Unbreak My Hart (The Notorious Harts 4)

‘Stop running out on me.’ The words are laced with the strength of my feelings. ‘Just stop running away.’

‘I’m not.’ Her eyes are suspiciously moist and I know she hates that because she blinks a thousand times.

‘Yes, you are. You’re running from yourself, your family. And from me.’ I say the last word on a groan, dropping my face to hers, brushing her lips with mine, wanting her, needing her.

She kisses me back, hard, angrily, and I taste her tears and they break my heart. But a second later she’s pushing at my chest, putting distance between us. I stand there, stunned. Her breathing is rushed, her face pale.

‘This is my life—I can do whatever the hell I want.’

‘And what do you want?’

She stares at me for several long seconds and I wait, my breath held captive by my lungs. ‘Oh, go to hell.’

When she stalks away this time I let her go, but I watch her all the way to the corner, where she turns and fades from view.

Fuck it, I’m completely screwed.

* * *

I’ve had three vodkas, no dinner, and I feel like I can finally put Barrett and the damned Harts out of my mind. So why am I here, staring at Barrett’s hotel room door, contemplating pressing the buzzer?

Because I want to be with him one last time. I didn’t know, last time, that it would be the end for us, or I might have slowed it down, remembered more about it. I don’t do seconds, I’m usually happy with a brief encounter, but Barrett’s been more than that—I’m not dumb enough to pretend otherwise—and I don’t feel like we’ve had the closure I need.

Or maybe it’s just that I’ve had three vodkas, no dinner, and he looked pretty fucking great at the café today.

I knock before I can change my mind and as soon as he pulls it open I launch myself at him, not giving him a second to question this, not giving him a second to question me. I kiss him hard, just like outside the café earlier. I kiss him and I swallow any questions he might have, any conversation he may want to make.

I’m done talking.

My hands push at his shirt, lifting it up his body, over his head; we have to break our kiss but as soon as the shirt’s gone I’m back, scrambling up his frame right as he lifts me, holding me to him so I feel the hardness of his chest, his cock, all of him, and I move my hips, trying to get closer to him, needing him, wanting him so badly it hurts.

‘What the fuck?’ He doesn’t stop kissing me though. Instead, his hands push at my own shirt, freeing it from my body, his mouth dropping to my breasts, pulling at a nipple through the bra so I arch my back and lift my arms, needing so much more. He understands, carrying me through the hotel suite towards his bedroom, his mouth on mine the whole time.

Relief splinters inside me as he drops me back against the mattress—the certainty that the oblivion of pleasure is at hand all that I need.

One last time and then I’ll leave, and this time it will be for good. I promise.

CHAPTER TWELVE

IT’S NOT UNTIL she’s naked against the crisp white hotel sheets that I force myself to wake up from this fantasy. What the hell is Avery doing here, like this? And why am I going along with it? That’s easy, dumbass.

‘Please...’ She moves on the sheets, her body shimmying as she reaches for me. Her nipples are taut, her pupils huge, her lips swollen from the force of our kissing, her chest red from my stubble. I stare at her and something inside me snaps. I reach for a condom and pull it on with a sense of grim focus. I want her, but not just like this. Not just now.

My body comes over hers and she parts her legs quickly, wrapping them around me, drawing me closer. I pause at her entrance, look at her face. Her eyes are scrunched closed, and whatever broke inside me a moment ago snaps again.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. On a groan, I thrust into her, holding my cock deep inside Avery, and then I lift a hand, cupping her face, drawing it towards mine. ‘Look at me.’ The words are gravelly now, hoarse and filled with something a lot like pain.

She does, blinking towards me then looking away.

‘Don’t. Don’t look over there. Look into my eyes, Avery.’

‘Why?’ She writhes beneath me, trying to get me to move like she needs, to give her what she wants. I have no doubt she’ll go away again after that. Panic makes me desperate.

‘Because this isn’t just sex. We’re making love and that includes looking at each other.’

I pull out of her and then thrust forward, and she groans, closing her eyes.