Break Me Down (5 page)

Gibson shrugged and then gave one of those pirate grins, all dimples and scruff and bad boy next door. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to come with me. So I made sure I had a plan B.”

Her stomach dropped. “Plan B?”

“Yep. Good to always have one in business and in life.” He stepped past her, back into the house, taking Sasha with him. “Congratulations, you have your first houseguest. Two if you count Sash.”

Every one of Sam’s feathers fluffed up. “Oh, the hell I do.
Guest
would imply that you were invited, which you’re not. There’s only one functioning bedroom in this place.”

Something flickered in his eyes at that, but it quickly disappeared. “I have a sleeping bag in the trunk. I can take a couch or the floor. And Sasha will behave. She can hang out in the backyard if need be. It’s this or you come home. Not negotiable, sunshine.”

“I’m not going . . .” She barely resisted the impulse to stomp her foot. Instead, she smacked him on the arm—hard. Then when that felt good, she did it again. Then she pushed him. “Goddammit, Gib. You can’t—”

All the rage from the night before was bubbling up and out. He was backing her into a corner and she didn’t fucking like it. She was spent and exhausted and emotionally wrung out and she wanted to hit things. Hit him. She pushed again, and he rocked back a step, staying silent and stoic, even with Sasha barking at the ruckus.

“What is wrong with you? You can’t do this.” Angry words spilled out of her with every shove. Words that didn’t make sense. Words that weren’t even directed at him. But he said nothing. Soon he was up against the wall and she was pummeling the sides of her fists against his chest like some crazed thing.

He didn’t resist, just let her push and hit. Absorbed her violence. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stop. She saw blurred colors and realized she was crying again. Sobbing and yelling.
Jesus.

“Fuck.
Fuck!
” Her voice raked over her raw throat.

“Baby,” he said, almost too softly to hear above her own tirade and Sasha’s confused barking. “It’s okay. Just let that shit out. Whatever you need to do.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t deal with this right now. With him. She gave another halfhearted push. But when she finally ran out of steam, almost collapsing into his chest from the exhaustion, she looked up at him.

And that did her in. The expression on his face was so heartbreakingly tender she couldn’t bear it. He’d let her beat him to a pulp if she wanted. She knew it. Saw it there. Her head spun. Crazy woman, meet immovable force. She closed her eyes, the floor feeling as if it were tilting beneath her feet. Was she still crying? Yeah, she was. She couldn’t even feel it anymore. Her chest heaved with broken breaths.

Gibson’s arms were around her before she could topple over. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just take a slow breath. It’s all right. You’re tired. Your body’s giving out on you.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

But either he didn’t hear or he ignored it because in the next second, he was lifting her in his arms. She gave one feeble smack against his chest.
No. Put me down.
But the words didn’t come out. Maybe she didn’t want them to.

“Where’s your room?”

She couldn’t fight anymore. Not right now. Her head sagged against his shoulder. “Upstairs.”

Gibson didn’t say another word. He carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing and started opening doors. When she heard the skittering of dog nails on hardwood and a bark, she knew Gib had found the right room.

“Hey, there, pretty boy,” Gibson said to Darcy. “Let me get your momma inside, all right?”

Sasha whined from downstairs, and that was the end of that. Darcy scampered from the room in search of a friend to play with. His ears failed him sometimes in sleep, but his nose was deadly accurate.

Gibson strode across the room and laid Sam on the bed. He settled her against her pillows and pulled her grandmother’s handmade quilt over her, the baked-in smell of home enveloping her. She opened her eyes, painfully embarrassed that he was seeing her like this but too wiped to fight back anymore. “I’m going to get the sheets all gross.”

He pushed her hair away from her tear-streaked face. “So I’ll wash them when you wake up. If you don’t get some rest, you’re going to pass out on your feet.”

“I haven’t agreed to let you stay.”

A little smile tugged at the corners of those built-for-sin lips. “That’s ’cause I didn’t ask. We’ll talk after you wake up.”

She closed her eyes, her lids feeling too heavy to hold up. “You haven’t slept either.”

“I’ll take the dogs out and then I’ll crash.”

Part of her wanted to peel back the covers and let him slide in next to her. He smelled good, and having that big solid body next to her felt like the best kind of medicine. But she knew that was the crazy sleep deprivation talking. “The couch in the living room is pretty comfortable. There’s an extra quilt in the closet.”

