision right now? Someone just tried to rape you last night and you recently buried your mother,” he spits out with distaste.

“How the fuck do you know about that, Vander?” I question him. If the stalker didn’t send me a picture of the two of us, I would immediately suspect him.

“I’m not stupid, Remington. You don’t get bruises like that from consensual liaisons. And you wouldn’t be this pissed at me for not being there if everything was okay.” His glare pins me down, daring me to lie to him.

“I took care of it,” I finally reveal, not willing to fully admit to being a victim like he wants.

“So you said. What does that mean? Let me in, Remi.” The grip on my jaw loosens even more, and he rests his forehead on mine. He searches the depths of my gaze for the answers, holding me in a trance neither of us is willing to break.

Apparently Grayson was only willing to give us the briefest of moments alone, before banging on the window. The tinting is dark, so I know he can only see our shadows inside, but I’m sure he can feel the tension between us with how thick it is in here. Vander and I don’t pay him any attention, too stubborn to be the one who breaks away from this connection.

“What. Does. It. Mean,” Vander repeats. Each word is said slowly with firmness, as if it will convince me to share.

Which I suppose it does, because I find myself giving him the answer he wants. “I killed him,” I whisper, afraid of what his response will be. I’m not sure I can handle seeing revulsion in the one person who I’ve allowed to see behind the mask.

“Good,” he roughly replies, lips brushing against mine. The unexpected touch sends a shock through my nervous system. “You should have told me earlier. I could have had the scene cleaned up by now. Fuck! We’ll just have to deal with the police at this point. Don’t hide things from me again, Remington. I’m here to protect you, even if it’s from yourself.” He slowly pulls back from me and the tension between us is like a rubber band—stretched to its limits before it snaps in two.

“What’s happening, Vander?” I ask him. I’m not sure if I mean the sudden tension between us, the appearance of his possessiveness over me, or what happened earlier with the almost accident.

He sighs, releasing my jaw, leaving me with an unexplainable void. Grayson knocks at the window again, and Vander throws the door open with a smirk. The door slams into Grayson, sending him stumbling. “Sorry about that, sir. Remington needed a moment to speak with me. Where am I going?”

Grayson takes the high road and doesn’t fall for the goading of Vander. Instead he climbs into the car, rambling off the address to his place. The door slams shut, barely missing his hand. “Something going on with your guard I should know about?” Grayson questions me before Vander climbs into the front seat.

I bristle at the controlling tone and implication the question holds. How dare he think he can ask such a personal question! He isn’t my boyfriend, and we haven’t discussed clauses of a contract. You better believe my libido won’t be put behind a lock and key. Especially before I’ve test driven the goods. Not to mention the fact that there isn’t anything going on between us. Vander’s sudden possessive streak has to be because he knows the one time he wasn’t there, I was attacked. It’s guilt. Well, shit. Glad I figured it out, because I was about to force him into being committed. “Vander is just protective. We have a strictly professional relationship,” I answer before he can question my honesty.

Grayson grunts in disbelief, and I almost question the truth to my words. They would have been true yesterday. I’m not sure what the tension was between us just now, but I’m forcing myself to ignore it.

Silence grows between us as we drive to our destination. The two men in the car bristle with annoyance, both wanting to place their alpha claim on me. I have zero fucks for how they feel, though. I’m lost in thought, analyzing the conversation Vander and I just had. He didn’t even blink an eye when I said I killed someone. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it from me, as if he'd been biding his time until the day finally arrived. He didn’t say it, but between the lines, the expectation was plain as day that next time I better tell him right away.

It actually doesn’t surprise me that he assumes there will be a next time. I’ve always felt free to be myself around Vander. He’s felt like a kindred spirit since day one. Maybe despite all the silence we’ve shared, he knows me better than I even know myself in this matter. Because I refuse to let it happen again. I know wrong from right. And no matter how much it felt like life being breathed into me, it was wrong. I’m strong enough to live the rest of my life without experiencing it again.

