Page 30 of Broken Hearts

I’m getting my power back tonight. Though he may have the upper hand right now, it’s time for me to have some leverage, too.

Chapter 13

Cole

Surprise floods me as I step into her apartment, the door left carelessly ajar. I half expect her James Dean on steroids to lurk in the shadows, ready to pounce, but there’s only Eva, looking like a contradiction wrapped in an enigma. Her attire is modest, almost librarian-esque, but it doesn’t mask the fiery spirit beneath.

“Your violin,” I say as I put it carefully on the floor.

Looking at the violin, I see more than an instrument – it's Eva's, her way of speaking without words. I never intended to burn it; that was just talk. I couldn’t bring myself to destroy something she cherishes so deeply. I hope she understood that, and maybe that's why she called my bluff. The thought of her actually letting go of something so precious, as if she's letting go of a part of herself, it just doesn’t sit right with me.

Seeing her pawn it really shook me. That violin was her passion, a part of her that's always drawn me in, even when everything else was a mess. My plan to push her, to somehow win her back, only backfired. She parted with something so integral to who she is, like she was cutting away a piece of herself. I never wanted that.

Getting the violin back wasn’t easy. The pawnshop owner sensed my desperation and milked it for all it was worth, charging me an exorbitant ten thousand dollars. I paid it. Not just out of guilt but because I didn’t want that part of her to fade away—the part I still care about more than I’ve let on.

Now, standing here in her apartment, I can’t help but wonder if I’m trying to fix something irreparably broken. It’s not about the violin anymore. It’s about us, about everything that’s happened. And that realization is harder to face than I thought.

“What is it you want, Cole? Seriously. What would it take for you to forget I exist?” Her voice is laced with weariness, and it grates on my nerves.

Pausing, her question echoes in my head. For a moment, the mask of confidence and bravado slips, and I’m left facing the raw truth of my actions. Did I push her too far? The thought unnerves me. All this time, my focus was on winning her back, on possessing her completely, but at what cost? Maybe I’m not the hero in this story after all. Maybe I’m the villain who’s too blinded by his own desires to see the damage he’s caused.

“What do you think I want?” I retort, the tension between us palpable.

“To fuck me?”

“What if I do?”

“Fine.”

She says “fine” too quickly, too easily. A muscle twitches in my jaw as suspicion and desire clash within me. The flicker of nervousness in her eyes doesn’t match her casual tone.

“Fine? What game are you playing, Angel?”

There must be a trick. It can’t be that easy, not with her, but my dick doesn’t seem to care as it starts to harden.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks, a practical edge to her voice.

“We never bothered before. Why now?” I challenge, feeling the heat rising between us.

“Because of the consequences,” she replies, her tone firm.

In a heartbeat, I’m on her, my hands cradling her face as I kiss her deeply. Her lips part under the pressure of my teeth, yielding to the dominance of my tongue. She tastes of coffee and chocolate, a familiar flavor that I’ve missed more than I care to admit. At this moment, I don’t care if it’s a trap, if I’m marching straight into the fiery pits of hell. The sensation of her, here, now, under my touch, is all that matters.

Her response is hesitant at first, but there’s an undercurrent of something more, a complexity in her surrender. It’s Eva, through and through—a paradox that keeps pulling me back in. As our bodies press closer, I can’t help but think about the twisted path that led us here, about the pain and desire that intertwine so seamlessly between us. This moment, charged with unresolved tension and aching need, feels like the precipice of something inevitable.

Grabbing her long skirt in my hand, I pull it up. I expect her to put a stop to whatever game she’s playing at any moment, but I will enjoy every second she plays along.

Reaching the hem of her panties, I slide my hand in without hesitation. I break our kiss as I rub her slit, looking into her beautiful face. She’s not as wet as I would like her to be, not enough for my eight inches not to hurt, and definitely not as wet as my passionate kissing used to get her.

Her eyes look as hungry as I feel. Whatever scheme she’s planning, it’s slipping. She’s getting pulled in, just like me. There’s no denying the heat between us, something raw and real. And I know despite whatever lie she’s telling herself, there’s still something between us, underneath all the mess.

I rub her gently and press on her clit, getting the little gasp I crave. She grabs her bottom lip between her teeth as I start to rub faster, and I brush my nose against hers as wetness starts to coat my fingers.

A satisfied grin spreads on my lips at the obvious arousal coating my fingers, and she lets out a groan as she rests her forehead against my chest.

I keep going for a while and then enter her slowly with one finger, going in and out a couple of times before adding a second one. She lets out a throaty moan that goes straight to my cock, hardening it to the point of pain.

I need her now. In the heat of the moment, my hands act before my mind can catch up. I rip the side of her panties, the fabric giving way under my rough grip. She gasps, the sound stirring something primal in me. I know it’ll leave a mark on her skin—I’d done it before in the heat of the moment when I was more animal than man, and she used to like it… love it even. My Eva loved to have my marks on her.

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