by Izzy Sweet
Breaking Beast
A Pounding Hearts Novel
Izzy Sweet
Sean Moriarty
Contents
Copyright
About This Book
Newsletter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Playlists
Also by Izzy and Sean
Newsletter
Banging Reaper
Copyright © 2017 by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty
Created with Vellum
About This Book
He’s determined to protect her, even if it breaks him.
Alex
Life’s been pretty damn good to me. As the reigning middleweight champion, I’ve got money, power and fame.
Not to mention a surplus of women willing to jump into my bed.
All in all, I’ve got few complaints. I’m just living the dream… then Christy falls into my lap.
She’s young, vulnerable, and innocent. And she has enough on her that plate that she doesn’t need any grief from an old bastard like me.
But she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I can’t stop myself from wanting her, even though there’s more than a decade between us.
I’m trying hard to keep my hands to myself, but she’s proving to be a temptation too great to resist…
Christy
The moment I celebrated my eighteenth birthday I became broke and homeless.
Driven from the only home I’ve ever known by my crazy stepbrother — I was lost, just trying to survive, but determined to make it.
Alex stumbled upon me in my darkest hour, and he’s taken me into his home. He’s given me food, shelter and a fighting chance.
Living with him though, I can’t stop myself from falling for him. But he looks at me like I’m a little kid that needs to be protected.
He thinks I’m too young, but I’m old enough to know that I want him to be both my first and my last.
Newsletter
Sign up for our newsletter - no spam- and download an Izzy Sweet book for free
http://bookhip.com/CKHPSJ
Chapter One
Christy
Crouched behind a parked car, watching my own home in the dark, I feel like a criminal. The lights in my house are on. I can see through the windows my stepbrother, Travis, pacing around, talking into his cellphone as he gets ready to leave for the night.
The street is quiet, the crickets are chirping, and there’s a full moon out tonight.
How did this happen? How did I get here? I wonder as I huddle deeper into my hoodie, wrapping my arms tightly around my body.
The muscles in my back and thighs are beginning to ache. I shift my position, trying to relieve some of the tension, but the pavement is hard and unforgiving.
How did I let him force me out of my own home? I sigh and wonder where the hell I’m going to sleep tonight.
Three days ago, I turned eighteen. And three days ago, I essentially became homeless.
Travis didn’t kick me out. No, if anything, he’s anxiously waiting for me to return...
So he can have his way with me.
I can’t go home now and expect to be safe. I can’t sleep in my own bed or feel comfortable in the room I’ve grown up in—the room I’ve slept in my entire life.
Because of him.
Because in his sick and twisted mind, now that I’m eighteen I’m legal. And now that I’m legal he thinks I’m fair game.
I have no one to protect me. No one to keep him off me.
Or kick his ass.
My mother passed away from ovarian cancer two years ago. My stepfather pretty much checked out on life when she passed.
I’m completely on my own now. It’s survive or die.
Come on, come on. What’s the holdup?
Travis is usually gone by now.
My shift at Burger Bells ended an hour ago. I think I’ve been out here, crouching behind this rust bucket, for thirty minutes or more.
My damn feet are starting to fall asleep.
Travis pauses in front of the living room window and yanks the curtain to the side. I jerk backwards and press myself up against the car, hoping he didn’t see me.
Even from here, across the street, I can hear him angrily cursing. He’s probably just as pissed as I am that his ride is running late.
My heart pounds behind my ribs. I don’t know what the hell I’ll do if he does see me.
Probably run and hide.
Off in the distance I hear the sound of an engine revving. A few moments later a car roars down the street.
“’Bout fucking time,” Travis curses angrily, the front door banging behind him.
“Quit your bitching and just get in the car,” one of his lowlife friends snaps out.
I peek around the tail end of the rust bucket and watch Travis climb into the passenger seat of a green tricked out Neon.
His door shuts, and just above the loud rock music I can hear him and his friends hooting and hollering about all the fun they’re going to have tonight.
The engine of the car revs loudly and then they take off, roaring down the street.
I lean back and slump against the car in relief. He’s gone, finally.
Still, I remain in my hiding spot for a couple more minutes, just in case.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I climb to my feet. Brushing my legs and butt off, my knees ache with pain.
I stomp my feet a couple of times to get the blood flowing again then sling my backpack over my shoulder and cross the street.