“Thanks.”

She yawned. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

Warm lips pressed to her forehead, sending a shiver right through her. “I’m not.”

She opened her eyes at that to find him wearing a resigned smile.

“I’ve taken far worse from you, mistress. If it makes you feel better, I can handle it.”

Despite her utter exhaustion, the words sent a curling warmth down her spine. “I wouldn’t be so cocky. You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You’re right. I haven’t been that lucky.”

The longing look he gave her nearly zapped her out of her state.

But before she could respond, he released her hand and stood. “See you on the other side, sunshine.”

She watched him go, the honed muscles in his back shifting beneath his shirt, that bitable ass fitting his jeans just right. God, he was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt.

See you on the other side.

Yeah.

She just wished it was on the other side of her flogger.

With that delicious image lingering in her mind, she fell into a deep sleep, the nightmares kept at bay by one big Texan with a dimpled smile and a stubborn attitude.

Gibson’s body was too long for the couch, so he’d only managed a couple of hours of sleep, but he didn’t care. He was here. Sam was safely tucked away upstairs. He’d deal with any discomfort involved as long as he could guarantee that.

When he’d driven along the winding, overgrown road that led to the place, he’d never been so worried in his life. This place was at least two miles from anything but fields and cows. Beyond some psycho finding Sam out here alone, what would happen if she hurt herself? Remodeling a house alone was never a good idea. Too many things could go wrong. But out here where cell phones didn’t work? That was crazy. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he would call out his guy friends on something like that, too.

He’d always been drawn to Sam because of her moxie and take-no-prisoners attitude. That was sexy to him in so many ways he couldn’t list them all. She was all fire and sharp edges. But sometimes she could take that invincible attitude too far. He got that she didn’t want anyone to see her as anything but the spirited tough girl. He got that more than she realized. He’d grown up having to shield weak spots, too. But when she’d opened the door this morning, looking so broken-down and emptied out, the harsh ache in his chest had nearly cracked him open.

That shit was unacceptable. No one got to hurt Sam like that, make her cry, put their hands on her. Those idiots from the bar were lucky he didn’t know how to find them. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from tearing them apart with his bare hands.

But if he couldn’t take out the threat, at least he could be here to take care of Sam now. Not that she’d actually
let
him take care of her. He was under no assumption that he’d won this battle. Once she got a good block of sleep and had her full strength, she’d be back to trying to kick him out. He was prepared to be the ultimate pain in the ass, though. He wasn’t going anywhere unless she came with him.

Hard limit.

After trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch and almost setting off a charley horse in his leg, he gave up on getting any more sleep. He got up off the couch, made a trip to the half-finished bathroom down the hall, and then strolled over to examine the unfinished dining room. Sasha got up from the spot she’d adopted by the unlit fireplace in the living room and followed. Her new best friend, Darcy, joined her.
Click, click, click.
Nothing more comforting than dog nails tapping on wood.

Gibson reached out to scratch Sash’s head as she sat next to him, her butt half on his foot. “Need to go out, pretty girl?”

Sasha whined and did a little hop with her front legs. Darcy’s tail thumped the floor in a frenetic beat, and he got that near-manic look border collies seemed to be so good at.
Let’s do this, bitches!
That’s what Darcy seemed to be saying.

“All right, you two. I hear ya. Time to get a taste of the country.” He led them through the kitchen and opened up the back door. There was a large space behind the house that looked to be a long-neglected vegetable garden, but it was fenced
and may as well have been labeled Curious Dog Paradise. The dogs bolted outside, happily barking and chasing off the crows that had been pecking around for breakfast. Gib watched them for a while, enjoying their exuberance and making sure they weren’t going to mess with anything that could get them into trouble, then he let the screen door shut and went back inside.

The floors creaked as he made his way back to the front of the house. He examined the dining room with critical eyes. It looked like one small patch of floor was left. Sam had been close to done when he’d interrupted last night. Yet another valid reason for her to be mad at him.

He squatted down and picked up the sanding machine. It’d been a while since he’d tackled any home improvement projects. His position as head of PR at Vandergriff kept him too busy. But when he’d first bought his house, it had been in pretty rough shape. He’d taken on weekend projects to get it how he wanted it. He’d learned a lot and messed up more. A handyman, he was not. But he understood the satisfaction Sam probably got from doing this herself. It could be cathartic.

