Flawlessly Broken (Broken #2)

by Anna Paige

  I turned to face the spray, the warmth of the water sheeting down my body adding to the imagined sensation of his mouth on me. An involuntary whimper escaped me as I parted my swollen folds.

  “Hey, Talia. I had to go out to my car and get my phone. Grabbed us some coffee while I was out.”

  A squeak of surprise tore through me, and I snatched my hand back as if I’d just been caught. My startled movement caused me to lose my footing and with another pitiful screech, I slipped, landing ass-first onto the shower floor and banging my head on the wall in the process. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Talia? Shit, are you okay?”

  I rubbed my head and stared incredulously at the closed bathroom door. That was Spencer’s voice, not my imagination. What the hell was he doing here? The pain in my head had been slowly receding but now it was back with a vengeance. It was like Zeus was in there shooting lightning bolts against my skull, trying to bust his way out.

  “Talia!” He sounded really concerned now.

  “Yeah?” My voice was weak and shaky, like the rest of me. Dammit. I hated sounding like that.

  “What happened? Are you all right? Do you need help?”

  I looked at my soaking wet body, the motion making my vision blur. Shit, I really did hit my head hard. “No,” I whispered. Trying to gather my voice, I spoke again. “I just slipped and bumped my head. I think I’m okay.”

  “You think? I don’t like the way that sounds. I’m coming in.”

  He couldn’t be serious. Could he?

  The sound of the bathroom door opening was all the answer I needed.

  Shit!

  I was thankful that the shower door was opaque but what I really needed was a towel. Or a robe. Or a nun’s habit. I couldn’t let him see me like this.

  When I remembered just how much he’d seen in the fantasy I’d just been having, my cheeks flamed and I desperately wished to be sucked down the drain.

  “Let me get you a towel.” The sound of cabinets opening echoed through the room and he muttered ‘aha’ before returning to the shower door. “I’m going to crack this and hand you the towel. I need to turn the water off first but I promise not to look anywhere but at the faucet, okay?”

  I balled myself into the corner and tried not to burst into flames from embarrassment. My head thumped against the wall again and I hissed in pain.

  “Don’t move. It’s slippery and I don’t want you to hurt yourself any worse than you already have.” His voice was surprisingly firm and caused an involuntary twitch in a very private place, which made me blush another shade deeper.

  I stared longingly at the drain, wishing again to disappear into its depths. “Okay, but this isn’t necessary. I could have handled it.”

  “Sweetheart, if that were the case, you’d already be on your feet.”

  Before I could come up with an affronted reply the door cracked open and his arm snaked in, all lean muscle reaching for the water controls. All I could think as I watched the corded muscles stretch out above me was at least he hadn’t caught me with the shower head attachment. That much I could be thankful for.

  He switched the water off, and his arm disappeared for a moment before returning holding a large, fluffy towel. “Wrap this around you as best you can. I can help you if you need me to.”

  I took the towel and muttered my thanks as he closed the glass door. I sat up and pulled the soft terrycloth around my chest, tucking one end in and trying desperately to figure out how to get it to cover my ass when I couldn’t get my legs to cooperate long enough to lift myself off the floor. I struggled to shift from one side to the other, pulling and tugging the towel down an inch at a time.

  After my third exasperated grunt, Spencer spoke again. “Okay, that’ll have to be good enough. You can’t sit on that cold floor all day and I need to get you out here so I can check you out.” He must have realized how that sounded because he sputtered, “I mean I need to look you over. Shit, not like that. To check you for injuries.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Screw it, you know what I mean. I’m coming in.”

  I didn’t mean to laugh, and the situation probably didn’t call for it, but his discomfort was making him sound so nervous I couldn’t help it.

  He opened the shower door wide and stood hands on hips staring down at my giggling form as I huddled in the corner of the shower. “You find this funny, do you? How hard did you hit your head?” His mouth turned up slightly at the corners, like he was fighting a smile but when my laughter was interrupted by another one of Zeus’ lightning bolts, causing me to hiss, his expression became grave. “Okay, chuckles, let’s get you out of here.”

