Broken Hero

He drills into me with unyielding power until I can feel his body harden and grow tense under my hands. He thrusts into me one final, hard time, painful pleasure evident in every line of his body.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

I wrap my arms around him as he gives a few faint thrusts. Our bodies are sticky with sweat. His hair is soft through my fingers, his breath hot against my cheek. He’s so big, I should feel crushed. It feels impossible that he could fit in my bed, on top of me-in me-and yet I want him to stay here forever.

Our breathing is the only sound in the now quiet room. If it wasn’t for Oliver’s weight, I feel like I might float away, disappear on a cloud of bliss and lightness.

He lifts himself up. “I didn’t mean to crush you.”

“You didn’t.”

Oliver disappears into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and I turn over, gripping my pillow. He really has the most glorious of bodies. Honed and rough around the edges, his tall and powerful muscles made to be admired.

From the back, I see the raised scarring on his shoulder. I’d felt it earlier, through my haze of lust, unable to realize what I was touching.

He stretches out on the bed next to me, shoving his hands under a pillow and turning to face me.

“Hi,” I murmur.

“Hello.”

I reach out and push back a sweaty tendril of hair from his brow. “That was amazing.”

“Thank you.”I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile on my face. This happy, teasing Oliver is my favorite.

“It takes two to tango, you know.”

He reaches out and wraps an arm around my waist. “It was amazing.”

I trace down his neck, along his shoulder-blade. I stop just before the scar. Up close, it’s terrible. I can only imagine what must have caused it.

Oliver’s smile disappears.

“Does this still hurt sometimes?”

“No.”

I cover the scar gently. I wish there was some way I could take away the pain that he must have experienced, the hurt. I wish he would let me in. I’m not sure what he sees in my eyes, but his voice is tight when he speaks.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.”

My hand returns to his hair. “I don’t.

He pulls me closer so that our heads rest on the same pillow. His face is devoid of the usual harsh lines, but his eyes are serious.

“I don’t know why you came to Claremont, or what you’re running from. But you’ll always have a job at the ranch.”

I kiss him softly, my hand on the side of his face, telling him more with my touch than I can with my words. His lips are hesitant against mine for a moment before he kisses me back gently.

“Sleep,” he murmurs. “You’re safe.”

Tiredness hits me like a wave and I tuck myself closer against his chest. I fall asleep to the sound of his deep breathing, the feel of his skin against mine, and the faint smell of baked bread.

I slip in and out of sleep during the night. The smell of her skin and soft body against mine wants to drag me under, but the usual restlessness fights back. I get up in the early hours. Her aunt and uncle will get here early to begin baking the new days bread, and I shouldn’t be here when they arrive.

Lucy’s twined in the sheets and a smooth shoulder peeks out, as does nearly her entire right leg. She’s sleeping soundly. Her bright hair spreads around her on the pillow like a halo. It still feels unbelievable that she wanted me, that she invited me in. That she asked me to stay.

I want her again even as I pull on my jeans and buckle my belt. The prospect of pulling her warm body close is one that stronger men than me would have difficulty resisting.

One day I’ll kiss her awake and see what she looks like when she first opens her eyes. Maybe she’ll give me a sleepy smile and look at me that way again, the way she had last night, right before she kissed me goodnight.

I had intended to let her sleep, but the longer I look at her, the more I waver. Slipping out without saying goodbye just isn’t an option.

I head back to the bed on quiet feet when her phone lights up. It’s on the floor. It must have slid out of her bag last night, and I bend to pick it up. It’ll do better on the nightstand.

A text she’s received flashes on the screen. My eyes skim it automatically. It’s from someone named Kyle.

Hi sweetheart. I’ve thought a lot about what you said. Call me tonight so we can straighten things out. I love you

Everything inside me goes cold.

What the fuck?

My eyes flicker between the different phrases. About what you said shifts to straighten things out.

Sweetheart.

I love you.

There’s familiarity there, and the implication of both a past and a present. She has a boyfriend.

Maybe they’re on a break, or whatever technicality people use these days, but the fact remains-she’s not really available.

You’re such an idiot, Oliver.

Carefully, I place the phone back on the floor next to her bag.

Claremont is quiet and dark as I walk back up Main Street. No one saw me leave the bakery, but I still pull my cap down to cover my hair.

Fuck. It’s all can I think, the one word bouncing around inside my head. I’d fucked up royally. What had I been thinking? Why did I have to confess-in the middle of town on a busy evening, no less-how much I wanted her?

It had been her eyes, her soft smile, the reassurance of her touch. The fact that I felt like she genuinely wanted me as much as I wanted her. That she saw me.

Ugh.

She was stunning and funny, gorgeous and kind. She had her pick of men. Had I been so foolish to think she’d left Dallas single and unattached? That I could come in and play the hero? Somehow, I’ve been stupid enough to develop actual feelings for Lucy. But what’s worse is that I’d somehow been thinking that she might do the same for me.

A thought strikes me, and it makes me feel sick. I’d told her that I didn’t want her to pity me, but she hadn’t responded. Not verbally, at least. But she’d grabbed my hand and led the way to her studio right after I’d nearly had a panic attack.

She’d talked me through it.