Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance

by Lindsey Iler

  “Promise?” I say before he can flick off the light. He turns, and I throw off the covers.

  His stare glides down my body until he reaches the apex of my thighs. My finger has replaced his, pleasuring myself. I’m not a fool. I know what I’m doing.

  Breaker slams his bedroom door shut. “Don’t stop on my account.”

  I bite down on my lip, the wonderful feeling in my lower stomach clenching and releasing from having him watching me.

  “You don’t want to join?” I urge him, locking my eyes on his pants. Is the front moving, or is that simply my imagination?

  “You’ve had a hard night. We better not test fate.” He grins. “Plus, I’ve heard sometimes it’s better to be a spectator.”

  Breaker Davenport has never been a spectator a day in his life. He’s an all-hands-on deck kind of guy, showing extra attention to my body and making up for lost time. We talk and make love once. It isn’t until the sun starts to peek on the horizon that Breaker gives me a full show of what he’s capable of.

  The softness and vulnerability of the night is gone. It’s a new day, and Breaker Davenport has built-up aggression to release.

  My body is first.

  Tripp DuPont’s life comes second.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Breaker

  “Try to keep your voice down, please,” I encourage, walking into the kitchen.

  Palmer is sitting on the island, her legs spread enough for Marek to get close. Byron is nowhere to be found, and Dixon is tapping away on the keys of his laptop. He glances up to acknowledge me, unlike the two love birds who can’t stop messing with each other.

  “Hello? Does no one hear me?” I wave my hands around.

  “I hear you,” Palmer announces, smiling against Marek’s kiss.

  “How’s our girl?” Marek moves away, focusing his energy on me once he’s gotten enough from Palmer to be satisfied.

  Our girl. It’s something I used to say about Palmer. No jealousy is necessary in our fucked up little family. He’s right. Delaney is our girl, as much as Palmer is. An unwritten oath to protect them has been set in stone since they waltzed, more like bulldozed, into our lives.

  “She’s sleeping, thankfully.”

  “Well, by the sounds coming from your room, my guess is she didn’t get much sleep last night.” Dixon laughs, grinning over the top of his screen. I toss the bagel I’m about to put in the toaster straight at his head, but he catches it. “What! If you don’t want us to hear her, maybe partake in the old fashioned ideal of putting a pillow over her face.”

  “I didn’t come down here expecting everyone to pretend like nothing happened,” I admit, catching the bagel Dixon returns by lobbing at my head, then turning to toast it.

  They’d born witness to my unraveling last night. I’d warned them that what Tripp had planned would be the end of me. Loneliness will make me jump to the harshest realities. I had never expected Delaney to fly in and ground me.

  “We didn’t think you’d want us to make a big deal of it.” Palmer bumps her hip into me, then wraps her arms around my waist. I allow her to hug me until the bagel pops out of the toaster. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. No. I don’t know,” I ramble, taking the cream cheese out of the fridge, using the task as a distraction.

  “You know, if you need to talk about it, we’re here,” Palmer adds, placing a calming hand on my shoulder.

  I spin around, and their eyes are on me. Even Dixon has abandoned whatever had his attention on his screen.

  “My mom killed herself when I was eight. It’s been ten years. My sisters were two years old when she jumped,” I explain about the lifetime of trauma I’ve dealt with poorly.

  Palmer’s intake of breath tells me she’s put it together. Her hand clasps over her mouth. “Break . . .”

  “Don’t, okay?” I hold my hand out, stopping her from coming to me.

  “I’ve kept my own secrets from you, but how did I not know this?” Marek asks, drawing Palmer into his arms.

  “This is the one secret I’ve allowed myself to have from all of you. I don’t like to be reminded of what happened that night.”

  “Is that why you’re always climbing things?” Palmer says, always the observant one. The girl has a future in psychology if she wants one. She can sniff out a man’s insecurities like a cancer-sniffing dog.

