Breaking Fences (The Breaking Series) (34 page)

“Bia, I have something for you to help me with,” Tom said, slamming down my brief boldness.

Feeling the moment was gone, I faced him. “Shoot.”

Chapter Twenty- Eigth

I left the ranch around four in the afternoon and headed toward campus. I turned the volume up and Tim McGraw blasted from the speakers, drowning the thoughts that plagued me since I decided it was time to go back to my dorm.

You should go see him. Just to make sure he’s okay.

Who was I kidding? I
knew
I was driving to his half-built barn, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it. To myself. So pathetic.

I followed the instructions Tom once gave me, and my heart raced, knowing I would see him soon. At least, I hoped I would. I had no idea where else he could be.

As I drove down the dirt road, I saw his truck parked in front of the barn.

Then I saw him. With a plaid shirt open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and fitted jeans, swinging an ax and cutting a log in half over a tree stump. Sweat glistened from his taut chest … oh my. My stomach clenched and my mouth watered.

I parked my SUV beside his truck, and stayed there. He stopped, ax in hand, and stared at me. My breath caught with the intensity of his gaze. I broke the stare, because I couldn’t help it, and my eyes wandered down his chest and abdomen again.
Meu Deus
, he was too hot, too handsome for his own good. I licked my lips and swallowed hard.

Okay, I had come here to check on him, not to stare at him from inside my car as if he were a piece of meat. Even if he was a fine piece of meat.

I slipped out and forced my eyes to look at something, anything, other than him. The barn seemed like a good thing to stare at. Even though the structure was still a wooden frame, it had new additions. Half of the roof was put on, and wooden panels covered the back of the first floor walls.

I jerked my chin to the barn. “I see you’ve been making progress.”

He shook his head once and placed a new log over the stump. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

He let the ax fall. The log broke apart and two perfect halves tumbled to the ground. “I’m great.” The sarcastic tone of his voice was something new.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For?”

“For what happened.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still, I’m sorry it happened.”

Garrett picked up another log from the pile, his muscles flexing and popping with his movements. My mouth went dry and heat spread down my body. He placed the log on the stump and cut it in half, pulling the ax with more force than before.

He straightened and picked up another log. He was about to put it in place when his gaze locked on mine. A shine fleeted in his hazel eyes, something I couldn’t decipher, and I licked my lips. Groaning, he set the log down and let the ax fall on it with too much force.

“Hey,” I called, taking a few steps closer. “Talk to me. I can see there is a storm inside you. Let it out.”

His half-grin took over his lips, but it didn’t have its usual pull. This time, it was a sarcastic one. “Believe me. You don’t want to see my storm coming out.”

“I do.”

He groaned and grabbed another log from the pile. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“Unfortunately, no, I don’t. And I’m not here to bother you. I promise I’ll leave once I know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and I’m the Fairy Godmother.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you granting wishes?”

I scoffed. “Genies grant wishes, not fairies.”

“Damn.”

He cut the log, and I could see it was his way of burning off some steam. He was letting his anger and frustration out with each slash of the ax.

“Garrett, what are you going to do now?”

That stopped him. He looked at me, his eyes harsh. “I don’t know.”

Curiosity tugged at my gut and I glanced at the cabin. It looked so old and too small. Did it have everything he needed? Wouldn’t it fall on his head?

I walked to the cabin, went up the two front steps, and opened the door. The place was dark, with only two windows, rough wooden walls, and a course stone floor. The kitchen—a couple of cabinets, sink, small fridge, and even smaller range—was in the right corner. A small fireplace that was lit and warming the place, a tube TV, a low wooden table, and a sofa occupied the left corner. In the back, a queen bed, a nightstand, and a tall drawer completed the place. Past the bed, a door led to what looked like the bathroom.

My heart tugged. He deserved much more. The worst part? Knowing his father could have given him everything and didn’t.

“What are you doing here?”

Startled, I jumped and placed a hand on my speeding heart. I hadn’t seen him following me in. I turned to face him and found him close, looming over me with hooded eyes.

“I told you. I came to make sure you’re okay.”

“No. I mean here.” He gestured to the cabin. “Inside.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Why was I inside the cabin, looking at where he said he would be sleeping? Besides making me hurt and want to help, what else did it do? Anger him, that was what it did. By the tension radiating from his shoulders, neck, and jaw, and the harsh shine in his eyes, I knew he was mad at me right now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t m—”

“Stop feeling sorry for me,” he hissed, clenching his fists. “I don’t want your pity.”

So this was his new game? To frighten me so I would stay away. This was probably his new game for everyone. He had been hurt before. By his mother when she died and left him alone, by his father when he refused to be a father to him, by Mrs. Hudson when she was a bitch to him, by Delilah and her fake righteousness. I bet even Jonah had let him down one way or another. Add a broken heart or two to that equation, and I knew he was on the brink of closing down for good.

“I don’t pity you, Garrett, but I hate this situation. I wish I could do something to help you. You’re a good man and you deserve better than this.” Taking a long breath, I rested a hand on his heart and he went still. “I want to be here for you, and you won’t scare me away with your harsh words and brooding mood.”

A pained shine crossed his eyes, and his heartbeat accelerated under my palm. I couldn’t ignore how wonderful and warm his skin felt. I wanted to run my fingertips up and down his chest, tracing each of his muscles, feeling them contract and expand with my touch.

My fingers twitched and I licked my lips. His gaze followed my tongue, his eyes darkening. He pressed his eyes shut and growled.

Feeling bolder than when we kissed the ball, I took a step into his personal space. The heat of his body brushed against my own, even with the half foot between us.