Reaching the front door of my house, I check the knob and it turns easily. Asshole left it unlocked.
I walk inside and my nose is immediately assaulted by the stinging smell of cheap beer.
My stepfather, Herb, must be home and no doubt he’s drunk again.
I make a beeline for the living room, feeling the need to check in on him. I find him passed out in his faded recliner with an empty beer bottle dangling from his hand.
He didn’t even bother to change out of his dirty work clothes. He works in construction so he often comes home with his jeans covered in dirt and his boots caked with mud.
I watch him for a coupl
e of minutes just to make sure he’s breathing. His head is tipped back and his mouth is wide open but he’s not snoring.
It would be so easy to be angry at him for all of this. If he’d just stop drinking and pay attention to what’s going on, I know none of this would be happening.
I know if he truly knew what has been going on, I’d have his protection. In the past, he’s always been there for me, he’s always had my back.
He’s a decent man, but the death of my mother completely destroyed him.
He first started drinking in hiding when she was originally diagnosed. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night to hear him stumbling into a wall or crying loudly in the bathroom.
And when she passed, I guess he just completely gave up…
He’s completely checked out.
In a way, her death broke all of us.
Sighing, I shake my head and walk up to the couch, pulling the crocheted blanket off the top of it. Walking up to Herb, I slide the empty bottle out of his hand and then cover him with the blanket.
I want to be angry with him, I really do, but I just can’t. I understand his pain. I understand why he’s doing this…
Tucking the blanket around him, I make sure he’s completely covered up and then take a step back.
He’s so drunk he doesn’t stir.
Does he even know I haven’t been home in three days?
Probably not, I think as I turn around and head for my bedroom. He probably doesn’t even know what day it is.
The door to my room is cracked open. I push it all the way open and flip on the light. My room is a complete wreck. It looks like Travis has been going through my stuff and tossed it.
My mattress hangs off the box spring, crooked, and the sheets have been torn off. My closet door is wide open and all the shoeboxes I use to store my keepsakes and photos have been dumped out.
What was he looking for? I wonder as I step over my shoes and books. I have to watch where I’m going so I don’t fall and break my neck.
I reach my dresser and notice the drawer I keep all my panties and bras in is half empty.
What the fuck?
I grab what’s left and stuff it in my backpack.
Carefully, I make my way over to my closet and squat down. He left all the pictures I have left of my mom on the floor like he doesn’t give a fuck.
Seeing them left there like they’re trash makes me so angry I could cry. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath.
It’s not enough that he’s destroyed my life, he has to also destroy what few possessions that mean the world to me.
Fighting back tears, I carefully pick the pictures up.
As much as I want to I can’t take all the pictures with me so I pick out my favorite two to keep and the stack the rest up. I refill the boxes and tuck them into the back of the closet.
I will be back for them after I find a permanent place to live.
Grabbing some of the clothes piled around me, I stuff my backpack with everything that will fit, then pile the rest on top of the boxes to hide them.
Fuck Travis. Seriously, just fuck him.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for this.
Getting to my feet, I check the time. I’ve only been in here for thirty minutes or so. I doubt Travis will be back anytime soon, he’ll probably be gone for hours.
I look longingly towards my bed. I’d sleep but I can’t risk it. I’m so tired after my ten hour shift I’m not sure I could just nap.
For the past three days, I’ve been staying with my best friend, Nicole, at her mom’s house and picking up extra shifts at work.
Unfortunately, Nicole’s parents are divorced, and because she hasn’t turned eighteen yet she still has to spend every other weekend at her dad’s place upstate. I can’t stay at her dad’s house so I’m on my own until she gets back.
Thankfully, I have just enough cash from the extra hours I picked up at Burger Bells to get a hotel room for the weekend, so that’s the plan.
I might not be able to sleep here but it would be nice to take shower before I head out to the hotel. I’m covered in burger grease and reek of onions. If I’m going to change out of my uniform, I might as well get clean before I put fresh clothes on.
Grabbing a clean change of clothes, I head to the bathroom in the hall. Travis and I have always had to share this bathroom but at least in here it doesn’t look like he’s messed with my stuff. My shampoo, conditioner and razor are right where I left them.
I strip out of my dirty uniform, turn the shower on and jump in. It’s been such a long day, for the longest time I just stand under the hot spray and let the heat sink into my skin.
