Page 20 of Make Me, Break Me

My hand flexed inside the plasticky sheath that held my pinky in place. My ribs were declared successfully knitted together the week before, though fragile after a follow up x-ray, and my hand was close to coming out from its temporary cast. Everything still ached, but what hurt most was my heart. Call me lovelorn, depressed, what the fuck ever. I didn’t care. What Iwanted—or who—was the girl seated at our shitty little table that only just fit the three of us. Not the five we’d suddenly become.

I mulled on that, knowing the tiny dorm room Nelson and Falcon shared with me wasn’t the right size any longer. Hell, we’d known that for a while. And we could have afforded better, every one of us, but we had chosen this existence because until recently, it kept us all off the radar.

At least, that had been the hope. Not hiding, exactly, just keeping a low profile.

Apparently, those days were over.

Well and truly over, as a faint knock that preceded Bella, Falcon's blonde, pretty girlfriend who he’d brought back with him from his beach town getaway, walked into our dorm room, towing a lithe young man behind her that seemed to be about Falcon’s age.

“Rose, this is Zin, Nelson and D– Dex,” she stuttered my name out, sliding her arms around Falcon’s waist while still clinging to Rose’s hand.

The heroin chic man with sallow skin and dark hair looked like he’d stepped straight out of a European fashion magazine, and seemed twice as uncomfortable as any of us in the cramped space.

I raised both eyebrows at his look and the way Bella clung to him and Falcon. Zin twisted in her seat to meet my eyes, a question of her own in her dipped brow. I shrugged, then nodded when Falcon kissed Bella first, then turned his head and found Rose’s lips with his own. The lithe man melted at the mafia prince’s attention, folding into his chest and making indecent sounds.

“Two guesses where this is headed.” I shoved my laptop aside, holding out my hand.

Zin didn’t ask questions as she gripped the edge of my cast gently, throwing a red-faced Nelson an apologetic look andfollowed me into my bedroom where I kicked the door shut behind her.

“That was…phew.” Zin fanned her face, scanning my room.

She had flat out refused to enter my space since she’d started visiting me in my dorm under duress. I hadn’t pushed the issue, but now that she was here….

“Zin,” I murmured, leaning past her to flick the lock on my door, not wanting interruptions, but she wasn’t watching me.

Her gaze soaked in my desk, the dark wood bed with its black cover, black pillows, black throw. Everything was cotton or wool because I fucking hated silky shit near my skin, unless it was attached to Zin’s. The walls were painted black. I’d done that myself in my first year, shortly after I met her. The carpet was hidden beneath a plush black rug that ran the exact dimensions of the room, edge to edge. No other color entered the room, not through the thick, black drapes, apart from the thin sliver of light that slipped in because I hadn't sealed them in full.

Her sharp intake left me with one hand on her waist.

“Are you okay?”

“Funny time to discover I might be claustrophobic,” she muttered.

“Need air?”

She nodded. I crossed the room and flung the window wide, but she put a hand on my arm when I went to throw the curtains open.

“Leave them,” she whispered. “I don’t want to destroy your space. That's why I didn’t come in here in the first place.”

I turned back to her and found her close. Really fucking close. Enough that my body brushed hers as I completed my revolution, standing chest to chest with her. One of the things I loved about Zin was that she was tall enough that I only had to dip my head to kiss her.

My hands landed on her waist, and I squeezed gently, cast and all. “I thought you didn’t want to come in here because you thought we’d spend all our time fucking.,” I growled, leaning in to reduce her air, stealing some of her sweet breath for myself.

Fuck, we hadn’t been intimate for weeks, and having her this close was death.

Intoxicating.

“That, too,” she acknowledged, swaying in my hold.

I swallowed hard. “You gonna let me kiss you?”

A slight huff escaped her lips. “At least you don't smell like blood and spew this time.”

A grimace twisted my lips. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”But I didn’t want anyone else.

Her hand came up and slapped my chest. My grimace became a wince. She shook her head.

“Don’t you dare fake me, Dex Breaker. I was there when the doctor declared you fit. Not to fight but for…other things.” She looked up at me through her lashes.

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