Battered Not Broken

by Rose, Ranae

  Her heart skipped a beat as the sound of the deadbolt being undone came from inside.

  Slowly – agonizingly slowly – the door swung inward.

  Ryan stood at the threshold, his hand on the knob. He wore a pair of jeans that might have been the same ones he’d had on at the hospital and, of course, the plaster cast on one forearm – nothing else. Maybe he’d gotten tired of struggling into shirts. His eyes were still red around the edges, their pupils focused on her as he stood, his mouth firmly closed above a jaw that was darkened by stubble.

  “Can I come in?” Never had she been so intimidated by four simple words.

  “Yeah.” He took a step backwards.

  Before he could change his mind, she stepped over the threshold, her heart pounding in relief, flooding her veins with a substance that made her limbs feel faintly weak.

  She kept her jacket on but forced herself to give up her death-grip on her purse handle. Setting her handbag down on the nearby island’s countertop felt daring, but she did it anyway. “I sent you a text this morning. Did you see it?” Too naggy – she sounded like she was upset with him for not replying. “It’s not a big deal if you didn’t. I just—”

  “I didn’t see it. My phone is broken.”

  “Oh. The message I sent – it was just to tell you happy birthday.” Poor timing – he looked anything but happy. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop sabotaging the conversation?

  “Thanks.” He raised a hand to the back of his own neck, rubbing just above where she knew his tattoo started, unmarked skin merging into black ink on the meeting ground of one slightly-raised vertebra.

  Her instant fuck-up was snowballing, threatening to ruin the reunion she’d spent the walk to his place hoping to God he’d allow them to have. “I’m sorry. About last time. I didn’t mean to be so pushy.” She fought the urge to drop her gaze to the floor as he stared at her, the two yards of space between them seeming as vast as the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Don’t be sorry.” There was a faintly gravelly undertone to his voice. It was hard to tell whether it was because he was emotional or just needed something to drink. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”

  “No, I mean it. You didn’t even want me to come to the hospital and I ignored that – I didn’t listen and now that I look back on it, I didn’t have any right to force my presence on you like that.”

  He surprised her by laughing – a short bark of unhappy laughter, but still. “You didn’t force yourself on me – you were just being kind. That’s the thing, Ally – you’re so damn nice and self-sacrificing, sometimes it makes me feel like shit.”

  She stood there, still in her jacket, tensing beneath its zipped-up front as if she were expecting a blow to the gut. “Sorry.” Apologizing for being so damn nice didn’t feel as stupid as she might have imagined.

  “No, I mean – it shouldn’t make me feel that way. But it does because you’re always worrying over me, always trying to help. And it’s nice of you and everything, but it makes me feel pathetic. I wanted to take you on dates, wanted to make you happy and have a romantic goddamn time – not sit around in my apartment or a hospital room thinking things like fuck, I hope I’m not going to puke from the pain, because that would be fucking gross and she might leave then.”

  “I wouldn’t leave because of that.”

  He pulled his hand from his neck and made an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. “See what I mean?”

  “Once, at the gym, Melissa nailed me in the solar-plexus with a really beautiful kick. I puked right there on the mat, in front of her and half a dozen guys. We were in the ring – everyone saw. It was humiliating.”

  Something flashed in Ryan’s eyes – what, exactly, it was impossible to tell.

  “Melissa felt bad and insisted on cleaning it up while I rested. I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen. And then Cameron came out with some janitorial supplies, freaking out over his precious mat. And so he and Melissa cleaned it up right in front of me and everyone. I felt pathetic.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “So if one of your migraines ever makes you puke in front of me, just think of me sitting there on the floor next to the ring like an idiot while Cameron and Melissa talk about whether the mat will be slippery where I threw up my lunch on it and everyone stares at me while pretending to work the bags.”

  The silence that followed her confession wasn’t exactly the reply she’d been hoping for, but Ryan appeared to be thinking – hopefully not about how she’d looked when she’d puked in the ring.

  He shook his head. “I know I’ve been a dick. Sorry. I just… I was already pissed at myself for fucking up half our other dates, and I wanted to make up for it. Then I fell at work and now I can’t.” He lifted his damaged arm. “I can’t do the things I need to do to be with you and that makes me so mad I can’t stand it.”

  It was almost impossible to resist the urge to cross the space between them, to reach out and touch him. Her fingertips tingled with the urge, hungry for the heat and texture of his skin. But fear of frustrating him further held her back. “There’s nothing a broken bone prevents you from doing that you need to do in order to be with me.”

  “It’s not just my arm. It’s everything. I’m just… I’m fucking broken. There are all these things that are wrong and I can’t fix them. Maybe time will make a difference – I don’t know. But you know now and the act is over.”

  Something inside her snapped – her last reserve of inhibition, maybe. She took a couple steps forward and dared to touch him, pressing her palm against his jaw and liking the roughness of his stubble against her skin. “You’re not broken. Maybe a little battered, but definitely not broken.”

  He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw flexing beneath her hand. “I know what I was like before and I know what I’m like now.”

