Page 4 of Breaking Blaze

“What do you mean, sweetness?” His body drew taut, every muscle in his frame locked tight, thrumming as he fought to sit still against the urge to surge over the bar and wrap her in his arms.

But he couldn’t! Even if she was asking.

“Blaze…I want you to be my first. Everything.”

He shuddered, his cock twitching to be freed and slid into the hot, moist bliss of his woman.

Not your woman, fucker. She can’t be.

Suddenly, the bar was gone—the building, the people, the jukebox music. It was just them. The two of them. Standing face to face…just like that day everything changed. The day his everything was ripped away from him.

“Blaze.” Her rich, velvet voice carried to him on a fragrant breeze, kissing his cheeks on its way by.

“I’m here,” he said, reaching out to take her hands in his.

Her bloody hands.

A scream shrilled through the air, blasting into him, kicking him back as if thrown from a car. He landed yards away from where he’d been, his body throbbing and cracking and shaking as he attempted to get to his feet. To get back to her.

His legs like jelly, his chest burning from the need to breathe, he crawled along the ground, desperate to get to her.

But there were only footprints where she once stood.

A sharp snort broke through the dream, shattering the image of perfect bliss turned horrific nightmare like a bullet to the brain. Dragging in a breath, Blaze stiffened, his hazy thoughts clearing, coalescing into rational realization.

Fuck.

He’d gone home with that red head—was still in her bed. He’d actually fallen asleep. Shit. He’d never done that before, preferring to fuck and duck as soon as the inside of the condom got wet. How the hell did he end up asleep next to…? Hell, he couldn’t even remember who he’d fucked.

What the hell time was it?

He thumped his head against the pillow under him and expelled a silent breath. Rubbing his face with a trembling hand, he fought a groan. The never-ending ache in his chest continued to throb, even though the ache in his cock had been satiated. For now. It would only return again as soon as his mind was awake enough to conjure memories and day dreams of her…the one he really wanted to satiate his ache with. The one he dreamt of night after night, whether they were fantasies or nightmares. The one he’d been trying to fuck out of his system for eight years. Eight long, miserable, soul-sucking, heart-aching years.

Turning his face toward the other side of the bed, his gaze caught on the upturned profile of a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember. Then again, when he’d targeted her at Happy Jack’s he hadn’t been angling for a name, only a quick, hard fuck. And he’d gotten it…not that he’d been worried. He always got what he wanted.

Not everything….

Fluttering images, stuttering and then stark, flashed through his still sleepy brain.

He’d dreamt of her again. His unattainable. Untouchable. Unforgettable.

Sliding toward the edge of the bed, he slipped from the mattress and into his clothes, moving as quietly as possible. There was nothing worse than post one-night stand small talk—or invitations for another round. Once the booze started to wear off, so did his desire to remain.

He made it to the door and out the door without hearing a sound from the bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled his cell from his pocket, checking the time.

5:04AM.

Shit. He’d gotten to her place—whoever she was—around 11PM, that meant he’d been out of it for six hours. Definitely not like him. Gathering his bearings, he recognized the décor in the corridor outside her apartment.

Ugh. Now he remembered…. The woman lived in the same condo building he did, but he hadn’t discovered that until they’d pulled up outside. He’d been so wasted by that point, he hadn’t given it much thought, allowing his dick to do the thinking for him.

And now he was stuck in the awkward position of seeing her in the lobby of the building whenever she decided to pop up. Had he told her he lived in the same building.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, squeezing it.

Just another fuck up to add to his list of fuck ups. A list that was much too long already.

Too long and dirty and dark for someone as pure and bright as her.

Sighing, he walked toward the elevator bank, hitting the up button. His apartment was on the seventh floor which was five floors up. At least he and—Brigit! That was her name—weren’t next door neighbors. He couldn’t imagine his Anna appreciating the drama that would cause.

Finally, on his floor, he stepped from the elevator and reached into his pocket for his keys.

They weren’t there.

“Shit,” he hissed. He left them on the bedside table in his hurry to sneak out of Intentional Mistake #1349’s apartment.

He stared at the apartment door at the end of the hall and groaned, knowing what he would have to do.

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