Breach: The Boxset (9 page)

The light was starting to come in through the windows, illuminating his body. He was lying there, naked, the sheet barely covering below the waist, one of his legs sticking out. I had never seen him naked before. He’d always been half-dressed. But in that moment, I could admire him in all his glory.

I walked closer to the bed to get a better look and my stomach dropped. The sight before me was horrific. It felt as though I’d been punched in the gut.

A thick, jagged, and raised pink scar ran on his left side from his ribs, down his side, and around his hip. It wasn’t the only scar. Some were jagged, others straight, but all were smaller than the one on his side, marring his beautiful body.  There were holes next to some, indicating the wound had been stitched or stapled up. His left leg held the second largest scar, and it ran from above his knee to halfway down his shin. I studied his face as I tried to keep myself together. That was when I noticed the star-shaped scar in his hairline, right above his ear.

It was part of his puzzle, a big piece of his mystery. Something happened to him, something terrible, and he shut himself off from everything. My heart was breaking as I took in the sight of the evidence of his once-broken body.

Tears flowed in steady streams down my face as I dropped to the ground, my legs giving out. I erupted in violent shakes, arms wrapping around my body, trying desperately to keep the sob that was threatening to escape within me.

“Lila?” His voice was groggy and thick with sleep. He jumped out of bed and stood in front of me, giving me the full view of his body and all the damage that had been inflicted. The sob broke from my chest, and it was painful and raw. “
Lila
?”

He dropped down on the ground in front of me, and I flung my arms around his neck, pulling him close. Tears fell from my eyes as his arms wrapped around my body, his head dipping into the crook of my neck.

“What happened? What happened to you?” I asked through my sobs. His grip grew tighter as if he was using my body to hold his own together, to keep himself from breaking.

“Please, don’t ask me that. Please… I can’t…”

We held each other on the floor for what seemed like hours until my tears stopped. I leaned away from him to see a frightened look in his eyes. My gaze wandered his body, my fingers reaching out to trace the large scar around his hip. He didn’t flinch at my investigation, but stared at me in wonder.

He leaned in and took my bottom lip between his teeth, staring into my eyes. He was searching for something, but he couldn’t find it.

“Push me away. You have to,” he demanded. His eyes were haunted and scared.

“No.”

“
Push me away
!”

“
I can’t
!” I cried out, the tears returning.

His body sagged. “Why? Tell me why…say it.”

My heart was breaking for the hollow, empty shell of a man in front of me. “Because I want you! I want you so much it hurts! I need all of you, and I can’t deny it anymore.”

He looked down at me, his inner conflict and turmoil evident on his face.

His fingers brushed strands of hair behind my ear as he cupped my face. “I can’t give you what you want, beautiful. I’ll only hurt you.”

“It’s okay. If it’s you, I don’t mind.”

“Stop,” he pleaded, his hands coming up in surrender. “Let’s just go back to bed.”

“Okay…okay.”

With that, we returned to the sanctuary that was his bed and curled up in each other’s arms. It seemed to be what we both wanted, what we both needed. He was relenting, if even a little, and letting himself simply be.

CHAPTER 9

It’d been a week since I admitted to myself I was altered. That
Nathan
had altered me. The growing feelings for him I’d kept hidden were out. The night after we left the club made me face that fact.  How I thought and felt about him changed. He wasn’t the asshole I thought he was when I first met him. He was a broken man, and it made me wonder—can two broken souls make one whole person?

He intrigued me, it wasn’t only sex anymore. Every time his guard dropped around me, I saw the real Nathan, and I liked him. I wanted him. Every day I needed him more. Any thought of leaving him and returning to the way we were was painful.

One week had passed since he conceded to letting himself have
something
with me. It was undefined and not spoken about out loud, little different than it was in the beginning. The exception was that every night he was either in my bed, or I was in his. It started on Saturday night when he showed up at my door just before midnight and took me against the wall in the entryway.

