Fearless (Broken Love, #5)(38)

“Have I ever handcuffed you and ran away?”

“I thought I’d shake things up a bit so our sex life doesn’t go stale.”

I didn’t expect him to drop me on the couch and step back. I expected him to try and overpower me with his male ego. He only stared down at me as if trying to piece together a tough equation. It was then I realized how exhausted he appeared. Stress lines decorated his forehead and the bags underneath his eyes took away from the striking irises.

“I was really okay,” I said, giving in. “I just needed to think and… I was scared.” I sucked in as much air as I could to hide the alarm that blared within.

When had admitting fear become so hard? Once upon a time, I lived in fear until it was as natural as breathing.

“I’m scaring myself.”

He hesitated and then sat down next to me. “You’re scaring me, too.” I couldn’t recall a time when I’d heard him speak so softly. It turns out Mitch’s death and my lies were leading to a lot of firsts for us.

Keiran had admitted he was afraid and it was because of me.

“So what do we do about it?”

He shook his head and stared deep into my eyes. “Just answer one question first. Did I do this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Did loving me do this to you?”

“I don’t know,” I answered reluctantly. “I only know I wanted to do anything I could to keep you around even it if meant corrupting myself along the way.”

He blew out a harsh breath. “I don’t know if I can accept that. I don’t want you corrupted. I never wanted that for you.”

My heart rate accelerated and my chest grew too tight. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t—

“Ar—are you breaking up with me?” He looked as surprised by his words as I was.

“I probably should…”

No.

He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes tight. I wanted to scream and demand he open them again. I needed to see his eyes. I needed to know if this was real.

“…but there isn’t a muscle in my body strong enough to do what’s right when it comes to you.”

I stared at him in disbelief. When he opened his eyes a tiny fraction to gaze at me, I launched myself into his lap and buried close.

“Don’t,” I found myself pleading.

“I won’t.”

“Don’t think about it anymore either.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.” My hand followed its own command and slapped him with all the strength I had left—the only strength he didn’t take from me with his brief surrender to his conscience.

He grunted in pain, and I realized I wanted more so I tried again only to be stopped by his hand on my wrist. “You’re pushing it.”

“Do you have any idea what you just did to me?”

“You had my father killed. I think we’re even.”

“So breaking up with me was your way of getting back at me?”

He shot me an impatient look. “Not in the least, but it’s good to know where you stand with us.”

“I’ll always stand by us.”

“Even if my hairline recedes and I grow a beer gut?”

“You don’t drink beer.”

“You’re welcome,” he smugly stated causing me to slap him in the six slabs of concrete under discussion. “I told you about that.”

The warning in his eyes was clear. I shrieked and scrambled to escape his lap, but he was much too fast. He locked his arms around my waist and sunk his teeth into my shoulder. “I told you,” he growled and pushed his hips up until they met mine.

He may have been too much for most women, but his forcefulness was exactly what drove me wild and kept me crazy about him.

It took a special kind of girl to bring Keiran Masters to his knees.

We made out as if we were teens again when he would drag me out from my house in the middle of the night during the summer and into the backseat of his car.

It didn’t take long for his jeans to be around his ankles with me also naked from the waist down and riding him as if my life depended on it.

“Oh, my… Fuck,” I cried when I finally came and shook around him. He grunted from the force of his own release as he came inside me and nibbled on my jaw before kissing his way down my neck. My hips moved slowly against him, and with his cock lodged deep inside me, I could have easily come a second time.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you,” I gasped when he sucked my breast into his mouth, “more.”

“I doubt that.” He released my nipple and grinned up at me with all his boyish goodness.

My eyebrow lifted at his response. “We could always beat the crap out of each other to settle the score like you do with Dash and Keenan.”

“I thought we could go upstairs and make another home video.”

For Keiran’s birthday this year, I finally gave in to his desire to tape us when we made love so we could capture moments that passed between that were fleeting but powerful.

We made a few dirty ones, too.

I captured his lips. It was my turn to kiss him senseless, so when he closed his eyes and gave in, loosening his grip in the process, I made my move.