Shattered Page 4

  The doctor gave us instructions on how to care for his incisions, but he’s not following any of them.

  No driving. Don’t get them wet. No heavy lifting or strenuous movements.

  Cruz looks down at me, his eyes hard. “Worried I’ll die?” he asks, his voice rough.

  “Or get an infection and get sick, and then die.”

  Grabbing the hand touching his skin, he pulls me up and back onto my feet. “Don’t,” he warns.

  “Don’t? Isn’t that why I’m here, to make sure you’re okay?”

  “You’re here because I want you here,” he grinds out through gritted teeth, scaring the shit out of me. Taking a deep breath, he seems to calm himself. “But you down there like that isn’t helpin’ shit, Angel.”

  “Oh.” Oh! “God, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He looks at me with so much heat in his gaze, my body starts to burn with it.

  The closeness.

  His hands on me.

  The way he’s looking at me.

  “Cruz?”

  He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my ear. I feel the goose bumps travel up my arms and down my back.

  He doesn’t ask permission, he just takes as he bends down and kisses me roughly.

  And I let him.

  His lips devour mine and I fucking melt.

  Growling against my mouth, his tongue traces my lower lip. “Angel,” he murmurs, his voice deep.

  His hands are everywhere—in my hair, under my shirt, on my skin.

  “Tell me to stop,” he groans, backing me against the kitchen wall, one hand gripping my hip while the other grasps my jaw.

  “Tell me to leave,” I counter, kissing him back.

  He hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

  I’m frantic.

  I can feel his hard length pressing into me and I moan, suddenly desperate.

  So fucking desperate.

  I want him.

  Need him.

  “Cruz,” I groan, needing something—anything from him.

  I don’t know if it’s because he took two bullets for me, but I want him. I want him so fucking bad.

  “I know, Angel.” He feels it too.

  Carrying me into his room, he kicks the door closed behind him and tosses me onto the bed.

  Grabbing the waist of my pants, he drags them down my legs, and I know in this moment that there’s no going back.

  Cruz

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she says softly, biting down on her bottom lip, looking at me through her lashes.

  Jesus.

  So sweet. Too fucking sweet.

  And I don’t want to wait any longer for her to slide that pussy over my cock.

  In nothing but a black thong, my patience for her body is starting to slip. My dick is as hard as a fucking rock.

  I want her.

  I need her.

  “You’re not gonna hurt me, Angel.” Grabbing her hips, I lift her up and over me. It fucking hurts, but the pain is a needed distraction, because I’m about to fucking devour her. “Up,” I grind out, giving her ass a smack.

  She lets me lift her.

  On her knees, straddling my waist, I hook a finger in her panties, pulling the soft wet material to the side. My knuckles graze her wet cunt, and I watch as her eyes roll from that one touch.

  She’s ready.

  I’m fucking ready.

  She’s gonna ride me. If she’s so worried about hurting me, then I’ll let her do the work. Mia can choose the pace.

  With one hand holding her panties to the side, I use my other to fist my cock and tease her entrance. She’s soft and wet, and more than ready for me. Pushing the tip into her cunt, I fight the urge to take over and fuck her hard.

  “Jesus,” she pants.

  “Slow, baby.”

  Mia doesn’t need any more instruction than that.

  She slides down my dick, slowly, taking me deep. Her pussy glides over my cock like a goddamn glove.

  Sucking in a breath, she clenches me when I’m balls deep inside of her.

  Her pussy’s tight and wet, and all I want to do is move.

  With her hands on my chest, she lifts her ass, gliding up my dick slow as fuck before grinding back down, finding her rhythm. “Ohhh,” she moans, her eyes closing. “Shit.”

  She rides me, her pussy eating my cock alive.

  I let her do her thing, into watching her big tits bounce as moves, and the way her pussy squeezes the shit out of my dick when she takes me deep inside of her.

  Hands on her ass, I guide her, loving the way the skin jiggles under my palms.

