Page 54 of The Bonds We Break
Except when she looks at me, as if she can see the better version of me, I want to live up to that.
And I saw the hurt in her eyes as I spoke, as she addressed her brother. If she knows I want to fuck her as much as I want to kill her for that outburst she had in here, then she has the upper hand. It gives her power over me. And if she wins and tells Saint she’s happy with me, that she no longer fears me, I lose the leverage I have over him too. Because he’ll know I won’t hurt her.
“I can’t abandon my clients. I refuse to do this if you won’t let me speak with them.”
Of course what she wants is for someone else. But I’m a selfish prick, so ...
“In return, I want you to stop keeping your orgasms from me.” I slide my hand around the back of her neck.
She holds my gaze, but the defiance is gone. There’s a stark vulnerability instead. It hits me in the gut that I put it there. “What if I don’t have any to give you?”
“I’m pretty sure I made one happen already.”
“Don’t be too cocky. You made it happen once. That’s probably the same number I had at someone else’s hands in the past five years.”
Five years? One orgasm by someone else in five years? I grip the hair at the back of her neck. “What do you mean?”
She huffs and looks down at the floor. “Like you said.Shit. Lay.”
I’m confused. So fucking confused, I almost forget the fact she disrespected me in front of the club. “Explain.”
She glances over my shoulder to the door, then back at me. “Ask me for something else. I want to pick up my work with my clients. What else do you want in return? I’m a pretty average cook, but I could take care of your home. I’m a phenomenal gardener, but it’s winter and not going to be of much use any time soon. I could—”
“I want you to explain the whole lack-of-orgasm thing to me.” It’s rare Rae doesn’t look me in the eye. It’s rare that she rambles on needlessly. She usually has a point, wrapped in some quote from Shakespeare. The fact she’s expressed something that makes her feel vulnerable makes me feel ... protective.
Which is utterly fucked up. I’ve put her in this position. And yet I want to protect her from it. From me. I rub my thumb along her cheek. “Tell me, duchess.”
When she looks up, she’s found her center again. Her gaze is direct. “You know how an accelerator and brake work, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Well, people have accelerators and brakes when it comes to sex. Mental accelerators and brakes, and physical accelerators and brakes. Only my physical accelerators don’t work properly.”
My head feels as if someone just shoved a tire valve in my ear and started to pump air in. “I’m gonna need you to be a bit more specific, without all the euphemisms.”
Rae purses her lips. “I have problems getting physically aroused, even if I’m aroused in my head. Even if I want that intimacy with someone. I can get there by myself. I just can’t with someone else.”
Now I really am confused. “But you did get off with me.”
She shrugs. “Once out of how many attempts? And no one is more surprised than me that I did. Ten out of ten. Gold star. You’re at the top of the ‘get Rae off’ class. So, give me a different term for our agreement.”
The next six months just got way more interesting. “No.”
She shoves my shoulder to push me back, but I don’t move. I step up into her space. Her tits push against my chest as I tug her to the edge of the table, pressing my growing cock against the seam of her leathers. “Yes.”
“Don’t make me, King. I can’t live up to it. And I don’t need to add more fuel to the hang-up bonfire that rages in my head whenever I get intimate with someone else.”
I can fight many things. Rival clubs. The government. But I can’t fight my instincts when Rae is so fucking vulnerable with me.
I press my lips to hers. Soft, pouty fucking lips that pillow my mouth when I kiss her. She tries to fight me, but I feel the moment she eases into it. When a bike won’t start, I run through a list of causes from the top down. The battery is drained. The carburetor is clogged or dirty. The spark plug is broken. You try one thing, and if it doesn’t fix it, you try another. Over and over until you find the cause. I’m a fucking wizard at making things work again.
Reluctantly, I break the kiss. “I don’t see you as a hang-up. I see you as a challenge. Give me your body for six months, Rae. Let me tinker with it. Let me fix your brakes before I let you go.”
“I’m not your project, King. I’ve long accepted how I am.” Her hips roll against mine. She likes this. What other parts of her do I need to focus on?
“You want your clients, Rae. I want your body. Those are the terms now. Otherwise, I walk out that door and call all this off. You and your brother leave after I’ve had Bates carve your brother’s Iron Outlaws tattoo off his back while you watch.”
“Occasionally, I see a small part of you that makes me forget who you really are. And then you’re back to reminding me exactly what you’re like.”
