Broken and Beautiful

by Ryan, Kendall

  Without a word, he claimed me.

  We rode silently through the crowds back to my flat as I tried to keep it together. I wouldn’t cry in front of Alexander. I wouldn’t show him my weaknesses now that I’d glimpsed his brutal strength, because I didn’t want him to see me as vulnerable. Peering up at him, I felt his power rolling over me. He was powerful and commanding—he was unlike any man I’d ever met and I didn’t want him to see how much that scared—and excited—me.

  “Clara.” My name rolled off his lips with ease and I savored how it sounded. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, a lump stuck in my throat. Did he sense the shift in our connection? The thread that had drawn me to him had been invisible—inexplicable—when we’d met. I’d felt it when I saw him again in Brimstone. But now that tenuous, elusive connection was gone, replaced by a firm, unyielding bond of trust. He had stood by me. I had to give him credit for that even though he’d gotten me into this mess in the first place. Was he thinking the same thing? Did he feel it, too?

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should have known better than to kiss you.” The arm he had casually draped around my shoulder withdrew and he ran a hand through his messy black hair.

  I was torn between wanting it to be my hand tangling in his hair and disappointment. I had misread everything. I imagined the link between us. And did he mean the first time he kissed me or when we had kissed at Brimstone? Somehow, despite the terror I’d already experienced, I didn’t regret either kiss. In fact, more than ever, I wanted more. I wanted his lips on mine, and his body pressed so hard against me that I could feel his arousal jabbing into the soft flesh of my belly.

  But that was never going to happen. I couldn’t let it. I couldn’t let whatever was happening between us go on. I straightened up and took a deep breath, twisting to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Things got out of hand. I’m afraid you’re more experienced with this sort of thing than I am.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re right.” He paused, watching me so intensely that I squirmed in my seat. “I know I should be sorry that I kissed you, but I’m not. In fact, I’d like to do it again.”

  My doubt washed from me when he spoke, and I found myself powerless against his suggestions.

  “I’m not stopping you,” I said in a soft voice, surprising even myself.

  Alexander sucked in a breath and tore his gaze from mine to look out the window. “You said no.”

  I had said no, and I could no longer remember why. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “What mixed signals you give me, Miss Bishop. That’s a risqué thing to do with a man like me.”

  “And what kind of man is that?” I asked even though I already knew the answer—a dangerous man. A dangerous but beautiful man. Not just because of who he was or the life he lived. I’d seen glimpses of what he hid beneath the mask of control he wore—glimpses of something wild and untamed.

  “A man who takes what he wants,” he answered ominously. He paused, regarding me as if to ascertain if he’d scared me.

  But what I felt was far from fear. I pressed my legs together as the heat between them increased, a tiny pulse beginning to tick anxiously. Even his words were sexy, and I wanted more. “You haven’t taken me.”

  “We met under unusual circumstances,” he pointed out, dropping a hand to rest on my knee. The contact sent a shudder of desire up my thigh, ratcheting up the throb in my clit.

  “You weren’t looking to pick anyone up?” I asked, doing my best to ignore his touch and completely failing. “Not your usual scene?”

  His mouth twitched into a bemused smile. “I rarely find such exciting company at the Oxford and Cambridge Club.”

  “Why were you there?” I asked, my rational side getting the better of my flirtatious one.

  “My friend Jonathan received his degree. He conned me into coming,” he said.

  “I have a hard time imagining you being conned by anyone.”

  “Then you must not know Jonathan.”

  “Wait,” I said, a realization dawning on me, “do you mean Jonathan Thompson?”

  “The one and the only. Do you know him…well?” The question was strained, as though he dreaded the answer.

  “By reputation only,” I assured him. Jonathan had also taken a degree in social studies, but we’d had little contact outside of a few shared courses. I only knew more about him because Belle had slept with him in our second year. She wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, but Jonathan had turned out to be a major asshole. I’d steered clear of him socially after she’d warned me about him. Not that I’d had much of a social life at university. Without the old family connections, my focus had been on my studies. I couldn’t count on landing a respectable position any other way, even with my parents’ money. People like Jonathan didn’t have to concern themselves with such things.

  “Jonathan claims he bedded every girl in his class,” Alexander said. “I’m glad to see you had higher standards.”

  “Says his good friend,” I added.

  “Some people you should keep close,” he advised, darkness flickering through his eyes as he spoke, reminding me how much I wanted to unravel his mystery.

  I scanned the streets outside the car in effort to calm my rapid pulse. Everything about Alexander, from the words he spoke to the company he kept, screamed at me to run. But I’d been running and hiding most of my adult life, so I couldn’t bring myself to turn away from Alexander now. He drew me to him with an energy that was as magnetic as his smile.

  You owe him your gratitude and nothing more, my rational side lectured me. She was right and I knew I should listen, but I also knew I didn’t want to.

  “Where are we going?” I asked when we passed the entrance to my building.

  “There are reporters following us. Norris will lose them before I take you home.” His hand slid further up my leg, gripping my thigh possessively as he spoke.

