Breaking Him

by Sherilee Gray

  “Now hang on…”

  “His father was a cruel bastard, it’s true. No one was sad the day he was put in the ground, but that boy lived in that environment, and for all we know killed the man. Wyatt used to beat him, starve him…”

  “What?” I stumbled back a step. Oh God. I thought I might actually throw up.

  “When he was at school with my boys, the other kids were scared of him. He wouldn’t play with anyone, would sit so still and quiet, like a little statue, like no one would notice him if he didn’t move…”

  “You knew this?” Elijah had moved on to middle school by the time I started elementary and had left high school before I began.

  “A lot of folks knew.”

  “And no one did anything to help him? You all knew his father was abusing him and everyone just sat back and did nothing?” Red rage exploded through me. “You should be ashamed of yourselves…”

  “Abigail.”

  Her voice was sharp, a tone she’d never used on me before, but I didn’t care. I was furious. “How dare all of you pass judgment on him when you all let a little boy fend for himself, when you left him living with a monster and did nothing to help him.” I was breathing heavily, on the verge of tears, and Cassie was looking at me like I’d lost my mind. She also had the decency to look guilty.

  “I regret that I didn’t step in, but you have to understand, it isn’t done around here. We keep out of other folks’ business.”

  I barked out a humorless laugh. Oh, I knew how it worked around here, the way the people in this town were. “That’s horseshit and you know it. This town has more than its fair share of gossips and busybodies. They live to stick their noses in other people’s business.”

  Cassie’s expression went from guilt to hurt, but right then I couldn’t muster any sympathy for one of my father’s oldest friends, for my friend.

  “I’m not telling you these things to upset you,” she said. “I’m telling you so you know what that boy lived through. He’s been…changed, because of it.” She put her hand on my arm. “How could he not be after that? You need to be careful around Elijah Hays.”

  The bang of the front door closing cut off my answer before I’d opened my mouth. I raced to the window, cursing when I saw Eli striding away from the house toward the barn.

  He’d heard what Cassie said.

  He’d heard us talking about him.

  Chapter Five

  Cassie left, looking pale and kind of freaked out, stuttering her apology. I wasn’t interested in hearing it, and as soon as she was heading down the driveway, I rushed to the barn after Eli.

  I shoved the door open and stepped inside. It was dimly lit, but I didn’t need to see him to know where he was. He was at that punching bag again, beating the ever-loving shit out of it, his grunts as his fists connected breaking the silence.

  I walked toward him, not afraid, only concerned, wanting to make it right. To tell him I didn’t believe what Cassie said about his state of mind. He might be changed after what he’d been through, anyone would be, but I had nothing to fear, not from him. He’d never hurt me.

  He knew I was there—Eli was always aware of his surroundings—but he didn’t stop this time, didn’t even look at me. His bulging biceps danced as he plowed his fists into the worn leather. I moved in close and reached out, touching his back. He jerked away from me like I’d struck him. “Eli, please stop.”

  He finally quit whaling on the sandbag and dropped his hands, but he didn’t turn to face me. The muscles in his wide back twitched, expanding with every panted breath.

  I closed the space between us, moving in behind him, and reached up, resting my hands on his shoulder blades, breathing in his scent—clean sweat and leather. He stilled, like he often did, like I now knew he’d been doing since he was a little boy. Did he wish I couldn’t see him, that I’d go away? The idea was a pitchfork through the chest.

  Biting my lip, I slid my hands up to his shoulders and leaned in, kissing the center of his bare back, his skin fevered and slick. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know exactly what I was apologizing for. That I’d been talking about him, that he’d heard what Cassie said, or that the whole town knew what he’d suffered and hadn’t lifted a finger to help him. They were small insignificant words, but they were all I had right then, all I could force past my dry, tight throat.

  A tremor traveled through him, but he stayed where he was, broad back to me. He was in pain, and I hated that I’d been a part of the cause. It tore me up, and all I could think about was easing his hurt. I moved to his side, my breasts grazing his bulging biceps as I came around to his front. His jaw was tight, eyes closed, locking me out, keeping me at a distance. I hated it, loathed it.