  He crouched down and slid an arm under my knees, wedging the other between my back and the shower wall. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on.” I complied and he bent his forehead to mine, his breath smelling like sweet vanilla coffee and making me shudder as it skimmed my neck. “You ready?” I nodded. “One. Two. Three.”

  He stood slowly, never once getting off balance or even seeming to register my weight at all. He held me cradled against his body as he spun to look for a good place to set me down. When his head turned to survey the available spots, his beard brushed against my forehead and snared a few wet strands of hair.

  And my girly bits twitched again.

  Twice.

  Nope, three times.

  One more and it would officially qualify as an orgasm.

  He stepped over to the double sink and pulled me tighter against him with the arm that was under my legs while he used his other hand to sweep aside the various jars and cosmetics on the vanity area between the two sinks. Satisfied that he’d made enough room, he turned to the side and gently set me down on the counter, his eyes skimming my face the entire time for signs of pain.

  Once I was safely seated, he placed a hand under my chin and tilted my head back, staring into my eyes. He didn’t speak, just stared for what felt like hours turning my head this way and that, watching my reaction to the movements with a quiet intensity that made my heart race in my chest.

  Not able to take the silence anymore, I asked, “What exactly are you looking for?” My soul?

  “I’m checking your pupil response to see if you have a concussion. That’s why I keep tilting your head toward the light and then turning it away. It would be easier with a flashlight, but this is good enough for now. Do you hurt anywhere else? Anything feel sprained?” He stepped back as I rotated my ankles and flexed my legs up far enough to show that they weren’t broken but not far enough to show him anything else. “Good.” He said, raising both hands and plunging them into my hair, gently probing my head for bumps.

  It felt freaking amazing, his hands were warm and soothing, so much so that I didn’t bother to point out where the lump was likely to be, nope. I let him massage his way around until he found it himself.

  And damn did it hurt when he did. I managed not to hiss or grunt but he must have been watching my face because he immediately lightened his touch. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  If he kept calling me sweetheart like that—in that whole-hearted, reverent way—he could hurt me all he wanted. “It’s okay. How bad is it?” My eyes had fallen closed as soon as he’d began his inspection, and I made no move to open them. His touch and voice had a calming affect that I intended to enjoy for as long as possible.

  He gently went over the bump with his fingertips, barely any pressure at all but his warmth sank into my skin in a pleasant way that made me sigh. “You have a sizable knot there but I think you’ll be okay. If you’d hit your head like that and there was no swelling, we’d be in trouble. No swelling on the outside usually means swelling on the inside and that’s a bad thing. For now, let’s get you some ibuprofen and some breakfast, then we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

  I nodded, reluctantly cracking my eyes open. “Sounds like a plan to me. Especially the ibuprofen. My head was hurting before I ever swan-dived into the shower floor, so I could use about h
alf the bottle right now.”

  He smirked. “A bottle is what caused that first headache, be careful what you wish for.”

  Shit. The dream really wasn’t a dream. I’d been so mortified about getting caught jilling off in the shower that I’d forgotten. “Yeah. I’m a little fuzzy on that. On the last few days, actually,” I admitted with no small measure of shame.

  “I know.”

  The way he said it caught my attention and I snapped my eyes to his. “Shit. What exactly did I tell you last night?” Despite my foggy recollection, I knew nothing physical had happened. I woke up fully clothed, covered up on the couch. Something flashed in my mind and I saw myself curled up on the couch, my head resting on his leg. I’d looked up to find him sound asleep, socked feet propped on the coffee table and head tipped back against the couch at an awkward angle. “Oh, God. You had to sleep sitting up. Why didn’t you make me move?”

  “You were sleeping so peacefully, there was no way I was disturbing you. Besides, I’ve slept in far less comfortable places. It was no big deal.” He smiled at me then and nodded toward the door. “We’ll talk about all this in a few minutes. I’m going to grab your coffee and something for you to change into, okay? Tell me where to look.”

