She nods. “I think my brother was invited once, I remember him mentioning something, but... he never learned to swim either. It was something we were supposed to do together.”
I study her profile, and the shadowy look that comes over it. I need it gone.
“Come up here.” I tap my foot along the top of the rock.
She looks to me. “Up there?”
I grin. “You afraid, Bishop?”
She scoffs a laugh, but nods. “Kind of, yeah.” She looks over the side, at the twenty-foot drop down into the deep, dark water beneath us. “What if I fall?”
“What if I said I won’t let you?”
Her eyes fly to mine and she opens her mouth to speak, but then lowers her smile to her feet. She licks her lips, peeking up through her long lashes.
Without a word, she walks closer, her hand reaching out for mine.
I don’t know what the fuck it is, but something that stirs like nerves builds behind my ribs, twisting and fucking tightening.
It ain’t nerves, though.
I’m not nervous.
But what am I?
I drop onto my ass and scoot toward her, take her outstretched hand and steal the other. Her chest inflates when I link our fingers together rather than tug on her open palms.
“Climb me, Tink.”
“Climb you?” she deadpans.
I grin. “Like your favorite, sexy tree.”
A laugh bursts from her, but she quickly swallows it, takes a deep breath, and climbs.
She ditched her shoes where I did, so she lifts her legs as high as she can, using the base of my feet as a steppingstone. Her left knee comes down then, first pressing into the muscle of my thigh but as she lifts the right, the other slides along the material of my shorts, widening her legs.
To keep her from scraping her kneecaps on the rock’s surface, I quickly tear my hands from her, lean back so she doesn’t fall back, and glide my palms underneath.
The move forces her to lean forward.
Her hands land on my shoulders, her chest pressing into mine, her cotton shorts right the fuck against my starving cock.
She wiggles, attempting to climb higher maybe, off hopefully, but neither of those things happen.
What happens is I twitch against her and fuck me, she feels it.
Her head’s fallen near my ear, and the gasp that breaks from her as she feels me jolt against her pussy, has me clenching my muscles.
She doesn’t play into the position like every single other girl I’ve ever fucking met would, but presses her knee into my palm firmer to get her balance. She quickly stands.
Brielle smirks down at me, standing over me all proud and cocky like.
She made it up the rock, all five-foot of her, and she’s damn happy about it, even if she needed help to make it happen in the end.
“Fair warning, little Bishop.”
She glances at me, confusion drawing creases along her forehead.
“Move, or I’m looking up the shorts.”
Her mouth drops open and she hops over with a laugh, but it turns into a sigh as she looks out, able to see beyond the blocking trees near the lower rock. “Wow.”
I nod and push to my feet, staring in the same direction.
“What’s this place called?” she wonders.
“Knight’s Ferry.”
She glances over, her lashes fluttering in full-on mocking motions. “Are you a knight?”
“I’m a soldier, a knight, a fuckin’ hoodlum.” I shrug.
Her head tilts and she pulls her lips in to fight a grin.
“What?”
She lifts a shoulder, her eyes following her hand as she trails it along an overhanging tree limb. “Figured you say something like I’m a king, little Bishop.”
“If I had, your smart-ass would throw back something like only in your dreams, Playboy.”
She giggles. “Do you want to be king? You know, your world’s kind of king?”
“Nah.” I look off, squinting at nothing. “Not the kind you’re thinking, anyway.”
“And what is it I’m thinking?” She shifts closer.
I frown at the hills before us. “Same shit as everyone else.”
Things they’re led to believe at my own hand. Based on the persona I’ve created and created well.
She nods, slipping in front of me, and waits for me to meet her eyes. “And what is that?”
I glare, running my tongue along the backs of my teeth. Everyone thinks it, no reason to keep my mouth shut about it, yeah? So I don’t.
“That I want or need to be the head, in charge or important, all eyes on me front line seen.”
Her lips twitch. “And you don’t?”
I shake my head.
“So, if that’s what me and everyone else assumes, like you said, then what do you mean by you want to be a king, but not the kind we are thinking?”
When I don’t open my mouth, her tone drops.
“What kind of king do you want to be, Royce Brayshaw?”
No.
Nope.
She withdraws, realizing she has no place to ask. That I have no reason to answer, and then she takes another step away and I don’t like it, the distance.
The separation.
So fuck it.
I slide in, closing the gap she put between us and glare down at her.
“You want to know what kind of king I want to be? Fine, I’ll tell you, and then I’ll ruin you if you run around and tell another soul. Got me?”
Swear to God she wants to laugh but fights the shit out of the urge, and nods instead.
I dip down, getting in her face a bit and lay it all out. I give her what others don’t see or understand. What I’ve never admitted to anyone, but know my brothers comprehend. And they should, they’ve already become their kind of king themselves.
“I want to be the guy a girl closes her eyes at night and sees. The one she wakes thinking about ‘cause she wants to fuck me or fuck with me, fight with me. And not because she wants to gain something or prove something, but because I’m all that she can see and she feels blind without me, even if she wishes she didn’t sometimes. I want to be her light and dark and, yeah, sometimes her fucking nightmare. A fucking king in her eyes and she’d be all those things right back, the queen in mine. Of mine.”