For three nights in a row, I was running to answer his knock near midnight. He’d fucked me like I’d never been fucked before. His eyes were dark and angry as he snarled at me, always reminding me he believed his lust for me was my fault. Hands dug into my flesh, bruising me. They were harsh as he pulled me to him at the same time he pushed me away. Then we’d crawl into bed and fall sleep, his arms wrapped around me with the same intensity he’d used to fuck me.

On the fourth night, things changed. It was past midnight, and he hadn’t knocked on my door. I knew of his struggle, and if I truly wanted him, I was going to have to fight for him. So, a few minutes before one in the morning, I knocked on
his
door and fucked
him
into oblivion, then collapsed, exhausted, in
his
bed.

I’d never had such a peaceful sleep. The cure for my insomnia appeared to be a hard fucking, as I had passed out every night and did not wake until the alarm went off the next morning.

That lasted until the wee hours of Saturday morning when I felt the bed shake before Nathan screamed out—a sound so raw and harrowing, I knew it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

His body was shaking, his chest gasping for air as he swung his legs around the side of the bed. He fumbled in the dark with the light switch, and I cringed against the sudden, intense glow that filled the room. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard a drawer open and the clinking of plastic and what sounded like pills bouncing around. Frustrated sounds and movements came from him in his frantic search. Once he found the right bottle, he opened a container and threw his head back.

I crawled out from under the comforter to sit next to him, my eyes having adjusted to the light. He must have felt the bed move, because his hand shot out and pushed the drawer closed, as if he didn’t want me to see the contents inside. He was still breathing hard, his face contorted in pain and anguish. My chest constricted; his agony became mine. It was so overpowering at times. I wondered how he even managed day-to-day tasks. Or was it my presence? It was always me that set him off, that much I knew. He never did explain why, other than he was angry at himself for wanting me and giving into that want to some degree.

My hands reached up to cup his face. His pained gaze met mine as he leaned into my touch.

“Ssshhh,” I soothed, my other hand stroking the sweat-matted hair from his face. “It’s all right, baby. Everything’s all right.”

His lips caught mine in a harsh kiss. He didn’t say anything, but pulled me close as we lay back down. His arms wrapped around my body, head lowering to the crook of my neck. My hands began running through his hair.

After a while he calmed, and his breath blowing across my chest slowed to an even cadence. Tears stung my eyes, but I pushed them back. I needed to be stronger if I was going to help him—a large feat for me.

It was Wednesday when Caroline dragged me out into the spring rain for lunch at our favorite dive.  It was a hole-in-the-wall bar that served some of the best potato skins I’d ever had. It was a rare treat to split an order, and I was willing to brave the weather for the wonderful tastes that awaited.

We placed our order and included side salads to make it a little less terrible.

“So, you got laid?” she asked without missing a beat.

I choked on the drink as it went down the wrong pipe, and almost spit some of my soda across the table at her. “W-what?”

“You heard me. You. Got. Laid.”

“How… Why do you think that?”

“Oh, come on, Lila. I’ve known you since we interned together between L2 and L3. That’s five years, if you’re trying to figure it out.”

I sighed. “Fine. Yes, I got laid. Happy?”

“No. Who is he?” She was not letting the subject go, her lips curling into a smile.

“Just some guy I met,” I lied, trying to brush it off. I wanted to tell her it was Nathan, but how was I supposed to explain our situation? I didn’t want to tell her about his scars and his self-imposed inability to love. I didn’t want to gossip about his pain. I wanted to protect him. I needed Nathan. So, I would lie to my best friend for now in the hopes that soon I could tell her everything.

“And?” she pressed. “Name? Date of birth? Social security number? Birthmarks and tattoos?” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

I laughed at her absurdity, and it felt good. “His name?” I felt the blood leech out of my face. My mind raced to come up with something when Nathan’s middle name popped up. I remembered seeing it on some of his access paperwork. “Christopher, his name is Christopher.”

“Was he at the club the other night?”

Oh, thank the heavens, something I didn’t have to lie about. “Yeah.”