  Leaning in, I kissed his chest. His body went tight, every muscle hardening. I continued to whisper my apologies between kisses, tasting the salty, clean sweat on his chest, his ribs, his ridged abs as I dropped to my knees. Fingers trembling, I reached for the front of his jeans. He jolted but kept his eyes closed when I undid the button and eased down the zipper, when I slid my hand inside and took his quickly hardening cock in my hand, pumping the length of him several times.

  His nostrils flared, but he kept his jaw clamped shut.

  Releasing him, I worked the denim at his hips lower. I wanted to make this better, but I had no idea how to do that. My gut told me this was what he needed from me. I just hoped I was right.

  The metallic scent of blood reached my nose, and I noticed his raw, bleeding knuckles. Taking one of his hands, I pressed my lips to his damaged skin, kissing it tenderly, and that’s when his eyes opened and he stared down at me. My own stung at what I saw. There was no anger, not even a little bit. No, there was only shame. He was ashamed of his past, and I could see he hated that I knew.

  I leaned in and kissed the head of his painfully hard cock, sliding my hands up and down his heavy thighs and hips. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” I rasped past my dry throat, fighting the tears threatening to escape. His muscles bunched tighter, more pain sliding through his gaze. It killed me, but I was determined to give him what he needed and stayed where I was, on my knees with his eyes locked on me.

  We stared at each other for the longest time, my knees starting to smart, pulse racing like crazy, but I didn’t move. I waited. Eli needed to take back some of the control he’d lost as a scared kid; he craved it but continued to fight against it. That was what I saw in him, that dark, gritty thing he refused to let free, the part of him I was more than willing to surrender to. Shit, I was desperate for it.

  I had no idea what was happening between us, but right then it was like I was gasping for air, like I’d been deprived of oxygen. I needed it to survive, this thing between us—this thing only Elijah could give me.

  And deep down I knew he felt it, too.

  Slowly, something shifted in his eyes, the pain transforming into hunger. A hunger so fierce, I had to squeeze my knees together when my core began pulsing deep. My lips parted on an indrawn breath as zaps of pleasure fired low in my belly, the excitement building low and hot, making it hard to draw breath.

  I watched the fingers on his right hand twitch a second before he raised it, shaking slightly as he slid my hair over my shoulder, then carefully, he gathered it up and wrapped it around his damaged fist.

  He spread his legs a little more, bracing his solid body, then gently applied pressure. The strands pulled at my scalp in a delicious way, causing goose bumps to rise across my skin and my nipples to harden to the point of pain. A whimper crawled up my throat, slipping past my lips, when he directed my mouth to the fat head of his cock.

  “Open,” he rasped, a tortured note to his voice that made me want to do anything for this man, give him anything he wanted.

  That one word, said that way, had me damn near vibrating with need. Dizzy with how much I wanted his cock in my mouth, how badly I’d wanted this from him, how much I wanted to give it to him, I did as I was t
old. I shuffled forward, and then that beautiful dick was sliding past my lips, into my mouth.

  His grip tightened in my hair, and I relaxed my jaw. The first thrust came, and his cock went deep, bumping the back of my throat. I forced my muscles to relax more, and on the next thrust he went deeper. I nearly came, even as my eyes watered, even as I dragged much-needed oxygen in through my nose. His grunts filled my ears, his musky scent surrounding me. I dug my nails into his hips, holding him there, afraid he’d stop, afraid he’d pull away.

  His grunts got rougher, more intense, then he tilted my head back, and all that dark, dirty heat was on me, eyes blazing, searching mine. I reached down and took his balls in hand, massaging their heavy weight. They drew up tight a second before he growled, and his cock began to throb against my tongue. Come filled my mouth, and I worked my throat, trying to swallow the load. Some slid down my chin, and his eyes tracked it, groaning as he continued to thrust until he was completely spent.

