Broken for Me (Be for Me 5)

She sat up abruptly, scooping up her panties from the floor and scrunching them into a small ball in her fist. “I have to go. I have to get back to work soon.”

She needed to shower and change. How was it possible that she was still almost fully clothed yet she felt utterly bared to him, while he was the one naked and didn’t seem as affected? The imbalance was unbearable.

“Of course.” A rueful expression flickered in his eyes. “I’ll see you at the bar.”

She wanted to ask him not to—to beg him to leave her alone—but she couldn’t get it out. It was too late. She’d had a taste and she wasn’t going to be able to fully resist him. That realization terrified her. If she was this wrecked after only a little foreplay, how could she ever cope with more? She had to go.

“Don’t look so worried,” he called as she quickly scuttled to the door. “This isn’t going to be that difficult.”

That’s where he was wrong.

CHAPTER FOUR

INTENSE WASN’T THE word for Luisa. The woman lived for pleasure—but she let herself take it in only tiny, one hundred percent proof bursts. Hunter wanted to eek it out for her—prolong it, deepen it, make it better and better still. He’d known she’d be passionate and she was—hot and sweet and he didn’t want to wash the scent of her from his skin, he didn’t want to walk from her. Ever.

Yeah, so freaking infatuated. So hard for her still, despite blowing that load. Not having her completely was breaking him. But he’d been broken before and had never been put back together right anyway. What were a few more unfixable cracks?

It had been so fucking worth it.

He took a couple of deep breaths to keep back the disappointment of not having it all with her yet. No point in pushing her for what she didn’t want to give. It was what it was, right? He had to accept it. But he was mad with her. He wanted more and he damn well knew she did too. She just needed that little bit longer to accept it.

He closed his eyes and relived the pleasure of watching her writhe on his bed. She’d kissed like a dream and her body was silken, hot and strong and he still ached to pull her beneath him and drive as deep as he could into her. He wanted to watch her eyes as he did that. He wanted to feel her response in every goddamn cell.

Soon. He breathed in and tried to cool it. He was close and she was so nearly ready and he could wait just a little longer.

So fucking worth it.

Raw, masculine satisfaction thrummed through his body as he remembered how wet-hot she’d been, how her lust-dazed gaze drank him in as she’d touched herself. She thought of him every time. Thank heavens. That made them even.

He stalked to the shower and flicked the lever to cold. He ran his hands down his body, but he didn’t stroke his straining cock. No. He wasn’t jacking off again without her. He had no intention of coming again until he was locked in her tight little channel. He hissed out a breath between gritted teeth as he remembered how she’d clenched on his fingers. So hot. So tight. So fucking his.

An hour later he walked over to where she was working the bar. She looked at him but looked quickly away again. Yeah, she had regrets. Which was wrong. Nothing about what had happened between them this afternoon should be cause for regret. He took a seat and ordered a beer from her, trying to stay gentle and not let his bubbling impatience show. She didn’t look into his eyes when she placed it on the bar.

Chicken.

But he bided his time, sipping the beer, amused by the other patrons and their antics, enjoying watching her.

“You’re just gonna sit at the end of the bar and stare at me all night?” she asked tartly after an hour or so.

“I can’t think of anything better to do.”

“Karaoke?” she suggested flippantly. “You could talk to some people. Dance. Party.”

“Not my style, you know that.”

“What do you do to blow off some steam?”

He didn’t bother answering that one. Too obvious.

“You’re too serious,” she said. “You should find other ways to loosen up.”

“You think I don’t know how to loosen up?” he asked, entertained by both her attack and her assumption.

“I think you’re extremely serious.”

“After what happened in your villa this afternoon?” Laughter burst out of him. “Wasn’t that us playing a game?”

“That was extremely serious,” she whispered huskily.

“Maybe you’re projecting and that’s your problem,” he said with a wink. “Maybe you take sex too seriously. Which is interesting given how not-seriously you take other things.”

She frowned. “Such as?”

“Your career. You don’t mind what you do, you don’t have some big dream to build a long-term career in any one place or doing any one thing.”

“No,” she admitted with a proud toss of her head. “I’m not bothered about ‘making it’ in the rat race if that’s what you mean.”

“Sure, that’s fair enough, if it’s actually the truth. And then there’s your personal life. You smile and make friends easily, yet you leave them even more easily.”

It was deep relationships she didn’t want.

“There’s this thing called social media, it makes it easy to stay in touch,” she said sarcastically.

“Yet you only post carefully curated pictures that show more scenery than emotion.” He critiqued. “Chelsea and Min showed me your page. Yet you take sexual intimacy very seriously.”

Hence her not-much-sex thing. Or at least, not much sex with one person thing.

“I’m picky about sharing my body, I’m not going to apologize for that.”

A shot of possessiveness winched him tighter. “I’d never want you to. I’m picky too.” He leaned closer to her. “I like that you’re picky. I also like that when you do decide to do something, you go all in.”

“I thought I was ‘perfunctory’.”

He chuckled at her little pout. “You’re still smarting about that? You were quick, but you were passionate with it.”

A vulnerable expression flickered in her eyes. He almost felt badly for needling her. Maybe he ought to back away and leave her alone. Except he couldn’t, and he damn well knew she wanted this as badly as what he did. Didn’t she understand that if they indulged they could rid themselves of it? There was no need for either of them to get hurt. Clearly she’d been hurt before. His skin prickled. If he ever found out who and how, he’d punch the fucker.

“Why don’t you want to get close to anyone?” he asked flatly.

She spilt some of the drink she was pouring. With a frustrated sigh she glared at him. “I can’t work with you standing there watching me.”

Too much too soon. Again. He was pushing her too hard. But it was hard not to when he’d waited this long. He should have come sooner, but he’d needed to finish that last job. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was before this afternoon. You’re too much of a distraction now.”

“And you’re too much of a chicken. Anticipation makes everything all the more exciting.”

“No,” she argued in a low, throbbing voice. “It makes everything ache.”

Her admission almost had him lose control.

“Oh baby, want me to sneak you outside?” he growled. “We both know it only takes you a couple minutes.”

Her lips tightened. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Why?” He lifted his hands in surrender. “What have I done that’s so wrong?”

She tossed down the cloth and put both hands flat on the bar counter and eyeballed him. “You want to know everything about everyone else…but you don’t tell anyone about yourself.”

His chest tightened and his throat followed suit. There was nothing to tell. Literally nothing. That was why.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Just… stuff.”

“Wow. Way to go on the opening up. Great sharing with you.” She turned her back on him.

&nb

sp; “You don’t want to do that either,” he called after her in annoyance. “You don’t want to get close. Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to be smothered,” she snapped at him, turning back to step to his end of the bar.

He was shocked that she’d given him an honest answer.

“I had over-protective parents,” she said shortly, offering the tiniest explanation. “I like my personal and emotional space, okay?”

“Okay.” He huffed out a breath. That was fair enough, he could deal with that. “I will not over-protect.” He stifled a laugh as she stared at him skeptically. “No wonder you don’t want to want me.”

“It’s what you do, isn’t it?” she guessed. “Protect people.”

“It’s only a little bit of what I do. Mostly I find people.”

“Like a private investigator?”

“Kind of,” he shrugged. “I’m an extraction and retrieval specialist.”

“What—or who—do you retrieve?”