BreakMeIn (4 page)

“Do I see a glimmer of a hopeless romantic hiding behind
your tough-as-nails exterior?”

She smoothed her hands over her thighs again. “No, you’ve
just entered the Twilight Zone.”

“I should keep an eye out for strange things on the wing of
my plane then?”

“I still say John Lithgow rocked his role as John Valentine.
Nightmare at 20,000 Feet
freaked me out for years to come. Couldn’t fly
for the longest time. Kept thinking I was going to look out the window and
there that little gremlin would be.” She licked her lips, a move that had the
power to turn him into nothing more than a gelatinous pile of goo ready to do
her bidding. “So are you coming?”

Not yet. But I would for…

“Alex?”

He cleared his throat, shifting in the chair as he did. “Uh,
yeah. Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. It’s at the warehouse under Patrick’s apartment. I
got a little carried away with the guest list. Needed plenty of space.”

His gut clenched. Patrick and Allison’s wedding had marked
the first time he’d stepped foot in the warehouse Patrick cherished so much. He
knew what else went on inside those walls. Well, not firsthand. But he had a
brain. And an imagination. One that seemed to be working overtime lately. Even
as a teenager going through the rigors of puberty he hadn’t had the kind of
amazing dreams that had been plaguing him.

Being there during the reception had been hard enough. Once
more he would have to be in the same space where Elena ruled with a gloved
fist. He had to be there and not pine like some teenager lusting after the girl
he couldn’t get. Or ever have thanks to his behavior. He’d have to settle for
whatever scraps remained of their friendship.

“So you should be there around eight since I’m telling them
to be there around eight thirty. Want to make sure everyone is settled in and
having a good time before they arrive.”

“Sure.”

“Great.” She rose, shouldering her bag after buttoning her
coat. “See you there, then.”

* * * * *

The party was already in full swing by the time Alex arrived
on Saturday. Elena had transformed the warehouse into a sparkling garden of
lights. Small fountains burbled in each corner of the space while rail-style
benches had been placed randomly through the room. It was as though he’d
stepped into Central Park on a beautiful summer night.

Soft and romantic.

Timeless and classic.

And just fucking perfect.

He waved away the server who approached with a tray of
champagne glasses, opting for the cash bar tucked discreetly into one corner. “Bushmills
if you have it.”

“Ten or twenty-one?”

Leave it to Elena to serve top-shelf alcohol. What the hell,
might as well live it up. The bartender served up a generous three fingers of
the twenty-one-year whiskey.

Alex turned, facing the crowd. The prospect of slapping a
smile on his face and pretending everything in his life was hunkyfreakingdory
wasn’t appealing. Instead he located an overstuffed sofa near the front
entrance, sinking into it as he did his best to fade into the background.
Couples milled around, chatting about whatever had their attention for the
moment.

For the most part they ignored him.

He’d come to this event as a courtesy to Elena. Sure, he
liked Genevieve Lambert well enough and she was one hell of a chef who had
certainly made his mouth water more than once with her delectable treats. But
aside from the early morning deliveries she made to Perfect Shot, and the
occasional meal at her restaurant when he and his ex-wife had dined out, he
knew little about the woman.

He knew even less about Anthony Fitzgerald, the owner of
616, the sole comic book shop in Gatlin Falls. Since Tony was one of Allison’s
gamer friends he should have probably gotten to know him a bit more, but it
wasn’t as though he didn’t have enough on his plate without adding social
interactions to the list.

He’d been a little preoccupied for the past year.

Besides, he wanted the opportunity to talk to Elena again to
convince her showing him the slice of her life she’d kept hidden away was one
of the best ideas he’d ever had. As he lifted his glass to his lips the crowd
parted, giving him the perfect view of the host of tonight’s festivities.

It was as though the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

His heart tripped at the sight of her utter perfection so
available to his roving gaze. Black leather knee-high boots cupped her calves,
the narrow heels elongating her shapely legs. Her simple black skirt dropped to
just above her knees, the waist of the skirt sweeping up to disappear under the
emerald-green top she wore.

No, he corrected, not
top
—corset.

She wore a white button-down shirt beneath it, offsetting
the masculinity of the cut by lacing the tight leather corset wrapped around
her shapely form. As she moved through the guests she’d invited he noticed
there wasn’t a zipper to be found on the item, which meant she’d been laced in.
It wasn’t the kind of corset a woman could get into by herself. Someone else
had to have assisted her in getting ready for the party tonight.