  “I can do it.” I went to slide off the counter and Spencer locked his hands behind my knees, sliding me back.

  “Not yet, you just sit right there for a few more minutes and get your bearings. I’ll do this. It’s not like I’ve never seen an underwear drawer before.”

  Underwear? Um, hell no. There was no way he was going through that drawer. Nuh uh. “Actually, there’s a robe hanging on the inside of my closet door. If you could just get that, I can handle the rest later.” I held his eye with silent pleading until he nodded his agreement.

  He stepped back, removing his hands from behind my knees and leveling his stare at me. “You stay put. If I come back and you’re wobbling like a deer in the middle of the room, you and I are going to have a problem.” With that he walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall toward my bedroom.

  Since when was he so damned bossy?

  And since when did that make me hot?

  SPENCER HELD ME captive on the bathroom counter for another half an hour before helping me down. His dark gaze didn’t miss a thing as I stood there assuring him that I was fine to stand on my own. He’d already brought me coffee, a robe, a large glass of water, and several ibuprofen for my throbbing head, insisting that I wait at least twenty minutes for the medicine to kick in before he would even consider letting me move. It was endearing and mildly insulting.

  I was fine.

  Sure, my head felt like someone had used it as a piñata but I was an adult and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

  When my feet were finally on the floor, I stood straight and met his eye, willing myself not to wobble.

  Yep. I was just fine.

  Until I shifted my weight from foot to foot and one of my ass muscles protested. Vehemently. I winced before I could stop myself and Spencer clearly noticed.

  “What? Are you dizzy? Seeing spots? What hurts?”

  I met his eye stoically. “My ass.”

  That shut him up. He closed his mouth so fast I heard his teeth click together.

  I couldn’t resist, I had to mess with him. I dramatically rubbed the right cheek and said, “I’m pretty sure I bruised it when I fell but I have no idea how to tell if I fractured anything. Will you check?”

  His eyes snapped to my face, brows so high they nearly touched his hairline. Underneath the surprise, I could have sworn I saw a flash of desire.

  Probably wishful thinking. Wishful and dangerous.

  “You want me to check to see if you broke your ass?” His eyes were filled with equal parts concern and suspicion. “How would I possibly be able to tell that?”

  Without missing a beat I announced, “There’d probably be a big crack in it or something.”

  He blew out a big breath, looking relieved. I tried not to be offended by that. “Very funny, chuckles. Glad you’re enjoying yourself, but it’s still possible that you could have a concussion.” He raised a finger in stern warning, a smile fighting to lift the corners of his mouth. “I’ll leave so you can get your robe on and stuff but I’ll be right outside. Okay?”

  “Actually, can you get my phone from the living room? I need to call Ali before she sends the cavalry.”

  He smirked as he backed away. “She already did, sweetheart.”

  I reached for my robe and shook my head. Guess he had a point.

  HE LEFT MY phone with me and headed off to the kitchen to reheat his coffee while I got my ass chewed by my best friend.

  The second the call connected she said, “Where the hell have you been? Can you not check a voicemail? Shit, T. I was worried to death.”

  “Yeah, I figured that when tall, dark, and bossy showed up at my door. Sorry I didn’t call back. My phone fell into the sanitizing sink at work and I had to dry it out. Everything’s good.”

  She huffed loudly. “Bullshit. Why were you drunk when Spencer got there? You don’t drink alone and I’ve only seen you truly drunk a handful of times our whole lives, so don’t try to tell me nothing is wrong. We don’t lie to each other, remember? Ever.” Her voice had taken on a pained tone, as if I’d hurt her feelings by downplaying the truth.

  “Okay, okay. The travel journalist that’s doing the article on Canary turned out to be Derek.” The words dropped between us like lead and I put a hand on the counter to brace myself, feeling suddenly dizzy.

  “Derek? You mean Derek Wheeler? Derek, the sorry piece of shit that abandoned you and called you a fucking liar, Derek?” Her voice rose an octave with each question until she was so shrill I had to move the phone away from my ear. There was more screeching followed by a pause and the soft calling of my name.