My breaths are coming out quicker than expected, and I’m tempted to get her fucked-up so she forgets I said any of that. Tension wraps around my shoulders, and I flex the cords in my neck, waiting for the laugh, the backlash, the fucking foul play to light up her wild, hypnotic eyes.
I get none of that.
This girl... this fucking girl, man.
She smiles, and without a hint of mockery.
It’s pure and true and... fuck me, it’s gorgeous.
She’s gorgeous.
Beautiful.
She tips her head and my pulse kicks up, a softness in her eyes I wasn’t prepared for and I’m not sure I want to see staring back at me. Not a damn thing good can come of her looking at me like this. Like she sees me. Like she understands.
Like she hopes to someday somewhere find the same things?
Like she hopes she has?
I swallow.
The corner of her lips lift, and she does what she knows I need.
She adds a little fun into her tender tone. “That’s almost sweet.”
“Oh she’ll have to be sweet.” I follow her lead. “I’m a candy man.”
Brielle laughs and I step back.
There we go, back in safe waters.
Speaking of water...
“Come on.” I grab her hand and tug her forward.
I turn toward her, my smile wide and devious.
Her head tugs back slowly, warily, and rightfully. “What...?”
“We’re jumpin’.”
Her eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Oh hell no—”
And then she’s screaming, ‘cause she’s in my arms and we’re over the edge.
Brielle
It happens so fast I have no time to argue or prepare, so I latch on to Royce’s neck, bury my face in it and point my toes.
We hit the water with a splash that echoes in my ears beneath the water.
Royce’s arms fall from around me the second we’re submerged, quickly gripping on to one of my hands, and together we pop back up to the surface.
I gasp, a laughed ‘holy shit’ flying from me as a shiver runs over my body and he waits not a second, tugging me along while I splash at him with my free hand.
He grins, and not five feet in, he’s able to reach the ground. I try, but my head dips under and he pulls me closer.
He chuckles, his hands finding my hips as he walks us in a little more, and as soon as my tiptoes feel the mushy ground beneath them, I nod.
He stops.
I reach up, slapping at his chest, and he grins, catching my wrist and tugging me forward.
I laugh, my fingers subconsciously curling around the chain hanging from his neck, and his grin begins to slip, a far more hazardous expression covers him.
My stomach dips.
It’s as if he’s stoking a fire I didn’t know I’d built.
Or maybe he built it.
How can I feel hot all over when I’m submerged up to my shoulders in cold water?
My hair falls into my face, and I welcome it.
Hide me.
Hide my truth, even from me.
I don’t want to know what this feeling means.
Royce’s attention falls to the strand of hair stuck to my cheek, and his fingers twitch against my wrists. He wants to push it away, but I can’t let him.
He can’t touch me. Not now. Not with both hands. Not when my body’s boiling like a witch’s favorite cocktail, bristling and brewing, overflowing with wicked, wicked things.
I tip my head back as a way to escape those dark and daunting eyes a moment, bending until the water reaches the roots along my forehead and give it a light shake to make sure it’s drenched completely. I lift slowly so it slicks back and out of my face. When I face forward again, Royce’s eyes are locked on my neck.
When I swallow, his jaw flexes and his eyes pop up to mine. Angry. Frustrated.
Chaotic?
He whips us around, placing me closer to the bank, and frees my hand from his chain as he tears away from me. He climbs out and up the short hill.
When he comes back, he tosses a few boogie boards to the ground, his phone is in his hand
With aggravated, jerky movements, his fingers pound at his screen. It beeps once and with that one sound, or whatever that sound delivered, relief loosens his shoulders. He sets the phone on a rock, tugs his soiled shirt off, and drops it right beside it.
Abs. For days.
His chain nowhere to be found.
I don’t allow myself to get lost in the corded body in front of me or the special piece of silver draped around him. Instead, I ask, “You okay?”
He nods, focusing everywhere but on me, and shrugs. “I’m bored, need some real entertainment.”
My hands freeze beneath the water and I blink hard. “Are you joking?”
Those dark eyes finally come back to mine, and when they do, they’re distant. Bleak. Bored, as he said he was. “Why would I be joking?”
I couldn’t hide the dry laugh that bursts from me if I tried, not that I care to. I dunk under the water to calm my nerves.
Deep freaking breath, Brielle. This is who he is.
As I think it, something in the back of my mind screams it isn’t true, that the guy who just showed up is the Royce he pretends to be, the one he wants the world to see and know and fear.
I see more.
I rise, make my way over to the flat land, and step from the water.
I don’t look his way, but notice with my every foot forward, he shifts in the opposite direction. I brush through my hair with my fingers and tousle it over so it’s not stuck flat to my head and ensuring my scalp is covered. “Are you ready to head back then?”
“Nope. Party’s coming here.”
I freeze, turning toward him. “Here.”
He watches me closely.
“Okay.” My eyes shift between his. “Are we driving to the other side then?”