  “Just like that,” I groan when she goes down and grinds against me.

  It’s a motherfucking act of God that I don’t come right fucking now, she’s so goddamn tight.

  With her lip between her teeth, she takes it slow, but as good as this shit feels, and as hot as it watching my cock slide in and out of her glistening cunt, I can’t do slow anymore.

  I need more.

  Sitting up, her legs still wrapped around me, I flip her on her back.

  I’m in charge now.

  White hot pain shoots up my side and I swear to fuck, it almost puts me on my ass. But with my cock inside of her body and my arms around her, it’s enough to keep me up and moving.

  I need to come so bad.

  I need her to come.

  “Cruz!” she yelps, her big green eyes looking up at me in shock. “What the fuck? You’re gonna break something.” She stills underneath me, her hands on my shoulders.

  Only thing I’m breakin’ is your heart, Angel.

  “It ain’t nothin’, baby,” I growl, sinking back into her. I feel that shit down to my toes.

  “Shit.”

  Mia tightens around me, her back coming off the bed as her nails dig into my biceps. “So good,” she purrs, her voice soft and sexy. “Oh my God,” she groans when I hit her hard, my balls smacking her ass.

  It’s a good fucking angle, her legs pushed together and in the air, resting against my chest. On my knees, I shove inside of her, losing myself in her body.

  I pull out and push back in harder, faster.

  She squirms, trying to get closer to me, telling me with her body that she wants more. I’ll give her exactly what she wants.

  Pushing her legs apart, spreading her thighs wide, I grab her hips and jerk her into me, going even deeper.

  “Like that?”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  I fuck her hard, feeling like I can’t go deep enough. Her eyes roll and her fingers dig into my arms as she tries to hold on. “Shit, Cruz...shit!” she screams, and when her cunt tightens around me, I lose it.

  Mia milks my cock for all it’s worth, and I come so goddamn hard I get lightheaded.

  Leaning into her, my head on her chest, breathing hard and losing focus, I swear to God, I die for a second.

  Mia

  Grabbing my arm, Cruz pulls me close to him. My head on his chest and my leg crooked over his.

  I let him fuck me.

  I’m going straight to hell.

  He’s breathing slow and shallow. “Are you okay?” I ask, listening to his heart beat under my ear.

  He doesn’t answer me.

  “You’re not okay, are you?” Worry settles in my stomach and I can’t shake it.

  “I’m fine,” he grumbles, burying his hand in my hair and kissing my head. “Go to sleep.”

  “Not a chance in hell. Not with the way you’re acting.” I’m worried. Scared.

  Cruz groans when I sit up and get onto my knees, hovering over him. “Damn, Angel,” he swears when I touch the area around his wound, his hand wrapping around my wrist to stop me from poking and prodding.

  “Cruz, you’re scaring me.”

  His hand still wrapped around my wrist, he kisses my palm, chuckling against it. “I’m just tired. Put all my energy into your pussy.”

  Jesus.

/>   “Open your eyes,” I demand, worry still gnawing at my chest.

  He does, slowly, his eyes heavy. “I’m good,” he insists, his hand snaking up the back of my leg, his fingers grazing the bottom of my ass.

  I still don’t believe him.

  Getting out of his bed, I grab my panties from the floor and slip them on, walking out of the room and into the living room.

  The packet of care instructions is sitting on the coffee table. I need to read them, to know the signs of infection or complications.

  But before I can, Cruz stops me. “Jesus, Angel, you don’t fucking listen.” Bending down, he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder with a hiss of pain when he straightens up.

  “Cruz, you’re fucking hurt!” I had let him fuck me, and that was bad enough. He can’t carry me around his house, not like this.

  “Mia,” he retorts, mocking me. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “You don’t even know enough about me to make that kind of declaration.”

  Chuckling, he wraps a hand around the back of my thigh, carrying me down the hall. “Know you well enough.”

  “Seriously, what the hell, Cruz? You’re going to hurt yourself worse than you already fucking are.”

