Broken

by Lisa Edward

  “I can’t perform on an empty stomach, Sugar,” I retorted.

  He laughed. “It’s the chicken or the egg, isn’t it? Is it food required before a kiss, or a kiss to get the food?” His eyebrows danced as he waited for my response.

  “The more food ya gimme, the more kisses you’ll get.” I grinned cheekily.

  “How can I refuse a beautiful girl who’s also logical?” He slid the plate in front of me. “You win. Eat first and then you’ll owe me.”

  We both sat at the breakfast bar while we ate, intermittently watching each other, stoking the fire in my belly with every glance. It made me feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush, only this crush was on the hot jock, the coolest guy in school, and he seemed to be crushing on me just as much.

  I soaked up the last of my egg yolk with the bacon and sat back, my stomach full.

  “Finally,” Adam said, spinning my stool around to face him. His lips were on mine as his hand slipped into my hair, pulling my head lightly to his. I leaned into it, wanting to feel the connection with not only our mouths, but also our entire bodies.

  Adam’s free arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into him until I was standing between his open legs, our kiss heating up until a soft moan escaped me and was captured in Adam’s parted lips.

  “That’s more like it.” He sighed as we came up for air.

  Yes, that was more like it. That was the sort of kiss I would never grow tired of. The kind that I wanted to write about and sing songs about.

  I giggled; I couldn’t help it. Being with Adam made me feel lighter, light of spirit, and light of heart with not a care in the world.

  “I wrote my first kissin’ scene last night,” I told him hesitantly. “I used our kiss as inspiration. Hope that’s okay.”

  The broad grin on Adam’s face told me it was. “Can I read it?”

  Adam sat by the computer while I pulled up the chair beside him.

  “It’s at around page thirty-six.”

  He hit the Page Down key until he found the beginning of the scene, then cleared his throat while I sat there nervously chewing my lip. Then, to my surprise, he began reading it aloud:

  “I move until I can go no farther and my back is pressed against the doorframe, not because I want to get away from him, but because I’m trembling and know I need to brace myself for what’s about to happen. He steps closer, bridging whatever small gap there is between us, leaning in painfully slowly until I can’t help but raise my head, trying to meet him halfway. Warm breath fans my cheek and it reminds me that I need to breathe as I feel as though every part of my body is on pause, waiting for his next move. The sight of him this close, as well as his intoxicating scent, is too much, and I close my eyes briefly to steady my racing heart.

  “He is perfection—every part of him brilliantly crafted from my fantasies and brought to life just for me. His hand lightly touches my hip and I gasp as his fingers travel up my side, tracing the curve of my waist. I lean my head back against the doorjamb and again close my eyes so my entire focus is on the sensation of his tender touch. My breathing is ragged and I feel as if I’ve just run a race, although I’m standing perfectly still.

  “All this and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.”

  Adam’s eyes flicked up at me and locked with mine for a moment, before returning to the story.

  “As one hand hooks behind my head, holding me at just the right position, I look deep into his eyes. The brilliant blue is no longer present—instead they are black pools of desire. I’m transfixed by those eyes as they drop to my parted lips momentarily, before his intense gaze rises again to my own. As he leans in, I hold my breath. Soft, full lips press lightly to mine and as they pull away, I follow them, not wanting to break the connection. He exhales and again our eyes meet, but only long enough for us to show what we both want.

  “His mouth once again comes down on mine, but this time it’s firmer, more forceful, and I relish the taste of him as his tongue parts my lips and delves into my mouth. The whiskers of his beard are prickly and tickle the sensitive skin on my chin and around my mouth as our heads move to find the best angle. His body is hard against mine, every muscle tense as his torso moves slightly downward, then slides back up as he pushes against me. The hand at the back of my head is now fisting my hair and the other is wrapped around my waist, pulling me as close to him as we can possibly be. I slide my hands up his broad chest and over his shoulders, lacing my fingers at the back of his neck.

  “Our lips part briefly for air and a moan escapes my throat, my breathing completely out of control, my heart hammering against my ribs. As I run my hands back down over his shoulders to his torso, I can feel the erratic percussion in his chest.

  “The kiss continues but I lose track of time, as nothing else in the world exists but these lips and this man as I stand sandwiched between two rock-hard objects, one cold against my back, the other warm but just as hard against my chest. As his tongue continues the dance with mine, his hips press forward so his arousal pushes into me and I grind my own hips forward, wanting to shed the layers of clothing between us to feel skin on skin.

  “He draws back and my mouth tingles from the pressure of his. With a parting sigh to signal the kiss is over, he descends the steps at a jog, turning one final time to look into my eyes, before disappearing into the night.

  “It was fireworks, the elusive fireworks that I had dreamed of my entire life, and all from one kiss. But not just any kiss—it was the kiss that could make you forget every other that had come before it.”

  Adam was silent for a full minute as he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, his gaze holding mine captive. Finally he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table.

  “Wow,” he puffed. “All that from one kiss.”

  Smiling, I tried to divert my gaze but couldn’t. His hold was too strong. “Artistic license plays a big part, of course,” I said casually, feeling anything but casual.

