Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(98)
She gasps, the cold a surprise, but her grip never wavers, and neither do her eyes.
I drag my hands along her ribs and squeeze, inhaling her exhale, and step us out a little deeper into the water.
“Lie back, onto my hands,” I rasp.
She doesn’t ask why, doing as I said, her body straight as a board and light in my palms.
I keep my hands pressed against her upper thighs and lower back.
“Close your eyes, relax your muscles, and breathe deep, baby girl. Steady.”
She does, her chest rising before me and it takes serious effort not to run my hands over her breasts.
“Let go of everything on the inside, and just ...breathe.” Slowly, I remove my hands, staying close at her side for several moments before slowly drifting away.
The water ripples with my retraction and her eyes open. I lift my hands high, so she doesn’t lose focus as she seeks me out, and her lips curl up gently.
At the sight, my lungs hollow out.
I might be a sinking fucking ship, I can’t deny that, but if I do go down, she doesn’t have to drown with me.
And now she won’t.
This girl, she’s brave.
She’s not afraid to be vulnerable, could care less of what people think of her. She wants nothing more than to simply...be.
The truth is, I wish I was like her.
I’m not.
I’m who the outside world expects me to be. Young, rich, and privileged and everything those three worthless words entail.
Like I said, I might drown in a persona of my own making, but my baby, she won’t.
She’ll float. One day learn to swim. And then this girl, she’ll soar way the fuck above me, because she’ so much more than I could ever be.
Yet here she is, smiling up at the stars in my pool, on my property, in my reach.
She’s perfect
And she’s mine.
Brielle
His lips, god I love them. So soft but rough, full and commanding, masterfully purposeful as is his every touch.
Royce must have bewitched me because I don’t know how it happens or if anyone spotted us, but when my eyes open and the lustful fog lifts a little, I realize we’re no longer in the pool, but climbing stairs. Stairs inside the Brayshaw mansion.
Royce pulls back, his gaze eager, heartbeat erratic, but his hold... tense.
For the boy who doesn’t show the world who he really is, this is huge. Tough, even if he won’t say the words out loud.
He brought me into his home, into his safe space, the only place he can be free to smile and laugh for real, to love and play and breathe.
His steps slow as we reach the top of the stairs and I glide my hand along his cheek, into his hair, holding on to him.
His eyes close, a hard puffed breath fans across my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You can turn around right now and I promise you, my feelings won’t be hurt.” I slide my other hand up and case him in fully.
His pulse pounds against my fingers, his brows caving in.
I offer him a small smile and I nod in encouragement. “Turn around, Royce. Take me outside.”
His forehead falls to mine and he pauses. A few seconds pass, and then his eyes pop up, one hand leaving me, the twist of a knob sparking the nerves low in my stomach.
With every step into the room he takes, his muscles ease, his confidence rolling back in and strengthening his grip, his gaze, his being.
Gone are the creases along his face, and in their place is a smooth hint of certainty.
He grips my hips, so I allow my legs to fall from around him, and the second my feet hit the floor, his hands are tugging my soiled shirt over my head. He drops it where we stand and his fingers slide to the button of my shorts, unfastening them.
His hands glide along the waist and he pushes them down.
They fall to my feet, and I don’t hesitate to step out of them.
The pads of his thumbs find the piercings on my hipbones and a low groan leaves him as he floats across the embedded silver, curving around to my ass from there.
He squeezes and a sharp gasp escapes me, my chest falling to his, and my bra’s unhooked a moment later.
His eyes find and hold mine as he dips his head, using his chin to push the straps down my shoulder and moving over to do the same to the other.
The fan above us blows quiet and cool, hitting the wet spot left behind and causing a chill to spread through me.
Royce’s hand sneaks between our bodies, and he tugs my bra from between us, my breasts now naked against his button-up.
He swallows, licking his lips as his fingertips skate along my ribs, hooking into the hem of my underwear. “I take these off, I’m sliding in.”
“I might beat you if you don’t.”
His chuckle is low but cut short when his fist wraps up the thin cotton, stretching it while he works through the last bit of his reserve. And then he tears them, rips the sides, and they fall to the floor in a shredded mess. I’m naked against him.
His mouth falls to mine, kissing and nipping and sucking on my lower lip until, once again, his forehead falls forward. “Lie back on my bed, baby, let me look at you.”
There’s a heavy pull between my legs, and my nipples peak, growing hard and firm for him.
I push onto my toes, tug his head down, and crush my mouth into his. Royce kisses me back with such vigor I can hardly stand it.