“Well, obviously you liked him enough to have fun with him on multiple occasions.”

I couldn’t help the sad smile that formed on my face. “I like him, I do.”

“
But
?”

“But, he has some issues he’s working through, so I’m not really sure how he feels about me.”

“Well, if you can keep your self-flogging at bay, maybe you two can help each other. It’s obvious he likes something about you if he keeps coming back for more.”

“The feeling of me wrapped around his…” I trailed off, the waiter smirking as he set down our food.

Caroline laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in. I felt lighter after telling her, even though it wasn’t much. It felt good to talk about him in some fashion to someone other than myself. We ate our treats and headed back to the office, and I went straight back to the mysterious god that sat in the desk next to me.

Two days later, I was squirming in my chair, my mind envisioning the previous evening’s activities, and it was making my panties soaked. Every day seemed to be growing longer; minutes where like hours. His scent filled the confines of our office, making my cravings for him stronger with each tick of the clock. I wanted him all the damn time. 

I absently twirled a pen in my mouth as I attempted to read over the contract in front of me. It had been a day for reading and re-reading, and starting over because I didn’t catch anything. I didn’t even realize I had begun daydreaming, the pen sliding between my lips, until my phone began to buzz, breaking me from my trance. It was a text from Nathan, sitting right next to me. I’d forgotten we exchanged numbers. Curious, I opened the message and wished I hadn’t. It was too much for me to handle.

If you keep sucking on that pen I WILL drag you off to a secluded spot and shove my cock in your mouth.

My eyes widened, and I choked on said pen while I read his text. The message was so hot my whole body lit up, and I licked my lips at the thought. Fantasies about places he would drag me to were rampant in my mind when my phone buzzed with another message from him.

And you will choke like that around my cock when I jam it all the way down your fucking tease of a throat.

I had to begin fanning myself with the still unread contract. My face was so hot, I was certain it was Santa-suit red.

“Hey, Delilah,” Benjamin called from the doorway. “Can I get your help on this verbiage...? You okay?”

I gave him a fake smile. “Fine, just got a little hot all of the sudden.”

“Well, keep your cooties to yourself. Marianne will kill me if I bring home another illness from work,” he said with a laugh. Benjamin was such a sweet guy, and his very pregnant wife had gotten sick earlier in the year and she was unable to take much medicine, adding to her increasing level of discomfort.

“I’m not sure that what’s wrong with Delilah is contagious,” Nathan spoke, interrupting our conversation, his eyes trained on the screen in front of him.

I quirked my brow at him. “And exactly what is ‘wrong’ with me?”

“Few screws loose there, drunkie. Now, be a dear and help Benjamin out so you can get back to drooling all over the Henderson contract,” he taunted.

“Screw you.” I scowled at him and turned back to Benjamin. “So, verbiage?”

I worked with him for about half an hour before returning to my attempt at concentrating on my work. A difficult task when I was still so worked up from the texts Nathan had sent me.

It was after six when we saw Benjamin again, dropping by to let us know everyone was gone and to lock up when we left. I sat stock still at my desk, paralyzed. A sudden extreme awareness of Nathan, and how we were alone, hit me. The words of his texts came back to me, and a small moan slipped from my lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him look briefly at me before resuming his work.

After a few minutes of pin-drop silence, Nathan rose from his chair and walked to the door. He reached out and slammed it shut, the sound making me jump. My breathing became labored, my body shaking in anticipation as the click of the lock echoed in my ears. He turned toward me; his eyes were dark, menacing, and full of lust.

He stared at me as his fingers worked to undo his tie, while he stalked his way over to me.

“You have been a very naughty girl today.” His hand wrapped around the fabric, slipping it from around his neck. “Naughty girls get punished.
Hard
. I don’t think I can wait any longer to punish you…”

My thighs were rubbing together, my bottom lip caught between my teeth to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. It was too late. The look in his eyes was animalistic, and I was dripping for him. He grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet, and turned me around. My arms were pinned behind my back, the silk of his tie wrapping around my wrists, binding them.