Shattered: Round Four (Broken Book 4) (7 page)

Seeing him in broad daylight never ceases to amaze me. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of it. In the dark tunnels he was mysterious and sexy, his rough, skin tingling voice adding to his dangerous persona, but out here in the light, there’s a sweetness to him. Out here shadows don’t obscure his face.

Out here I see his softer side.

Underground he was precarious. For a short time, he convinced me he was like everyone else down there—a soulless human being, desperate to win the respect of a murdering psychopath. I truly believed Jai was cruel and selfish, uncaring who he hurt on his way to the top to save his corrupted brother.

A brother he so easily murdered for.

What I didn’t see was what the shadows hid. Occasionally, he’d move into a position that allowed the murky glow of the storm lights to illumine his face, chasing away the shadows. In those moments, I saw snippets of the good man he could be and that swayed me to trust him. I’m glad I did. Since emerging, the light has revealed emotions and habits I didn’t have the pleasure of witnessing underground. Like the concern in his face before he makes a difficult decision and the worry that wears down his mind, body, and soul whenever he thinks about his little sister. I’m thankful for the light. I’m thankful I get to witness all of his emotions as they flicker through his eyes and downturn his lips. The light revealed the parts of him I needed to see—the parts that have made it almost impossible for me to ignore the overwhelming flurry of emotions in my chest. It revealed to me that maybe I am capable of letting someone love me and care for me...and maybe, just maybe, I am capable of loving someone in return. It’s in this light that I can’t help but notice my life is the brightest it has been in a long time and, for once, it’s because of someone else...because of the way someone makes me feel.

“Emily?”

I snap back to reality with a startle. “Hm?”

Jai towers over me, his hand outstretched, awaiting mine. “You all right?”

Oh, Jesus. Fuck. Why am I sweating? Despite the cool breeze blowing by, a searing heat suffocates me. Can he tell? Can he tell my body is shutting down because of him? What the shit am I doing? In love for ten seconds and I’m already making a mess of it.

“Uh...” I shake my head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Unlike mine, his hand is dry and stable and, with ease, he pulls me to my feet as the next gush of wind blows a sudden and violent case of vertigo into me, causing my head to swirl and my feet to stumble. My ankle doesn’t have time to twist underneath me as Jai wraps an arm around my slender waist and pulls me tight against him.

I sigh a breath of relief before shuddering in embarrassment. Can I be anymore awkward?

“You sure?” He asks, gripping my shoulders and planting me back in my own bubble where I can breathe my own air.

I hate it over here in my own bubble. I want to be with him in his bubble. His bubble is better.

I swipe at my hair, tucking it neatly behind my ears, avoiding eye contact. “Now that you mention it, I’m not feeling myself this morning.”

“I hope last night wasn’t too much for you.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. He swallows it quickly as my brows draw together.

Last night?

“It’s...” He pauses, his lips pressing together as he takes a moment to choose his next words. “I was already so mad and you were teasing me with your tongue, driving me into a goddamn frenzy. I couldn’t help myself.”

Oh!
That
last night. Embarrassment morphs into heat as it spreads up my neck and tickles my cheeks. Next time, I think I’ll skip the backrubs and the small talk and start with the blowjob. It’s nowhere near as time consuming. I spent the whole day trying to snuggle him back to happy before I gave up and opted for the short cut.

“No. Last night wasn’t too much for me.”

Another hot flush blasts through me, sizzling my nerves in the most delicious of ways as flashes of last night derail my train of thought.

He rakes his hands through my hair, purposely tangling his fingers in its thick, damp locks. He squeezes until they pull at my scalp then he pulls his powerful hips back the slightest amount, allowing me to fill my lungs with the oxygen his cock deprived me off. I gasp for air as the very tip of his penis brushes against the roof of my mouth.

I groan as my head spins, another kick of vertigo slamming into me.

"I’m gonna go...” I mutter, cautiously stepping around him.

“Emily?”

I wave him off and, when he's at least six feet behind me, I cover my face with my hands. I’m going to puke. Anxiety swirls in my stomach, panic mixing with emotions that make me feel happy and light headed. Falling in love is worse than I thought. It’s not just me I have to worry about anymore. It’s like my heart has doubled in size overnight, making room for
him
. I can’t believe it. I swore I never would...I swore I’d take care of myself and myself only...I swore I would never put myself in a position where I could be tossed aside and left heartbroken...but I let my guard down and...

I love him.

I fucking love him.

Seven

****

Slam

Jai

Sighing, I glance at the small black clock above the kitchen window. It’s been nine hours since she locked herself in the room, four hours since I went upstairs to find her in a cold shower that had been on blast for at least fifty minutes, and an hour and a half since I told her to get ready to go out. Normally, I’d chalk this kind of behavior up to the aggressive, red demon that shows up for a week every month, but Emily insists she can’t menstruate. So either I’ve done something or someone else has.

“You look tense. Have a beer.” Huss announces, slipping a cold beer into my hand. Condensation drips off the freezing glass and runs over my skin.