  I closed my eyes, pushing away all the analysis and doubts clouding my thoughts, and reveled in the warmth of his touch and those words. I wanted him to take me. Take me home. Or take me here. A horrified voice began whispering in my head.

  Mistake. You are making a mistake. You aren’t strong enough for this. You can’t attract a man like him.

  I shushed her and concentrated on the sensations thrilling through my body, aware that he had edged closer to me and that our bodies were now pressed together.

  “Clara,” he said in a low voice.

  “Hmm,” I replied, lost to the moment.

  “I need you to know that no matter what happens next—if you get out of this car and never speak to me again—I will see to your protection,” he promised.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Why?”

  “Because you are the only person who wished I’d never left,” he said in an even voice.

  But I saw through his careful control and his measured words, past the wild, untamed side of him I’d glimpsed earlier, to the broken boy that had never healed. And I knew then that the next words I said would be the first time he had heard those words spoken, too. “I’m glad you came back.”

  “I want you.” His words were final. A command, not a question. It was in his voice. He wanted me, and he would have me. I could find no strength to fight it because I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. The thought left me dizzy. His hand slipped up until it was nestled against my sex and a soft moan escaped my lips. “But not tonight.”

  My eyelids flew open as I stared at him accusingly. “Is that what you do? Toy with girls until they drop to their knees for you?”

  He could take me now and I wouldn’t object. He knew that, and I could see that knowledge reflecting from his eyes. So why the games? “Do you need me to beg for it?” I asked.

  His fingers rubbed against my jeans, teasing the bundle of nerves that was already throbbing at his mere presence. “Need? No. Want?” He hesitated. “I want to hear you beg for me. Beg for my cock. Beg for
me to fuck you, and you will, poppet. But. Not. Tonight.”

  “Why?” I wasn’t proud of how desperate the question sounded, but a girl can’t be held accountable when her clit is pounding like a war drum.

  “Because your entire building will be surrounded by the morning, and I’m not interested in sex, Clara. I want to explore you. I want to rip those clothes off of you and take you to bed. I’m going to fuck you until it hurts, and I want to hear you beg me to do it.” He paused to let this sink in, giving me enough time to visualize exactly what he was proposing. “And I need more than a few hours for that.”

  I had stopped breathing, hanging off each of his promises until I thought I would melt into the seat. I didn’t think I could wait that long, and part of me longed for him to take me now, even with Norris only a few meters away. But I wanted to know a night like the one he promised more.

  “I get what I want,” he reminded me, and I knew the matter was settled.

  “When?” It was the only thing I could think to ask with his gaze scorching through me.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “And the reporters?” I managed to ask.

  “I’ll deal with them.” Alexander settled into his seat, a pleased smile sweeping across his perfect face. He knew he had me. He had been victorious, although there was never any doubt that he would be. How could I have resisted him? Resisted his godlike face or his chiseled body or the unshakeable pull that drew me to him? “Norris will pick you up at eleven.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I said as the car came to a stop. I hoped my excitement wasn’t as obvious as I felt it was.

  “Oh, no. Eleven in the morning.” Alexander leaned over and caught my face in his hands. “I told you I need time, poppet.”

  His lips whispered across my mine and I opened my mouth in welcome, but he pulled away, his azure eyes flashing. “Until then.”

  6

  The living room lamp flicked on as soon as I turned the lock in the front door. I whirled around, my eyes still adjusting to the dark, to discover Belle sitting cross-legged on the couch, glaring at me. Any other night I would have laughed at her for being a mother hen, but tonight it felt more like I’d just been caught by the prison warden.

  “How long have you been sitting in the dark?” I asked her.

  “Since I got home and decided to wait for you.” She pointed to a bag still crammed full of take-out boxes. Guilt crept over me as I realized I’d been gone nearly an hour and a half.

  “I’m sorry,” I began, but I had no idea what else to say. So much had happened since she went to grab dinner, and now that I was out of Alexander’s intoxicating presence, I was beginning to feel a tad foolish. But then I remembered his lips dancing across mine and the now familiar but still uncontrollable longing returned.

  “Earth to Clara.”

  I shook my head and forced myself to meet my best friend’s gaze.

  “I asked where you were. I thought you were just in the loo at first, but then you never came out.”

  “I left you a note,” I said defensively, but it was clear she hadn’t gotten it.

  “But,” she continued, ignoring me, “I know you can’t have been stupid enough to go out with all those paparazzi waiting for you.” She paused, obviously waiting for me to jump in and explain, but I was still trying to sort out where to begin. “And yet, here you are, dragging your sorry bum in without a word of explanation.”

  I held up a hand in surrender. “Give me a minute.”

  Dropping on to the couch next to her, I tried to collect my thoughts. Belle sighed impatiently and grabbed a takeout box. It had to be cold but she flipped open the carton lid and began twirling noodles around chopsticks. Instead of eating them herself, she held them up to me. “Eat.”

