Page 40 of Broken

“Right now?”

He licks his bottom lip. “Believe me when I tell you that I know this is the worst timing in the history of the world, but I’ve been expecting that call for weeks. I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. This is your job.” I step back, taking some much-needed air and space from his dizzyingly impressive erection.

His grip tightens on my hip, and he yanks me back so our chests collide. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His expression is pained. “Don’t pull away from me.”

So many emotions shuttle around my body, and I don’t know how to process them all at once. What I do know is that I need to get the hell away from him before I lose myself. I suspect that once we cross this line, I will fall for him completely. And I’m going to fall hard. “You’re the one who’s leaving, Nathan.”

His jaw ticks, and I hold my breath.Oh, fuck it!Just kiss me and tell me you’ll be back soon.He does neither. He takes a step back. “I’ll be gone for a few days. Will you be okay here alone?”

I draw in a shaky breath. “I’ll be fine.”

Clearing his throat, he takes another step away from me, putting enough distance between us that I can no longer smell his cologne or feel the heat from his body. “Well, this is your home now. If you want to invite some friends over, you don’t need my permission.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I probably won’t be reachable, so if you need anything, Teddy will take care of it.”

A knot of sadness wells in my throat, and tears sting my eyes. Why do I feel so rejected by a man I just pushed away? Because he didn’t pull me back. He’ll never need me enough to pull me back. “When will you be home?” I ask, in spite of myself.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. A few days. I have to go pack.”

Then he walks out of the kitchen, leaving me aching and needy, and most of all, feeling invisible and alone.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

NATHAN

My fingers twitch against my palm as I ride the elevator to my penthouse after a long three days away. Relief at being back washes over me and takes me by surprise. I never usually care about getting home. I’ve always been equally comfortable in hotels as I am in my own apartment, but the need to get back to New York as quickly as possible was never far from my mind this entire trip. Maybe it’s because of the way we left things. Another moment and I would have had her naked and pinned to the kitchen counter.

I should have fucked her on our wedding night. Then the precedent would have been set, and we wouldn’t have settled into this bizarre limbo where I’m not sure if I’m allowed to fuck her or not. She’s my wife, right? Sex was always on the table because we’re going to have kids. But each day that passes without us having sex feels like another step further into friends territory, and I find myself completely unsure of how to make a move on her. Like I’ve lost every bit of game I ever had.

Maybe I should simply ask if I can fuck her. Or kiss her and hope it leads to more.

I lick my lips, my dick twitching at the thought of my hands on her. This morning, I sent a text and told her I’d be home tomorrow, but my business wrapped up earlier than expected. I was unable to stay away for a second longer than necessary, so I had the jet prepared early.

While I have zero desire to examine why I couldn’t stay away, I recognize that there can be only one explanation—she’s five foot four and has the most incredible green eyes I’ve ever seen.

Her infectious laugh drifts down the hallway, and I curse under my breath, hoping she doesn’t have a friend over. I want her all to myself, even if it’s only to argue with her.

“Right there, baby girl?” The deep, masculine voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

She releases a long, satisfied moan. “Yeah. Right there.”

What in holy fuck? I stalk toward the den, my heart pounding in my chest and adrenaline pumping through my veins. I’m going to tear his fucking head off, whoever the fuck he is.

He grunts, like whatever he’s doing takes effort, and she moans again. “You’re so good at that.”

Motherfucker! My hands curl into fists at my sides, and when I walk into the room, all I can see is the side of the asshole’s head as he holds her ankle in the air. I snarl, snatching his attention. “You want to get your hands off my fucking wife?”

“Nathan!” Melanie shrieks, bolting upright. She blinks at me, her mouth open. “I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.”

Yeah, no shit. A growl rumbles out of my chest as I cross the room. The asshole drops her foot but doesn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable that I’ve just caught him doing fuck knows what to my wife.

Melanie scrabbles to her feet, and only when she stands do I see that she’s wearing pajamas, and one pant leg is rolled up around her knee. “This is Tyler.”

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