  I started climbing a year after she died. It took a long time for anyone to catch me, to find out what I was doing, but when Aunt Emily did, she demanded I talk to her, to explain myself. A roof, rafters, anything that I could get my feet on, I’d conquer it.

  It wasn’t until I spoke aloud what I was feeling that I understood what I was doing.

  “I like the reminder of being alive,” I admit. “Teetering on that ledge brought me to a place I don’t want to be at again. I don’t want to be that little boy again.”

  “I can’t believe he’d go that far,” Palmer says under her breath.

  “I can,” I scoff. “We’ve always been at each other’s throats.”

  “Why?”

  “Taking his sister’s virginity creates a certain kind of rage,” I confess. “But in my defense, I didn’t know she was his sister.”

  “We’re all someone’s sister,” Palmer says in a nonchalant way.

  “Well, that’s factually inaccurate, considering I’m an only child.” Delaney rounds the corner, and without a second thought, she’s in my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist.

  I shift until her ass is on the island, completely uncaring who’s in the room with us. My lips find hers and devour her. Our wet tongues dance together the second her fingers dive into my hair, holding on tight. My hands move down her body, running up and down her bare thighs.

  “I’m going to stop you there,” Marek says, interrupting us.

  Delaney doesn’t retreat. Instead, she digs her heels into my ass, tugging me closer to her. “How far can we push them until they leave the room?” She bites down on her bottom lip.

  “Leave,” I command.

  They are happy to oblige but not without a round of laughs and jokes. Chairs scratch on the tile, and footsteps grow farther and farther away.

  “So we’re clear, this was mine and Marek’s thing first.” The amusement in Palmer’s voice causes Delaney and me to smile.

  “Yeah, sure thing.” Delaney waves an effortless hand in the direction of her best friend while never dropping her striking blue eyes from me.

  Delaney leans away, an easy sexiness to the move. My t-shirt covers her thighs, and I bunch the fabric until only the part of her that now belongs to me is hidden.

  “Say it again?” she asks.

  I smile, knowing what she’s looking for.

  “And why would I want to do that?” I tease.

  Her small hands wrap around the hem of the t-shirt and lift it from her body, showing what she’s hiding under it.

  “You’re a fucking dream.” I fall forward, catching myself in a standing plank on the countertop.

  “Be my nightmare.” She crosses her legs, hiding the spot I’m desperate to run my tongue across. To taste her.

  “Get down,” I demand. She does as I say, and as her bare feet hit the cold tile, I have her in my arms, carrying her to the kitchen table and placing her on the top. I lick my lips, and she lies back instinctively. She knows what I want.

  With a gentle hand, I run my fingers on the outside of her thighs until I hit her knees and ease them open. I bend low enough to look directly up her body.

  “Hungry?” She grins.

  “Starving.”

  With one swipe of my tongue, her spine arches off the table with pleasure. Her hands in my hair guide me.

  “More,” she breathes out.

  Unable to control myself, I slip my middle finger inside her, dancing over her clit with my thumb, until her walls start to clench.

  “I need more,” Delaney moans. “All of you.”

  I smile, understanding the feeling. Withou
t warning, I straighten. Her legs fall open, and I drop my sweats enough to free myself, running my hand up and down my shaft.

  “Come here.” She nods to the side of the table where her head is, nudging me with her foot until I listen to her command. “If you get to taste me first thing in the morning, it’s only fair I get to taste you.”

  She opens her mouth, inviting me in.

  “Wider,” I command. When she does as I say, my cock grows harder.

  I guide myself to her lips, and as fast as a vacuum, she has me in her mouth. I brace myself on the side of the table, barely able to stop my knees from buckling from the sensation of her tongue working the tip.

  “Now, we’re ready,” she says, licking the corner of her mouth. She swings her legs wide, fully open for me.

  Wasting a single second not buried deep inside her is a damn shame. She shudders as I run the tip of my cock at her entrance.

  “Don’t be such a tease, Breaker. Give it to me.” She smirks. “Hand over every ounce of the anger. Take it out on me because I can handle it.”