  “I didn’t know you before. I know you now. And I really like being around you. I think about it all the time – when I’m not with you, I wish I was.”

  He shook his head again. “Someone as nice as you deserves someone they don’t have to be nice to all the time. Going on a date should never be a charitable act.”

  A thread of exasperation wove its way through Ally’s consciousness. “Going out with you is not a charitable act.” If anything, she felt fortunate to have met him – lucky to be able to spend time with him. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known, and that was a good thing.

  “It may not start out as one, but it ends up that way when you spend the night at my house trying to take care of me because I can’t even walk straight.”

  Ally stood tall. “I mean it when I say I don’t mind. So we do more than just have fun and sex when we’re together – so what? When you’re hurting, I’d rather be with you than not. Because I care about you, and if I can make you feel even a little bit better, that makes me feel better.”

  He raised his good hand to grip hers, lowering it from his jaw. He didn’t let go. “You’ll get tired of it – you’ll get tired of me. We haven’t known each other very long. If we keep seeing each other, one day you’ll realize that you’ve really gotten to know me and that the good times aren’t worth the bad times.”

  “If you didn’t believe that was true, would you want me around?”

  Chapter 19

  “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “Hell yes. I still want you around – I can’t stop wanting you, even if I don’t deserve you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, then. After Saturday I was afraid you really didn’t want to be around me. Now that I know the truth, I want to keep seeing you.”

  “Ally—” The way he said her name was almost a sigh.

  “Don’t! I know what I want.” She placed her free hand against his chest. “I know we haven’t known each other very long. But if we keep seeing each other, one day you’ll realize that you’ve really gotten to know me and that I’d never leave you because of your injury and the things it does to you.”

  She squ
eezed his hand tightly, suddenly afraid he’d try to withdraw his fingers from hers. “You wouldn’t even think that way if you knew how you make me feel. Being with you is so unlike being with anyone else I’ve ever known. You’re the first guy I’ve ever even felt comfortable enough to spend the night with.”

  A definite look of surprise flashed in his eyes. “You mean—”

  “Not the first guy I’ve willingly had sex with,” she clarified, “but the first I’ve ever actually spent the night with. You know, in the same bed – I’ve never done that with anyone else. That was a big deal to me.”

  “Then spend the night with me again.”

  Her heart did a little flip-flop motion, half of surprise and half of excitement. “Tonight?”

  He squeezed her hand tightly. “Yeah. Tonight. I can only pretend to be selfless for so long. If you really want to be with me, I can’t say no. I want you too bad to do that.” He wrapped her in a one-armed embrace that sent the breath rushing out of her lungs.

  “Okay.” Her voice came out higher than usual, but there was nothing she could do about it. “My things are in one of your drawers, right?”

  “Yeah. Second one down.”

  “Then I don’t need to go anywhere. I can just stay.” It was already dark outside. Now that she was sure he wanted her there, the thought of leaving, even to pick up a few overnight necessities, was incomprehensible.

  He held her tighter – so close she could feel his heart beating beneath his ribs, pounding out a rhythm to match hers. “Don’t leave, Ally. I’ve been hating myself for making you leave on Saturday. It’s fucking miserable here without you.”

  “I’ll stay. I don’t have work tomorrow. We can spend the day together.”

  He leaned back, letting a little space slip between their bodies. “I can’t really take you out. I won’t be able to go back to work for weeks, maybe months. I’m planning to file a claim for worker’s comp, but even if I’m successful it will be less than my regular wages.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s not important to me. I just want to spend time with you.” As if there was any entertainment money could buy that compared to simply being in his arms. Being so close to him made her realize exactly how much she’d missed him since Saturday. The touch of his hand and feel of his muscled arm around her waist caused something inside her to click into place, putting something she couldn’t quite put into words right again.

  He breathed a sigh – one of relief, maybe. Several silent moments passed before he relinquished his hold on her altogether. “I’m going to take a shower. God knows I need one and I can’t put it off any longer now that you’re here.”

  “Do you need any help with your arm?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I could help you wrap it in plastic – maybe a trash bag or something, that way your cast won’t get wet.”

  “All right.”

  She was already in the kitchen, retrieving a trash bag from beneath the sink, when she realized what she’d just done. Burying an eyetooth in her lower lip, she rose with the bag in hand. “Do you have tape?”

  “Yeah.” He reached for a nearby drawer and pulled it open.

  She studied his face as he rifled through the drawer’s contents. He didn’t seem angry over her offer to help – an automatic response she hadn’t thought about, at the time.

  “Here.” He held up a roll of packing tape.

  She wrapped his cast as best she could in the plastic bag, securing it with tape. “Good luck getting out of that, let alone getting your cast wet,” she said when she’d finished.

  He gave her creation an appraising look. “Yeah, this should do the trick.” He paused, his gaze flickering in her direction. “Thanks.” Then he was gone, having disappeared into the bathroom.

  Ally exited the kitchen and sank onto the couch, reclining against its worn cushions and letting them conform to the shape of her body, cradling her in an upholstered embrace. Looking up at the ceiling, she became lost in the drone of rushing water coming from behind the bathroom door. It was probably the first time he’d showered since arriving home from the hospital. The thought made her heart sink. How had he spent his time over the last two days?

