Page 6 of Every Promise Broken

Is he feeling alright?

Are we in an alternate universe?

Did the three beers I consumed go straight to my head?

“I’m so sorry to hear about your dad,” he goes on. “I can’t imagine the stress and worry that must fill you with.”

My throat goes dry, and it feels like my tongue is made of sandpaper. It’s entirely too big and way too scratchy. I clear my throat, then swallow over the lump. None of it helps.

“Thank you,” I croak, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s not ideal, but I’m managing.”

Jesus, if that isn’t the biggest damn lie I’ve ever told. I’m the furthest thing from managing. I’m not sleeping, my appetite is basically diminished, and the weight of the future sits on my chest like an unforgiving brick. I have no brothers or sisters, my mom is dead, so my father’s care is solely in my hands, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m also trying my damnedest to make him proud by continuing to run his practice that he left me. That’s a lot of fucking pressure to put on one person.

I don’t know if it’s all of this bubbling to the surface after weeks of burying it all, or if it’s the way Conrad is looking at me like I’m a porcelain doll about to tip over and shatter into a million tiny, irreplaceable pieces, but the pressure builds behind my eyes to an insurmountable amount, and before I know it, all the stress, the worry, the hurt, the frustration…all of it spills over, cascading down my cheeks in a shameful, hot path.

My bottom lip quivers, and I suck in a lungful of air, shifting my body away from Conrad because I can’t stand to look at him right now. Can’t stand him seeing me like this. But before I even have a chance, his hand is back, wrapping around my forearm, and instead of stopping and holding me in place this time, he’s using it to haul my body into his. Strong arms wrap around me as my face crashes into a wide, strong chest, and as if I’m operating on muscle memory alone, my arms circle his middle, holding on like he’s the very thing keeping me upright right now.

And if I’m being honest, he is.

Shoulders trembling, I fall apart right here, in the arms of my ex-husband, and he holds on to me, his large, steady hand rubbing soothing circles along my back, silently allowing me tolet it all out. I don’t know how long we stand there like that, nor could I pinpoint exactly when the air shifts between us. All that I know is that it does. The energy crackles, surrounding us palpably. With my ear to his chest, I can feel the rapid beat to Conrad’s heart. It matches my own.

The hand on my back continues to rub, but it sends a sensation through my body that I haven’t experienced in far too long. My skin is on fire, sensitive to the touch. My pulse races as I remain in his embrace a little longer. Eyelids fluttering closed, I allow Conrad to overwhelm my senses.

His rustic, rich scent. The way it wraps around me. The way it burrows under my skin.

His touch.God, how I’ve missed this.

His steady breathing. In… and out. In… and out. Deep, hearty breaths.

The way his tall, wide form envelops me. I’m a butterfly, and he’s the cocoon. My safety. My shelter.

I can’t think. Can barely breathe.

It feels so unbelievably good to fall apart in his arms again. It’s been so long, yet it feels like just yesterday. Pulling back just enough to peer up at him, needing to know if he feels this shift too, my breath gets caught in my throat as I take him in.

Clenched jaw underneath a short, thick beard. Chestnut eyes now pitch black as they dance over my face. Flushed cheeks. The sight of Conrad makes my chest clench and my stomach flip. It sends a rush of adrenaline and something else entirely through my bloodstream.

Tucked against his chest, his warm breath fans my face, our proximity making me dizzy. My gaze flits down. His lips, and the way his tongue pokes out and wets them, make my mouth water. When I look back up, eyes locking on his, something electrically charged passes between us. Something that doesn’t require words but says everything.

My heart races the longer he looks at me. The longer I sit here in his hold. And when he leans down, bringing his mouth a hairsbreadth away from mine, the organ in my chest damn near beats right out.

He doesn’t make contact right away. Resting his forehead against mine, he breathes me in. Giving me a chance to push him away. Except I don’t want to push him away. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, and I make that very well known when I lift up on my tiptoes and eradicate any distance between us.

It feels like I’m floating as our lips crash together. As I feel the scratch of his beard against my face. My heart thumps harder as his hot tongue flicks into my mouth, brushing against mine. As realization hits me. As it warms my entire body.

I’m kissing Conrad.

I’m kissing my ex-husband.

For the first time in over four years, and it’s even better than I remember. It’s like coming home.

4

Conrad Strauss

My mind blanks as pillow-soft lips mold to mine and his fingers come up to the buttons on the front of my flannel shirt. Whit kisses me with fervor. With a desperation that’s potent. It’s dripping off his tongue with every swipe against mine. With each button undone, he leans farther into me until it’s wide open and he’s shoving it off my shoulders. The softwhooshof the material hitting the floor is deafening in the otherwise quiet room.

Whit pulls back, peering up at me from beneath his tear-soaked lashes, and the sight has my chest tightening. Taking off his glasses, he folds them up and places them on the desk behind me before tugging his shirt over his head, letting it drop beside mine on the floor. The sight of his smooth skin takes my breath away. His taut, dusty rose nipples, and how I can practically feel the stiffness of them against my tongue, even though it’s been years. The way his skin is so fair I can see the blue veins running along his arms. And the dark smattering of hair that starts at thebottom of his navel and disappears below his low-slung slacks, taunting me.

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