A flare of jealousy slapped at him, a black mark scoring his
vision.

The fingers clenched tightly around the glass itched at the
thought of lacing her into the corset, shaping and molding her body into an
exaggerated hourglass. His mouth watered at the thought of worshipping her for
hours on end.

And good Christ, those magnificent breasts.

They were pillowed along the top of the corset, supported by
the restraint of the leather. Even during the most casual—and vanilla—of events,
she held a commanding air that called to him. She demanded to be noticed and to
hell with anyone who didn’t like her forwardness.

He liked the way her entire body moved as she served
appetizers. She may not have realized it, but she doted on everyone. Checking
to make sure everyone had what they needed as they waited for the happy couple
to arrive so the party could really begin.

He very much wanted to keep her satisfied.

“You keep eye-fucking her and
I’m
going to have to
wear a condom.”

Shit. He hadn’t realized he was staring so hard. Sliding
over to make room, he nodded in greeting to one of Patrick’s close friends,
Dade Ellingson, as he dropped onto the couch next to him. “Just enjoying the
party. Nothing to see here.”

“Except she is the one you’re looking for.” Dade waved away
the same server Alex had dismissed earlier. “You look…like a bulldozer ran over
you.”

“Gee, thanks for the compliment.” He scanned the crowd,
looking over at the sea of faces he’d once spent time socializing with. Now he
couldn’t care less if he talked to them. Though it appeared as if the feeling
was mutual. Most of them hadn’t even given him the barest of glances. “Got a
hot date or a few with you tonight?”

“Flying solo.”

A soft hush spread through the crowd, a signal the couple
was approaching. Alex finished off the last of his whiskey and stood. “Ready to
make nice?”

“Not my scene. Not even sure why I came tonight.” Dade’s gaze
flicked to the entrance as Tony and Genevieve spilled through the warehouse
doors. “Looks as if someone has already started the party.” Dade pushed off the
couch and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Alex stared after Dade, wondering why the man’s mood had
suddenly taken a nosedive and his social skills had evaporated. A cheer rang
out as Tony grabbed Genevieve and dipped her back for a heated kiss, molding
his hand to her ass as he did. She squealed for effect, wrapping her arms
around his neck to pull him tightly against her.

“He’s been acting very odd lately.”

Alex turned to find Elena, a tray of assorted fruit perched
just above her shoulder. Everything inside him seemed to freeze as those
breasts he’d admired just a few minutes ago were just inches from his body. How
would her skin feel as he trailed the head of his dick over the generous
swells? How would her voice sound as she ordered him to slip his cock between
the soft valleys so he could fuck her tits…
shit
,
have a little
restraint, Conners. You’re in public.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat as he shook off the fantasy,
using the last of the whiskey to wet his parched throat. “Fine. Who do you
think is acting odd? Tony? Can’t keep his hands off his fiancée. Seems to me he’s
doing just what a newly engaged man should.”

She jerked her chin in the direction Dade had disappeared. “I
meant the moody, morose one.”

“Hasn’t he always been? At least Patrick seemed to indicate
so.”

“Hrm, it’s been more so than usual. Before Ryan and Beth set
sail Ryan said he’d shut down even more, giving up on a hell of lot of things.
Blocking everyone out. Won’t talk to anyone about anything at all. You’re lucky
you got more than a hello. Must be the Conners’ charm.”

The concern lining her face endeared him. She hurt for a
friend. As people milled around he caught a glimpse of Dade standing off in the
far corner. The cold steel of his gaze was something Alex recognized. Maybe
Dade’s friends were too close to see what was truly going on, but the emotion
from Dade’s body all but slapped Alex in the face.

“I’ll have a talk with him, see if I can’t pry something loose.”

“Would you? He—”

“Can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a try. Go, say
hello to the happy couple for me.” Elena slowly wandered off, her concern for
her friend evident in the way she glanced over her shoulder every few minutes.
He was nearly jealous of Dade for capturing Elena’s attention so thoroughly.

Detouring to the bar, he snagged two beers. He avoided a few
pockets of people as he made his way to the corner and offered Dade one of the
bottles. “Need a few more daggers to throw?”

Dade’s gaze cut through him sharper than a sword. “Mind your
own business, Conners.”

Alex held his hands up. “No harm no foul, man. Just
wondering how long you’re going to pine for the one who got away.”