  I knew better than to argue with her over this. I slurped the noodles down, savoring their coating of rich, salty sauce despite their coldness. She shoved the box into my hands and I took over the process of feeding myself, grateful for the chance to sort through my thoughts as much as I was for the food. We ate in silence until my belly was sated, and I had to admit my head felt much clearer after food.

  Setting my half-empty carton down, I shifted to face Belle, who watched me with curious eyes, her mouth hovering over her own noodles.

  “When you left I got a call.” She was silent as I filled her in on the insane chain of events that had transpired while she was out grabbing takeaway, but as soon as I finished, leaving off at the part where Alexander helped me to his car, she let out a long, extended sigh.

  “If you don’t shag that, I will never forgive you.”

  I couldn’t choke back the nervous laughter that bubbled from me. My eyes darted away from Belle’s too serious face, worried she would figure out that I’d already agreed to meet him tomorrow. I wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps because Alexander’s and my relationship was already too public, part of me wanted to keep something for myself. But despite my attempt to avoid that tidbit, Belle’s narrowed into catlike slits.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded.

  “Nothing. I...just...” My fingers twisted the tassel of a throw pillow, and Belle swatted at it. I pulled it away from her reach and clutched it to my chest.

  “Out with it, Bishop.”

  “I’m...seeing him tomorrow.” It was actually a relief to admit it.

  “Tomorrow? Bloody hell!” Belle jumped up from the couch and began rapidly pacing the living room. “That doesn’t give us much time.”

  “To do what?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “What will you wear?”

  “He couldn’t keep his hands off me in this,” I reminded her, plucking at the hem of my t-shirt. “I think anything will be an improvement over this.”

  Her eyebrow crooked up, suggesting that she seriously doubted that. “You can wear a burlap bag for all I care—although I won’t let you—what are you wearing underneath? Oh bollocks, when did you get waxed last? It’s too late to do it now.”

  “Everything is in order down there,” I assured her, not bothering to inform her that although I’d never waxed before in my life that didn’t mean that things weren’t neat and well-kept down below.

  “Knickers? Bra?” she asked.

  Her pacing was starting to ratchet up my nerves again. “I also have those.”

  “I’ve seen yours,” she said in exasperation. “You can’t wear cotton knickers to shag Alexander.”

  “I don’t imagine I’ll be wearing them long.” Just the thought distracted me as I remembered Alexander’s strong, commanding hands. By tomorrow, I’d know what it was like to have them all over my body, and a ripple of anticipation shivered over my skin, raising goose bumps.

  “Focus, Clara!” Belle snapped her fingers, drawing my attention back to the state of emergency she’d declared.

  “He’s picking me up at eleven in the morning,” I told her. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  “We live in London now,” she said, grabbing her purse from the floor. “Shops are open late. You’re a 36B?”

  “C,” I corrected. “But I can’t go out there.” Norris had driven us around the front of the building earlier, and although I’d been too focused on Alexander to check things out, I had no doubt that the paparazzi were still camped in front of our building.

  “I’ll go.”

  “You already went out for dinner.” I knew Belle’s intentions were noble, but she’d nearly worked me into a frenzy at this point. It was too much. “I shouldn’t go.”

  “That’s why I’m going—”

  “No,” I stopped her. “I shouldn’t go tomorrow. It’s a terrible idea. Do I really want to wind up on more tabloids?”

  If I kept getting caught with Alexander, the rumors would only swirl more. I could almost picture the headlines: Tasty Tart! Her Royal Whoreness!

  Getting involved with someone like Alexander, even for a fling, could destroy my career befor
e it even got started. I didn’t harbor any delusions about my position at the nonprofit, but I wasn’t ready to commit career suicide before I’d had my first day.

  “No, no, no,” Belle ordered. “I know that voice. You aren’t going to talk yourself out of this. For once, you need to let go.”

  “And what good will it do me?”

  “I love you,” she said, her eyes soft as she spoke, “but you need a good fuck. You’ve spent the last six months under a stack of books—”

  “Some of us needed good marks.”

  “And before that,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard me, “you were with Daniel, and let’s face it, darling.” Belle lifted her pinkie finger and wiggled it.

  I smothered a giggle with my hand. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I saw you in the morning after he slept over,” she said, “and you always looked tired—and not in a good way.”

  I seriously doubted that my sex life could be judged based on my morning-after appearance. “Daniel was perfectly adequate.”

  “Exactly. Beans and toast will feed you, but you can’t pretend it’s a steak.”

  I shook my head at her. “None of this means that I need new underwear.”

  In the end, Belle won out, and to be certain that I’d be too busy to overthink my date—or whatever it was—she left me with a list of things to do while she was out. I resisted the list at first, but some of the items made sense. My toenails were fine, but maybe a fresh coat of polish would be nice. Painting them, as it turned out, had the odd effect of calming me down and exciting me at the same time. When I was a teenager, I would have gone through all this obsessing before a date, but I had to admit that it had seemed less important in college. I didn’t exactly want to be the kind of girl that spent hours and hours preening before she saw a guy, but it had been too long since I’d really pampered myself.