  I put the phone back to my ear and muttered, “Fighting a real bitch of a headache this morning, babe. Ease up on the volume for me, okay?”

  “Sorry. I was just shocked. And more than a little pissed off. Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something? Can you call the editor and request someone else?”

  “And sound like a petty, jilted ex? No way. I’d probably end up losing the feature. I have to plaster on a fake smile and push through. I just needed a few days to get my head together.”

  I could practically hear the scowl on her face. “What did he say when he showed up?”

  I studied myself in the mirror, finger combing my tangled hair as a distraction. “He said I was as beautiful as ever, talked about how he’d kept tabs on my success, dropped a stack of old pictures on me like an atom bomb, and hugged me like I was an old friend he couldn’t wait to catch up with.”

  “He said he kept tabs? Gee, creepy much?” She huffed out a breath. “And afterward?”

  I drew in a deep breath, picking at a tangle with my fingers. “I walked straight out the door and haven’t been back. Gina is holding down the fort, and I was holding down lots of Scotch.”

  “The reserves from Jared?”

  “Yep. Remind me to thank him again. That stuff tastes like hell but it sure does work. I almost used it to drench the pictures and light them on fire but thought it was too expensive to waste. I tore them into tiny pieces instead. Between the empty bottles and confetti bits everywhere, it looks like there was a party.” I laughed miserably, rubbing the knot on my head.

  “Has Spencer gone home already?”

  Hmm... total honesty, right? “No. He’s probably going to stick around for a while today. He’s convinced I might have a concussion.”

  The screechy voice was back, sending flashes of pain through my head. “Concussion! Why the hell would he think that?”

  I used a bored tone, hoping she wouldn’t overreact. “I kind of slipped in the shower and hit my head. I’m fine. It’s just a bump.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay? If you’re okay then why is Spencer so worried? Wait. Was he in there with you? Wha
t exactly made you slip?” Why did she sound so excited at the prospect?

  “Um, no. I was alone in the shower and plan to continue to shower alone. He called out from the hallway and startled me, so I slipped. It’s no big deal and don’t you dare tell him what caused me to fall.” He would feel bad for scaring me and it wasn’t his fault.

  “Fine. I won’t say anything to him about it but you better stick close to him for the next few hours in case you really do have a concussion. Okay?”

  “Fine. I wish everyone would stop worrying about me. I’m the one who does the mothering around here, not you, and certainly not Spencer.”

  In a sly voice Ali asked, “So, he’s bossy, huh? I bet that’s kind of hot.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. “New topic, please. How’s the project coming? Any new pics to send?”

  “I sent about a dozen while you were in radio silence. Check your messages, turd.” She was teasing rather than chiding. That’s just the way we were. In all our years of friendship, we’d never fought for longer than a few minutes. It just didn’t happen. We always joked our way through it and moved on. That was what made our friendship the best. Best fucking bitches, which was our mantra.

  “Okay, I’ll check. How’s the wedding planning going? Your mother still insisting on the big reception?”

  The responding groan more than answered my question. “Oh yeah. It’s not like I should get what I want on my wedding day, everyone knows it’s all about the mother of the bride.”

  “At least she’s not putting up too much fuss about the actual ceremony being in Denson.” Ali and Clay were getting married beneath the massive willow tree that overlooked the lake on his property. It was their special place and, according to Ali’s mom, too far in the sticks to expect important guests to trek.

  I called that an added bonus.

  “Oh, no. She’s treating the willow ceremony as something to rush through to get to the overpriced party she’s throwing. And she’s pushing us to have a ‘real’ ceremony, too. It’s driving Clay crazy but he does get some satisfaction knowing she’s spending gobs of Holden’s money in the meantime.” Ali’s stepfather had once set his sights on Clay and Spencer’s company but they outmaneuvered him. It must be killing him to drop six figures on Clay’s wedding reception.