Flawlessly Broken: (Broken Series Book 2) (30 page)

When I could find my voice I muttered into his heaving chest, “Still want coffee, but this is better.”

It wasn’t until several minutes later—when Spencer extricated himself from beneath my limp body to go start my morning elixir—that we realized we hadn’t used a condom.

Spencer was halfway through buttoning his jeans when his head jerked in my direction. It was a borderline comical moment where our eyes locked, accompanied by the ‘oh shit’ brow raise and customary sharp intake of breath that was befitting such a stupid irresponsible mistake.

For a brief moment neither of us spoke, then Spencer shrugged his shoulders and strolled into the bathroom like nothing had happened, returning a minute later with a warm cloth that he used to clean me up. It pissed me off that I couldn’t enjoy the sweet gesture because of the feeling of panic welling up in my throat.

Seeing that I was upset, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine in a sweet kiss. “Sweetheart, relax. Everything will be okay. You’re on the pill, right? I mean, I see you take it every morning when I stay over.” I nodded weakly, trying to take comfort in that. “As far as everything else, I’ve been tested. Extensively.” His soothing tone slipped. “After learning of Ivey’s infidelity, I had them run a complete panel. Then went back a few months later for a second round just to be sure. There’s been no one since then except you.”

He stepped back into the bathroom to get rid of the cloth and returned to my side, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking my hand. “And, if my calculations are correct from what you said last night, you haven’t been with anyone since...” he trailed off and waited for my nod. “That was ten years ago, baby.”

“I got tested for everything after the assault,” I whispered, almost afraid to bring it up when I’d so recently had an episode. It felt a little like asking for trouble and I didn’t think I could handle another panic attack. “I’m clean.” Even as I said it a nagging voice deep inside denied my words. I’d never feel truly clean again. How could I? Aside from the disgusting things that happened that night in college—things that never wash off, no matter how hard I scrubbed or how hot the water—there was also the chance that I’d somehow passed on a gene or predisposition to my daughter that caused her cancer. Being adopted, I couldn’t rule it out. And with no evidence to the contrary, and no way to prove I wasn’t at fault, I’d convinced myself that my tainted blood was the reason my daughter died.

Clean. What a fucking joke.

Unaware of my internal struggle, Spencer smiled down at me reassuringly and leaned in for another kiss. “I’d say we’re safe but that doesn’t mean I expect to throw the condoms in the trash. Not that I’m opposed to skin on skin contact. Hell, I’m getting wood just thinking about it, but that’s not something you decide with your pants off. Rule number one of responsible decision making. Okay? So let’s get some coffee in us and we can discuss the rest afterward.” Another round of soft, sweet kisses managed to divert my attention from my self-loathing and just like that I was melting into his arms.

He stood and pulled me along with him, forcing me from my warm cocoon and into the real world. I tossed on his soft, cotton t-shirt and followed him down the hall. He motioned for me to stand aside while he moved around the kitchen, totally at home in my space. I liked the hell out of it. There was something to be said for a man who could brew a good pot of java.

My mouth practically watered at the thought of my morning brew. And the delicious half-naked man standing in my apartment was pretty freaking mouth-watering, too. Those low-slung jeans and his messy post-sex hair would have melted my panties... if I’d been wearing any. He looked up and waggled his brows, presenting the bag of dark Italian roast seductively in a display that was meant to be funny but totally turned me on. Hot coffee and a hotter guy?

Was there any other way to start the day?

Talia

AFTER REACHING THE
required blood-to-caffeine ratio for cohesive thought, we decided that continuing to ‘play it safe’ was the way to go—regardless of how amazing it had felt without a barrier between us. We couldn’t let one slip-up evolve into a risky habit.

Being a responsible adult was really starting to piss me off.

We were sitting in the living room a while later when I noticed a small blue gift bag on the kitchen counter and asked where it came from.

Spencer glanced at it absently and returned his gaze to me, resuming his slow perusal of my face, my throat, my chest... he’d been doing it for a while, and it was distracting. The TV was on, playing softly and basically unnoticed in the background. The morning news show had been forgotten ages ago. One little movement on my part a few minutes before had derailed his train of thought, stopping his voice mid-sentence as he commented on a news story.

All I’d done was lean forward to put my empty mug on the coffee table, which caused my t-shirt to creep up and reveal the bare flesh beneath. That was all it took, apparently. He’d been studying me ever since with a quiet intensity that made my pulse race. The predatory stare told me exactly what was about to happen and I was deliciously aroused at the thought, even as I fought the urge to run away so he could give chase.

I’d been looking around with thoughts of how hot it would be to let him stalk me around the apartment when the small blue gift bag caught my eye.

When he didn’t immediately answer, I raised a brow and flicked my tongue across my bottom lip, teasing. “How can I concentrate on that hungry look you’re giving me when I’m sitting here wondering what’s in that bag?”

“I can make you forget the bag, baby. I can make you forget what year it is.” His low growl made my insides clench. So freaking sexy.

I changed tactics and gave him a pouty look, complete with puppy-dog eyes and a pitiful head tilt. “But... but...”