Dade snorted. “You’re as much of a pissant as your
meddlesome brother. Don’t pretend you understand what’s going on in my head.”

“Better than you think.” His gaze drifted to where Elena
circled through the crowd. “Object of your affection doesn’t know you exist. Or
does and you spend all your time wanting something you’re not sure if you
should want. Makes you feel a little like being a confused teenager again
waking up from a wet dream you don’t remember having but are wearing the sticky
remnants of.”

“Ah, I get it. Someone has their own head trip going on
right now. Nothing is stopping you. Not as though you aren’t free now to pursue
other avenues of
interest
.”

“Sure wish it was so damn easy.” Alex faced Dade, smirking
when the man’s gaze continued to track Tony and Genevieve as they socialized
with their guests. Given what little he knew about Dade’s previous
relationships, Alex couldn’t decide if he was pining like a puppy dog for the
girl or the guy. Either way he was sure they could both use a breather. “Why
don’t we get out of here? Something tells me this is the last place either of
us want to be.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth?”

The crowd at Brogans was in full swing tonight. A rowdy
group with one singular focus was just the medicine Alex needed. Especially
because the atmosphere at the sports bar had nothing to do with a celebration
of love. The engagement party at the warehouse had been too much. Too vivid of
a reminder of his failings as a husband.

Not the sort of reminder he needed.

He’d been able to withstand Patrick’s wedding because it was
his brother. But he had so small of a connection to Tony and Genevieve, tonight
had nearly been torturous. And the way he kept fantasizing about Elena? There
was only so much anguish a man could take before he broke.

He was already hanging on by a very thin thread.

“What’s your poison, boys?” Anne set a hand on her hip,
waiting for their orders. Her cotton-candy-pink hair curled in loose waves, a
few tips following the succulent curve of her very abundant breasts. Her legs
were a mile long and capped by barely there shorts. No wonder Sam Flynn had
hired her to tend the bar on Saturday nights.

Her tips had to be killer.

“Tequila with a chaser of beer.” Dade reached over the
counter to snag two freshly frosted mugs. “Pitcher of house draft.”

“Want the tequila bottle too?”

“That’ll work.”

“You got it, babe. Mexican Boilermakers coming up.”

Alex watched her snag a pitcher from the cubby under the
bar, the angle of her body giving him a perfect view down the front of her
loose shirt. Deep-blue lace cupped her breasts, the visible curves nearly
causing his mouth to salivate. She pulled the tap, wiggling her hips
suggestively to the music pouring from the speakers.

The noise of the bar faded into the background as he watched
her move. He imagined himself draped over the bar, his wrists and ankles bound so
he laid spread-eagle across the warm wood, his dick jutting toward the ceiling.
The hard flesh strained against the steel bands of a cock cage surrounding him.

Anne continued to work behind the taps even though there
wasn’t a soul in the bar except for him. Her hand closed around the long neck
of the handle, stroking it slowly as he watched in agony, the steel cage biting
into the flesh of his cock as it jerked in response.

She caressed each handle, her gaze directed at him as she
made no move to hurry her work along. When she’d finished filling several
pitchers, she slowly made her way around the bar, swaying her denim-covered ass
as she walked. Gaze on his, she popped the button of her shorts, toying with
the fob on the zipper. She continued to roll her hips as she inched the shorts
over her thighs, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor with a soft whisper
of sound.

Her hand dipped between her legs, a soft groan escaping his
lips as her fingers parted her labia and flashed those pink lips toward him. “You
want this, don’t you, baby?”

He licked his dry lips as she dipped her index finger into
her cunt. The sweetness of her scent teased his senses, rousing him even more.
The pain of the metal pushing against his flesh only made him more excited even
though it defied logic.

“Yeah.”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Manners,
manners. Bad subs aren’t rewarded.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“That’s a good boy.” Anne planted her feet on stools
positioned on either side of his hips, the glistening wetness of her hot folds
taunting him. Her fingers parted her flesh again, dipping into her opening as
she teased both of them. Placing one hand on the bar, she pressed her knees
against his shoulders. “And what does the good boy want?”

“Sit on my face. Let me taste your pussy and give you
pleasure.”

Her heat covered his mouth and the first glorious taste of
her drenched pussy stabbed through him like the sweetness of the most
intoxicating wine.

Whoa.

