Page 168 of A Little Broken

“Not. Stupid,” I seethe. “Stop belittling yourself or your feelings. Do you understand me?”

Her head dips in the smallest of nods. But her eyes? They’re like steel, gleaming with a familiar dose of stubbornness I both love and hate. Especially in this moment.

“Pretty little liar,” I muse, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You don’t believe me.”

“Just stating the facts, Pax.”

Facts.

It’s a load of bullshit, but how do I convince her of it? How do I make her see how much she means to me and that her feelings? They don’t have to be a bad thing. They don’t have to hold her back or keep her from me. Hell, nothing can keep her from me. Not a single fucking thing.

“Close your eyes,” I order.

“Pax…”

“Close them.”

Her eyelids flutter closed, shocking the hell out of me, while also proving how desperate she is to let go, even if she won’t admit it to herself. Untucking the T-shirt from the waistband of my pants, I grip the cotton between my teeth and rip a strip of fabric from it. What’s left of my shirt falls at our feet as I slowly tie the makeshift blindfold around Tatum’s head, careful not to catch any of her hair in the knot.

She’s trembling. Her breathing is shallow. Her lips are parted. The combination proves her fear is still driving her. Still keeping her from me. And even though I know it’s only a physical response made to keep her safe, I need it to stop. Now.

“Pax,” she whispers, “what are you?—”

“Careful or I’ll gag you, too.” Bending forward, I kiss her softly, savoring the sting from my busted lip. “And I’d really hate losing access to this pretty mouth, Birthday Girl.”

Her throat tightens on a swallow, but she stays quiet, believing my threat isn’t empty. Then again, I guess it isn’t. I do love having access to this pretty mouth, but right now, this isn’tabout me. This is about her. Her fear. Her past. Her future. And fuck, I want her future to include me. Gently, I reach for her hands, keeping my movements slow as I guide them to my face. “Do you feel this?”

Her hands tremble as she runs her fingers along my jaw and finds the edge of my mouth. “Yes,” she whispers.

Nibbling on the edge of her finger, I murmur, “This mouth is yours.” I smile. “This mouth gave up smoking for you.”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down, but she doesn’t utter a single word.

Guiding her hands lower, I let her linger on my biceps. “These muscles? They’re here to protect you.”

She continues her path down my body, finding the edge of my pants before moving to my semi-hard dick. When her palm brushes against it, my hips shift forward, and I bite back my groan. “This cock?” She smiles. “This is to give you pleasure. To make you scream my name. And to give you babies, if you ever ask for them.” I grasp her wrist and bring it up, over my abs and along my bruised side to my pounding chest. “And do you feel this, Tatum?”

She shies away, but I force her to stay where she is, letting the steadythump-thumpseep into her palm as I cover her hand with mine. “This heart is yours.”

“Pax,” she breathes.

“Listen to me,” I order. “This heart is yours, and even though I’d give anything to protect it from being hurt or compromised, all because I know how it would affect you, that isn’t in my power.” I grasp her fingers and bring them to my mouth. “But it isn’t in yours, either.”

Her lips quiver, a shaky breath slipping past them and hitting my face harder than any punch my opponent could’ve thrown tonight. This girl. This fucking girl. She holds all the cards. Owns every piece of me. If only she’d take them.

“I know it’s scary, Birthday Girl,” I rasp. “I know opening yourself up again after losing someone you love is scary. But the past few weeks have been the best in my life. And I’m really hoping you’ll let me give this heart to you despite knowing you can’t control the future.” A low chuckle rumbles through my chest. “Let’s be honest, if you could, there’s no way you would’ve let me run into you again after all these years. But isn’t that the beauty of fate? That sometimes it delivers exactly what we need when we least expect it?”

“Pax,” she breathes out with the same weak bravado as before I dragged her in here. Before I pushed her against the door and blindfolded her in hopes of swaying her stubborn resolve. “I want you, okay? I want you so much, but I can’t do it again. I can’t.”

I curl in closer to her, anxious to carry the weight of her pain, while knowing I can’t. I can’t do anything but love her and be by her side and promise I’ll do everything in my power—for the rest of my life—to take care of her and be the man she needs me to be, if only she’ll accept it. “I fucking love you, Birthday Girl.”

Her head rolls forward with her shoulders, making her look small and fragile. “Don’t say that.”

“I love you, Tatum Taylor. I love every fucking inch of you. I love your soul. Your body. Your sweet side. Your bitchy side.” My mouth lifts. “I love when you’re tired. When you’re drunk. When you’re snippy and happy and everything in between.”

“Pax,” she whispers.

Letting go of her hands, I touch beneath her chin, and with the lightest of pressure, lift her head before leaning down and kissing her. It’s soft. Gentle. But so fucking charged, I can feel it in my bones. It’s a promise. A prayer. She raises her hands and grabs my wrists as I cup her cheeks again, holding her exactly where I want her. My mouth moves over hers, and I drag my tongue along the seam of her lips, tasting her tears. The slighttang of salt wrecks me, and I squeeze my eyes shut as she opens her mouth wider, letting me in.

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