Dangerously Broken

by Eden Bradley

  She bit her lip and blinked a few times, her features softening. “Jamie? Will you kiss me? Because when you’re kissing me I sort of stop thinking and I’m pretty sure that’s what I need to do right now.”

  He smiled. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  He bent and pressed his lips to hers, and she opened up to him, her tongue warm and seeking. And together they lost themselves in each other, letting the worries of their strange and unique situation fall away.

  * * *

  SUMMER DRIFTED, HALF asleep, half dreaming. Brandon. Why was she thinking of her brother now, with his best friend lying next to her, his breathing shallow with sleep? Sleep that invaded her body, her mind, forcing her into its depths.

  Brandon came into the kitchen, slamming the back door behind him like he always did. Mom hated that, but he did it anyway. It was a guy thing, she knew.

  He ruffled her hair as she sat at the table with her history book opened in front of her. “Hey, little sis. I brought you some of that saltwater taffy you like.” He tossed a white bag down on the table. “Strawberry, right?”

  “Thanks, Bran.” She reached eagerly for the bag as he sat down across from her.

  “What are you doing, Summer Grace?”

  “Studying. World War One. Ugh!” She bit into the taffy and it melted on her tongue.

  “No, I mean what are you doing with Jamie? Seriously, what the hell?”

  Her heart sank, the taffy suddenly like chalk in her mouth.

  “Brandon,” she tried to say, but the taffy seemed to expand, and she couldn’t swallow enough to talk.

  His blond brows drew together. “Tell me, sis. Tell me why you’re doing this to me,” he demanded, his features full of pain. “Tell me why you’re doing this to Mom and Dad.”

  Shaking her head, her chest flooded with panic. She had to explain. She tried to spit the candy out into her hand, then tried to pull it out, but it was stuck. She was stuck. With her mouth full of candy. With what she’d done.

  Her big brother shook his head. “I can’t believe you, Summer Grace. I can’t believe you’d do this to us—I can’t believe you’d do this to your family. It’s all your fault. Everything is.”

  No!

  If only she could tell him . . . Tell him something. Explain herself. But all she could do was choke on the sugar hardening in her mouth—choke on her own actions while her brother stormed out the back door. She knew he’d never come back.

  Summer woke in a cold sweat, clutching the sheets to her chest.

  Just a dream.

  Brandon would never talk to her like that. He would never judge her so harshly. Would he? He used to tease her about her crush on Jamie, but he was her brother, and he’d never thought in a million years that Jamie would feel the same. Maybe. Why had he said that about their parents? They wouldn’t even care that she was with Jamie. That was crazy. Wasn’t it?

  Fuck.

  She threw the covers back and threw on a tank top and a pair of shorts and quietly crept from the room, leaving Jamie asleep in her bed.

  She went outside and sat in one of the white wicker chairs on her small brick patio, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to shake off the nightmare. The sun was high in the brilliant blue sky and it was far too hot to be outside in New Orleans in July, but she felt like she had to breathe.

  It was just a bad dream. It wasn’t real.

  No, only her time with Jamie was real—that and the apparent emotional repercussions.

  They’d stayed in bed for hours, exploring each other’s bodies in a way she’d never done with any other man—and she’d had her share. But this was different. Maybe too different. Especially when it came to her dreams turning into some kind of crazy reality she still couldn’t quite believe. And because she’d realized when she came out of her pleasure-soaked stupor that he was only there because he’d seen her at The Bastille and felt jealous when he’d seen her playing with someone else. She’d laid there for a good half hour but the knot in her stomach hadn’t gone away. It had been a relief to finally drift into sleep.

  She was sure the possibility that maybe next time she’d be bottoming for one of the male Doms at the club had crossed his mind. And she was equally certain he hadn’t liked it. He’d let her know he felt possessive when it came to her. She’d reveled in the idea when they were naked together, but after the second time they’d had sex—mind-blowing sex, damn it!—he’d dozed off, leaving her to stare at the ceiling and come back down to earth. And the truth.

  Jamie felt some ownership over her. Always had. She understood it, to some extent anyway—to the small extent she could accept anyone feeling that way toward her. Her big brother had asked Jamie to take care of her when he lay dying in the hospital, and Jamie took the promise he’d made seriously. She knew that. She also knew he desired her, but that didn’t necessarily equal anything more. She’d been a fool to simply fall into his arms without really fully considering their history. All she knew about him. All she knew about herself.

  Madame came strolling out from behind a bush and rubbed against her bare legs, her white fur soft on her skin. She leaned down and petted the cat, who put up with it for several moments before sinuously slipping away and settling on the bricks a foot or two from Summer, blinking in the sunlight.

  “There was good reason why I gave up on him last year,” she told the cat. “I’d finally come to my senses. And now where has all my sense gone? Blown to pieces beneath the force of the irresistible Jamie Stewart-Greer. It’s those damn dimples.” She sighed, blew out a breath, coiling her long hair into a knot on top of her head and holding it there, baring her neck to the tiny breeze blowing through her garden. “I bet you never had to deal with dimples, Madame. Being a cat must be so much easier than being . . . me.”

