Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(77)

His jaw muscles flex, his eyes falling to my mouth. “As if you’d need one.”

“I wouldn’t.”

His gaze snaps back to mine, and just like that, the air around him grows playful.

I knew it.

He grins, a low laugh leaving him as he shifts the SUV in gear. “I know.”

That grin? It turns to a smirk, and the worst kind.

The kind you sit and wonder about for hours upon hours because it could mean one of so many things.

However, that’s not what plagues me as the day goes on, but the truth behind my answer.

I do want to stay, and not for anyone else this time.

For me.





Royce





I don’t know how I knew she’d be waiting for me, but as I step out at the mansion, there she is.

Sitting on the porch with soft eyes and a knowing smile, Maybell pats the space beside her, so I don’t hesitate to drop right down.

“You knew she thought he was here, didn’t you?”

She nods, looking out over the trees. “She was too proud to be home, boy. I saw the longing in her those pretty eyes of hers,” she says quietly. “She was missing something, and he’s the only thing she thinks it is.”

We look to each other and I raise a dark brow. “Thinks it is?

“Yes, boy. Thinks,” she says, her tone stern. “Way I see it is what that girl needs is what she’s yet to realize she wants, as it’s something else entirely, but she’s getting there, more and more each day.” She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I know you’ll help her figure it out.”

I look away, glaring at the rocks in the driveway. “How exactly am I supposed to do that?” I can’t stop myself from asking even if I wish I could.”

Maybell stands and stares down at me. “By being you, while she’s busy being her.”

I frown and she chuckles.

“Trust me, boy.” She smiles and walks away.





Chapter 22





Royce



Brielle’s little freak-out sent everything to shit earlier today, but we’re used to things going off course, so we rested and rallied and here we are, round two-ing it only a handful of hours later.

The plan was always to be slick with this guy, catch him alone so we could do what was necessary to get the truth out of him, especially since we’re playing the waiting game on the other half of this issue. I might be reckless and wild, but that’s because I don’t give a shit. I am fully fucking capable of being careful and smooth when I have to be. Sort of.

I mean I am sipping on a bottle of water right now, but as Brielle walks into the room, a bottle of whiskey starts to sound real fucking nice.

The blood in my veins runs warm, and calls for a mandatory long, slow review of the five-foot, lively little thing.

Tight black pants that reach above her belly button, hiding the piercing I got a better—not at all good enough—look at when she stripped her top off at the water, and making me want to know what’s under there even more. Her shirt reaches where her pants end and is a plain, solid red, the same exact shade her lips are tinted tonight. Shiny and plump.

Speaking of plump, that ass.

Fuck me, that. Ass.

Peachy and round.

How’d she fit the thing in that bikini?

She shifts, glancing around the room, stretching her slender neck to see beyond where her frame allows.

She’s so tiny, I could lift her ass up—literally.

Yeah, I could get it nice and high, and right against the wall, high enough to put her sweet pussy level with my mouth. I’d start with my tongue, slide it out and between her legs, free her clit of her lips and suck it between mine.

I’d bite her, but just a little.

Yeah, she’d like that. Know she would.

I groan, stretching my leg out and only then do I realize hands slipped over my thigh, inching toward my junk.

I blink, spotting a heap of blonde hair leaning near my face, a shoulder that’s too broad to be my baby girl’s in my space.

Maddoc catches my eye from his seat beneath Raven and pointedly looks to my hand, clutched tight on the arm of the chair. I let go, instead curving it around Grace’s back as she sits on an ice chest to my right.

Grace. Yeah, that’s this chick’s name, but I don’t know why she’s over here.

Nobody invited her to sit.

Grace looks over her shoulder, grinning at me, and lowers her cup to her lap. “You know I’m willing to get out of here if you are.”

A laugh leaves me and my head falls to the side. “You’d give me what you got without making me earn it?”

I tense.

The fuck’d I just say?

Her expression mimics my inner thoughts, but she attempts to laugh it off. “I’d say it’s well earned.”

Right. Because of my name and the bragging rights that come along with it.

They want it.

Yeah, they. ‘Cause she’s just one of many, and I’m the guy that made it clear it’s an easy thing to accomplish.

Wanna fuck a Brayshaw? Go for the fucked-up one with tattoos you could never understand and a mind you could never live inside, a soul you could never reach. One and done.

You don’t have to get to know him, you don’t even have to like him, and the chump won’t even care, he’s that detached.