Huss
.

Both Huss and Emily have been weird today. Coincidence?

Involuntarily, my jaw clenches, prompting my fingers to tighten around the bottle in my hand. She wouldn’t. Not with him.

How hard would I have to hit him to lodge a piece of it in his brain?

Ted informed me of all the colorful questions he’s been asking Emily when I’m not around. Ted assures me it’s only in gest. He tells me I shouldn’t worry, but there’s a fine line between poking fun and being disrespectful and he’s crossed it too many times. What kind of man would I be if I ignored it? Huss would see me as easy—as someone he doesn’t have to fear. The only reason I haven't beaten his ass yet is because he's already a cripple. He will fear me. When it comes to Kitten, he
should
fear me.

“Where’s Emily?”

I look up at Huss. I hate the colorful polo shirts he wears. He’s opted for a strange turquoise tonight over the bright pink he’s been defending since yesterday.

“Broken bones or not, you know I’d kick the shit out of you, right?” I say, popping the lid off my beer.

Feigning confusion, Huss scratches the side of his shaved head, avoiding the gel that holds the middle in place. “Uh...I’m not sure I know what you’re—”

”You know what I’m talking about.” I cut in, lifting the beer to my lips. “If you were smart you’d toy with someone else’s girl.”

His shapely eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. “Oh. She’s your girl?”

Don't smash your bottle and stab him with it. Don't waste a perfectly good beer.

A smile cracks through his faux shock. “I’m kidding. Ted told me all about you two. I’m only teasing. It’s a bit of fun, that’s all. I swear.”

I slip the bottle between my lips and tip the vessel until the smooth, bubbly beer flows onto my tongue and tickles my taste buds.

“But...” Huss glances over at Ted and Joel who prepare various shots of alcohol in the kitchen. “And this stays between you and me, but if you two decide you want to slip another hotdog into that bun, let me know.”

I stop. Did he suggest what I think he suggested? With tight lips, I swallow my mouthful and lower the bottle.

“Are you suggesting a—”

“An orgy? A three-way? A ménage et trois? Yeah.”

I overtly look him over. Stitches, bruises, broken bones and busted ribs? Is he fucking serious?

“You think you could improve what I already do in the bedroom?” I laugh. “Having you there would only hinder the amount of times I make her come on my own.”

“Please tell me y’all are talking about hot dogs of the edible kind and not of the, you know, cock variety?” Ted interrupts, dropping his heavy body into the recliner next to me.

He brushes fluff off the breast pocket of his black button up shirt before he places his beer on the counter, reaches for his left sleeve and rolls it up to his elbow to match the other.

“Your buddy here is suggesting he and I fuck Emily at the same time.”

Ted freezes as I shift forward, resting my elbows on my knees. Hearing those words aloud and in a sentence doesn’t sit well with me.

Ted turns his wide eyes on Huss with a subtle shake of his head. “What’d I tell you? Are you fucking crazy?”

Huss shrugs his wide shoulders, his smug grin boiling my blood.

“It’s worth a shot. Emily is hot and I wouldn’t mind banging it. Not to mention Jai said he wanted to have fun on his last night so I’m trying to help out. It’s a win-win.”

Banging it. It. Like she's a vagina and nothing else. He makes me sick.

Ted simpers as he leans forward and wraps his fingers around the neck of his bottle. “You’ve got some big balls, Huss. I’ll give you that.”

Huss turns his grin on me. “What do you think?”

“No.”

“No?”

I push myself onto my feet and tower over Huss. He doesn’t back down and I don’t expect him to. As a Special Forces officer I know he’s seen scarier men than me. If he wasn’t already so beat up I’d shove his own foot up his ass.

“No, and if you utter another word—or even think about the possibility of me sharing Emily’s body with you—I’ll hang you from a tree by your nut sack. Understood?”

He blinks his stupid gray eyes at me, the light of a challenge flaring in their depths.

“That’s it? You won’t even consider it? I just want to dip it in—just the tip. I don’t want to take the broad from you. What’s the harm?”

How many times has she put up with these kinds of men in her life? How many times has she settled for something quick—something without substance? It’s no wonder she goes into a state of panic whenever I talk about our relationship. She’s not used to having someone who cares about her wellbeing.

I care.

I care so fucking much and she doesn’t let me show it.

Because of her experience with people like Huss—people who take, and take, but never give. The life I could give her—the houses, the cars—all the fucking ice cream in the world—and she won’t even hear me out?

Because of people like him!

Quickly moistening my lips, I hand my beer to Ted who rushes to his feet.

“Jai, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He abuses his pain meds.”

I wave him off. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt him. I’m just going to—” I slam my fists into Huss’s stomach. Air is forced from his lungs and he curls over in pain, clenching his torso. “Teach him some manners.”

Handing me my beer, Ted warps an arm around Huss’s shoulders and shoots a glare in my direction. “Dude, he was in a car accident.”

I shrug. “I didn’t hit anything important. He’ll be fine in five minutes.”