  When he was done, his fingers loosened in my hair and he carefully slid from my mouth. I licked my swollen lips, and he grabbed his discarded shirt, using it to clean me up. Then he lifted me effortlessly, my thighs hugging his hips, and he held me tight, his heavy exhales ruffling my hair.

  “I was rough with you,” he muttered against my temple. “I should never have done that…”

  I leaned back so I could see his face and slid my fingers up the sides of his throat, cupping his stubbled cheeks. “It’s what we both needed. And Eli,” I whispered, “I loved every second of it.”

  His arms flexed around me, and I dipped my head, kissing his firm lips, letting him get a taste of himself, of the control he’d taken, that I’d been happy to relinquish. His tongue slid against mine, his growling moan working through me in a way that made me want to crawl inside him and never leave. He took several steps, stopping when my ass was on the workbench.

  He rested his forehead against mine, our panted breaths mingling. “Are you slick between your legs, Abigail?”

  I started to tremble. “Yes.”

  “Will you let me touch you there again?” His fingers flexed against my ass. “I can’t stop thinking about it, how you felt there, darlin’, wrapped around my fingers. It’s been making me crazy ever since you let me do that to you.”

  If he didn’t, I thought I might break down and cry. “Touch me.”

  He groaned and tugged at the button of my shorts, then dragged the zipper open, kissing me softly as he slid his hand down the front of my panties, pressing against my slick heat. “Oh, Jesus.”

  His finger skimmed along my soaked slit, then pressed, pushing inside. I cried out, trying to get closer to him.

  “You feel so good. So soft and warm and goddamn perfect.” He licked his lips. “Darlin’, you’re all over my hand.” I was gripping his biceps, and the muscles twitched. “I can smell you. Christ, I think I’m losing my mind, Abigail. Making you feel good, it’s all I want to do. I never want to stop.”

  Then he pushed in and slid out. His eyes on me the whole time, watching me, groaning with me when he added a second finger.

  My hand slid over his heavy shoulder, up the side of his thick neck, and I fisted his hair. “Oh God. Please, Eli. Please…” My hips moved with his thrusting fingers. “I’m nearly there.” A sob burst past my lips. “Please…”

  His thumb pressed down on my clit and I blew up instantly.

  He pressed his fingers deep and held them there, mouth latching onto mine, rough words of encouragement rasped against my lips. “I can feel it, darlin’. You’re clutching me so tight, holding me inside. I’d stay there forever if I could, if you’d let me. I’d spend forever making you come like this, listening to your cries. So good, sweetheart. So perfect.”

  I’d never heard Elijah speak like that, never imagined I ever would. He was as lost to the moment as I was, and it was glorious. We stayed like that for a long time. Elijah only sliding his fingers from my body when I’d finished gripping them. Then he did up my shorts, kissed the top of my head, and carefully lowered me to my feet.

  I clung to him, not ready to let him go. We hadn’t talked about what happened, what he’d overheard, and despite what we’d just done, what he’d said in the heat of the moment, I was afraid he might change his mind about us, that he might put an end to it…

  The crunch of tires on the drive outside had him stilling.

  “Garrett,” he murmured. “Cassie must have sent him to check that you’re okay.” Frustration and resignation lined his features. He released me, his reluctance obvious. “You best go ease his mind.”

  Of course it would be Garrett. Cassie would have sent him here as soon as she got home, afraid Eli would do something crazy after he heard what she said. My anger flared all over again. I wanted to ignore the man outside; I wanted to stay in here with Elijah, spend all day pleasing him, taking away that pain in his eyes, but I knew if I didn’t go out there and show Garrett I was fine, he’d have a lynch mob down here to string Eli up before I knew it.

  I lifted on my toes and pulled him down, giving him one last kiss, then I left him and went to reassure an old friend that the gentlest, most kindhearted man I knew hadn’t hurt me.

