Page 22 of Mine To Break
Chapter Ten
It was nice having a man in her space again. Even asleep, Colby’s energy seemed to hum in the air around her, heightening her senses and engaging her mind in the endlessly hot things she could teach him. Sipping coffee, Mal sat down at the small round table she kept in the breakfast nook and stared out the window into her back yard. She wasn’t a master gardener, but she was proud of the small, private oasis she’d built in the middle of the city. It helped that her house was in an older part of Dallas, so the trees were big and gorgeous. Someone had done all the hard work for her decades ago and put in some beautiful roses along the back fence. She loved them, but it was the climbing roses she’d planted on her brand new arbor five years ago that she was most pleased with. In the summer, she loved to sit outside in the evening beneath a golden curtain of flowers and smell their sweet perfume. She’d spent months researching to find exactly the right rose. Fragrant, climber, golden peach and soft white hues. They’d start to bud soon.
Waking up with him beside her had been glorious. She barely remembered him climbing in behind her, his arms coming around her. He hadn’t made advances, which she appreciated. She’d have had to teach him a lesson in humility that he might not have enjoyed at all, and she’d been too tired to even contemplate a scene. Even a light, fun scene. She’d stayed up too long reading through the information Patrick had given her about pony kink, so she could start sketching out the season.
Even now, fully rested and wide awake, she wasn’t quite ready to tackle a new scene with Colby. She felt the need to get closer to him, to know him better. Communication. Stories from their past. Sex was good, but she yearned for connection and conversation too. If he couldn’t open up and share more about his past, his family, or his job, so she really knew him, then she’d have to send him packing, as disappointing as that would be. Another reason Andy had not been the right man for her. He’d never been able to mature beyond hanging out with his old college buddies playing poker. For all she knew, Colby was the same, only hanging out with his cop buddies. She didn’t have a problem with that on the surface—as long as he was willing to dig deeper with her. She wanted a deep, rich relationship, not a purely sexual relationship that she could satisfy with a one night stand with someone from the club.
She refilled her cup and poured him one, though she didn’t know if he even liked coffee, let alone how he took a cup. Then she walked into her bedroom. Even dark from the light-blocking shades and curtains, she could feel him. Hot energy, simmering just beneath the ground, like a volcano that could crack open the earth and spew hot lava at any moment. She set their cups on the nightstand and pulled open the heavy curtains. The blinds still filtered the brutal Texas sun out, but the room lightened considerably. Time to see what kind of morning person he was. The first night they’d spent together, he’d woken up and left with a simple kiss goodbye, and she’d let him slip away, knowing he had to work. He might have to report in today, but he’d said not right away. They could have some time together, just the two of them.
For a moment, she just watched him sleep. His jaws were dark with stubble, the hard, long lines of his body barely relaxed, even in sleep. He’d kicked one leg out from beneath the blanket, so she could see his boxers. He hadn’t come to bed naked. She liked it when a man wasn’t too presumptuous. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to trail her fingertips down the long line of his thigh, but she didn’t get the chance. One second he was sound asleep, and the next, she felt the wind of movement perilously close to her face as he whipped across the bed in a flying somersault and landed crouched, facing her, hands lifted like weapons.
Wide eyed, she could only stare at him mutely. Her mind recognized that she’d escaped a very close call. He’d no doubt meant to strike out a hard kick at whoever threatened him before he cleared the bed, but something had kept him from connecting with her head. A kick or punch from a lethally trained soldier like him would probably put a woman in the hospital.
Her body was another story entirely. She appreciated the powerful, effortless way he moved. The threat of danger had sent a surge of adrenaline pumping through her veins, calling to her Mistress-hunter side. She loved a challenge, and the feral way he moved, still foggy with sleep, presented an near insurmountable obstacle. Everything in the tensed muscles, coiled strength, and bare-handed combat screamed untamable.
Yet that was exactly what she most wanted to do. Tame him. Break her to her hand. While still retaining that wild, incomparable heart of the warrior.