  “It’s sexy when you cuss at me, Angel.”

  “Stop,” I grumble, having a hard time being mad at him when he laughs. It’s a throaty, happy sound. Something I wouldn’t expect to come out of him.

  “Then stop treating me like I’m fucking broken,” he growls, throwing me onto his bed.

  With my ass at the edge, he stands between my thighs, looking down at me, my nakedness on full display.

  “You’re not broken,” I whisper. “Just hurt.”

  Staring at his chest, strong and tattooed, I feel a wave of emotion roll through me.

  “I’m a big boy, baby. I’ll be good.”

  I feel oddly vulnerable. Exposed.

  I’m scared, worried for him, and I don’t even know why. The doctor let him leave the hospital and here he is, breathing. But I just can’t shake the foreboding feeling churning in my stomach.

  Running a thumb along my cheek, he wipes away the tear running down my skin. “Why are you crying?” he asks, not looking the least bit scared of my tears. If anything, he seems intrigued by the waterworks.

  “I don’t know,” I answer him honestly, because I don’t know.

  “You’re still scared.”

  “Of?” I know what he’s talking about. I just don’t want to acknowledge it.

  “They won’t hurt you again. I won’t let them.” He doesn’t say who, and he doesn’t have to. We both know.

  I try to smile, not real sure of what else to do. Maybe I am scared. Scared that I’m alone in a town I still feel new to, and the only person who was around to save me when I needed someone the most was a stranger—a stranger I’m falling in love with.

  This is crazy.

  I’m crazy.

  I can’t love someone I just met.

  But I do. I feel it. I felt it the moment I saw him, the moment he put his hands on me.

  “You can’t make that sort of promise,” I say around another tear, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the way he’s looking at me, like I’m a trophy, a prize. Like I’m everything to him.

  It’s been a long time, if ever, that someone’s looked at me the way he’s looking at me now.

  We’re not there yet. We can’t be. It’s too soon.

  “I can,” he growls, kissing my lips softly. “I can make you all kinds of fuckin’ promises, Angel, and keep them.”

  I want to believe him so bad. Desperately.

  Guilt. Confusion. Lust. Uncertainty. Every emotion under the sun churns in my stomach.

  I’m a fucking wreck.

  Cruz

  “I have a boyfriend,” she blurts out, like it makes a fuck of a difference to me. She’s here—with me.

  She’s mine.

  I get what she’s doing, though. She’s scared, and she’s trying to think of reasons to push me away.

  It won’t fucking work.

  “I have a rap sheet longer than your arm,” I counter, since it seems like we’re having a confessional type moment.

  If we’re scaring each other away, then my shit wins tenfold.

  I wouldn’t usually share that. Not that I give a shit what people think of me, but with Mia, she deserves to know, because if she really wants out, now’s her chance.

  She bites her lip, considering my words. “Is it bad?” she asks, her voice quiet and careful.

  If this doesn’t send her running, then I don’t know what will. “It’s bad. I’m not a good guy.”

  She snorts. “Right now, neither am I.”

  She thinks she’s bad, yet she’s anything but. “You’re fucking perfect.”

  I’m a bad guy. I’ve done bad shit. I’m not sorry for any of the shit I’ve done either.

  “What I am is scared,” she confesses, sitting up.

  “Scared of what?” Grabbing her hips and lifting her up, I sit us both down. Her legs automatically wrap around me.

  “You. Them. Being a cheater. Being here alone. Losing you.” She shakes her head, wrestling with her thoughts. “This is fucking crazy.”

  This is fucking crazy. She’s not wrong, but I’ve never lived a life any other way than crazy, so for me, this shit feels right. It feels normal.

  I wish I had something profound to say, something that would make her feel better, but I don’t. I don’t have jack shit.

  “You don’t think this crazy?”

  “My whole goddamn life is crazy, baby.”

  She lets her head fall onto my shoulder, her lips pressing against my skin. “But why does this feel so right?” she asks me, kissing my shoulder.

