Until I Break (27 page)

Alec straightens. “If this is the way it’s
going to be, maybe I should just leave you in peace.”

“It’s too late for that, you bastard,” I
force through gritted teeth.

As if something foreign and uncontrollable
and…violent overtakes me, I launch myself across the room, hurling
my fists at Alec, lashing out in the only way that has any promise
of making me feel like I’m not going to explode and then die.

I get in a couple of good licks before he
grabs my wrists and twists my arms behind my back, yanking up on
them. I cry out in pain, but it doesn’t stop me from using my legs.
I try to kick at Alec, but he’s already a step ahead. He has my
body pulled in so tightly to his that I can’t make any real
headway, can’t do any real damage.

“Does this make you feel better?” he hisses.
I struggle against him, shaking my head and shoulders to try and
free myself. Alec loops the long fingers of one hand around my
wrists, holding them easily in his grip. With his free hand, he
grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “Answer me. Would it
make you feel better to hurt me? Is that what you want?”

“Stop it!” I growl, turning my head to escape
his grasp. But he has a good grip and he’s not letting go.

“Answer me,” he barks. “Do you want to hurt
me?”

“Alec…”

“Answer!”

“Yes,” I spit in a moment of brutal
honesty.

His eyes narrow on me. His voice is steady.
And quiet. And deadly. “Then do it. Hurt me.” He jerks me against
him, his fingers biting into my flesh. “Hurt me!”

Alec crushes his lips to mine, fire and fury
in his kiss, before he releases my hands, flinging me away from him
and propelling me toward the bed.

I stumble back, temporarily caught off guard.
Alec moves purposefully forward, stalking me. There’s rage in his
eyes.

I wanted his emotion. Now I have it. He’s not
cold and indifferent anymore. He’s irate.

“Come on,” he taunts me. “Hurt me. I want you
to.”

I back toward the bed and Alec keeps coming,
loosening his tie and peeling off his jacket as he walks.

When he stops in front of me, he reaches out
and twists his fingers into the neck of my dress, yanking as hard
as he can and tearing it straight down the center.

“Hurt me, damn you! I deserve it!”

Winding his arm around my waist, Alec bends
his face to my neck, roughly dragging his lips down to my collar
bone and the top of my breast.

Everything I’ve felt for Alec—from
overwhelming attraction, to fear, to love, to devastating heart
break—bubbles to the surface. Like a flame to dry tumbleweed, I’m
instantly incinerated.

I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling
his head to one side while I plunder the inside of his mouth with
my tongue. His hands push their way into my ripped bodice and tear
it the rest of the way down the middle, exposing me to his
touch.

I feel his fingers slide under the elastic of
my panties and jerk. The thin material gives way easily. I drag my
hands from his hair and pull mercilessly at the buttons of his
shirt, not caring when I feel them pop off and pepper my chest like
tiny plastic bullets. They can do no more damage than what Alec
already has. I barely feel them.

Reaching down between my legs, Alec thrusts
one finger, then two, then three deep inside me, bringing me up
onto my toes. I see the hunger in his eyes before my head falls
back on my shoulders and my moan escapes.

Roughly, he pushes me away from him, flinging
me onto the bed and falling on top of me. His mouth devours me, his
body inflames me, his hands torture me.

And I want it all.

I want all he has to give.

When he enters me, it’s not with ease or
patience or practiced skill. It’s with anger. And emotion. And raw
need.

I can feel it in his touch, hear it in his
growl.

I open my eyes and look at Alec. Although
he’s
with me
, maybe more with me than he’s ever been with
me, at the same time, he’s
not
. He’s completely out of
control. It’s alien to him and I can see that it both enrages and
terrifies him, but he’s helpless against it now. He’s come too
far.

As he moves within me, our fingers grasping
desperately at one another, both of us flying toward the sun at
Mach Ten, one thought penetrates the haze of my passion. One
thought settles over me with perfect clarity.

There is fear, yes. But deep in my soul, I
know Alec will never be that out of control again. And maybe he
needs to know that, too. Maybe he needs to trust himself. Like I
trust him.

