Unbroken (16 page)

“Can you pass me the
cotija
cheese?”

Have I ever mentioned how sexy she sounds when she speaks Spanish? I mean, the words roll off her tongue in a way that the English language never has. I love how she sways her hips and dances to Spanish music, and how her little accent comes out when she’s mad or excited about something, and how she knows all her Ama’s recipes like the back of her perfect hand, and how she treats her sisters like they’re her kids rather than her siblings and how her whole face lights up when she’s happy.

“Pass you the huh?”

“Right, I keep forgetting you’re not Hispanic. The ‘stinky’ cheese.”

She pours a small amount of the salsa into a bowl, and when I pass her the stinky cheese, she sprinkles a bunch into her salsa. She ties the bag and hands it back to me. I watch in wonderment as she dips a chip in her concoction and then puts it in her mouth.

God, her mouth. It’s such a perfect mouth. I spend the good majority of my day thinking what it would be like to kiss that mouth. She licks her bottom lip and looks up at me.

“No, I don’t want to know anything else about you. Just a few weeks ago, you were all gung-ho to talk about Michele, so let’s do this shit, Durham.”

Laughing, I give her a wary glance. “You go right for the jugular, don’t you?”

“Yep. Gimme the goods..”

Shit. If she only knew what those words just did to me…

I walk over to her slowly and she drops her chip to the floor. I lean forward, my palms flat on either side of her thighs, my face mere inches from hers. Her mouth drops open and I watch her chest heave the closer I get to her. I squeeze my eyes shut and when they reopen, hers are filled with lust.

“Sabrina, please don’t say things like that. I know I’m staying in your house, and I know we’re friends or whatever, but I’m still a guy. A teenage guy. A guy who can’t look at you for too long without imagining all the things I could be doing to you in the next two hours before everyone else gets home. A guy who wants to take you right now on this fucking counter. I want to. God, do I want to. But I can’t.”

She takes a deep breath. “Why not?”

“Because. That would cheapen you.”

With a grin, she nods. “Oh, I see. You’re afraid I’m going to fall in love with you.”

“No.” That’d be easy to deal with. The alternative, however, is harder. “I’m afraid
I’m
going to fall in love with
you
.”

“I
am
pretty irresistible.”

“Completely irresistible.” I shake my head, not wanting to take this conversation any further than this point. “So you wanted to know about Michele?”

She’s silent for a moment, leaning forward and uncrossing her legs. I lean in so I’m between them. My cock strains against the seam of my jeans, and I close my eyes, trying and failing to convince myself that it wouldn’t do either of us any good to act on this attraction.

“Yes. Give it to me.”

The need rushing through me at those four words stops my heart and chokes off my air supply.

“Please, stop it.”

Through long, dark lashes, she glances up at me. “Why?”

Why? That’s the million dollar question. I just wish she wouldn’t have asked it. I don’t want to answer it, any more than I want to keep standing here with her looking at me like she wants to devour me and fuck the consequences.

A week living in the same house and already she’s taken to me. I never wanted this to happen. I know what I feel for her, but I hate that she appears to be feeling it back. She doesn’t know what I am, doesn’t know that I’m destined to live out the remainder of my days as poison, a stain upon humanity. I bring pain and heartache to whomever gets close to me. I am not alone because I don’t want to commit. I am alone because I literally
can’t
. Whoever gets too close is at risk, and I can’t…I can’t add anyone else to the list. I especially can’t add Sabrina to it. It would kill what little bit of humanity I have left.

She doesn’t know, and she can’t know. Because if she ever finds out, she’ll only try to fix me.

And I’m unfixable.

“Brody—”

“Because! I’m no good for you! I’m no good for anyone! It’s best if you stay as far away from me as possible, because if you don’t, I’m only going to hurt you! And I don’t want to do that!”

Her hands come up from their spot on her lap and extend to touch my face at the same time as I look down. At that movement, my heart splits completely in two. Half of it is screaming at me to run as far away as I can. The other half is begging me to stay, to let her touch me, to let her see the real me so that maybe I can become some semblance of a man rather than just the shell of one. It’s a constant battle within myself. Keep her at arm’s length? Let her get close enough to hurt the both of us? Is there any way to walk away from this unscathed? I’m not sure, but I’ve never needed anything in this world like I need her touch right now.

She places both her hands on either side of my neck and her thumbs graze my cheek as she says softly, “What happened to you?”

I look up just in time to see her eyes mist over.

Beyond the obvious emotions—pain, pity, confusion, I see something else. Something much deeper.

Something that will either make or break us both.

There’s a yearning in her gaze. I see it. I feel it. I want it. I want her to want me, and I know she does. As wrong as all of this is, as much as I know this is going to end badly, I know I can’t walk away now. It’s gone too far, we’re in too deep, and we haven’t even scratched the surface of whatever is brewing between us.

She’s a Latin spitfire, a firecracker. Her beauty is unmatched, her mere presence shedding light on the impenetrable darkness that’s surrounded me.

She’s my anchor. When my world is spinning on its axis, she keeps me centered.