We arrive at Grayson’s building and ease to a stop. I push into the man beside me and reach over him for the door, not wanting to wait for Vander, knowing a confrontation has been brewing between the two men who see me as theirs. He doesn’t budge though, instead, he pulls my hand from the handle and says, “Oh, hello there. Finally decide to join me again?”

I turn my head toward him, and find us closer than I expected as our noses touch. He pulls my hand to his chest and cradles it there as his other hand wraps around my waist, holding me closely. I’m sure we appear far more intimate than it feels when Vander opens the door. From the corner of my eye, I catch him averting his gaze quickly as we come into view. Instead, he’s back to being my normal Vander. Standing quietly as my steadfast protector.

Grayson climbs out and offers me his hand to help me as well. Vander glances at the motion and clenches his jaw. Up until today, helping me out of the car and the occasional hand on the small of my back in the middle of a crowd is the only time he would touch me.

An insane urge takes over and as I walk past him, I brush my side against his chest, catching his hand with mine. I quickly glance back before I get out of reach and catch him frowning at our hands, trying to puzzle out his own reaction of grabbing it back as much as my own intentions of doing it. Maybe he’ll tell me what he comes up with, because I have no fucking clue why I did it. Especially while I’m holding hands with my possible future fiancé and tonight’s fuck.

What the hell am I doing? My fractured self seems to be more broken than I assumed. I’m certifiable with the decisions I’ve been making. It had to have been my way of comforting him, of letting him know I’m okay. To soothe the beast who chose today of all days to make his presence known. On the same day mine made her appearance.

The moment our hold breaks, it seems to snap him out of whatever trance our touch put him into. His eyes snap to mine and he follows closely behind us. We walk toward one of the higher-end apartment buildings in the upper-class part of the area. Our reflections show in the revolving door we are approaching, so it’s no surprise that Grayson suddenly realizes we are being silently followed.

“No need to come inside. I’ve got her,” Grayson says, stopping in his tracks and glaring at Vander as if they are in some kind of competition over me.

Apparently, Grayson doesn’t understand how having a bodyguard works, and Vander is quick to remedy such perceptions. “Where she goes, I go. We’re a package deal. I’m more than happy to turn around and take her home.” His tone is rough and unyielding, a challenge flashing in his eyes.

Grayson swings his gaze to me with an eyebrow quirked as if to encourage me to back him up. Sorry, hubby, you’re shit out of luck on that one. I gave up a long time ago, trying to get Vander to leave his position when he’s guarding me. And after last night, there’s no way in hell he would ever leave me alone. “Afraid of some performance anxiety?” I ask with a smirk. “I thought we were just coming to watch a movie.”

Both men’s eyes go wide at my crass comment, but Grayson also turns a shade of red. Vander clears his throat before he adopts his blank expression and scans our surroundings for threats. “O-of course we are only watching a movie,” he starts off stuttering, before gaining his composure. “I already told you I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”

“Oh, I know.” I wink at him. “But I never said I wouldn’t take advantage of you.” I catch the lustful flame in his gaze just before I spin and walk toward the entrance to his building. It doesn’t take more than three steps for him to be by my side again, hand on my lower back, guiding me inside. We walk past a security guard right inside and another gentleman who greets Grayson. The latter is blocking the elevator door from closing so we can walk straight on.

Tension mounts as the three of us silently wait for the car to travel up the building. Vander’s gaze warms my back as I lean into Grayson’s touch. He didn’t miss my insinuation of what I meant by taking advantage of him. The evidence is clear in the bulge growing in his pants as I press even more of myself against him. He watches the numbers light up as we pass each floor, getting closer to his apartment by the second.

His fingers rub circles into my lower back, and as I run a hand up his chest, his other hand lands on my hip, subconsciously pulling me closer. A thought comes to me, and I brush my nose along his cheek. Goosebumps erupt on his skin at my unexpected move. My lips skim over his ear as I whisper, “I’ve decided what I want to watch.”

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