  “It was fireworks, wasn’t it?” His eyes glazed over, and I realized I wasn’t the only one who felt that something major had transpired the night before when we’d kissed.

  Reaching out, I took his hand and squeezed it gently.

  “So you could feel how hard I was?” he asked with a crooked grin on his perfect lips.

  My face flushed as I nodded.

  “Good, so now you know what you do to me. The ball is in your court.”

  Removing my glasses, I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned. I’d been burning the midnight oil trying to keep ahead of my deadline, and it was now close to 3:00 a.m. It was quiet, too quiet. The iPod had run out of juice hours ago but I had been too engrossed in what I was doing to get up and charge it. The fire had also gone out, and there was a chill in the air.

  The solitude consumed me as I sat alone in the silence, a melancholy sweeping over me. My eyes began to blur with silent tears. I knew they were partly because I was dead tired, but there was something else gnawing at me.

  Looking at the bottom corner of my laptop screen, I checked the date—it was Christmas morning. This would be the first Christmas I would be without any sort of family. I had only known my parents for a short time before they’d passed away, but I had lived with Mimi for ten years and she’d always made Christmas as special as she possibly could. After college, I had moved back to Charles’s hometown and his family had embraced me instantly. Every year the entire extended family would come together. We would attend church and sort through all the donations of toys that had been made, distributing them to the less fortunate. It was one of the things that really made me feel like I was contributing to our town, and seeing the children’s faces always brought a tear to my eye. But that was in the past. There would be no more Charles or his mother, who loved to fuss around in the kitchen all day. I would never see his uncle, who always ate far too much and then fell asleep on the sofa with his pants undone. There would be no pumpkin pie this year, or any type of pie for that matter.


  “Well, you left him,” I muttered to myself. “This is your doin’ and nobody else’s.”

  I wiped my teary eyes and decided to call it a night. Dumping my clothes in a heap on the floor, I climbed into bed and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  Loud banging on the bedroom window startled me awake, and I jumped out of my skin, squealing when I saw a ham dancing along the windowsill. I closed my eyes and rubbed them, certain I had imagined the dancing ham. Daring to look through partially opened eyes, I checked again. Nope, still there. Adam’s grinning face sprung up from below the window and he blew me a kiss, then signaled to the back door.

  What was he doing here so early? I checked the time. Oh, it was 10:30 a.m. My late night had meant a late start to the day.

  Sliding the door open, I stepped to one side and marveled at the armful of bags of food Adam was carrying.

  “Sorry to frighten you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, the shopping balanced precariously in his arms. “I was out here knocking for at least fifteen minutes. I finally had to wake you up.”

  He placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter before swooping back over and literally sweeping me off my feet and into his arms.

  “Merry Christmas, Buttercup.”

  Flinging my arms around him, I buried my face in the warmth of his neck. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Sugar.” I squeezed tight, so grateful that I had Adam in my life.

  He must have sensed my relief and nuzzled my hair. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend the day alone, did you?”

  I shook my head, but didn’t lift it from his broad shoulder.

  “And you know how much I enjoy cooking. We’re going to have a feast!”

  Tears prickled my eyes and I dried them subtly on Adam’s shoulder. When I stepped away, he studied my face.

  “We’re both away from our families for the holidays, but we have each other, right?”

  God, I was so selfish. Of course Adam was away from whomever he usually spent Christmas with, because he was here with me. He had told me all about his parents, his two older sisters, Kathleen and Melanie, and his twin brother Will, all of whom still lived in England. But it had never dawned on me that he went home to be with them at this time of year.

  “Why didn’t you go home to see your family for Christmas? What would y’all normally do?”

  He gave me a half-smile. “I spent the last few months back in England with them. I needed a break.” He pulled me back in for a hug. “They were driving me fucking crazy.”

  “Too much of a good thing.” I laughed, and he nodded before giving me a pat on the backside and sending me to the bedroom to get dressed.

  By the time I came out, dressed in my last half-decent top that didn’t need washing, Adam was deep in chef mode. He looked to have everything under control, so I went to the laptop to start writing again. Before I’d had a chance to open the file, coffee and a bagel with cream cheese were placed beside me.

  “I could get used to this,” I said as I took a huge bite of the bagel.

  Adam smiled and went back to work in the kitchen as if waiting on me was nothing at all, which made me sure he didn’t realize just how much I appreciated it. Back in Mississippi, I had been the stay-at-home wife and had been expected to do absolutely everything. Charles would no sooner make me a cup of coffee than fly—that was considered woman’s work to take care of while the men did important things like talk politics and religion for hours on end.

  I was deep in thought, working through a scene, so I didn’t realize that Adam had stopped the food preparation and was watching me.

  He cleared his throat, then waited for me to look up. “So, I was wondering…” He hesitated and seemed to draw in a deep breath for courage. “It’s getting quite cold outside on the deck, and the view from your bedroom window is pretty impressive.”