“He is not a team player.” Huss coughs out, groaning with the pain of his ribs.

“Apparently not.” Ted mutters, escorting Huss over to the couch I was sitting on. “Lay your stupid ass down till you catch your breath.”

I turn away from them and saunter into the kitchen. On the wooden kitchen benches fifteen shots are laid out in various cups and lids and I slip onto a bar stool as Joel pulls his white tee over his head, covering the ink on his torso.

“Was that really necessary?” He asks, adjusting the fabric around the belt of his pants.

I ditch the bottle of beer and opt for a shot instead.

“Absolutely.” I say as I grab the blue lid filled to the brim with clear liquid. Vodka. Its scent is so strong I can taste it before it touches my lips.

I tip the shot down my throat and glance down at the shiny blue lid in my hand as I inhale sharply. I never did like Vodka.

“Emily. Finally!” My brother cheers, his mood a drastic change from the previous days. “Have a drink with us.”

I lift my stare to the hall, where the staircase meets the kitchen, and—holy hell.

A single sleeved tight, black dress clings to her subtle curves, accentuating the shape of her luscious body.  I glance at the small, rectangular cut outs that run from the top of her hips, up the flanks of her body that expose the milky flesh of her sides, before it comes to a stop underneath her arms. The fabric clings to the soft curves of her body, electrifying every nerve in my system. Throw in some subtle make-up, thin, nude heels, and long, dark hair that’s pinned back...who is this girl? She’s a far cry away from the tired nurse I met weeks ago. The way she looks...she’s fit to drape the arm of a billionaire.

Which make me wish I hit Huss harder.

What I did to him wasn’t punishment enough for being so disrespectful to someone like her.

I should separate the tip of his cock from his shaft and glue it to his face so every time he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of what a dickhead he is.

“What are you drinking?” Emily asks me, pulling her face into a curious pinch as she steps closer.

“Everything.” I say, slipping my lid on to the bench.

For the first time since entering the room she takes one look at me and a visible bout of nausea rolls through her. It controls her features for the briefest second before she catches it and hides it behind a killer fake smile. What is that about?

“Avoid the small multicolored glasses.” I inform her. “It’s Joel’s homemade concoction and it will have you on your back before we make it out the front door.”

Joel chuckles as he scoops up his beer and leaves the kitchen, abandoning us with each other.

God. She looks good. What does she smell like? Fuck. What does she taste like?

With a defiant smirk and a purposeful kink in her eyebrow, Emily reaches out and wraps her slender fingers around a small, multicolored glass.

“I suppose I won’t need this to put me on my back...not when I have you to do it for me later.”

She surveys the liquid before returning it to the bench, opting for a shot of vodka instead.

If she’s not careful I’ll have her on her back, stomach, knees—fucking hands. I’ll have her any way, every way. I will tear her dress from her tight little body and tie her to the bed with it. I’ll gag her with her own panties and fuck her ass while she wears those skin color shoes. I’ll hit it so good she’ll never need the dick again. I’ll satisfy her for life—and that’s a goddamn promise. Unaware of my violent and sexual thoughts, Emily smiles at me before she tips her shot down the hatch.

Swallowing, she clenches her teeth with a hiss. “That’s awful.”

“Better than the stuff we were drinking underground.”

Her smile grows wider as she tips her head to the side, her hair cascading down the length of her bicep. I want to pull it. I want to wrap it around my knuckles while I fuck her from behind.

“I don’t know. I kind of like the taste of whiskey mixed with the nasties of the sewer.”

I laugh once. God, she’s amazing.

I want her closer.

I want her against me.

Shifting, I angle my body away from the bench and slap my thigh. “Come here.”

I want her close enough to smell. I want to see the perfect lines of her lip liner and the shimmer in the swirl of blush on her cheeks. I want to admire it while I can because later I’m going to smear it over her face with the tip of my cock.

Emily leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench and locking her arms at the elbow. “All the way over there? In these shoes?”

“They’re not comfortable?”

She shrugs. “They’re not too bad. I mean, they’re no Louis Vuitton, but they do all right.”

Note to self; get the girl some damn Louis Vuitton shoes.

I arch a brow. “And you packed them because...?”

The soles of her heels clack against the floorboards as she rounds the bench. Most people favor the sound of rain as it patters against a tin roof.

Not me.

I love the sound of high heels. Nothing sounds better than a woman dressed to the nine’s, her feet encased in tight, slender materials, as she marches her way to wherever she’s going. Heels symbolize Power. Sassiness. Sexiness.

Heels are my fucking undoing.

Especially on her.

It makes sense, I mean, Superman has kryptonite and I have...I have women’s shoes.

Emily saunters the last few steps before resting in the space between my legs.

“Let’s just say I didn’t pack them for dancing.” She utters, her long, black lashes seemingly never ending.

God, give me the strength to hold off on my threat of gagging her with her own underwear. At least until we get back. What is she wearing under that fabric anyway? Lace? Silk? Or maybe cotton, like the pair she had when we were in the tunnels?