He shook off the shocking daydream, hiding his flushed
cheeks by pretending he’d spilled peanuts on the floor. Knowing he could only
stall so long, he raised his head again and promptly found Anne staring
directly at him.

She winked, exaggerating her hip movement, much as she’d
done in his lurid little fantasy. Swallowing, he shifted on the stool, trying
his best to not think about the erection making his pants uncomfortable.

She delivered their pitcher with a teasing smile aimed at
both of them. “You boys pace yourselves, all right? I could use some handsome
company at the end of the bar tonight.” Even as she moved away to wait on other
customers she aimed a few more lingering glances over her shoulder to where
Dade and Alex sat.

“When is the last time you got laid?”

“Now it’s my turn to tell you to mind your own business.”
Alex leaned against the bar, hoping to cover his visible erection as he poured
two beers.

“Gotta admit. You’ve got good taste. First Elena.” He
gestured to where Anne was flipping a few liquor bottles, showing off her
bartending skills as she prepped someone’s drink order. “Now her.”

The thought of one particular error in judgment instantly
soured his mood. “Sometimes my taste leaves something to be desired.”

“Moody and morose is my game, Conners. Don’t try to steal
it.” They continued to pound back beers and tequilas as they watched Anne tend
to a steady stream of customers, always keeping her signature smile in place.
Even when she pulled her long hair up into an elastic band to keep it out of the
way as the crowd grew thicker and more demanding, she flirted with abandon. Sam
certainly knew his business, and his clientele, when he’d hired Anne to give
him a hand on the weekends. The sports bar had already been doing brisk
business during the summer months. With the second pair of hands—very
attractive ones—added, business during the winter months had skyrocketed.

Seeing the long column of her throat exposed, her creamy
white skin seemed to taunt Alex. He shook his head, beating back the edges of
another daydream threatening to take hold.

“Why don’t you go for it?”

“My track record isn’t exactly shining.”

“Ohbullfuckingshit.” Dade’s glass thudded against the bar
top. “You’re just caught up in your own head. You’re a free man. Have a little
fun with your life, you ass.”

The harsh tone was enough to make him snort. “Funny. Coming
from a man who just bolted from an engagement party where he could have easily
slaughtered the entire room with just his eyes. What the hell was all that
about anyway?”

“Told you to mind your own business, man.” Dade scowled as
he downed a shot, then another. “Besides, my situation is different.”

“What
situation
?”

“No.” Dade grinned, shaking his head as he refilled his shot
glass then Alex’s. “We ain’t talking about me. You. You need to get laid. Hard.
And you need to nail her equally as hard.” He pointed to where Anne was
wiggling her ass to the beat of the country song pouring from the speakers
mounted on either side of the bar. “Best thing a man with your kind of problems
can do sometimes is bury himself in a woman and forget the rest of the world
exists. And she is certainly someone worth testing the theory out on.”

The way she shimmied certainly made his mouth water. As
exciting as the prospect sounded things were just too damn complicated for him
to worry about sex right now. Especially considering what he wanted to mix with
his sex.

Except he knew he wouldn’t mind if Elena was part of the
complication. In fact he knew if he could convince her, sex was a complication
he wouldn’t mind in the least. Right now he would welcome it. Maybe it would
take his mind off the fact the rest of his life was nothing more than a
shitstorm.

“What I need is to get drunk.”

“Drunk first.” He pointed to Anne. “Then laid.”

“Hard. I know.” Alex clapped Dade on the shoulder. “You, my
friend, have sex on the brain too much. You need a woman. Or a man. Or both.
What the fuck is all that about anyway? Can’t make up your mind? Or do you suck
dick and eat pussy with the same enthusiasm?”

Dade glared at him. “Elena can use you as her watchdog all
she wants. It ain’t gonna work. So just leave it alone, Conners.”

“Had to try.” Not as though he’d thought it work in the
first place.

“Yeah.” Dade poured the last of the tequila into their shot
glasses, gesturing to Anne with the empty bottle. “Yeah, I know. Fucking mother
hen sending other people to do her dirty work. Don’t know who is worse, her or
your brother.”

Alex knew the answer. “My brother, definitely.”

“I think you may be right.”

* * * * *

Elena brushed a strand of hair from her face, her lower back
aching from moving some of the lighter furniture out of the storage area
discretely hidden away on the far wall of the warehouse. Damn Ryan for whisking
Beth away for a six-month honeymoon.

She hoped their boat sank.

