Page 111 of Breaker

As comfortable as a bachelor pad can be.

My fingers glide along the bookcase, taking in the titles of classic and fantasy books, the old black-and-white DVD movies, and a few CDs of random bands from the 90s. The massive TV on the far wall is flanked by new video game consoles, which isabout the only thing in the place that fits the fact that four men live here.

What strikes me most is the lack of personal items. No photos on the fridge, no liquor bottles lined up, or sports memorabilia displayed. Besides the books and old movies, this place could belong to any group of men from any walk of life and age range. It’s disconcerting, considering the elaborate surveillance equipment upstairs.

Maybe the men took their belongings with them? I never dared search for their rooms while in the mansion. I knew better. They’d tell me who they were and what they wanted when ready.

My belly flutters, thinking about Reaper’s promise. Viper’s. Striker’s.

Breaker.

The roar of an engine fills my ears, signaling Breaker’s return. A loud rattling echoes in the space as the bay door slides upward. Breaker’s bike engine revs, and he slowly guides it to the back of the factory. He effortlessly dismounts and removes his helmet, setting it down on the seat.

As he removes his black mask, he strides towards me with intense focus, sending heat to my core. I can’t deny how good the all-black riding gear looks on him, perfectly hugging his tall, muscular frame. Everything looks good on him: tuxes, black fatigues, a white undershirt shirt and black pants.

Stark naked with water dripping off him.

He’s mouthwatering gorgeous, and he’s currently walking toward me with a smile on his beautiful, innocent-looking face. I’d have never guessed that he looked like a runway model—an absolute work of art. The fact that neither Delilah nor I ever noticed him as he watched us speaks volumes about his ability to remain unnoticed.

This gives me hope that his posing as Snyder will work. None of us ever saw him coming.

“Get dressed.” Breaker holds out a bag for me to take. “Harlow’s going to be here to pick you up soon.”

My eyes drop to the bright yellow bag in one hand, then fix on the fast-food bag in the other. “Clyde knows about this place?” The question is out before I remember he said this earlier before he saw what Rune had done to my body.

“Harlow knows us, yes,” Breaker says, relinquishing the fast-food bag into my eager hands.

“Nice way to keep it vague,” I mumble, only half paying attention to him as I unwrap my food. The parchment paper crinkles sending glee shivering to my belly. When my teeth sink into the greasy food, and the familiar flavor of salty, processed meat explodes on my tongue, I let out a satisfied moan, looking up toward the heavens in a silent thank you.

“I’ve missed you,” I confess to my burger before taking another bite. The men had been providing us with fresh meals or snacks like dried fruits and nuts. It was all so healthy I wanted to cry. “I’ve missed you so much.”

With a smirk, Breaker hands me a bottle of water. “Reaper would have a nervous breakdown if he saw you eating that.”

“Don’t tell me he’s a food snob,” I say, reaching for the yellow bag.

“He’s definitely a food snob,” Breaker says, dropping his backpack to the floor and settling onto the sofa.

“He made pancakes,” I point out. “Food snobs don’t make pancakes.”

A small smile tugs at Breaker’s lips, indicating that pancakes are not a regular occurrence for them.

My stomach flutters, and I shift my focus to the bag, trying to hold back tears. I never thought I’d miss that asshole, but I do.

Inside the bag, I find a pair of black leggings, some plain underwear, and a sports bra, along with a set of basic sneakers and a package of socks. The shirt he has chosen for me is a large Miami Dolphins jersey, which earns him a quirked brow.

“Slim pickings.” Breaker grins, but it fades when I put down my food and slip off his huge shirt, revealing my naked body.

His eyes immediately travel to the bite mark, then the stitches, down to between my legs, then finally back up to my face. “Little Red,” he whispers, voice filled with agony.

I can’t tell which part is causing his voice to crack—the bite that nearly sent him into a rage when he first saw it, the stitches that oddly contort his features, or my nakedness that makes him reach for me and pull me onto his lap. My bare pussy brushes against the coarse material of his black riding gear, right where he is now hard and straining.

“Harlow is going to be here soon,” he groans, kneading my ass cheeks and pulling them apart before pushing them together like he’s thinking about all the filthy things he said this morning. When I lean in to brush a kiss to his lips, he lets out a low, needy sound and whispers my name like a wish.

My fingers trail along his jawline and over his cheeks. He’s so pretty.Beautiful.

His mouth covers mine, silencing all thoughts. My hands wrap around his neck and then move down to his chest. They travel to his pants, feeling the hardness of his cock trapped behind the zipper. I break the kiss. Breaker’s pale eyes shift to my arm once more, and I feel him lift his hips slightly, driving up into me. It’s barely noticeable, but it sends shivers down my spine. I grind down onto him, feeling how wet I am.

“It should still be safe,” I whisper, watching as his eyes dart again to my arm.

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