Page 102 of Breaker

My heart thunders. I shove his hand away, snatching the towel, and try to swipe at the cum stuck in the thin line of hair that leads to my open pants.

Where my dickstillsticks out.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Striker.” His voice breaks through the loud noise in my head. “God, your face.’” He laughs, grabbing the towel and tossing it aside. “You’re freaking the fuck out.”

I nod. Yeah, bad.

He grips my hand. Sucks my fingers past his lips. The whirling panic slams to a stops a my attention shifts from the ruthless unease coiling inside me to his hot mouth. He releases them with a seductivepop. My cock grows thicker. He leans forward and nips my stomach.

“Okay,” I say, stifling a surprised chuckle. “You have my attention.”

A wolfish grin turns the corner of his mouth upward when he turns his face up to me. “You think our girl wants to play?”

Chapter 32

Delilah

Cora was taken sixdays ago. I tell myself over and over that Breaker is with her, at least in some capacity, and he’ll keep her safe, but it feels empty.

From the reports he’s been sending the men all week, which they’ve relayed to me, he’s having to use their old surveillance system to keep an eye on her which I was informed consisted of cameras outside our homes, the office, and the parking garages at our condo’s.

That conversation has yet to happen. About how long they watched us. I think part of me doesn’t want to know. It would mean that everything I’ve done since their brother was murdered—my short lived marriage, filing for divorce, my pathetic nights spent alone at my condo crying over Dave who never deserved me—was all cataloged and witnessed.

I knew, in an abstract way they kept an eye on us so they could take us, but the reality is unsettling.

As is the fact I slept with them.

And want to again.

It doesn’t help they are avoiding me, only communicating during practice, then leaving me alone in the evenings and at night. Like we didn’t share some primal claiming of flesh a week ago. Viper’s refusal, and Striker’s obvious irritation hurts, but it’s Reaper’s blatant avoidance of me that claws at my ego. I know I was the one who told him not to touch me again, but the fact he’s listening grates on my nerves.

In the last week, Reaper and I have been in the same space a total of five times. Once in his room. The second my first day of target practice. The third and fourth when they had me lifting weights, and the fifth was just a few days ago when I stabbed Viper in the balls.

Other than that, nothing.

And that nothing, I find, is lonely.

I turn the shower off and grab the towel, drying quickly, then wrapping it around myself as I step from the bathroom. The fire in the hearth blazes, and the radiator pops and fizzes.

Striker.

I’m pretty sure it’s him coming into my room to light the fire and turn up the radiator while I’m downstairs with Viper training after our morning lesson. Although today we didn’t practice, so I’m not sure when he had the time to light the fire.

Instead of taking me to the range, he left to shower saying I had the morning off. After waiting in the large empty room near the back of the house for Viper, who never showed, I figured they have given up on me, and wandered around the mansion, opening doors.

Most of the doors remain locked, but a few were open, revealing empty rooms, or ones stuffed with old furniture covered in white sheets. After I explored enough I wandered to the kitchen and ate the food left out for me, wondering when they’re going to talk to me about why they are training me, andwhat exactly I’m training for. When none of them appeared, I went back up to my room to shower.

I know they’re giving me space, and maybe I need it, but it feels like we’ve returned to the time before that night in the library but this time I’m utterly alone. And I don’t know how to turn my mind off.

I keep picturing Cora being hurt, then my mind fills with the images of her getting fucked so beautifully right next to me and I don’t understand why not even Striker is coming to me at night. Everything with him, them, is strict. I don’t get any more kisses from Striker. It’s like Cora took his softness when she was sent away. Viper hasn’t said a word to me about the time in his room. Reaper…

The man oozes sexual tension but other than a few comments, he’s like a personal trainer instead of…

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