  I grip the nape of her neck, collecting her hair in my hand. I hold it tight and plunge inside of her. She winces at the first contact but settles in nicely. Nothing but her hips and hands are keeping her up as I pump in and out of her.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” I lean forward and whisper in her ear. “Desperate for?”

  “Yes.” A dark storm brews in her eyes.

  Delaney makes me want to demand control, while giving her a little bit of my own. She’s present and alive under my fingers, and nothing will ever be sexier. I’m fully enjoying watching myself slip in and out of her. It’s more than that, though. Lost in my thoughts, taken over by how I feel about Delaney, the mood in the room shifts.

  “Did you go tender on me, Breaker Davenport?” She digs her heels into my spine, crushing me to her. I pause, relishing in the way her walls squeeze me.

  “Nothing tender about me, baby.” I pull out long enough to roll her over, pressing on her spine until her stomach is flat on the table. My palms glide over her soft skin until my hands wrap around the front of her neck. A spark of excitement ignites her eyes. I cover her like a second skin, barely moving inside of her, and bite down on the skin below her shoulder blade.

  My movements start to quicken, and my hand squeezes. She whimpers, shifting until she finds the relief her body aches for, but is too afraid to ask for.

  Control isn’t an easy thing for me. When I want something, I take it, and what I want now is to fuck Delaney until we are both spent and panting.

  “Do it,” she says, giving me permission.

  My dick aches to be inside her again as I walk us to the window. I press her body into the cold glass and fuck her like I mean it. She grips the frame above her head with one hand, desperate for something to steady herself. Her other palm hits the glass, flattening with her submission.

  “Fuck!” she says on a breath out as she snakes her arm behind my neck.

  My eyes clench shut, and I press my forehead against Delaney’s shoulder. Unwilling to find my release yet, I slow my hips.

  “Look at me,” Delaney says, staring at me over her shoulder. Her fingernails dig into my neck. I invite the pain she’s imposing on my body. “No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”

  I grab her face and press my lips into her soft, plush mouth, losing myself in her. In this moment, I know more than ever, this girl is made for me. She’s a perfect complement to me. I’m harsh and mostly made up of shattered pieces. She’s a dangerous kind of perfection.

  “I love you,” I whisper between our kisses. “Fuck, I love you, Delaney.”

  She doesn’t repeat my words. I don’t need her to. It’s right there between us, screaming out as I do the most intimate thing known to man.

  She smiles, because she knows.

  Sex has always been easy to me. It’s never been something to cherish, a way to connect. It’s always been a means to an end, and although that’s fun, it’s nothing like allowing her into my body, knowing damn well there’s no other place she’d rather be. Sex with Delaney is being loved, which is something I’ve never truly felt.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Dixon announces as he walks into the kitchen. His eyes are covered, but I shield Delaney’s body. “Nice ass, bro.”

  “Not fucking funny, man.” I laugh humorlessly.

  Delaney is plastered to the window. “Do you mind, Dix?”

  “This can’t wait.” Sorrow seeps into the sigh he releases. “It’s about your dad.”

  “My dad or hers?” I ask, sheltering Delaney as she slips from my arms. “Why don’t you wait for us in the living room?” I say before he can answer my first question.

  Once we are alone, Delaney gathers our clothes, throwing mine at me. I catch them and dress, while watching the worry in her eyes come to life as she slips on my shirt.

  “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.” I kiss her forehead and lead her towards the living room.

  “Whose dad do you think he’s talking about?” she whispers as we walk into the room.

  Palmer, Marek, and Dixon are crowded around the laptop on the coffee table. They look up at once, but their focus isn’t on me. The attention is on Delaney. I feel her confidence fade.

  “What’s my dad up to?” she asks.

  “It’s not only him, Delaney. It’s the DuPonts,” Dixon explains.

  Delaney’s hand skims down my arm until her fingers are entwined with mine. “Tell me everything.”

  “Your father . . .” Dixon starts, but pain pinches at the corner of his eyes. This isn’t going to be good.