“Fuck!” His eyes flared wide and he scrambled across the floor frantically, slamming his back against a wall. “Fuck! Are you hurt?”
His chest heaved, his eyes wild, and she could see him starting to shut down internally. Rapid blinks, quivering muscles forced from a relaxing sleep to all-out war to shock. Guilt darkened his eyes. He raked a hand over his face and dropped his head against his knees. Hiding, gathering himself together.
Even commanded to stillness beneath her while she’d taken her pleasure, he hadn’t been this vulnerable. This close to crumbling into a thousand pieces.
Accidentally hurting her was probably worst case for him. As polite and well mannered as he was, hurting a woman would genuinely be one of the worst things he could do. He wouldn’t take a near miss lightly, even though it hadn’t been his fault at all. Yet it was important for her to handle this situation correctly. Baby him, and he would remember later that he’d been weak and vulnerable before her. A man of his training would hate that. That memory would gnaw at him like a cancer, slowly destroying every bit of trust and affection she would have gained. Yet if she handled him too brusquely, not recognizing this vulnerability, he could shut down emotionally and withdraw entirely, which was exactly the opposite of what she wanted from him.
“I’m fine,” she said, pleased her voice was steady. “Are you all right? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have approached you like that while you were sleeping.”
His voice was muffled against his knees but she understood him. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“Not a hair on my head. Want some coffee? I brought you a cup.”
He lifted his head, eyes narrowed as if he suspected she was lying. He scanned her face, and she didn’t try to hide from him. She let him see that she was rattled—appropriately warned not to wake him like that again—but definitely not scared out of her mind.
She reached over and picked up her cup, tipping her head toward his. “I wasn’t sure how you like it. Sugar? Cream? I left it black for now but I have both in the kitchen.”
He didn’t answer, but silently watched her sip for a few moments. She kept her manner calm and relaxed. Her hand trembled slightly but not enough that she spilled any of the coffee.
“I should have realized a cop wouldn’t like anyone approaching from his blind side while he was asleep. How should I wake you up next time?”
“The hell if I know.”
She quirked her lips in a teasing grin. “Next time I’ll just stand in the kitchen and holler, ‘Come and get it!’ That work?”
His mood couldn’t be lightened. Turmoil whirled in his eyes, clenching his jaws in a hard line, his hands fisted. As she watched, stone walls went up in his eyes. Brick by brick, he shut himself off. To protect her, she knew, but she couldn’t allow him to keep those walls. Not if she ever wanted him to truly submit. Sitting on her bed dressed only in a nightshirt and robe, she drew herself up like a warrior queen. Building her power, honing her will like a weapon, she snapped, “Freeze, soldier.”
The combination of familiar cop words and his past, mixed with the harsh tone of her voice, made him hesitate. Eyes hard and grim, he met her gaze unflinchingly, closed and guarded, but not yet withdrawn completely.
“I’m not done with you yet, Wade. So don’t go shutting down on me. Get that ass over here pronto.” His eyes flickered, hesitating, so she sharpened her voice and used it like a whip. “I gave you a command, soldier. Now!”
It was a gamble, but it worked. Years of following orders from his commanding officers had honed in him an innate instinct to obey an order, especially in moments of crisis. He stood, stiffly, but did as she told him, this time walking around the bed instead of diving across it. Rigid, as if he might bolt toward the door any moment, he stared down at her.
Another calculated risk, but she suspected he felt as though he needed to make amends. Holding his gaze, she kept her voice deceptively soft, even while each word thudded with power. “Go to your knees, soldier.”
He swallowed hard and jerked down to the floor like a rusty robot with stiff joints. But he did it. And he didn’t drop his gaze with shame.
She leaned toward him, putting herself in harm’s way, a deliberately sign of her trust in him. “This was not your fault.”
“I could have hurt you, Mal.” His words were raw, as if his throat had turned to sandpaper and gravel. “Real bad.” He shuddered, as if he could see her broken and bloodied body before him.
