Page 60 of Shattered

“You don’t know when to stop. It’s gonna get you hurt one of these days,” he grumbles.

“By who? You?”

He lets out a harsh breath, still refusing to open his eyes. “I don’t have to outrun you. You come right to me.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s referencing the dig I made to him when I confronted him that first night, that I could outrun him, and suddenly, my chest feels tight.

“I didn’t mean anything by that, you know. I would never think less of you because of your leg.”

That actually gets a smirk out of him. “I can’t exactly hold that against you. I may have sexually harassed you.”

I shrug. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Oh, I know, Sunshine. Like I already told you. It pisses me off how well you handle everything I throw at you.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “It’s my superpower.”

“Yeah. I wish it were mine.”

My heart breaks for him at that moment. As cruel as he can be, I can see it’s because he’s hurt. His shattered femur put in such a massive roadblock for him. Hell, he’s so stubbornly strong that he won’t use a cane or something to keep him off the ground. Everything must be so different for him now. It’s like a whole new life.

When he turns his head and pries his eyes open, they melt into mine—a deep brown. A frightening urge washes over me, the desireto lean in and press my lips to his. I don’t kiss people. It’s always been my rule not to kiss hookups. But Asher isn’t a hookup. He’s been a constant.

As furious as I’ve been, meeting Asher has been the most fun I’ve ever had. Even when he pisses me off beyond belief, I still come back for more. I refuse to surrender.

But I’m also scared for him. If he doesn’t come to terms with his leg, he’s going to make it so much worse, and where will it end?

I have to be careful here because I know how defensive he is. But I can’t stand to see him like this. I choose my words carefully. “Why don’t you want to use a walking aid?”

His anger is immediate. “Because I don’t f-”

“No, stop,” I say, cutting him off calmly, and he’s quiet as he waits for me to speak. “We’re just having a conversation. Let’s try again. Why don’t you want to use an aid?”

He considers, and though his feathers are still ruffled, he speaks calmly. “It’s embarrassing.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know!”

“Asher,” I growl. “It’s me. I’m not judging you; I’m worried about you. Help me understand.”

He considers it for a long time, but he doesn’t have an answer for me. A tear tickles my nose as it rolls down my cheek, and before I know it, I have to force back a sob, clenching my lips together. I shut my eyes, spilling more tears as I close the distance between us and place my arm over his soft T-shirt.

And finally, I break.

“Kiss me?” I plead.

His eyes flicker to my lips, and he presses his together, moistening them with the tip of his tongue. As if in a dream, he leans in, and I meet him, his lips molding with mine, holding so tight. Even in a kiss, I’m his prisoner.

And it’s perfect.

He turns on his side and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest so effortlessly and tangling a hand in my hair, pulling just hard enough to make me moan against his mouth.

I swear an earthquake is ripping through me, leaving every piece of me shuddering. More tears spill down my cheeks as every inch of me gives in to him.

“Please…” I whimper.

When he breaks our kiss and reaches for my pants, I grab his wrist, and he stops with me, even though he could easily overpower me. That’s when I realize it’s not sex that I’m asking Asher for. I want him to open up to me. I want him to let me help him, but not out of a place of pity.

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