  I knew where this was going, but it was a rare occasion that Adam wasn’t brimming with confidence, so there was no way I was bailing him out. Instead, I decided to have a little fun with it. “Hmm, as you would know from this mornin’, when you were peerin’ in like a Peepin’ Tom.”

  He chuckled. “I meant the view out of the window…although the view in was pretty breathtaking too.”

  I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t help smiling at his remark.

  He smoothed the whiskers on his chin. “Um, do you think it would be okay if I moved the easel into your room and set up in there? If I moved the chaise from under the window, there would be plenty of space.”

  Tilting my head to one side, I considered his proposition carefully. At least, I pretended to. I already knew what he wanted and that of course it would be okay when he was only halfway through asking.

  “Well, I don’t know, Sugar.” I dragged it out. “There are things to consider before allowin’ a man into my bedroom.”

  His smirk made my heart skip. “Such as?”

  “For starters, does that mean I’ll have to pick up all my dirty clothes from the floor, especially the underwear, before you enter?”

  He sauntered over, more than willing to play along. “You can leave your knickers wherever you like, love. I’m quite partial to black lace thongs.” The playful wink at the end of the statement was the icing on the cake.

  “What ’bout if I need to get changed for any reason?”

  He chuckled. “I promise not to drop my paints all over the floor while I perv at your arse.”

  Biting my top lip, I tried to keep a straight face. “And if I need to have a little nap in the afternoon?”

  His hand went to my hair, smoothing it down my back. “I can stroke your hair and help you fall asleep.” He continued caressing my hair lightly and I leaned into it like a cat, fighting the temptation to purr.

  “But…” His hand stilled and I pouted, making him laugh. “I have to warn you that I like to paint in my old, ripped up jeans…if anything at all.”

  “If anythin’?”

  He leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered, “Sometimes they don’t make it on either. I am quite partial to painting naked.”

  “I’ll grab the easel. You go move the chaise.” I jumped up, nearly tipping the chair over behind me. This was the next step in our relationship, from painting outside for a better view to moving indoors. Adam was slowly inching his way into my life. My mind raced with a million questions of what this meant to Adam, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Maybe it meant nothing more than it was cold outside, but perhaps we were finally moving forward.

  Adam watched me eat the entire time with a huge grin on his face. He’d spent most of the day in the kitchen preparing a feast that would feed at least a dozen people, the whole while singing away to whatever song came on the iPod. He seemed so at ease slicing and dicing, the knife tapping out its rhythm on the chopping board. He diligently basted the ham and made the pastry for the pumpkin pie. And now he was watching the fruits of his labor be devoured by one very grateful girl.

  “Oh my God, this is the best pie I’ve ever had,” I told him, forcing the last morsel from the plate into my crammed mouth. My stomach was so full I was about ready to pop; I had to secretly undo the button on my jeans, making me once again think of Charles’s uncle sleeping on the sofa.

  “I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he said as he stood and began clearing the plates away.

  Placing my hand on his forearm, I stopped him from stacking any more dishes. “Please, you’ve done enough. I’ll get this while you relax.”

  “If you’re okay doing that, I’ve got something else planned that I need to set up.”

  I stopped what I was doing, my eyes narrowing at Adam. “Whatcha plannin’?”

  He winked cheekily. “It’s a surprise. I’ll be back soon.” He raced out the door, leaving me standing there wondering what was coming next. Surely he hadn’t shopped and bought me a gift. We’d only known each other a couple of weeks, and the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind to buy presents.


  I was just finishing up in the kitchen when Adam came back in, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Okay, let’s go,” he said with a knowing grin.

  “Go where?” He seemed to be waiting for me to go outside but it was late and freezing.

  “With me,” he replied, taking my hand and leading me through the door to the deck.

  Looking out toward the ocean, I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped as I was confronted with the oasis Adam had created. There were tea-light candles flickering in glass holders, completely surrounding a warm, inviting bed overflowing with pillows and cushions. Closest to the house and on the uphill side of the sand was a bonfire, its dancing flames casting a romantic glow.

  “This is our own private island.”

  Tears blurred my vision as I tore my focus from the romantic setting to gaze adoringly into Adam’s eyes.

  “I can’t believe you did all this. It’s perfect.”

  He seemed to relax as soon as I voiced my approval, as if what he had arranged would get anything but shocked awe.

  “I thought we could do some stargazing and have a few drinks to keep us warm.”

  As we tucked ourselves into the blankets and I arranged the pillows, Adam poured two glasses of brandy.

  “Bottoms up,” he toasted as he handed me one of the glasses.

  “Bottoms up?” I queried.

  He laughed, then threw his drink down in one gulp. “Yep, the bottom of the glass goes up, as the drink goes down.”

  The brandy burned my throat and I shuddered, but the glass was refilled, and I was downing that one, too, before I knew it. By the third glass, my body was pleasantly numb, my lips, warm and tingly. Two drinks later and I was a sloppy mess.

  We snuggled together, lying side by side, gazing up at the clear, star-filled sky. Turned out, Adam knew his constellations. He pointed out different shapes and told the story behind the name of each, his hand inching over, finding mine and pulling it toward him until my hand was resting against his chest.