Page 46 of Broken

Raine was right, dammit. It’s incredibly sexy.

TWENTY

JUSTIN

When I shut the door to Remi’s private chamber, it takes all my strength not to yell at him. I clench my hands into fists, then when that doesn’t help, I flatten them against my ass and trap them between me and the door.

“I want to see your backside,” I say calmly. Or at least as calmly as I’m capable of.

Remi completely ignores me. He picks his coat up from where he’s draped over the bed and shoves his hand into one of the pockets, coming away with a handful of shots. I watch on in horror as he twists the lid off one and throws it back like its water, followed by another, and a third. When he drops them all into the trash can, I move from my perch and grab his wrist before he can reach into his pocket for more.

One, two, three, four…”Jesus, Remi!” I exclaim, counting the eight bottles now in the trash. “How much have you been drinking?”

He yanks his arm out of my grip and stumbles on his feet before he regains his footing.

“Enough,” he says with his eyes closed. I can physically see when the liquor hits his blood stream, because the tension in his shoulders drips from his body and seems to pool somewhere around his toes.

I’m going to scream.

“What were you thinking?”

Remi grabs at his head and falls onto the mattress, then hisses and shoots back to his feet when the impact sends pain smarting up his backside. His face tightens and his back arches, and I pull him into my arms, steadying him on his feet.

His chest stutters, but he doesn’t cry like I’m expecting him to. Rather, he seems to sag in defeat.

“I was thinking,” he says, in a hard, tight voice, “that I needed to feel something other than my broken heart.”

He glares down at me, trying to hold onto his anger, but like the effects of the alcohol, it lands somewhere by his feet.

“How’s that working out for you?” I ask him quietly. His hands grasp both my elbows, and his face when he looks into my eyes makes me want to hold him and let him cry on my shoulder.

“I’ve felt worse,” he tells me, voice barely above a whisper, and I close the distance between us and bring my lips to his.

I don’t kiss him. Not like I want to. But it’s either this, feeling his breath against my lips, or screaming in his face. Somehow, I don’t think he’d respond very well to that.

“I missed it,” he says even softer, and I pull my face away just enough to look at his lips when he talks. I no longer want to scream at him. Now I want to lick him. “I missed being at your mercy,” he admits, and something kicks me in my gut, before my cock jerks in my pants.

“You chose that asswipe instead?” I question him. “He wasn’t topping you, Remi. He was beating you. Surely you can tell the difference.”

Remi licks his lips, and I dart forward so that his tongue touches my lips as well. Remi rolls his eyes, but lifts his hand to cup my face, before dragging his tongue over my slightly parted mouth.

“Thank you,” I mumble playfully.

I step away from his grasp, and my smile falters when I see his robe.

“Drop it,” I tell him, hardening my voice.

“Excuse me?” he snaps, anger coating his words.

“You want to be topped, well here I am. Drop the fucking robe, Remi, and let me see what that bastard did to you.”

Remi just stands there, his arms hanging loosely at his side.

“Now!” I snap in a low growl, and Remi shudders from head to toe. Almost against his will, it seems, he tugs on the tie holding the fabric together. It opens slightly and he shrugs his shoulders to let it fall to the floor.

I lift my finger and twirl it in a circle, and Remi twists on his feet before presenting me his back.

The best I can say is Samuel stayed away from the danger areas.

---