“I don’t suggest you turn that on unless you know what to do with it,” Sam said from behind him.

He turned around, finding her at the bottom of the stairs, raven hair damp and twisted into a messy bun atop her head. Face scrubbed clean. She looked so young standing there. He was used to seeing her with her dark eyeliner and hair done in some quirky way. But this version of her was just as breath-stealing. He held up the sander. “Don’t turn it on unless I know what to do with it. There’s a dirty joke in there.”

She smirked, some of that trademark attitude back, despite the lingering ghosts in her eyes. “So do you? Know what to do?”

“With a woman or home improvement equipment?”

“I already know you know what to do with a woman.”

He tilted his head. Flirty Sam. Yes. Yes, he liked this. “I’m not quite as skilled with machinery, but I can hold my own. Why? Gonna put me to work to earn my keep?”

She walked forward, her beat-up Vans silent on the floors. “Hmm, now there’s an idea.”

The tone of her voice had slipped into a dangerous place, one he recognized. One
his body
recognized. “I don’t mind helping.”

She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, her vintage No Doubt T-shirt stretching thin across her breasts as she considered him. “Is that right?”

He lost his focus for a moment just looking at her. Her shirt read
Just A Girl,
but that was far from the truth. She was so much more. A fucking mystery wrapped up in smarts and sex appeal and kink. He’d only gotten to touch her once, but he hadn’t forgotten how those pert breasts had felt in his palms, how her body had responded to his touch, how it had seemed like the goddamned sun had come out when he’d made her come. His blood rushed south at the memory, and he had to shift his stance to tamp down the reaction. How big of an asshole would he be, getting hard and horny the morning after Sam had been attacked? He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can help with whatever you need.”

Her smile was quick, not too big, but enough to punch him in the gut. “Those are mighty vague terms, Gib. You should know how dangerous that is in negotiations. I could make you strip naked and clean the bathroom grout with a toothbrush while I sip iced tea and watch.”

He set down the sander and ran a hand over the back of his hair. She’d meant it as a joke. He tried to smile but managed only a tight grimace. Any image where he got on his knees for her pushed that forbidden button inside him. “Right.”

The silver ring in her eyebrow twitched up as if she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. “Nah, never mind. I know how you can help.
Leave.
”

“Not happening.”

Her eyes narrowed, the hint of humor gone from her expression now. “You know I can outlast you, right? I’m staying here all week. You’ll need to go to work before I do.”

He shrugged. “I can afford to take time off. My staff can cover for me.”

“You would miss a whole week of work just to babysit me? Come on, Gib. That’s dumb.”

“Not leaving, Sam.”

Something fierce flashed in her eyes—lightning in a night storm. “So your solution to helping a woman who was almost forced into something is to force her into something? That’s fucked up, Gib. This dominance bullshit doesn’t work on me.”

“So ignore me. Pretend I’m not here. I don’t care. But do you actually think I could just drive away and go about my week, knowing that you’re out here alone? Knowing that if something happened to you, no one would be here to help? If you think that, you don’t know me at all. I’ll sleep on the goddamned porch if I have to.”

She threw her arms out to her sides, irritation marking every angle of her body. “God, stop acting like I’m some damsel in distress! I’m a grown woman who knows how to lock a door and shoot a gun. You know how many times I’ve been out here alone? I’ve been alone my whole goddamned life and in a lot scarier places than this. I don’t need a bodyguard. And I definitely don’t need you.”

The words were harsh, her voice loud, but he could see the frayed edges. Sam wasn’t herself. This was the duct-taped version of the woman he knew. This was what Tess had warned him about. He had to tread carefully. If he dinged her pride or pushed too hard, she’d shut him out completely. He wanted to reach out to her, but she was so tense she was vibrating with it, strung up tight and on edge. If he reached for her, she’d probably take a swing at him. “I know you can handle yourself. But this isn’t safe. I get that you want your vacation. I’m not begrudging you that. But I’m not leaving you here alone. So I’ll do whatever you need me to as long as you let me stay.”

A muscle in her jaw ticked. “Whatever I need. Sure. As long as it’s on your terms. You weren’t willing to give me what I needed last night at the Ranch. You had your chance. I asked for your help and you turned me away.”

The words were like bullets and his defenses rose up. “You weren’t in any state to play last night. Even Grant saw that.”

