Page 16 of Breaking Blaze

Why the fuck am I here?

If Anna wanted to date she could date, he couldn’t tell her no. It wasn’t like he was ever dateless—if you could call what he did dating. It wasn’t his place to keep her from finding someone she could be happy with. He was happy in his life as the eternal bachelor, Anna was allowed to find her happiness, too.

She can’t be happy hanging at home waiting for when I need her? At least then she isn’t out with another man doing something stupid…like letting him touch her.

Fuck. That wasn’t fair.

But she’s your emotional support animal, right? You just expect her to sit around waiting for you to come by and give her an hour of attention before you head off to fuck another woman who isn’t her.

God, he hated that he’d said that—that he’d even thought that about her. Anna was far more than his emotional support, and she certainly wasn’t a dog—or a sexless lump.

Shit. He’d really said some messed up shit to AJ.

He had to call him. Had to find a way to explain. He couldn’t let anyone think he felt like that about Anna. His sweet, gorgeous, bright-hearted Anna. It made his stomach twist.

She was his best friend, didn’t she deserve the chance at a real relationship, one where she could know the beauty of intimacy, of physical connection, the pleasure of sex—

Fuck no!

The vehement, violent response took him by surprise…but he felt the truth of it to his very bones, a truth that vibrated through him, sending tremors through his frame. He was fucking shaking with an unnamable emotion, one that taunted him, sneering at him, teasing him with images of his Anna with another man, wrapped in another man’s arms, laying in another man’s bed. This faceless man touching her, kissing her, giving her pleasure—pleasure she’d never known before.

No! That should be me!

No, wait…that wasn’t him. He and Anna weren’t like that, they could never be like that. She couldn’t be more than that to him. Because he couldn’t be more than that to her. They were just….

A sharp pain pierced him between the eyes. Damn, what was happening to him? The shit he spewed, the urge to claim a woman who’d only ever been his friend…he was falling down. Falling hard. And he didn’t know what had pushed him over the edge or how far he was going to fall before he landed. And would he even survive the crash?

Lifting his head, he searched the room, still pushed by the pulse of need in his veins.

Find her. Talk to her. Touch her. He needed to be close to her—fuck her date, whoever he was.

And there she was, standing at one of the high tables in the corner of the bar, right beside a man Blaze could bench press. They were standing close, their heads together, her expression animated. The man laughed, leaned in, and Blaze felt the blood leave his extremities and pool in his belly. That man was too close to Anna.

His Anna.

His gaze took her in, his breath lost in an instant, replaced by a need so burning hot, he could swear he felt the soles of his boots melting.

Draped in a red dress that barely hit her knees, the fabric hugged her lush curves like they were in love with her. Her luscious hips, her long legs, her large breasts practically spilling from the low-cut bodice…she was stunning—fucking hot, wet sex in a dress. Her hair was loose around her head and down her shoulders, framing her breathtaking face in a halo of chestnut fire. Her make-up was dark, sensual—so unlike how she usually did it so he knew he had Sally to thank for turning her into a goddamn sexpot.

His cock pressed against his zipper, throbbing, aching.

Goddamn it.

This isn’t the first time, fucker.

And it wasn’t. He’d had similar reactions to Anna many, many times over their eight years together; when she was fresh from bed, looking like a sleep rumpled angel, when she was just hanging out and wearing yoga pants and loose tees—there was never a time in his life that he didn’t think Anna Cass was drop dead gorgeous.

And he’d wanted her…so fucking much—who wouldn’t? She was lush and perfect. But she wasn’t for him. He couldn’t cross that line with her…so he’d sought out other women, women he didn’t give a shit about, to slake his lusts.

And it worked. Until his thoughts inevitably returned to Anna.

The douche smiling back at Anna leaned in closer, his gaze pinned to Anna’s perfectly pouty lips painted a deep red.

Lust slammed into him, images of those lips pressing against his, opening for him to taste her—finally. Those succulent lips wrapped around his fat cock, taking him down, making him so fucking weak in the knees he couldn’t hold himself up. They’d collapse onto the floor…where he’d devour her mouth before taking his time to ravage the rest of her ripe body.

Fuuuuuck!

Anna leaned in toward the man, her expression uncertain. The urge to go over there and take her into his arms, to reassure her was potent.

---