And I know without even thinking about it that I’ve fallen for her. Hook, line, and sinker.

There’s a tether between us, and each time we encounter each other, every time we spend a night in each other’s arms, it pulls us closer together. And although I
should
want it to sever and fall to the ground, I don’t.

I feel the pull between us. I hear her siren’s call. And I decide, in this moment, that I no longer want to merely
want
to give in. I’m going to just do it, and damn all the rest of it to Hell.

Hands at the small of her back, I pull her toward me. Her legs wrap around my waist willingly as our eyes lock, and everything changes in this instant.

The spark ignites.

And fire erupts.

And we both melt against each other the moment our lips touch. The soft, smooth curves of her body affix themselves to the hard, sharp angles of mine until we fit perfectly, once and for all, never knowing all along that we were the piece that the other was missing. I drink her in, knowing full well that I’ll never have my fill of her. Whatever she chooses to give me will never be enough because I’ll always want more. I’ll always crave more. Agonized gasps erupt from both of us. I’ve wanted this for what feels like so long, it physically
hurts
to be this close to her. She’s everything I could ever want and so much more. She’s everything I never even knew I needed.

She scoots closer to me, grabbing my hair and latching on. Flames of desire consume us both, lapping us up with a fire that scorches every inch of our bodies. My hand comes around to rest at the nape of her neck and she tilts her head backward, giving me better access to her succulent lips. I gain entrance to her mouth without asking for permission, and the flames rise. I drop my free hand between our bodies, grasping at the apex of her thighs. A half-whimper, half-moan of pleasure escapes her and she grinds into my hand, the heat between her legs a clear as day indication of how much she wants me.

Shit. This is all wrong.

I snatch my hands away from their places on her body and I retreat as far away from her as possible without actually leaving the room. She draws in a deep breath the minute we’re separated, and her fingers come up to graze over her lips as if she’s trying to figure out if what happened
really
just happened.

With a shake of my head, I continue to retreat.

I can’t believe I let things get so far, knowing what I know. Knowing the dangers awaiting her—awaiting both of us—if we get involved with each other. I shouldn’t be afraid, because I’m the only one who has the power to end all of this, but I am. I’ve had a single taste of her, one small taste of what things could be like with her, and after that, the thought of losing her, the thought of any harm coming to her is unbearable to me.

The best thing for both of us would be for this to end before it even has the chance to start.

“Brody,” she whispers, “what’s the matter?”

I see the hope residing in her expression, and I hate that it’s there. Because I have to rip it away. There’s no hope for someone like me. I have to show her how broken I am, so she’ll know once and for all there can never be an
us
.

Happy ever after is not in the cards for me. And it never will be.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” I say with a downward glance.

I can’t bear to look at her any longer, because if I do, all my defenses will crumble. Stupidly, because I rarely do the smart thing, I risk a glance at her.

Confusion, then understanding flickers across her face and she shakes her head. She’s shaking it frantically but makes no move to come after me. A whispered ‘no’ emerges, as if her objections will change anything. As if she has any say in this. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll steer clear from me. In the long run, she’ll thank me, because I’m doing for her what I should have done with Michele.

I’m walking away before her heart’s involved.

Mine is already beyond repair.

“Brody, I wanted that to happen. Hell, I wanted more. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.” There’s a pleading tone to her voice, and I can hear the hysteria building beneath her plea. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this. It’s okay.”

I hate what she’s saying, hate that she’s trying to excuse everything that just happened. None of this is okay. I raise a hand to silence her, because if I let her keep trying to convince herself that everything is okay, eventually I’ll start to believe it.

“No, it’s not okay. It shouldn’t have happened.” Her eyes widen and I gather my wits. “It’ll never happen again.”

Tears pool in her eyes and she draws her lower lip between her teeth. She grasps at her chest and her hair falls forward, a curtain separating us, when mere moments ago, we were closer than we ever could have hoped to be. I watch her crumble, watch her retreat within herself, watch the girl I’ve fallen for fade into oblivion.

I don’t want to watch this. It’s hard enough knowing what I’m doing to her, but having to see it with my own eyes is another situation entirely. My chest aches and I struggle for air, like some vital piece of me is missing. Stopping that kiss before it went any further was the equivalent of ripping my heart out with my own two hands. There’s a gaping hole where my heart used to be, and I cannot breathe for the life of me.

She buries her face in her hands and starts openly sobbing right before my eyes. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that I have two options here.

I can stay here, comfort her, kiss her again, and come what may. Or I can walk away, further breaking us both, and sever the ties that have only just begun to bind us. It kills me to think of leaving her this way, crying and hurting because of something I’ve done. It kills me to watch her this way.

But what kills me even more is the thought of what might happen if I don’t walk away right now. It flashes through my mind like a neon sign and it helps me to think straight. I have the control, and only I can make this right when I’ve done so much wrong.

So I walk away. And I don’t look back.

And I leave my heart there lying at her feet.

THIRTEEN

I HAD NO IDEA HEARTS could hurt like this.

I had no idea hearts could break like this.

I had no idea my heart belonged to Brody until he ripped it out of me, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it.