She scoffed and turned her back on him, staring out the window. “As if you would’ve said yes, anyway. That’s bull and you know it. You were embarrassed. People looked at you and you were fucking
ashamed
, like God forbid they think the
mighty Gibson Andrews would kneel for someone like me.”

That did it. Any semblance of calm flew right out of him. Mainly because she was right. Not about her. But about the embarrassment. He’d acted like a coward.

“You want to beat me, Sam?” he said, his voice rising. “Is that what you really need? You want to take all that anger boiling inside you and rip me to shreds? Then fucking do it. Put me on my knees and do it.”

She stiffened, her back going ramrod straight. Her fingers flexed at her sides. “Leave, Gib. Now.”

Her words threw him, the fear lacing them. But it wasn’t fear of him. He felt that in his bones. It was fear of the temptation. She wanted what he’d offered. He could almost taste it in the air. She needed to rage. To fight. To do what she couldn’t last night when those guys had grabbed her.

Acting purely on instinct and adrenaline, he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her tight, pinning her arms to her sides. “Make me.”

She wrenched in his arms, kicking out. “What are you doing? Get the hell off me.”

He pressed his mouth against her ear. “Make. Me.”

A grinding sound of rage came out of her, and in two swift moves, she jammed on his foot and then let all her weight drop in his hold. The sharp pain in his foot made him loosen his grip and she went to the floor. Before he could swipe for her again, she was spinning onto her feet and coming at him. She shoved him hard. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The fire in her eyes was real. Blazing. And though he hated the reason it was there, it chased heat through him just the same. Lit things up. Trails of light and desire. “Lots of things.”

She shoved him again, her little body packing more power than anyone looking at her would expect. He let the force of it back him up another step. “You think I can’t kick you out of here? You think you’re the big man who can just decide you’re staying?” She poked a hard finger to his chest as his back hit the wall. “Don’t think I won’t drive up the road and call the cops, tell them you’re trespassing. You’re leaving.”

The words bounced off the wall, her cheeks red with anger and eyes wild. She looked like an avenging angel. The kind who’d fallen a long time ago and would do very bad things to take him down with her. He wanted to grab her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to chase all that darkness from last night out of her eyes. “I’m not leaving. So get over it.”

Something snapped in her expression. Boom. Her hand came up and she slapped him right across the face. Hard and stinging. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was like a thunderclap in the small room.

He closed his eyes, air rushing from his lungs.

But when he opened them again, she was staring at him, her eyes wide with horror.

“Oh, shit.” The color drained from her face. She put her palm to the place that was now burning from the hit. “Gib, I’m— God, I don’t know what— I’m sorry.”

He turned his face away and swallowed hard. “It’s fine.”

“No. It’s
so
not. I’m sorry. I’m—I’m fucked up right now. I didn’t mean . . . Are you okay?”

Ha. If she only knew. He inhaled a deep breath, trying to will away the reaction that had stirred the minute she’d shoved him. But there was no stopping it. The slap had been the final switch. “I goaded you. My fault. I’m good.”

“But . . .” At that, her gaze traveled over his face, over the place she’d struck, and then lower. She would see. He couldn’t let her see.

He tried to step around her, but she put a staying hand on his shoulder. He could easily move past her. But the simple touch locked him in place. His body obeying the silent command—
stay put
. He let his back press into the wall.

The expression on her face morphed from regret to something altogether different when her focus zeroed in on the obvious outline in his jeans. Her forehead wrinkled, and she glanced up at him. “Gib . . .”

He forced a smirk, tried to make it casual. “Just ignore it. Thing’s got a hair trigger around you.”

Her eyes searched his, questions there, then answers. “Because I hit you.”

“Because you’re you, sunshine,” he said, honesty falling out of him. “I’m sorry. Shitty time for my body to decide to do its own thing. I’m not trying to come on to you. Just trying to be here for you. Give me a second and it will go away.”

Lines bracketed her mouth as her gaze traveled over his body again. His cock throbbed now, her eyes on him like gas on the flames he was desperately trying to put out. She kept her hand against his shoulder, her fingers curling into him. Then her nails dug hard into his flesh through his T-shirt.

A sharp kick of arousal went through him. Before he could think to stem his reaction, a breath hissed out of him, and his cock flexed against his zipper. Sam didn’t miss it. Like a predator scenting blood, she was onto him.