  “Hey, sugar.”

  She turned to find Jamie standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his jeans. They weren’t zipped up all the way. She did her best to ignore it as she got to her feet, wondering how long he’d been there.

  “Hey.”

  “Want to go grab some lunch? I’m starving. Worked up an appetite.”

  “Oh, um . . . I actually need to . . . get in a workout today. I always hit the gym on my days off. I work long hours sometimes so it’s the only time I have all week.”

  He arched one dark brow. “Don’t you want to eat something first?”

  “I’ll grab a protein bar.”

  Stepping out onto the bricks, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “What’s up, baby? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, sure. Great. I just really need to be sure I stay in shape.” She forced a laugh. “I have to now, to keep up with you, don’t I?”

  One corner of his mouth quirked. “I’m pretty sure that won’t ever be a problem. But you go have your workout. I’ll probably do the same. But come here and kiss me first, sugar girl.”

  Oh, don’t think, don’t think!

  She steeled herself as he leaned in to kiss her, but her body betrayed her, melting into a hot pool of need and desire and jumbled thoughts.

  Take a breath. Take some distance.

  She laid a hand on his chest, gave him a small push. “Okay, okay.” She laughed. “I should get going.”

  “I’ll call you later,” he said, all sunny, dimpled smiles as he bent and kissed her forehead.

  “Sure. You go on and get dressed. I need to water the garden before I go.”

  She turned and walked over to turn on the hose, taking her time, pretending the nozzle needed adjusting. When she glanced up he was standing in the doorway, looking at her over his shoulder. She flashed him a smile, willing him to just go. He must have believed it because he smiled back and disappeared into the house. She kept her teeth clenched until she heard her front door shut, then she breathed a long sigh—partly relief, partly a strange sort of grief.

 
Sex never used to be complicated for her. It was fun, often thrilling. But mostly she’d been able to leave afterward, her body sated, without needing anything else from a guy. She hated that she needed so much from him.

  “Fuck,” she muttered, turning off the hose and stalking back into the house. But when she reached her bedroom it smelled of sex. It smelled of Jamie. She had to get out of there.

  She found her car keys in the living room, grabbed them and her small leather purse and headed out to see her best friend. Dennie would help her get her head on straight. If that were even possible under the circumstances.

  Goddamn Jamie. Goddamn her stupid, girlish fantasies and her out-of-control sex drive. It was time she grew up. And there was nothing to make a girl grow up like a broken heart.

  CHAPTER

  Three

  SUMMER PULLED HER Jeep to the curb in front of Dennie’s grandmother’s place in the pretty Lakeview area, close to Lake Pontchartrain. It was a neat, gray clapboard house with brick steps leading to a wide front porch. Dennie and Annalee were forced to evacuate during Hurricane Katrina, and the house had sustained some damage, but they’d managed the restorations in less than a year. They’d been luckier than some in the area and certainly more than many in New Orleans.

  She grabbed her purse and slammed the door of the Jeep a little too hard. She needed to take a breath and calm down before she went in—Dennie’s grandma was getting older and she didn’t want to worry her. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly before making her way around to the side of the house, where she gave a light rap on the door and let herself into the kitchen, as she’d always done. She was family there—her best friend’s house had been a longtime refuge. Dennie looked up from the kitchen table, where she sat with her laptop open.

  “Hey, Summer. How are—” Her friend stopped and got to her feet. “Are you okay? You’re not, are you?”

  She started to shake her head but Dennie was at her side in a moment, taking her into a warm hug.

  “I’m okay,” Summer said, maybe more to convince herself than Dennie. She pulled back. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

  “Yes you are,” Dennie said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset once in a while. Come on and sit down while I get you some sweet tea, then you tell me what’s going on.”

  Summer nodded and sat on one of the old white-painted wood chairs that had been in Annalee’s house for as long as she could remember. After Hurricane Katrina they’d simply slapped another coat of paint on them and replaced the flowered seat cushions. How many times over the years since they met in kindergarten had she sat at this table, drinking sweet tea with her best friend, telling her all her secrets? Now if she were going to really be able to talk this out with her she’d have to tell her everything.

  She sipped the cold tea, savoring the sweetness on her tongue while she waited for Dennie to sit in a chair across from her. “Thanks, Den.”

  “It’s just tea, honey.” She swept her long brown-and-gold-streaked hair over her shoulder. “Now tell me what’s got you looking so flushed.”

  “God, I don’t even know where to start.” Summer puffed out a breath. “Okay. So this is going to sound weird but do you remember when we went to Europe a few years ago and we went to that club in London?”

  “That leather club, or whatever you call it?”

  “BDSM club. But yes, that one. You remember how fascinated I was?”

  Dennie snorted. “Honeypie, you haven’t stopped being fascinated. I was wondering when you were going to talk to me about it. And don’t look so surprised. I’m your best friend and I’ve known you forever. Plus you have a tendency to leave the screen up on your computer all the time, and you know how nosey I am.”

  “Are you mad at me?” Summer asked, a knot forming over the one already pulling her stomach tight.