  I’m not going to tell her this is the most right my life has ever felt. I won’t tell her the last few days have been the best I’ve had in a long string of shitty years. I won’t let her know she fits. Won’t fill her head with shit I know nothing about—feelings and love. The only thing I can give her is right now.

  Wrapping my fingers around her jaw, I bring her face up to mine and kiss her, hard. Her soft lips are pliant and needy. “I’m here.” It’s the best I can do right now.

  “I have to tell my boyfriend. He deserves to know.” No one deserves anything.

  “You don’t have to do shit.”

  “I do,” she counters.

  “Where is he?” I ask, throwing my hands out. If he was here, if he was around, she wouldn’t be here with me. She wouldn’t have been walking down that road, alone, and in the dark. She’d be with her man. But he’s not here, and I am.

  “Out of town,” she sighs. She doesn’t like that he’s gone, I can hear it in her voice.

  “You’re here alone? No family? Friends?” I don’t like that shit.

  “Only you.”

  “That’s all you fucking need, Angel.”

  And that’s the fucking truth. All she needs is me. I’ll do whatever the fuck she needs me to do for her.

  Putting her arms around my neck, she smiles. “And that is why this is crazy. I’m falling hard and fast, Cruz.”

  If any other female told me that, I’d kick her ass to the curb, not the least bit interested in that kind of shit, but with Mia, it’s different. I want her to fall, and I want to be the one to catch her.

  “I’ll catch you.” And I mean that shit. I don’t have a goddamn thing worthy of giving her, other than my time and attention, but I’ll give it to her. All of it. All of me.

  “This is just too fast.”

  “Maybe. You want me to take you home?” I challenge her. Time. Age. Distance. That shit doesn’t matter, not in my life. Not when tomorrow isn’t a guarantee. I could love her now or in twenty years, it makes no fucking difference, because I feel how I fucking feel right now.

  We could wait. We could do it the right way, or we could do it our way.

  “But you’re hurt, you can’t drive.”

/>   “That’s a fucking excuse and you know it.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “You think this is too fast, I’ll back off. I’ve been through worse and here I am, still breathin’, so don’t use that as an excuse.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Wasn’t telling you that to make you feel more comfortable. Just lettin’ you know it’s gonna take a lot more than two bullets to stop me.”

  Like you walking out my fucking door and not looking back.

  Mia shakes her head, yawning.

  “You’re tired, yeah? Go to sleep,” I tell her. “We’ll talk about this shit tomorrow.” Or never.

  She’s mine. She’s mine today, tomorrow, and twenty years from now. Nothing she says is going to change that. Not after tonight.

  Mia

  I wake up alone in Cruz’s bed, his gray sheets wrapped around my naked body and my head on his pillow.

  His sheets smell like him, woodsy and spicy.

  Rolling over onto my back, I stare at the ceiling for a moment, slowly waking up.

  It’s still dark out, with shadows dancing all over the walls. I watch the raindrops streak across the windows and listen to the wind blowing.

  It’s cold when I get out the bed, so hugging the sheet around me, I wander out of his room and down the hall, toward the living room.

  Cruz’s house is large, with a lot of closed doors and open spaces. A lot of it empty. He lives here, but he doesn’t live here.

  The front door is open wide when I walk into the living room. A breeze blows in, sweeping my hair off my shoulder.

  When I walk over to peek outside, I find Cruz sitting on his front porch, feet kicked up on the railing and a blunt between his lips.

  I watch him take a drag, smoke escaping from between his lips as he holds it a moment before exhaling.

  He’s terrifyingly handsome. Intimidating. Overpowering. Menacing. Brutal.

  “Angel,” he growls, not looking at me. I’ve been busted.

  I walk out onto the porch where two big dogs are laying by his feet, looking at me.

  “You have dogs?”

  He nods. “Red and Rowdy.”

  The dogs don’t move when I come closer. In fact, their eyes close, their heads resting on their front paws.