If You Leave (Beautifully Broken 2)

Even through I’m covered in a layer of sand and dirt, I drop onto the couch, flopping onto my back.

“Holy crap. I couldn’t carry one more bag if I tried,” I moan. “I don’t know how you carried so many. You carried four times as many as I did, and you’re not bothered at all.”

“That’s because I’m a badass,” Gabriel says lightly, picking up one of my arms and rubbing at it. “You really are shaking.”

“I knoooowww,” I groan. “Carrying one bag is fine. Carrying a hundred starts to get to a person.”

Gabriel shakes his head a little, but doesn’t stop rubbing my arm. The warmth of his hand feels good against my skin. I flip onto my side, looking him in the eye.

“Do you think it’ll keep the water out?” Even as I ask, I’m not sure that I care. If this house is destroyed by water damage, I’ll get a brand-new one with the insurance money. One that doesn’t carry bad memories in it.

Gabriel nods. “It should. Temporarily, I mean. I can’t imagine the water will stay up very long.”

“OK,” I murmur. As long as we don’t have to worry about the house being flooded while we’re in it, I’m good. And with Gabe’s hands on me, I’m really good.

“Thank you for helping me,” I tell him quietly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He lifts a dark eyebrow. “And how would you have carried all of those bags by yourself? You’ve got spaghetti arms.”

I sputter and he laughs.

“You’re welcome,” he continues, ignoring my indignation. “It wasn’t a problem.”

“My own personal hero,” I declare, smiling into his eyes. His expression turns a little cloudy, but he doesn’t say anything.

He simply says, “It’s what I do.”

Once again I find myself thinking about Gabe in combat gear, dusty and hot, running with a rifle to rescue someone. But that’s where my daydream ends, because I don’t know exactly what he did as a Ranger.

So I ask.

Gabe tenses, then relaxes, almost like he’s forcing himself to.

“A little of everything,” he tells me. “We did some search and rescue, some recon, some surveillance. Our team was a specialized unit. But unfortunately, most of what we did was classified. I can’t talk about it. It drives Jacey crazy.”

“I bet,” I smile, thinking of Jacey’s inquisitive nature. “I’m sure it kills her. Speaking of her, is everything all right over there? Is the water near your grandparents’ house? We were so busy with my house that I forgot to ask you about yours.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. No water. They’re fine. Brand’s going to stay with Jacey until I get there just to make sure Jared doesn’t try anything. I think he’s probably done harassing her now, but you never know.”

I remember Jared’s terrified expression at the gas station a few days earlier. “I think he’s probably intimidated now,” I agree. “But like you said, you never know. He’s a dumbass. And if Brand doesn’t mind being there, it’s probably a good idea.”

“Brand doesn’t mind.”

“Well, good.” I get off the couch and stare down at Gabe. “I’m covered in sand. I’m going to take a quick shower. Help yourself to anything you need; just make yourself at home.”

“If you play your cards right, I’ll give you a massage when you get out,” Gabriel offers. “You got a big workout carrying those bags. We should probably rub the lactic acid out of your muscles so you don’t get sore.”

“Wow, that sounds so… clinical,” I laugh. “But hey, it’s a massage, so I’ll take it.”

I walk down the hall and I can feel his stormy gaze watching me as I go. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but it seems as dark as he is.

* * *

Gabriel

What the fuck am I doing?

Obviously I can’t help being here, but why the fuck am I acting like a domesticated pussy-whipped idiot? Jesus. I’m not pussy-whipped.

Madison is pussy. Pure and simple.

She doesn’t mean anything to me.

I don’t care how many times her eyes turn soft when she looks at me, when they’re normally jaded and worldly. I don’t care how many times she calls me her own personal hero. I don’t care that she’s damaged on the inside, in a way that reminds me of Jacey—and of the damage that my father did to her. But Madison’s damage is far, far worse than Jacey’s.

And it’s not my job to fix her.

I can’t even fix myself.

I go through two cups of coffee while I wait for her on the sofa, as her “quick” shower turns into half an hour. But when she comes out dressed only in a T-shirt and panties, I’m wide awake without the aid of caffeine. I can see the outline of her perky nipples through her shirt and all my previous arguments about how little she means to me go out the window.

Especially when she looks at me with those soft eyes. Eyes that aren’t soft for many people. It clenches my stomach into a fucking knot.

You can’t trust me. But obviously I can’t say that.

“Hey,” I say instead. “Feel better?”

She nods. “Yeah. I stood under the hot water for a while. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s OK,” I tell her. “Seeing your nipples was worth the wait.”

She smiles, her cheeks flushing. “Where do you want me?”

