Fearless (Broken Love, #5)



The need to run had been present—screaming even—since leaving Nevada. Touching me, fucking me, taking me was the boy I had fallen in love with, but not the man who made me feel safe and loved. He moved inside me with a relentless power I hadn’t felt since he blackmailed me five years ago. Even more surprising was the excitement I felt remembering a much darker Keiran and the way he would fuck me unapologetically.

A strange, foreign part of me didn’t want to be taken. I wanted to conquer him the same way he sought to conquer me. With a secret smile he couldn’t see, I took a less submissive stand and braced my hands closer to my body, transferring my weight to my hands.

“Lake,” he grunted.

His fingers dug into the skin of my hips, and I could feel him watching me. I took a peek over my shoulder and found his eyes staring seductively at half-mast but watching me just as intently.

“What are you—” I held his gaze as I made my next move and lifted my right leg, placing it on the edge of the table. “Oh, baby,” he moaned.

Confident that he held me securely, I hooked my right arm around his neck, twisting my upper body and bringing our faces close together. His eyes widened with wariness and surprise.

“If my big, bad wolf wants to conquer me, he’ll have to do better.”

Challenge replaced surprise when his eyes narrowed. I could feel his chest rumble as he growled and fucked me impossibly harder. He lost the struggle with his conscience and forced me back against the tabletop. When his thrusts turned desperate, his fingers found my pussy and stroked me until I trembled and came apart under him.

When I didn’t think our fucking could turn anymore animalistic, he ripped my shirt up the back, pulled from my ass with a savage growl, and spurted his come on my back. I collapsed against the table, both sated and outraged. My legs couldn’t hold me up for long, so I collapsed but was caught in his arms and carried toward the stairs.

“In case you didn’t catch that, you can’t leave.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue so I let him carry me to the shower. I even let him wash my hair and bathe me, and when he put me to bed, I didn’t argue. Almost immediately, he fell into a deep sleep with me anchored to him by an arm tight around my waist. After ten minutes of careful maneuvering, I managed to escape our bed. I quietly dug out the handcuffs he liked to use during our frisky days and handcuffed his hands together. It wouldn’t restrain him for long, but it would slow him down.

I dressed, put the key in the bathroom sink, and sent him a text with the location. He’d wake before morning, and I knew when he did, he would tear the house apart looking for me before he’d think to free himself.

I didn’t stop to pack a bag or even have second thoughts. I escaped the apartment, his anger, and ultimately, the doom of our relationship.

I was mentally and physically exhausted so I relished the short drive. The apartments were pretty nice and also ridiculously expensive. I made my way up to the top floor, knocked and waited. My spine was slowly giving out with each second I stood outside the apartment door. The need to run and beg for forgiveness clawed its way inside and threatened to rip out my newfound spine. After I felt as if I’d been bathed in sweat, the door finally opened.

Jesse stood in the entrance, shirtless with sleep-tussled hair. His eyebrow lifted and his mouth quirked as he gripped the door. With his brown, curly hair and surfer’s body, he was every girl’s—or guy’s—heartthrob. His sexual preference was still in question and was a subject neither of us ever felt the need to bring up. Keiran had reluctantly told me about the kiss with Q after I remarked on the noticeable tension between them. I’d never suspected Jesse might be gay, but once I knew, it somehow started to make sense.

“Don’t you think he’s going to look for you here?” he greeted.

I took that as an invitation and ducked under his arm. “I’m not trying to hide from him. I’m just trying to get away from him.”

“It’s Keiran. You’d need to hide to get away. You know he’s coming after you.”

“You’ll protect me.”

He snorted and disappeared down the hall. “So what happened?” he yelled from what I assumed was his bedroom.

“Oh, Keiran being Keiran and me trying not to be intimidated by him.”

“You think he still wants to intimidate you?”

“He thinks he’s protecting me by making me afraid of him again.”

He didn’t respond right away, but then I heard a hesitant, “Are you?”

“No.” And surprisingly, it was true. Keiran was trying to hold us together the only way he knew how, and it only made me sad for what I did to us.

“Then why are you here?”