He blew out a big breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, effectively removing that predatory stare and replacing it with one of patient resignation. “Fine. But this hard-on is not so easily distracted. A quick conversation about the gift bag,” he stood and retrieved it before sitting back down beside me on the couch, plopping it into my lap, “and then I’m going to fuck that little pout right out of your arsenal. It’s an underhanded trick and this will be the last time you use it if I have to fuck you half to death to assure your compliance. Understood?”

I nodded and clenched my thighs together, trying to quell the surge of arousal at his words. His face was impassive as I removed the tissue paper from the bag and pulled out what appeared to be tickets and brochures. Madame Tussuad’s? I gave him a questioning look, half smiling at how cute the idea was. “You want to go to the wax museum?”

He shook his head. “No questions. Just hang onto those and wait for the rest of the gifts—one new gift each day this week—and I’ll explain on Saturday morning. Okay?” The mischievous gleam in his eye was worrisome and sexy at the same time.

“You’re giving me something every day? Why?” I could tell I was missing something, but the smirk on his face meant he wasn’t going to be any help. Turd.

“Like I said,” He placed the tickets back in the bag and set it aside. “No questions. I’ve got a lot planned for this week and I won’t have you ruining the surprise.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. “The only thing I can tell you is that this week is the buildup and next week is the payoff. You’ll need to take next week off from the restaurant, which I know you won’t like, but I promise you it will be worth it.” He kissed my jaw, working his way down my neck to that spot near my shoulder that made me melt into a puddle. “Can you do that, Talia? Can you trust me enough to make that happen?”

I couldn’t think, couldn’t string together the words to tell him what he wanted to know, so I nodded against his head and let out a soft groan of pleasure. He wasn’t fighting fair. If I couldn’t pout, he shouldn’t be able to use my erogenous zones against me. As long as he was trailing his tongue over that spot on my neck, I’d agree to absolutely anything.

So not fair.

And I wasn’t about to complain.

He pulled a bit of my skin between his teeth and nipped softly. “Is your curiosity about the gifts satisfied enough for now? I really want to put you up on that counter and bury my face in your sweet pussy.”

Gifts? What gifts?

Before I had a chance to answer, I was swept into his arms as he marched us off toward the kitchen.

Guess the man was ready for breakfast.

TRUE TO HIS
word, Spencer surprised me with a new gift each day. Reservations for expensive restaurants—a week in advance—, tickets for various shows at places like the Kennedy Center, special program tickets for the Museum of Natural History and the Smithsonian, tickets for a Washington Nationals game... each day a new adventure was revealed. And each day I got more and more puzzled by the whole thing.

What was most confusing was that each one of those tiny, blue gift bags had tickets for
three,
not two.

And the stubborn ass man wouldn’t give me even one clue as to what he was plotting. Not planning, noooo. He was having way too much fun with this. This was plotting.

And I had a sneaking suspicion that he had an accomplice. Or two? I wasn’t sure.

He’d insisted on booking and using a room at the Hilton, to keep his work stuff separate. I thought he was full of shit and was using that as a place to hide out while he worked on his multiple acts of sneakery.

Yes, the restaurant in the lobby was a good meeting place for business reasons and made sense but I wasn’t buying it as a viable reason for him to spend all that money. He didn’t want me catching wind of anything he was working on with Clay. And keeping me in the dark as far as my own surprise was also important to him. I knew how important it was because car sex hadn’t even persuaded him to spill it—car sex while traveling at well above the posted speed limit, I might add.

It had been the single most reckless thing I’d ever done but holy shit was it fun.

And still, he wouldn’t budge.

It was only Wednesday, and I was already going crazy trying to figure it out. Which he found amusing as hell.

Maybe tonight I would break out the pouty face again if for no other reason than it would guarantee a good hard romp.

It occurred to me that maybe he was turning me into a nympho but I couldn’t help wanting him. He was consuming, addictive, amazing. And not just in bed. He was warm and thoughtful when I needed comfort, unwavering and assertive when showing his affection, relentless and insatiable when we were skin to skin.

I was more in love with him than I ever thought possible.

And every day it became more and more apparent that I had to let him go.

I’d watched him all week and it tore at my heart every time we were out someplace and he saw a baby or small child. He went out of his way to smile and wave, made silly faces at babies in strollers on the street, chatted up young parents in the supermarket. He couldn’t help himself.

He was a father waiting for his child.

And I was a mother who could never take that chance again.

I lay in bed at night and listened to his soft breathing, wondering how I could be so selfish as to let him fall in love with me, knowing what I knew about his past.

Ivey had lied about wanting children, gotten his hopes up and then dashed his dreams to pieces with her deception. I may not have lied about my intentions, but I hadn’t exactly made them clear either. I’d been too swept up in the passion and excitement of it all to realize that I was setting him up for another heartbreak.

How could I do that? After all I’d been through, how could I be so callous with someone’s feelings? I knew from day one what he wanted out of his life, what his dreams were, and I couldn’t let him waste his time and affections on another dead end. It wasn’t right.

And I was such a coward that I let it go on, every day I decided it was the day, that I’d end it before it went on any further. And every day I looked into his ebony eyes full of longing and lust and adoration, and I buckled. I wanted him and I couldn’t stop being selfish long enough to do what needed to be done.