“Under me on the bed.”

Madison startles, but then I laugh. “Under my hands. I just meant under my hands.”

She smiles back at me, but tugs me to my feet.

“OK. I’ll lie on my bed. Then we’ll both be comfortable. I have to tell you something, though.” She pauses and blushes, which immediately piques my interest. This ought to be good. “I’m pretty sore. Down there, I mean. So…”

I interrupt. “Don’t worry. I can rub that too.” At her look of utter chagrin, I burst out laughing. “It’ll be fine, Maddy. I won’t try anything. We’ll be fine on the bed. I mean, if you can control yourself.”

She turns around and walks down the hall. “I’m not the one who needs that talk. The little man there needs that talk.”

As soon as I realize that she’s talking about my dick, I bristle.

“Hey, never, in any situation, should you call him ‘little man.’ The word little should never be used in conjunction with my penis.”

She laughs as she walks into her room and sits on her bed.

“Whatever. I don’t think you really need reassured about your big size, army man. It’s the reason I’m in the shape I’m in, and you know it.” She’s smiling, and I can tell she’s sufficiently impressed.

“That’s better,” I grumble as I settle onto her bed. “You can use that word all you want.”

A wicked gleam shines in her eyes and she flips onto all fours, crawling up over me.

“Big army man. I love your big muscles.” She trails her fingers along my biceps, up and over the contours, following the line of my neck. She turns my face toward her and touches her lips to mine. She tastes like honey. “And I love your big… ego.”

I roll my eyes, but hold her tight to me, my tongue tangling with hers again.

“What else do you love of mine?” I ask softly, dipping my head to kiss her neck.

“I love your big sense of humor,” she whispers, her hands trailing over my shoulders. “And your big smile, when you choose to use it.”

“And?” I whisper back.

Her eyes meet mine and hers are so fucking blue. She kisses me again and then sits on me, wedging her hips tight against my crotch. My dick is rigid against her, rock-hard and straining against my underwear.

“I love…” she whispers, her lips touching mine. “Your big cock.”

I almost choke when she says the word. Not only does she say it, she places extreme emphasis on it. It seems so strange coming from her lips. But she’s feisty. I knew that. And Christ, I love that about her.

But she means nothing, right? My own thoughts taunt me and I gulp as her hand drops down to my lap and her fingers rub the length of me.

I groan.

“You’ve got to stop,” I manage to say. “Seriously. Before you kill me. If you don’t want to fuck me, you’ve got to stop.”

She laughs lightly and hops off.

“That was a fun game,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “What do you want to play next?”

I drop a pillow onto my head and take deep breaths.

“You’re a female devil,” I tell her. “Seriously evil.”

She only laughs harder. “You’re the one who made me sore,” she reminds me. “So just remember that.”

A thought occurs to me.

“Turnabout is fair play, you little demon. On your belly. Now.”

Good-naturedly she flops onto her belly and I straddle her slender form. I bend down and whisper into her ear.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s not going to be that easy. I’m giving you a massage. You’re going to have to take your shirt off.”

Without saying anything or even looking at me, she strips her shirt off and tosses it to the side. She’s not wearing a bra. Suddenly I can’t decide if my punishment for her is going to be harder on her or on me.

She means nothing.

She means nothing.

I remind myself of that as my hands span the width of her back and I rub her muscles soothingly, her skin soft beneath my fingers.

My dick doesn’t get that memo about how little she means to me and how little she affects me. Because each touch makes me a little harder and with each stroke my dick presses more and more into her ass. Fucking traitorous appendage.

I know Madison’s acutely aware of it, but she doesn’t point it out. She simply remains relaxed, facedown on the bed.

I move down to her feet and pick one up, rubbing every inch of it before I continue up her leg, up and over her knee and onward up to her thigh. I knead, pull and rub every inch of her. Up to her neck, down to the small of her back. Her breaths are coming in small little pants now and I smile. She’s not as unaffected as she would have me believe.

And why does her body have to be so fucking perfect?

I slide my hands around her hips and pull her up just a little, as my fingers slide to the juncture of her thighs.

She inhales sharply and I smile again.

Leaning forward, I whisper into her ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

And then I bury my fingers slowly inside her, moving in circles as I slide them in and out. I kiss between her shoulder blades as my fingers fuck her. Within minutes her body tightens up and she moans. When she falls limply back against the bed, she turns to me, her cheeks flushed.

“What was that for?” she asks, her eyes slightly glassy. “You know I can’t have sex with you right now.”

She reaches for me, pulling me to her before she buries her face into my chest.

“I know,” I say. “But since I’ve massaged it for you, maybe tonight?”