  “For not talking to me about it sooner? Of course not,” Dennie reassured her, reaching out to pat her hand. “I don’t have to know every dirty detail of your sex life. And even if I were mad I certainly wouldn’t choose now to lay it on you, when you’re so obviously upset. So why don’t you tell me the rest of the story?”

  She nodded. “Okay. Okay. Well, I’ve been researching this stuff for a while. A few months ago I found out a friend of mine was into it and she’s sort of been mentoring me, taking me to discussion groups and classes. And the other night she took me to the club here in town and . . . I sort of ran into Jamie there. Well, he saw me. And fuck, I’m not supposed to reveal anyone’s identity—I really can’t tell you who the friend is—but I don’t know how else to tell you about him. And you have to know it’s him so this all makes sense to you.”

  “Well, well. Jamie, huh? Not that it really surprises me. He’s all bad boy under his smooth manners and calling everyone sweetheart—him and his tough cars. We both know that’s part of your attraction to him. But don’t you worry—I won’t tell a soul. It’s your business, not mine.”

  “I know. But I just caught myself and . . . Den, my head is so fucked up right now. And oh Jesus, shit—am I saying this too loud? Is Annalee here?”

  “Nope, she’s out at her mah-jongg game, so talk as loud as you want and tell me everything.” Her eyes sparkled, shifting from blue to green.

  “I don’t think you want to know everything, Den.”

  Dennie leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. “Oh, but I do. Of course, get the hard stuff out first so we can get you feeling better. Just don’t leave out the salacious details.” She waggled her eyebrows at her.

  Summer had to smile. “I sure do love you, Den.”

  “I love you, too, hon. Now talk to me.”

  Summer gave her the details of her evening at The Bastille, Jamie showing up at her house and how they’d ended up in bed all day.

  “Then you got up, made some excuse and ran over here? Was the sex that bad?” Dennie asked, her brows arching.

  “What? God, no. The sex was fantastic, and I mean fantastic with a capital F. Everything I ever imagined, but better. God, so much better.” She had to bite back a groan.

  “So you’re here now with me instead of back at your place in bed with him, why?”

  Burying her face in her hands she muttered, “Because I’m an idiot?”

  “You’re no idiot, Summer. You’re just confused. Sex can be that way sometimes. Sex you’ve wanted your whole life? I can only imagine how much weirder that must be.”

  “Yeah. Weird in a good way. And in a bad way.” She lifted her head to look at her friend. “And Den, the kinky stuff—although we didn’t do too much of that—just amplifies everything. Makes it so intense. But I just can’t get that one thing out of my head—that he saw me naked in his kink world and maybe he thought it was his job to protect me, or he didn’t like the idea of some other guy touching me that way. I don’t know which, but either way it doesn’t necessarily mean he feels anything more for me than he would his own sister.”

  “Honey, if he spends Sunday afternoons in bed with his sister, then there are bigger problems brewing here.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Den,” she growled.

  “I know, but look, the fact that he came over and took you to bed is a sign there’s more than brotherly interest in you. And frankly, that’s not news to either of us, so don’t go over-thinking your way out of that. He’s wanted you for years, even if he’s always fought it. Maybe he’s simply done being the good guy—the good guy who does the right thing and ends up empty-handed.”

  “Because he saw me naked?”

  “Because he saw you as the passionate, sensual woman you are—full-blown and unafraid, in a setting he apparently never expected. That might be what it took to shake him loose.”

  Summer clenched and unclenched her jaw. “I don’t want him to want me for the wrong reasons. Just to make sure I’m safe or because he’s hot for my body.”

 
“It’s not a bad place to start—and don’t shoot me that look. You’re hot for his body, too, and there is nothing wrong with a man who wants to take care of you. Give the guy a break. Would you rather have had him see you naked and be totally unaffected? Is it really a bad thing that he found you so irresistible he couldn’t stop himself from coming over and giving you what you’ve always wanted? He’s finally recognized that you’re a woman now instead of everyone’s little sister, and you’re complaining.”

  “Oh. Oh! Maybe . . . you’re right. Damn it. You are.”

  Dennie nodded and grinned. “I do like to be right.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  “First of all, stop freaking out. Spend some time with him. Everything doesn’t need to be dealt with and thought through right this minute. You two need to get to know each other on this new level. Try to just let it happen, Summer. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To be with Jamie?”

  “Maybe that’s what scares me.”

  “Probably. But this is your chance, honeypie. You know you’ll kick yourself until you’re ninety if you don’t at least give it a shot. And I plan to go at eighty-five, so you’ll have to spend those last five years picking up the pieces without me.”

  “Den!” Summer popped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “Don’t say that. You’re not allowed to die before me.”

  “You are so bossy, you know that?”

  “But you love me anyway.”

  “True. Now, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go home and get some sleep, and then tomorrow night after work I’m going to find Jamie. But before that I’m going to get some lunch—I’m starving. And oh God, before that I think I need to go home to take a shower.”

  “I thought you reeked of sex but I was too polite to say anything.”