  One thing was for sure – though she’d tortured herself thinking and worrying about him since then, she hadn’t been the only one who’d suffered. Not by a long shot. Guilt flooded her as she remembered his words: it’s fucking miserable here without you.

  Maybe she should have come back sooner and tried to reconcile with him instead of staying away for fear of being rejected again.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, heat and steam followed him out the door, vaporous remnants of his shower. The makeshift wrap she’d put around his arm was still there and he wore a towel slung low around his hips.

  She rose to a sitting position as he strode into the bedroom, the beads of water on his back shining like little onyx gems, appearing black because of the ink beneath.

  Minutes later he returned wearing a pair of jeans and holding the plastic bag balled in his good hand.

  She rose from the couch as he threw it in the trash.

  He crossed the space between them without a word and embraced her, bowing his head so that his lips brushed her ear. They weren’t very swollen anymore, but his skin was still faintly rough where it had been broken and the feel of it against the shell of her ear tickled pleasantly.

  She turned her head, an automatic reaction to the sensation. The change in position caused his lips to brush her jaw. His breath rushed against her face, fresh and minty. He’d showered and brushed his teeth, but hadn’t shaved. His stubble teased her, a sensory complement to the roughness of his healing lips. Her body tingled in response, her nipples hardening. She’d missed him physically as well as mentally.

  He unzipped her jacket one-handedly. It took a little longer than it normally would have, but she was patient. The promise of one less layer of clothing between their bodies was irresistible.

  When he’d helped her shed the garment, he caressed her breasts, giving them each as much attention as he could with just one hand. A pang of regret went through her as she realized how long it would be before he’d be able to cradle a breast in each hand – one of her favorite ways for him to touch her. It would be weeks if not longer. Meanwhile… “Do you want to go back to the bedroom?”

  “Hell yes,” he breathed, pinching her nipple lightly through the cover of her shirt and bra.

  Her pussy shrank with surprising fierceness, threatening to drop her to her knees. She gasped and reached for him, automatically seeking to return the pleasure, somehow.

  A sense of purpose filled her when her hand met the hard bulge beneath the fly of his jeans. She gripped his cock as best she could, running her hand up and down the shaft. God, it would be good to feel him inside her again. It had only been a matter of days, but it felt like forever as he continued to apply pressure to her nipple, making her breast throb and her entire body ache for him.

  He released her with a last caress, the tips of his fingers and heel of his palm gifting the swell of her breast with a final moment of delicious pressure.

  Together, they retreated to the bedroom, where Ally shed her shoes and clothing layer by layer until she was naked and Ryan’s gaze was a presence she could feel – heat sizzling over every inch of her body.

  He had much less work to do. A few movements that were relatively easy, even with one hand, and he was out of his jeans. His boxer briefs followed, leaving him completely bare. Even with the cast, he was a vision she couldn’t have dreamed up if she’d tried – perfect.

  He stepped forward and wrapped his good arm around her waist, drawing her close. His hard cock pressed against her belly as his chin bumped the top of her head and his cast grazed her hip. “How do you want to do this?”

  Whether he was asking because of her past tendency to request a specific position or because they now had to figure out how to fuck comfortably with his broken wrist in the
picture, it was difficult to tell. Either way, her answer was the same. “Let me ride you. On top. I like that, and it’ll be easy for both of us.” It wasn’t the only way she liked it, but she’d dreamed of how it felt to straddle him, her thighs split by his hips and stretched wide as he filled her with a deep-reaching solidness that dissolved any notions of her being in complete control.

  He climbed onto the bed and pulled her with him, so that she was splayed over his body, her chest against his and her limbs tangled with his arms and legs. She was careful not to bump his cast but otherwise welcomed the feeling of not being sure where she ended and he began.

  He cupped her head and drew her into the first full-on kiss they’d shared since his lips had been busted. The resulting heat fired through her synapses like lightning, bringing her body to a state of aching awareness that only his touch had ever inspired in her. Tongues entwining, she opened her mouth, yielding to his.

  “Damn,” he said when the kiss ended, leaving them both so breathless they might as well have just finished a five minute round, “I’ve missed doing that.”

  “Me too,” she said, her lips still tingling from the pressure and warmth of his.

  He lowered his gaze, slipping his unhurt hand between their bodies and cupping one of her breasts. The unrestrained contact was a balm to the desire that pulsed through her veins with every heartbeat.

  He cradled her breast from below, raising his head from the pillow and letting his lips brush her nipple.

  A frisson that was more heat than cold raced down her spine as she arched her back, leaning into the promise of more.

  He drew her nipple into his mouth with a groan, squeezing her breast from below.

  Her pussy tightened, the sheath of muscle and heat already reacting as if he’d entered her.

  His lips were hot against her breast, his tongue alternately soft and firm, teasing her nipple to a rock hard bud inside his mouth.

  When it felt so good she could hardly stand it, he stopped. Releasing her breast, he cupped the other one instead, repeating what he’d just done and driving her half-crazy in the process.