Breaking Him (Love is War #1)(67)

After he’d finished me that time, he climbed on top of me, laying naked and heavy there.

With a groan, I pushed him onto his back and he let me.

“I think I’m ready,” I told him, pressing my breasts to his chest, rubbing my nipples into his skin how he loved. “I want you inside me. I want you to finish inside of me.”

He groaned like I was torturing him. “Jesus. Now you tell me this, when we’re in the middle of nowhere?”

“I didn’t mean right this second. I just meant, in general, I think I’m ready.” I tried to sound more sure than I felt.

The way he looked at me then made my chest go tight with emotion. He cupped my cheek as he said tenderly, “Don’t rush for me. I can wait as long as you need.”

Sometimes it was like he could read my mind. Lots of times, in fact.

No one would ever know me like he did. Understand and indulge the darkness and the lightness in me. The good and the bad. The strong and the weak. Take all of the parts of me that were toxic and soothe them with the perfect antidote.

We had all of the ingredients of forever love.

And on the immediate heels of that was a debilitating and destructive insecurity. Did he feel the same? Was it even possible for him? Was I enough to make anyone feel the way he made me feel?

“Do you love me?” I asked him.

“What do you think?”

“I think that’s not an answer.”

“Because you know the answer. I’ve told you many times just today. Of course I do. I’m not sure how I’d get through even one day in this world without you in it. Why I’d even want to.”

I studied his face while he uttered every word and found that I believed him.

All I had to do now was make sure he never stopped feeling this way.





But we were never meant to last. If only my heart had had known that.





CHAPTER





THIRTY-TWO





“Love never dies a natural death.”

~Ana?s Nin





PRESENT


I was in the kitchen, rummaging around for coffee like an irritated bear looking for honey when a now dressed Bastian joined me.

He still looked pretty freaking edible. Leo was a crappy as hell father, but he sure made good-looking sons. The Durant men were all of a size, uncommonly tall with straight, broad shoulders. Bastian was dark where Dante was golden, but they still shared a certain look, something sinister around the eyes, with pretty mouths and straight, sharp teeth. Starkly handsome but villainous.

It was my own personal kryptonite.

“Hey,” I greeted him, tone bordering on friendly, because he was maybe the only person in this entire house that I didn’t despise.

“Hey there,” he returned, tone and smile beyond friendly into outright warm.

My body was facing the coffeemaker, hips leaning against the counter as I waited for the coffee pot to fill.

I was serious about my coffee, especially the first cup of the day. I’d basically been watching the pot filling drop by drop, mug ready to pounce the second it finished.

Bastian was clearly a coffee enthusiast himself, joining me right there, actually exactly right there. He didn’t even find his own space, instead he invaded mine, pressing himself against my back as he reached above me for a coffee cup.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he murmured into my ear, “but it felt ruder not to mention it—you’ve got a world class rack. It’s going to be hard for me to forget about it.”

“Well, Bastian, while we’re not being rude I guess I’ll mention that you looked pretty outstanding without your clothes on.”

“You didn’t even get to see the best part.”

“Regrettable,” I remarked, because flirting with hot guys was in my DNA, even if they were blood related to the hate of my life.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “You trying to get Dante to kill you?”

“He can try. Besides, you guys aren’t actually back together, are you?”

“Hell no, but you’re thinking of it reasonably. Try to think of it from the mind of a Dante.”

“I see your point. Something’s always confused me though. With the way he so obviously feels about you, the way you feel about each other, why did you break up in the first place?”

What happens when two people of terrible pride fall for each other?

Terrible things.

Destruction. Chaos. Pain. Sorrow.

War.

“You’d have to ask him,” I finally responded. “It was his idea.”

“Well, he’s a fool then. Want to know who isn’t a fool?”

I was outright grinning at him over my shoulder. “Do you want me to guess or are you going to tell me?”

With a boyish smile, he pointed at himself. “This guy.”

The coffee was finished, and I poured us both a cup. “Good to know,” I said, turning and handing him his.

His smile died suddenly and he glanced around as though making sure we were alone. “Seriously though, I wanted to ask you about something that’s been bothering me for a while.”

I shrugged. “Go for it.” Worst case scenario, if I didn’t like the question I wouldn’t answer it.