“Wrap your hands around my throat,” I
whisper. “I want to feel it when you come. I want to feel your
fingers tighten then relax. I want to feel you lose control.”

I chose the words on purpose. I know they
will trigger some kind of response.
What kind of response
is
the question.

I just hope it works.

It’s my Hail Mary.

Alec’s eyes meet mine. In them is desire,
anger, confusion and, yes, now a little bit of fear. Before he can
think too much, I reach down and take his hands, guiding them up
toward my neck.

“I trust you, Alec. I trust you not to hurt
me, no matter how wild you feel. You’re not that person. Not
anymore. Now do it. I want to feel you lose it. I want to feel it
in your fingertips when you come. All for me. Just for me.”

I pump my hips against his, clawing at the
backs of his hands. There’s a moment of hesitation just before his
baser instincts take over. And I feel his fingers tighten.

At first, it’s tentative, but as he thrusts
more deeply into me, they become more confident. And they tighten
more.

I feel other fingers grip me. Fingers of
fear. I’m no longer certain of what I’ve done, that trusting Alec,
that baiting him in this way was wise. It was impulsive and
desperate.

And it might cost us both.

As breathing becomes more difficult, I
stretch my chin toward the head of the bed, an attempt to relieve
some of the pressure to my throat. I’m teetering between the
intense pleasure of Alec’s body within mine and the sheer terror of
what I might’ve asked him to do.

I look back at Alec and see his eyes close.
He increases his tempo, and so my fear. I wrap my fingers around
his wrist, ready to pull at them if he really loses it.

I hear his cry.

It’s scary and thrilling. And then I feel him
stiffen. His fingers squeeze at my throat, stealing my breath for a
moment before he opens his eyes and he looks straight into
mine.

I see him let go. And I see him let
it
go. There’s nothing between us in this moment except scorching heat
and love. As long as Alec lives, he may deny it to himself, but I
will always know. I will always have these few seconds, this look
in his eyes, this stillness of his body, forever. It’s mine. And
nothing can ever take it away.

I feel the moment his senses begin to return.
His fingers relax and he withdraws and thrusts into me again,
grinding his hips as he goes, pushing me toward a pinnacle I
thought fear would keep me from.

He showers my face with kisses and thrusts
again, and again, his body still hard within mine, his come still
filling me up inside. And I lose it.

Alec cups my face and watches me as I tip
over the edge. From start to finish, his eyes never leave mine
while I orgasm. Intense wave after intense wave, he continues to
stare into my eyes, sharing with me his body, his soul and his
heart.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX- Alec

Samantha and I are lying together, catching
our breath, when I begin to feel pressure to say something. The
problem is that I don’t know what to say. I feel like I
should
say something, like I should have something
to
say.
But I don’t.

With every passing minute, she becomes more
anxious. I can feel it in the way she’s stiffening beneath me.

Expectation is a bitch!

I roll off her and shoot a lopsided smile her
way, hoping it will put her mind at ease. “I guess we’d better get
out of here. This isn’t exactly the best place to snuggle.”

Her smile is a bit forced, confirming what I
already knew. I give her my hand and pull her into a sitting
position. My eyes rove her bared breasts. She looks down at
herself.

“Well,” she begins, glancing up at
my
open shirt. “I would say you’re in better shape than I am, but I’m
not so sure.”

I laugh as I take in my own buttonless shirt.
“Eh, we’ll figure out something,” I say casually before leaning
over to nip her shoulder with my teeth. “We might draw a few eyes,
but damn, it was worth it.”

I stand to my feet and straighten my tie,
doing my best to tuck in my shirt in such a way that it will stay
closed. That’s harder than it might sound.

Samantha seems less bothered now. Maybe it
was just my imagination.

She stands and pulls the two halves of her
dress together. There’s no way she can make that work. She looks up
at me and we both laugh.

“You don’t do that enough,” she says as she
lets the dress fall from her shoulders and puts it back on
backward.

