Page 34 of Break my Heart

I need to prove to myself that Nathan didn’t break me.

My brow scrunches as my teeth sink into my lower lip.

I’m so close.

Dancing on the precipice.

It’s right there.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt an orgasm crash over me, dragging me to the very bottom of the ocean before allowing me to float to the surface.

It’s enough to make desperation brew within. The need to sever the last chains Nathan shackled me with so I can free myself from him once and for all.

Anxiety spirals through me, and my fingers move faster as I arch my back. I focus on the slide of Hayes’s hand along his thick erection. The memories of what it had felt like to wrap my fingers around his length and stroke him for myself. How hot to the touch he’d felt.

“My guess is that you’ll look good on your knees with a mouth stuffed full of cock.”

Those husky words ignite a firestorm within me.

But it’s still not enough to push me over the edge.

It’s not enough to make me come.

After a few tense moments, frustration bursts through me and my arousal vanishes like a wisp of smoke in the darkness.

I let loose an angry cry as I roll onto my side and curl up in a tight ball. Even though tears spring to my eyes, I refuse to let them fall.

Last year broke me in more ways than one.

What I don’t know is if it’s possible to piece myself back together again.

15

Hayes

I sit perched on the edge of the couch at the Roasted Bean, my eyes glued to the door, scanning every passerby for a glimpse of familiar blonde hair. The moment Ava steps foot inside—or worse, walks past the café and ditches me altogether—I want to be ready.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she changed her mind at the last minute. The girl is unpredictable, always keeping me at a firm distance, never allowing me to get too close.

I check my phone for what feels like the twentieth time.

She’s five minutes late and counting.

With a shift, I fidget with my cell.

The bell above the door jingles, pulling my attention from the thoughts racing through my head. I glance up, heart stuttering, only to be met with a flirty smile from a brunette. She gives me a look that says I’ll come over if you want me to.

I flash a polite smile and hope she moves on. If I give her the slightest bit of encouragement, she’ll beeline in this direction.

That’s not me being conceited.

It’s just straight up facts.

Scenarios that have played out hundreds of times in the past.

Dismissing the brunette, my gaze drifts back to the door. I’m still scanning for Ava, wondering where the hell she is and why she’s late. She’s not the type to make things easy, and it only drives home the realization that I care.

When another five minutes slip by, disappointment gnaws at me.