He tilts his head. “And the point of that would be?”
“You said this is where you come to avoid being seen, your own little hideaway. Do you really want to bring people here?”
His raucous laugh stings when I wish it wouldn’t, his hand coming up to rest against his ribs even, but it’s all for show.
There’s no humor to be found.
His tone, it’s vile, as is the look in his eyes when he flicks them over me. “You think I’d bring you somewhere I was saving for myself, to a sacred place I wanted to hide from the world?” Another foul laugh. “Nah, baby girl. This place served its purpose when we were young. Ain’t nothin’ special or sacred about it anymore.”
Dick. Head.
I nod, forcing myself to hold his intense, hardened gaze.
As if I was sitting back thinking he was sharing some piece of his soul with me by bringing me here. I didn’t. Am I glad he did? Yes, completely. But truth be told, I hadn’t even paused enough to break down our little trip out here, I was too busy appreciating the scenery, and, yeah, enjoying his company. I’m sure I would have later, but I hadn’t yet.
I don’t hate being around him, even if maybe I should, since all of our interactions are pretty much the same and on repeat.
He laughs, I laugh, he gets pissed off and leaves.
He’s angry, I make a joke, he laughs, and then he leaves.
That’s how it goes, so I guess I was supposed to expect this.
Hot and cold.
Sweet and sour.
Unpredictable with diehard mood swings—you have to hope he’s warm on the inside when he’s warm on the out. Chances are, he’s not.
Pizza freaking pocket.
Screw your little Pisces complex.
I smile, and it’s not even fake because, again, screw him. I’m not going to let him ruin my day. I’ve allowed too many people to do that for too long.
“Sounds good, Playboy. I bet it’ll be fun.”
His brows snap to the center, his gaze narrowing and falling to my hands when they meet the hem of my shirt. They cut back and forth between my eyes and my shirt as I lift it over my head. But once my face is covered, I spin, facing away from him.
“What are you doing?” His question is delivered with a sharp edge.
I shimmy my shorts down and hang my clothes over a nearby tree branch to dry before stepping into the water.
“What do you care what I’m doing, Playboy?” I don’t look back, eyeing the small sandbar that’s maybe thirty feet across the water. “I’m boring and your entertainment is on its way.”
I snag one of the little boogie boards he tossed to the ground, step as far in as I can, but close enough to still get some momentum to push off with my feet, my stomach flat on the floating device, and paddle my way across while hoping I won’t fall off and drown.
I’ll stay there until his ‘party’ gets here, and then I’m going to have a good-ass time.
Without him.
Chapter 19
Royce
She’s annoying.
And irritating.
And the hottest fucking thing out here.
I groan to myself, tear Katie K’s claws off my chest, and walk to the water’s edge, glaring right across it where half the party has migrated, right fucking to her.
Like a herd of wild fuckin’ bulls, that red bikini pulled them right in.
Poor punks, rich pricks, outsiders who found their way to the spot—they all hover around her, her smile drawing them closer, her laid-back laughter stealing out their own.
She’s soft and enigmatic, a fuckin’ tornado, sucking you into its path and keeping you there, swiveling and circling. Suffocating. A prisoner to an energy she’s clueless she
possesses.
The most irritating part, it ain’t just the guys, but the girls too.
I should be able to chill knowing they’ll check her, push her, take a bite out of her for the attention she’s getting, but they aren’t. They joke with her, drink with her, grin right alongside her and it’s because all that ‘attention’ she’s getting?
She hasn’t a fuckin’ clue.
She doesn’t see it, seek it or sense it. The girl is simply enjoying her damn self.
There’s a strange stir in my chest, but before I can decide what it is, another unexpected and irri-fucking-tating reaction leaps to the forefront.
Rage, but not the kind I like or am used to.
The kind that pisses me off and makes me want to spin on my fuckin’ bare ass feet—that are somehow now buried beneath the water’s surface when a second ago they were on dry land—and get the fuck out. Get fucked. Lost, preferably in a warm ass cunt, if I’m honest. That usually does the trick, erasing everything around me for a solid hour fifteen.
That’s what sex is, right? Mind control, a thought eraser.
Yeah, I could use that right now.
Jonah steps up behind Brielle, and he’s not a tall fucker, so he doesn’t have to bend far for his lips to meet her ear.
Whatever he says has her laughing and looking over her shoulder.
His hands find her shoulders, latching on, and she fuckin’ lets him.
A shoulder slips in front of mine and I’m knocked slightly, my eyes flying right to find Maddoc.
He wears a blank expression. “Brother. Not here, it’s too dangerous. Water. Cliffs. Can’t happen.”
“You think I care?”
He says nothing ‘cause he knows I don’t.
I open my mouth to speak, but quickly close it.
Laughter, calm and kind, penetrates my ears, stabbing at my eardrums and making me fucking crazy.
It’s hers and it’s getting closer.
Water splashes, voices growing near, and I know she’s on her way back to this side and not alone.
She should be alone.
She’s been alone, my brain screams, but my psyche doesn’t care and wants to keep her that way.
Break Me Page 20