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

I shrug. “I don’t usually have much to laugh
about.”

“That’s a tragedy, you know.”

I shrug again, but make no further
comment.

I pat my tie into place, right down the
center of my chest. It will be fine to conceal my state of
dishabille until I can get to the car. Then it won’t matter.

I glance up to see Samantha staring down at
herself. Seeing the high neck of the back of her dress at her
throat looks a bit odd, but she could pull it off for the short
trip downstairs. That is, until she turns around. Her entire ass is
hanging out. She grins at me from over her shoulder and it makes me
want to throw her on the bed, let that dress fall apart and pound
into her from behind.

“I’m thinking I might be in trouble,” she
confesses playfully.

I walk to grab my coat from the floor where I
tossed it. “Here,” I say, holding the suit jacket open so she can
slip her arms into it. It’s long enough on her to come almost to
her knees, plenty to cover her bare back side. “Better?”

“Much.”

I walk to the door and open it, sweeping my
arm gallantly in front of me. “After you, m’lady.”

She smiles and precedes me out the door. I’m
hoping if I keep things light…well, I can keep things light. I
don’t do heavy. I just…don’t.

After we successfully (and tactfully)
navigate the lower level, I walk Samantha to her car. I bend her
over the hood and kiss her like we’re not in public, in hopes it
will allay her fears or satisfy her expectations until I can figure
out what the hell I’m doing.

“Call you tomorrow?” I say when I release
her.

She nods and smiles, but I can tell it’s not
what she was hoping for. I kiss the back of her hand and open her
door for her, waiting for her to start the engine before heading to
my own ride. I feel like I narrowly escaped…something dreadful. But
I didn’t. Not really. I’ve simply delayed it until the tomorrow.
I’ll have to deal with it sooner or later. I’m just opting for the
“later.”

A little more than twenty minutes later, I’m
unlocking my front door and stepping into the foyer. My intentions
are to change clothes, make myself a drink and sit in front of the
fireplace and forget the world. Just enjoy the amazing feeling of
the night.

Without all its complications.

I’m putting ice cubes into a glass when I
hear a knock at the door. Considering the time of night and the
fact that I don’t often receive visitors, it’s not hard to figure
out who it is.

I walk to the door and swing it open. As I
suspected, Samantha is on the other side, still in her tattered
dress covered by my coat.

“Can I come in?”

I nod and step back, closing the door behind
her then making my way back to the wet bar. Rather than the one
finger I had intended, I pour
two
fingers of scotch instead.
It’s gonna be a long night.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask before I head
for the sofa.

“No, thanks,” she says primly. “I just wanted
to return your jacket.”

We both know that’s not why she’s here. And
if we’re going to do this tonight, I might as well start where I
want. I sink down on one cushion and take a long sip of my drink
before I speak.

“Why did you do it?” I ask bluntly.

I can tell the question takes her by
surprise. And I can see how. From the moment it began plaguing my
mind like a hungry buzzard circling overhead, it’s made me feel out
of sorts, too.

“For the same reason you did it for her when
she asked.”

I feel the frown contract the muscles of my
forehead. I don’t need to ask who “she” is. “I did it because she
asked me to.”

“Yes, but you also did it because you loved
her. That’s what we do for the people we love—we do things that
will make them happy or make them feel good. Or help them.”

I stand, already uncomfortable with where
this conversation is going. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it sound
like I was some sort of paragon for strangling my girlfriend. I’m
not that guy, Samantha. I warned you of that.”

“I know you did,” she says, standing to her
feet as well. Slowly, she walks toward me. “But I’m in this because
I
want
to be. I knew the risk. And I still do. I realize
there’s a significant possibility that you might never be able to
admit your feelings for me, that you feel somehow unworthy of
loving and being loved, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love
me.”

“Samantha, I—”

“I’m not asking you to say it, Alec,” she
interrupts, laying her hand on my chest and staring boldly into my
eyes. “I just want you to know how I feel. And that I
understand.
I understand how this could’ve made you feel
like a monster, how it could’ve gotten so out of control.”