I gave in and let my fingers trail south, contouring his pecs, then the six-pack on his abdomen, and that V muscle leading down into his jeans. My other hand followed suit and when my fingertips grazed the waist of his jeans, Garrett inhaled sharply and wrapped his hands around my wrists, stilling my fingers.

He opened his eyes, and the anger and frustration in them were gone, replaced by lust. Raw lust. My knees went weak, but before I could melt to the floor, Garrett tugged my wrists and pulled my arms up and around his neck. Slowly, he slid his hands over my arms, around my shoulders, and down my back. He splayed his fingers on the low of my back and pressed me against him, drawing a loud huff from my lungs. He leaned into me and I tilted my head toward his. My heart raced as I waited for his mouth to be on mine, but he paused an inch away.

“What do you want, Bia?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and his breath washed over my skin.
Meu Deus
. I grasped his shoulders for support. “Tell me what you want?” His lips grazed my chin, and I whimpered. “You gotta say it.”

I pushed this frail Bia aside and forced the old Bia to emerge. “I want you,” I said, hoping my eyes conveyed exactly how much I wanted him.

A growl rumbled from his throat, and he closed the distance. He brushed his lips over mine once, twice, three times, as if he needed to test the waters before actually jumping in deep.
Meu Deus
, but then he jumped in, his mouth moving with a rough want against mine. I matched his rhythm, showing him I was ready for whatever he wanted to give me. For whatever
way
he wanted to give me. His tongue invaded my mouth, dancing with mine, and I moaned. With a groan, he knotted his hand in the hair at my neck, pressing me to him even more, as if there was any space left between us.

His other hand slipped under my shirt, and I shivered with his touch on my skin. He brought his hand around me, until his thumb grazed the lower edge of my bra. I gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage of my surprise to kiss me deeper. I fell, not caring what was at the end of this cliff. I just needed to fly, to feel, to let him ravish my body, even if it ended up mangled on the other side.

Painfully slow, he slipped his entire hand under my bra and cupped my breast, pinching my nipple. I moaned, sucking on his lower lip.

“Hot damn,” he whispered.

Without breaking his hungry stare, I pushed his shirt down his arms and pulled my sweater over my head. I reached to my back to open my bra, but he gave me that lopsided grin.

“Let me,” he said, his voice husky.

With pleasure.

His eyes on mine, he advanced. The intensity in him, in his stare, in his powerful body, had me almost stepping back. However, I stood my ground. I had never been with a man that could bring me to my knees with one simple touch—and I wanted to. I wanted
him
.

He reached around me, his chest an inch from mine.
Meu Deus
, the heat coming from this man would drive me insane even before he had done anything to me. I bit my lower lip. The thought of what he would do to me made me desperate.

He glanced at my mouth. “I’ll bite it,” he whispered, bending toward me and taking my lower lip between his teeth and making me whimper. Letting go of my lip, he unclasped my bra and threw it to the side.

“You should lose the pants too,” he said, tugging the waistband of my jeans. He popped open the button and the zipper, then pushed my jeans—and my panties—past my hips, and down my legs. I helped him and stepped away from them. He threw them in the same direction the bra and the top had gone. Then he stood there, watching me with those incredible hazel eyes, not close enough to touch, but close enough to burn me. His eyes raked every inch of my body, as if he wanted to etch my image into his mind so he could never erase it, even if he wanted to.

I should be embarrassed by standing naked in front of him, but I wasn’t. I could see it in his eyes that he liked what he saw and that brought more boldness to me. I stuffed my chest and stood proud as his gaze burned my skin and coiled my belly.

He lifted his hands, but didn’t touch me. He hovered close to my skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. I shivered.

Incapable of standing this close to him and doing nothing, I put my hands over his and guided them to me. One cupping one of my breasts, and the other on my hip. His gaze intensified, and I was sure he could make me come just like that.

He brushed his thumb over my nipple, and with the other hand, dug his fingers into my skin, pulling me to him. I gasped at the full contact of his chest with mine. He let go of my breast and snaked that hand to my back, pressing me to him.

“This feels so good,” he said, before taking my mouth with his. His kiss started slow and deep, but when I entangled one of my legs around his, he groaned and his kiss became rougher, as if he couldn’t get enough of me.

He slid his hands down to my thighs and tugged them. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he lowered us to the bed. He kept an elbow on the mattress so his weight wasn’t crushing me, but that was exactly what I wanted. I tugged his ass with the heel of my foot, pressing him closer, and he groaned, but dropped the elbow and buried his face in my neck. He inhaled before placing a sweet kiss on the soft spot between my neck and shoulder. I shivered again. Chuckling, he bit that same spot, making me shiver yet again.

I was about to protest that he still had his pants on, when his hand trailed a path to my inner thigh. I stopped breathing, suddenly aware of how bad this could go, how involved I could become, how taken I would be, but I was not capable of stopping right now.

He propped himself on his elbow and looked at me. His fingers neared my entrance, and I arched my back, closing my eyes.

“Look at me,” he said. I opened my eyes, but as soon as his finger rubbed against my tender flesh, I closed them again. He withdrew his finger. “Look at me, Bia.”

I sucked in a breath and forced my eyes open. My reward was his entire finger inside me. I cried out, closing my eyes in the process.

He pulled his finger out. “Bia.”

I shot my eyes open. “All right. All right.”

He chuckled, placing a soft kiss on my chin before locking his eyes on mine again. This time, he thrust two fingers inside me, and somehow, through the immense pleasure flowing through me, I was able to keep my eyes open, to stare into his dark pools, those hazel eyes that shone with lust.