Page 66 of Never Broken

“Well, then you know that this isn’t going to work if you’re going to be like that.”

“Oh, ifI’mgoing to be like that?“ he demanded. “What aboutyou?”

“I said I’m sorry!” Then I buried my face in my hands. “Why do we always start arguing at exactly this time of night?”

To my relief, he laughed. “I’m sorry, too. And now I’ve made more genuine apologies in the past twenty-four hours than I have in my entire life, and you’re right. We seem to do much better in the daytime. In bedrooms. And basements.” He covered my hands with his and gently pried them loose from my face, and there, at last, was that beautiful smile again, right in front of my eyes, and completely, totally for me. But his expression turned serious again just as quickly, and now here we were, tempting fate and kissing all over again as if we hadn’t had our first taste of each other’s lips earlier that day.

But he pulled back, tucking a curl behind my ear. “From now on, no one touches you but me, yeah?” He was half-telling, half-asking.

I nodded. “But remember,” I teased, “you’re not allowed to touch me either.”

He leaned in close, exhaling two words. “Watch me.”

And he took my lips between his teeth, his mouth almost as aggressive on mine as his urge to kill the gardener had just been.

Well, shit. He wasclaimingme.

It seemed absurd, given who he was, but I still melted into his claim, letting his tongue explore the hollows of my mouth as if I were an empire to conquer. When he finally pulled back, satisfied, he nipped at my lip one more time, grazing it just enough to make me gasp for more.

“In fact, I suggest we find a way to get back there as soon as we can,” he said.

“To a bedroom,” I breathed, “or a basement?”

“Well, they each have their advantages.” His head was back where I wanted it to be—in the crook of my neck, his hair mussed and brushing softly against my skin as he nibbled and licked his way down my jawline.

“Like what?” I said, my hand grazing down the buttons of that black dress shirt and over his belt, plunging lower, mildly terrified at what I would find. But he had already decided I needed to know, and his fingers curled around my wrist to guide me lower, then lower, until my fingertip rested over the hardness straining against his pants. And miraculously, thrillingly, I started to wonder if the moment I’d dreamed of since I’d left him in the basement might actually happen rightnow.

“Well, for starters,” he said, his voice somewhere between a purr and a growl as his tongue lapped at my collarbone, “in a bedroom, we could actually lie down.”

“And in a basement?” I breathed, not sure how the mereideaof being horizontal with him was exciting me so much.

“Less chance of the rest of the house hearing your screams of ecstasy.”

“Mine?” I whispered. “What aboutyours?“ I demanded, stroking him through the twill fabric. “Can’t you see I’m trying to even up the score here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, young lady. It’s not a competition. But Iam”—his yawn interrupted him—“winning.”

Shit.“Look at you,” I scolded gently, pulling away. “You’re too exhausted for sex.”

“Well, we both know that’s impossible,” he joked.

“I’m serious! And let me guess,” I continued. “You haven’t eaten tonight, either.”

“That’s not true. I had two grapes.”

“Dammit,” I muttered, cursing myself. An hour ago, there had been more than enough food left. If only I’d found a way to save him one of the sopapilla cheesecakes or chili shrimp cups or whatever the hell they’d been serving.Something.“I’m sorry. You needfood. I should havebroughtyou something. I can?—“

“I’m not your pet to feed, Lou.”

I gasped at the implication. Was that really what he thought I wanted him to be? The thought of the box of pralines, still untouched in my desk drawer upstairs, flashed in my mind. “No, you’re ahuman beingwho gets hungry like anyone else. And I?—“

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “I’ll get some leftovers from the housekeeper.”

Still, I knew why he was wary. I’d been both horrified and insanely jealous of that condescending old bitch, the wife of his owner, slipping him sweets through the chain-link fence like biscuits to a caged puppy. But at the same time, there was some part of me that desperately wanted that to beme.

But hedidn’twant that. He’d been owned enough. Before I could think about it any further, he grabbed me and pressed himself against the side of the house, pulling me in with him. I turned my body around to look where he was looking, my back still nestled tight against him, heart pounding in time with his.

“It’s Langer,” he muttered. “He’s headed out to the garden.”

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