My muscles tensed up, I feel myself start to relax.
My situation sucks right now, but all is not lost. Tonight, I’ll have a roof over my head.
Picking up my body wash, I lather up my legs and shave them.
In a few weeks, I’ll probably have my own place and I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed again.
This will all work out.
I just can’t let myself focus on the negatives.
Rinsing my legs off, I shave my pits and then lather up my head. After rinsing the shampoo out, I coat my hair in conditioner and let it sit for a few minutes.
I’m reaching down for my body wash when the shower curtain is suddenly yanked to the side.
“Christy,” Travis grins as the cold air hits me. “You’re back.”
Straightening with a gasp, I stare at him. Is this real? I didn’t even hear him come in…
Travis’ eyes light up with delight as they rake over me, lingering on my breasts.
Everything happens so fast, there’s no time to think, I just react. Travis reaches into the shower and grabs me by the arm.
I cry out and my feet slip as he yanks me forward.
He pulls me into his chest, and as my breasts smash against him, I immediately pull back.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he grunts, yanking me back into him.
“Get off me!” I scream and kick at his shins.
Grunting in pain, his fingers tighten around my arms, digging into my skin. He backs me up and presses me against the cold tile wall.
Pressing forward, he grinds himself against me and I can feel his zipper digging into my stomach.
“You can stop playing hard to get now,” he says. “I know you want it.”
Panicking, I feel a burst of strength and shove him back, hard. His grip breaks and he stumbles backwards, not expecting such strength from me.
Anticipating his forward rush, my instincts kick in, and I swing out, landing a perfect blow to his chin.
His eyes roll up into the back of his head and he crumbles to the floor.
Just like that, he’s out.
I stare down at him with a mixture of shock and horror.
I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I just knocked him out.
My heart is beating so fast I feel like I’m going to be sick. My ears are buzzing and my fingers are twitching.
Travis groans and my adrenaline shoots up again. I carefully step over him and then make a naked dash to my room.
Oh, god, I gotta get out of here before he gets back up.
I grab a shirt off my floor and pull it over my head then wiggle my wet ass into a pair of wrinkled yoga pants. Shoving my feet into my shoes, I grab my backpack and make a run for it.
Feet pounding the floor, I run up to the front door and yank it open. Outside, the tricked out green Neon is parked in front of the house, idling.
The driver, Travis’ friend Ryan, notices me and calls out, “Hey!”
I slam the door. I can’t go that way.
Turning, I hear a loud groaning and a couple of thumps as I run through the kitchen for the back door that leads to the patio.
Just as I slide the patio door open, Travis calls out, “Christy! You little bitch! You’re going to pay for that.”
I don’t waste a se
cond closing the patio door behind me. I just run. If I don’t get away, if he comes after me again, one of us is seriously going to get hurt and end up in the hospital.
Jumping down the stairs of our deck, I rush across the yard and jump over our back fence. I race through our neighbor’s dark yard and hear Travis bellowing.
“Christy! Get your ass back here or it’s going to be worse for you!”
Fuck him. Does he think I’m stupid? He must think so because I hear him yelling out a minute later, “I’m sorry! Just let me explain. Fuck. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
I don’t stop, I keep running. It’s run or die now.
After I make it through the yards I know I can get through, I hit the sidewalk and pound the pavement.
My body is functioning on automatic and it’s a few streets later before I realize where I’m going. I’m not just running idly; I’m fleeing towards safety.
My stamina draining away, my pace slows to a jog and I take in my surroundings, quickly recognizing the neighborhood. My feet are carrying me towards the only place that feels safe in this world—Chase’s gym.
I jog the last couple of streets, not slowing until I reach the gym’s parking lot. The parking lot is empty and all the windows are dark.
Still, I walk up to the front door, panting as I catch my breath, and check. I pull on the handle but it doesn’t budge. It’s locked.
Dammit.
I walk over to one of the windows and peek in. Everything is dark.
No one is here but I really want to get in.
Suddenly, I hear an engine roaring in the distance. My heart beats wildly with panic and I glance frantically around me. Everything is lit up and there’s nowhere to hide.
I’m screwed if it’s Travis.
Skirting around the side of the building, I head for the shadows and pray I can’t be seen.