Doubtful. Ryan Flynn was one of the finest handcrafted boat
builders in the world. A category-five hurricane couldn’t sink one of his
creations. He put so much of his heart and soul in every single sailboat and
people paid a premium for them without batting an eyelash.

Anything more than the basic floor plan of Sanctuary would
just have to wait until Patrick returned and she could get some muscle to help
her since Dade seemed to have vanished into the night.

Alex too.

So much for pulling the damsel-in-distress card. Not as
though she ever would. Most of the time people accused her of not asking for
help because of her determination to exist on her own. Growing up as she had, with
her parents more interested in fixing other people’s problems instead of their
own, she’d been forced to only count on herself.

Shutting off the lights, she set the sophisticated alarm
system and locked the heavy-duty industrial door. As she dug out her car keys
she remembered she’d parked a few blocks away to hide her vehicle from sight.

She wasn’t dressed for the hike.

She bent over to unzip her boots. The corset binding her
torso creaked as she moved. Ugh. Sometimes these things were more trouble than
they were worth. But damn if she didn’t enjoy being laced into one. It was
nearly an orgasmic experience all by itself. Like a pair of strong, comforting
arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her in an embrace that wouldn’t end.

The things she did for a little thrill.

Pretty much the only action she was getting lately thanks to
the incident at the club. And wasn’t that just the saddest damn story of them
all. Her. Elena Mitchell. Wallowing over the fact she hadn’t gotten anyone off
recently.

She was treading very close to pity-party territory.

A loud whoop echoed off the surrounding buildings. Couple of
fools out for the night, not done with their partying. Stupid tourists. She
hoped they skied off the side of the mountain tomorrow. Shaking her head, she
turned the corner and ran smack into a solid male chest.

Dade caught her arm as she wobbled. “Steady there. You drink
too much at your own party?”

“Just clumsy. And tired.” She sniffed, wrinkling her nose at
the overwhelming stench of smoke and liquor emitting from his leather jacket. “Brogans?”

“Yeah.”

“Explains where you disappeared to.”

“Met Alex there for a few drinks.”

Another loud shout echoed off the building. Peeking over
Dade’s shoulder, she saw Alex stumbling down the street using anything he could
find to help his forward motion. “More than a few it seems.”

“He seemed to be overdue to blow off a little steam. He kept
eye-fucking Anne while she worked, but when she cleaned up after him a few
times when he got sloppy, pretty much shot that plan to shit. Figured Patrick’s
place is closer than his since I don’t have a vehicle with me. Thought I’d drop
him there to let him sleep it off.”

Alex launched into an off-key rendition of Queen’s
We Are
The Champions
.

If he hadn’t been so stinking drunk, she might have laughed
at the picture he made stumbling down the street, butchering the words to the
song. This was getting to be a pattern with Alex. A pattern she didn’t like. “I
don’t have Patrick’s house keys with me right now. Doubt he does either, or
could even pause in his opera long enough to tell you.”

A car alarm pierced the cold night. They turned to see Alex
standing on the roof of a car, his hand down his pants as he grabbed his crotch
and started shouting about his desperate desire to fuck anything with two legs.
His explicit ranting was interspersed with the lyrics of
The Time Warp
from
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
.

When he started to thrust his hips wildly she and Dade both
snorted. “Dr. Frank N. Furter he is not. And he is obviously not a quiet drunk.”

“Going to be hurting in the morning. Which reminds me…” She
glanced at her watch. “He needs to open Perfect Shot in a few hours. Think you
can help me get him there?”

* * * * *

Elena leaned against the office door. Sometime in the past
hour Alex had pushed away the blanket she’d covered him with. His gaunt form
was exposed to her critical gaze. She frowned at the outline of his bones under
the surface of his nearly translucent skin. He hadn’t been taking care of
himself for the past year, perhaps even longer. His once muscular form had lost
shape and definition. He was lanky to the point of sickness.

It was as though he’d given up. As though he’d shut down
completely after the divorce. Though perhaps not. If he’d given up completely
he wouldn’t have opened Perfect Shot with Patrick.

But he’d certainly given up on the rest of his life.

He’d probably gone into business with his brother because he
felt as though he owed him something. After everything the Conners family had
been through she wouldn’t be surprised. Their father had ruled the house with
an iron fist, physically abusing both the boys and their mother for years.
Patrick had taken the brunt of the beatings, his baseball career ending before
it ever really began thanks to the damage of one of those fights.