Page 34 of Broken

With her legs around my hips and her arms wrapped loosely over my shoulders, I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and toss it on the floor, then, together, we rise from the couch, and I lay her flat in front of the fire. I cherish the moments I see her like this, her body bursting with life. I rest my hand between her breasts, sitting back on my knees, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird in flight.

She’s soft and pliable, limbs made loose from our release. I cup her sex in my hand, grind the heel of my palm into her clit, and watch her twitch with aftershocks. Her head thrashes from side to side, and she clenches at the blanket until her knuckles go white. Her thighs are covered with our sex, and I want to lick her clean of it.

My hands shake with the overwhelming urge to mark her, claim her, and lock her inside so no one can take her away from me. I can’t believe I almost gave her away. But it’s always a possibility, isn’t it? That she leaves me, or that someone takes her from me. Or heaven forbid, she dies—

“Hey,” she says softly, pushing up onto her elbows. I blink a slow blink, and Julia,my wife, comes back into focus, pushing out the nightmarish version of her gone and happy without me. Or lying dead somewhere on the floor. Just the sound of her voice pulls me out of my spiral. She reaches out a hand for me, and I lean forward until she cups my face in her palm. “It’s not a now or never situation, Justin. You have to have faith that no matter what happens in the future, we’ll find ourselves right back here again. Bound forever, remember? Together through time and space. I was born to be your other half. What happened with Remi doesn’t matter. I am yours, and you are mine, and nothing can take that from you, Justin.”

She swipes her thumb across my cheek and wipes away the single tear.

“That easy?” I ask her, my voice shaking and rough. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and it has nothing to do with my bare wife spread out beneath me. Trust that even if we die, we’ll find each other again. Can it really be that simple?

I’m still rock hard. Maybe harder than I’ve ever been in my life. Julia releases my face and settles onto the blankets, and I line myself up with her entrance. She sighs, and I groan as I sink myself inside her. I fall, collapse,surrendermyself across her chest and catch my weight with my hands on the floor. Her feet link against the small of my back, closing what little space remains between us.

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” she whispers quietly. “But we’ve made it this far. Anything else that comes our way should be a cake walk.”

My breath escapes me in a puff, that maybe in another life could have been construed as a laugh, before it morphs into a moan of silent submission.

She feels so good. So right. So perfect.

“Justin,” she sighs, like a breath of fresh air breathing life into my fractured psyche, and I turn my head and catch her mouth, silencing even my name from her lips.

Julia clutches at me, gasping and arching her back. Her skin is so hot, it’s burning. The smell of our sex is like a drug, spurning me on faster, harder. I pull out and thrust back in and Julia stretches around me.

“Surrender,” she says.

Already I’m on the precipice. I hold my weight on my forearm and slip a hand under her ass, cupping the soft mound and angling her hips so I can sink that much deeper inside her. I bury my face in her throat, kissing and sucking and breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her walls clench and swell around me until the tingling at the base of my spine bursts into a million different directions and I stiffen in her arms.

My release triggers hers, and she gasps against my ear, her nails digging into my back as she clutches me to her breast. Her heels dig into my back, her arms up under my armpits, and I swear she’s stolen my strength because she holds me so tight, I can barely breathe.

Our hearts now feel like two hummingbirds chasing each other through the air. I slide from her warmth when I begin to soften and turn onto my side, pulling her into my arms. She’s facing me and shoves a leg between my knees before throwing the other around my hip. My cock gives a feeble twitch, tormented at being this close yet not inside her. She moves the blanket to cover us, though we’re dripping with sweat and everything else.

I can’t imagine anything more perfect.

We were meant to be. Even death can’t change that.

“Better?” she asks when our breathing almost returns to normal.

I think about it for a moment, wanting to answer her with the truth.

“Better,” I confirm, meaning it for the first time all summer. I do feel better. Lighter, somehow. This time I don’t think I can blame it on the alcohol.

Maybe the fear of losing her will never go away. But I can’t let it ruin our lives.

After all, If we can survive this, we can survive anything.

SIXTEEN

REMINGTON

The annual meeting of the board. The time, once a year, where the asshats that run my family’s company gather together in one room to pat each other on the back and congratulate themselves for being masters of the universe. It’s the last act of official corporate business before we all head off in our separate directions to celebrate the upcoming holidays.

We should have started ten minutes ago, but we haven’t. We’re still missing my father. He’s late. On purpose, I’m sure. Another power play, to let every person in this room know that while they may hold positions of power, he still grips their leash.

Half of the people sitting around this table were at my parents’ house last week. Very few of them will meet my eye. From those that do, I’m surprised to find pity rather than anger or fear.Everyone, however, knows what happened. I’m sure most of them knew before I made it back to my apartment that night, with a dinner invitation for next week from Adam and his husband that I have no intention of accepting.

I don’t need a gay mentor. I just want to be left alone. I’m sorely tempted to send Adam’s Information to Justin, though. Justin would love the guy.

The boardroom table is a larger version of the one that sits in my parents’ dining room, only this one is all glass and steel, while my parents’ table was thick mahogany wood. Both serve the same purpose. To host a meeting and subtly display their wealth. Sitting around the outside of the room, like slaves awaiting their masters, are the assistants of the vice presidents and department heads that lounge at the table. Light filters in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and we’re high enough in the air that it almost looks like we’re floating.

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