Flawlessly Broken: (Broken Series Book 2) (5 page)

“There’s no fault in wanting to stand on your own,” I told her softly as I reached for the throw blanket on the couch behind our heads, pulling it down over her.

Her voice was soft and dreamy when she replied. “Yeah, but it sure is lonely sometimes.”

I had no response to that. What she said was true but not something I’d easily admit. We sat there quietly for a while until her slow even breathing indicated that she’d drifted off.

I tried to find a way to move so that she could stretch out but only ended up jostling her. In her sleepy state, she slumped down and ended up using my thigh as a pillow, sighing contentedly in her sleep and looking too peaceful for me to attempt to move again. Instead I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on the coffee table.

With Talia laying on my left leg, I draped my left arm over the back of the couch and slumped until I was as comfortable as I could manage.

She murmured softly in her sleep but I couldn’t make out the words. Eventually, she spoke no more and I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of her soft breathing until sleep overtook me.

Talia

I CAME AWAKE
slowly, a rhythmic thumping noise irritating me out of my rest.

What the hell is that sound?

I began to sit up and sucked in a hissing breath. Shit. I put a hand to my temple and realized the noise I’d heard had been coming from
inside
my head.

Jeez.

How much did I drink?

I dared to crack one eye open and winced at the bright light streaming through my living room windows.

Lovely, Talia. You didn’t even make it to your bed to pass out. Just keeps getting classier and classier. Too bad Derek can’t see you like this. Maybe he’d stop sniffing around.

With much effort and searing pain shooting through my skull, I stood and made my way to the kitchen. I filled a tall glass from the tap and gulped it down before refilling and emptying it a second time. Still squinting like a mole, I stumbled to the bathroom to empty my near-bursting bladder and attempt to scrub away the lingering alcohol smell.

The bottle I’d seen in the kitchen was much more full than I remembered, meaning I’d finished the other one and started in on another. It was a wonder I wasn’t head down in the toilet bowl this morning. I’d damn sure drank enough. The fact that my stomach seemed relatively unfazed was nothing short of a miracle.

Now if only my head would follow suit.

After my shower, I would take just enough aspirin to avoid overdose and try to get some food into my stomach. Maybe take a nap and hope the pain would vanish while I slept.

I’d had the strangest dreams last night. Since Derek’s appearance, I’d been tormented by dreams of things I desperately wanted to forget, images of loss and betrayal waiting just behind my closed lids, taking every opportunity to punish me all over again.

Last night, though, I’d dreamed of Spencer Erickson. It was bizarre. I hadn’t thought about him for months. Not since things settled down after we nearly lost Ali in the fire that destroyed Clay’s family home. Of course, I’d seen Spencer when we all sneaked back to Denson to help Clay set up his proposal. Nearly ten of us gathered to string thousands of lights onto the willow tree by the lake at Clay’s property. It had taken us all day, but we’d been all smiles and optimism, knowing what was going to transpire there that evening. Even I was touched by the idea of their happily ever after, and that’s a hard sell for someone like me.

Spencer had been personable as always, and we’d chatted as we worked, but once the task was finished, we didn’t see one another or speak again. No reason to.

Okay, maybe I thought about him sometimes. How could I not? I was intentionally single, but shit, I wasn’t blind and he was absolutely gorgeous. Tall and muscular, but not overly so. Dark brown hair that was just half a shade from being black, and eyes to match. They were so dark it was hypnotic. He’d been clean shaven each time I’d seen him, but in my dream last night, he’d had a beard. It had been just long enough to be sexy, not so long that it looked unkempt. I had a fleeting memory of my hair getting snared in it.

As I stood in the shower, letting the steamy water run through my hair, I imagined what it would be like to have his beard scraping over my skin. God, in all the fantasies I’d ever had about him—and there had been a shamefully high number of those—it had never occurred to me to envision facial hair.

I let my hands wander slowly down my neck and across my collarbone as I pictured the light scratching of his beard as he made his way to the valley between my breasts. Skimming his tongue across my skin, nuzzling the underside of my breast before taking the nipple into his mouth... would he nibble gently or be more aggressive?

My fingertips fluttered across my abdomen, moving downward as I envisioned Spencer kneeling before me in the shower, his tongue sweeping across his full lips in anticipation of tasting me.

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 half 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.