Page 112 of Their Broken Legend

The pressure killing me…

A long, hard growl leaves my lips as it becomes too much, so I take a fist full of her silky burnt-caramel strands, tighten my shoulder muscles and arms in preparation and start to fuck her hard and fast.

She wakes up with a throaty cry, panic tightening her body and shuddering her breaths.Panicis good. I’m glad her body’s innate reaction is shock.

“It’s okay, Baby,” I growl into her hair, pinning her body down and thrashing into her from behind. “Fuckingtakeme.God, you take me so good. Fuck.” I bite the words out, and her cries dwindle to whimpers, adrenaline and fear and pleasure all opposing in the sound. It turns me on even more. “This is it. You’ll take me when I need. Promise me? Promise you’ll tell me the truth. Stay by my side. Let me protect you.” I hear the desperation in my voice, but I can’t veil it. I want us raw. Honest. It’s how I want to love her. AndGod, do I love her. I need her. She put herself in danger yesterday, and damn— “Promise me?”

Her nails claw at the sheets by her head, but her body relaxes and takes my drives, jerking up the mattress, but held in place by my fist in her hair.

“Yes,”she moans, her pussy kneading at my cock as she comes apart. The tight grip of her muscles burst the pressure at my abdomen, detonating my orgasm through my thighs and core. As I come inside her, I growl against the shuddering intensity of filling her. Of my own cum around my cock. Of running out of room inside her so we both become messy and wet with my orgasm.

Dropping my head into her hair, I collapse, my weight pressing her beneath me as I ride my climax down. Through twitching muscles, I feel all the tension and anxiety wash away on a wave of calm and contentment. She trusts me with her body. She trustsme.So, I’ll fight to make myself trust her again. I’llmakeit happen.

I smile into her hair. “Are you okay, Baby?”

“Yes,” she whispers, still panting. “Are you?”

Goddammit.

I love this woman.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

kaya

The ensuingthree days soar by in a blur of rebuilding rooms, painting cracks, healing conversations between my mum and my sisters, lunches with Stacey and her girlfriend, and random Butcher Brother drop-ins that have everything to do withman-sitting,but Xander and I don’t mind.

At night, we spend hours sweating all over each other, fucking truth and trust into our relationship with bruising mouths and worshipful tongues.

We have ventured out for the first time today to purchase a poker table and some couches for the new entertainment and activity space.

I never pegged myself as a homemaker—I still don’t. I always envisioned a future with dress suits, briefcases, business cards, and a personal assistant named Sharron. I would be running a company by the age of twenty-five like my dad—But it was never my dream.

My actions never proved to honour that ideal. Not even once. I refused to study. I always had,‘somewhere to be, someone to see, somewhere else to go.’Studying bored me. And I refused to go straight to university; lecture halls seemed too conforming and orderly. I don’t think that was ever for me.

So, while I have no intention of making a living as a designer or wifey, furniture shopping for the new extension is ridiculously fun. I have always liked spending money. And this is like staging Sylvanians… only larger and with fewer woodland creatures.

The exterior of the Butcher residence is modern with straight lines and large, rendered feature walls in white and red brick, so we went full-blown masculine and organic for his third-storey décor. With brown leather couches and dark grey walls, it’s kind of moody but in a sexy way.

On our way out of the shopping complex, I detour to the ladies’ room. I sit down to pee and think about what it might be like to ‘make a home’ with Xander Butcher.

One of our own.

It’s a cute picture of perfection, akin to the one I grew up in, except this love and loyalty aren’t a mere façade—it’s the roots of the entire appearance.

Still, as pretty as the idea of nesting with Xander is, it doesn’t seem to fit us. Quiet weekends… Movie dates… We are too… unsettled, unstable, and full of fire for that life.

We’re the ‘anywhere but here’ people. Busy. Changing. I’m not sure the settled life will ever be right for people like Xander and me. Happiness will be found in our adventures.

“To the moon,” I had said to him that day when he followed me with his car.

“Can I come?” he replied without thinking.

Yes, Xander.

Let’s go to the moon.

Smiling, I leave the cubicle when a body meets mine, forcing my feet back into the small space.Xander?My gaze darts up the wall of thick muscles radiating angry heat.

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