Page 132 of A Little Broken

“Fuck, Birthday Girl,” he growls. “You have no idea how pretty you look taking me like this. Spread out beneath me. Your tits bouncing. Your hair in the sand. The fire dancing off your skin.”

His words are like gasoline, making me burn from the inside out. “Don’t stop,” I beg. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He bends forward, and I hook my ankles around his waist, holding on for dear life as he cages me in and pushes into me over and over again. I can see it. Feel it. Taste it. My orgasm. I’m so fucking close, I can’t breathe. My lungs cease to work, my fingers dig into his lower back, and my jaw falls as it rips through me, tearing me apart and leaving me floating. The familiar twitch of his erection and freeze of his muscles follow, a low curse slipping past his lips as he comes inside me. It’s stupid. Reckless. So fucking reckless. Giving my body to him again. But I don’t care. Not in this moment. Because it’s like he said, if this is all I can give him, he can have it. He can have all that’s left. Every piece of me.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

I smile. “Yes, Captain Obvious. We did just fuck.”

“Well.” He lifts his head, giving me a glimpse of his boyish grin. “It’s been great. Really great. But, uh, I guess I’ll see you around, or…?” His face tilts to one side, his eyes dancing with mirth.

I quirk my brow. “Seriously?”

“I mean, it’s what we do after actual sex, isn’t it?”

“It’s whatIdo,” I clarify.

Moving closer, he runs his nose along the tip of mine. “And what doIget to do?”

“Daydream about all the things you should’ve said to convince me to stay.”

“Like hire your favorite band?” he quips.

I fight my grin. “Something like that.”

He starts to climb off, but I tug him into me, letting his weight settle into my bones as he gives in immediately. I love it. The feel of him pressed against me. His soft cock still nestledinside. The mint on his breath. The scent of sex and campfire and ocean and…Pax. I want to bottle it up and keep it forever.

“You gonna run this time, Birthday Girl?” he murmurs.

It’s a good question. One I kind of hate. Because with Pax? It isn’t easy. To run. To leave. To write off our interactions as meaningless when it doesn’tfeelmeaningless. But the idea of promising him more? Promising something real and tangible and lasting? I don’t…I don’t know if I’m capable of something like that, even if he makes me want to be.

“Not gonna answer me, huh?” he prods.

His earlier words echo through my mind as he stares down at me, brushing the hair from my forehead.

You gonna run this time, Birthday Girl?

“It’s what I do,” I admit.

“Then I guess I’ll have to invest in some running shoes, ‘cause I’m sure as shit not gonna let you get away again.” He drops a kiss to my forehead, then rolls onto his back, tucking me into his side. I feel him slip out of me. And it leaves me weirdly…empty. I don’t know how I feel about it. But what I do know is that I like this.

And that much is terrifying, but I’m too weak to walk away, let alone run.

Not this time.

38

TATUM

After my little rendezvous with Pax on the beach, we put the dwindling fire out, and he led me to his bathroom where he proceeded to wash my hair. Wash. My freaking. Hair. I asked if I should be worried that he had any intention of dying it as payback for what I did to him, but he assured me his motives were innocent…until he fell to his knees and worshipped me with his mouth. But I digress. Once my hair was sand free and we’d both gotten off—one for him and two for me because, and I quote, he’s, “generous like that,”—we spent the night in Paxton’s bed.

Yup. I slept over. Voluntarily this time, and not because I was drunk off my ass, thank you very much. It doesn’t mean I’m in love with him or anything. It doesn’t even mean we’re official or whatever. It means we had a sleepover. Simple as that. Or at least, it’s what I keep telling myself to keep from losing my shit. We slept together. And we didn’t just have sex twice, which is most definitely one of my biggest rules, but we actuallyslept. Midnight snuggles included. I blame it on the post orgasmic haze, but if I’m being honest, I think there’s more to it.

Andthatrealization? It’s a hard pill to swallow. But I’m trying.

Stretching in Paxton’s bed, I realize the sheets on his side are cold to the touch. Where did he go? And how long has he been gone? I turn my head toward the open door and breathe in deep.Coffee.The smell brings a smile to my lips as I roll onto my side, reaching for my phone on the nightstand.

A text from Rory shines back at me.

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