  “Delaney, your father”—Palmer rubs her forehead—“your dad, he . . .”

  “Will one of you please spit it out?” I scold. The trembling in Delaney’s hand is putting me on edge.

  Marek walks over to Delaney and me. He looks at me first. Whatever this is, it’s going to ruin whatever resemblance of a relationship she’s ever had with her father. This isn’t fair. She deserves better.

  Marek’s eyes plead with me.

  “Tell us, Marek,” I implore.

  “You know how we didn’t understand how Henry could get away with what he did? The security alone was such a broad and well-oiled machine, that none of it made sense.”

  “What does this have to do with my dad, Marek?” Delaney’s voice wavers.

  “Your dad, he’s buying one of the many DuPont family businesses.”

  “What for? What business?” I ask, in total darkness.

  “Sky Technology International.”

  “Will someone please get to the point?” Delaney shouts.

  “Sky Technology International is a security company, dealing mostly with cyber and personal security.”

  Delaney’s knees buckle as the revelation settles into her mind. Her eyes dart around as she struggles to find with a reason, other than the one they’ve given her, for why her father would buy the company.

  “I’m a transaction,” she whispers.

  “What?” I ask.

  “He said it himself. I’m a transaction. I didn’t consider he meant it literally.” Her eyes widen. “He knew, didn’t he? My father knew what was happening on campus this entire time?”

  “Delaney,” Dixon warns, knowing damn well he’s going to have to tell her the truth if he knows something.

  “The truth, Dixon!” she screams.

  Palmer jolts at the rise of her voice. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.” It’s a solid attempt to keep pressure low in the room, but it’s useless.

  “He knew,” Dixon blurts. “I’m sorry, but he knew.”

  “You have proof?” I ask, needing to know this isn’t some sort of conspiracy theory.

  Dixon nods in answer, remorse rolling off him towards Delaney.

  “I have to go.” Delaney’s face is completely blank. No emotions. Nothing.

  “No, you don’t,” I intervene, rushing to block her from getting to the door. I grab her arms,
holding her in place.

  “Please, let me go.” Her eyes burn into my hands.

  I release my grip. “If you go, we can’t figure out what we’re doing here. We can’t help you if you run away.”

  “My father, Breaker. My own fucking father!” she screams. “Now, you either take me to the dorms, or I’ll walk.”

  “Running away isn’t going to help you. We can’t help you if you aren’t here. We can’t make decisions on how to fucking bury him without you!” I yell.

  “Fine, I’ll walk.” She heads for the door, her bare feet and my t-shirt telling me she’s numb to reality right now.

  Her slumped shoulders make her look smaller than she is. She doesn’t look around, lost inside her own head. I can’t understand what she’s going through. Every bit of her small reality has shattered at her feet.

  The door rattles at her escape, and I wince at the sound.

  “Go after her,” Palmer commands. “Breaker, go after her or else you’ll regret it. She needs you.”

  “Dixon”—I spin—“drive her to campus, please.”

  “You got it.” Dixon jogs through the living room, no questions asked.

  Once the front door shuts again, I head straight to my room.

  Marek rushes in behind me. “She’s going to kill you.”

  “I can handle Palmer,” I lie. With a single look, Palmer can make any of us feel small. I allowed her best friend to walk out after hearing the most tragic secrets. I deserve whatever wrath she has in store for me.

  Palmer grabs a glass decorative ball off my shelf and zings it at me, narrowly missing my head. It crashes into the wall, shattering into thousands of pieces.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Breaker?”

  “Good luck,” Marek singsongs, running from the room.

  “Real nice,” I groan. “Pussy.”

  “The only pussy I see is standing right here, too afraid to acknowledge the stupidity of his own actions.” She shoves her hand into my chest, forcing me backwards until I have to sit on the bed.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Sometimes we need someone to not take our word, Breaker. Her leaving is out of fear and broken-heartedness. It’s not because she’s too afraid to let you in. It’s because she already has so much, depends on you so much, that she doesn’t want to burden you.”