  …

  I pulled the truck to a stop down the road from the bank, turned off the engine, and sat back. The street was fairly quiet, only half a dozen cars parked along this stretch, thank goodness. I wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat. A heavy weight had settled on my chest and wasn’t budging. Dad would never have let this happen. As long as we’d lived here, he’d never had Connor Jacobson, the manager of Deep River Bank, visit our ranch, making threats about late mortgage payments. He would hate this. Not just because I could lose the ranch, but also because Connor and my dad had bad blood between them. I didn’t know what had caused it, but I knew it went back a long way, and it ran deep. Now it seemed to have extended to me. Connor would love nothing more than to take my ranch from me. I got the impression he wouldn’t be happy until he watched the rear end of my truck heading out of town for good.

  I climbed out, squinting against the bright sun, straightened my skirt, and hiked my bag over my shoulder. This meeting was going to be as painful as it got. I already knew before I walked in that he’d more than likely turn me down, but I had to try. I couldn’t give up. When the rain came, things would sort themselves out. They always did. I couldn’t be the only rancher in Deep River suffering the same low cattle prices, expensive feed. I needed a small extension, just to get us through the next few months.

  I shoved the door open and walked into the bank. Cool air blasted me from above. The air-conditioner working overtime, like it always was. That didn’t surprise me. Connor Jacobson always looked shiny and flushed, even in the middle of winter. His ever-present pocket square at the ready to mop up the sweat gathering on his upper lip and brow.

  Suppressing a shudder, I took a seat on one of the chairs outside his office. The entire room was gray, depressing like a cloudy day, gray carpet, walls, furniture. It definitely didn’t help improve my mood.

  I hadn’t told Eli where I was going this afternoon. In fact, I hadn’t talked to him. Not since I’d followed him to the barn yesterday after he’d overheard Cassie and me talking. I’d watched him from my window when he’d finished working on the tractor in the late afternoon. He’d saddled up his horse, his sleeping bag tied to it, then glanced at the house, his expression unreadable, before he’d mounted and ridden out. He did that sometimes, went out onto the ranch and slept rough.

  It probably meant nothing—he’d been doing it since he started working for us a year ago—but that didn’t stop my chest from squeezing seeing him do it this time. I got it. After what happened, maybe he needed time, space. Things had gotten intense; not just with him overhearing Cassie and me but also between us. It didn’t mean I hated it any less that he kept it all bottled up inside. I was also terrified that he’d decide to end this thing we’d started. So I’d waited until I knew he was out working this mo
rning and rushed to the truck. If he did feel that way, I wasn’t ready to hear it.

  I’d seen him in my rearview mirror, watching as I tore off down the driveway.

  It was cowardly. But I wasn’t sure I could deal with the possibility of him rejecting me and a meeting with the bank manager, a bank manager who hated my guts, all in one day.

  “Ms. Smith.”

  Connor Jacobson’s distinctive deep voice skittered over me, dragging me from my thoughts. I forced a smile and stood. “Mr. Jacobson.”

  He didn’t smile back. He looked me over in a way that made me uncomfortable, setting the little alarm off in my head. The two times he’d been out to pay me a visit, throwing his threats around, I’d noticed the way he scrutinized me, the way he’d take in my grubby shorts and tank and frown. The disapproving look that would pass over his surly features. But today it was different.

  “This way.”

  He waited for me to follow, then closed the door behind us. His shoes made a squeaking noise when he walked around his huge desk and sat down. Wriggling his computer mouse, he clicked around a bit. “Let me take a look at your file.”

  Like he didn’t already know what was in it. Jerk.

  “Your payment’s late again,” he murmured. “This won’t do, Ms. Smith. Not at all.”

  I squeezed the strap of my bag clutched tight in my fingers. “I just need a little longer, Connor…”

  His head shot up, and he scowled.

  “Ah…Mr. Jacobson.”

  “You’re continually late with your payments. Since your father passed away, you seem to be getting further and further behind.” He picked up a pen and tapped it on his desk. “Have you thought about selling?”