Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

God. He smelled so good. I parted my lips, gliding them back and forth across his damp skin. He tasted good too. I flattened my palm on the right side of his chest to hold him in place as my mouth wandered to explore the left side. Was that thick slab of muscle always hard? Or was he flexing? I rubbed the side of my face across the top of his chest, loving how the firm flesh felt against mine. I buried my face above his sternum, letting his chest hair tickle my lips as I breathed him in. I liked that he had some chest hair. I didn’t like furry, but super smooth was kind of weird. The delineated line of his lower pecs grabbed my attention and my tongue darted out to follow the deep cut. How often did he have to lift weights to stay so amazingly ripped?

My fingers had been caressing the right side of his chest and my thumb connected with his nipple. I pressed kisses back up his torso until I reached the flat disk, circling it with just the tip of my tongue. Then I lapped at it, tasting the salt and musk of him. I used my teeth, watching how fast the disk pebbled when I blew a stream of air across it. I played around doing what I wanted until I realized Boone hadn’t said anything for quite some time. And I could feel his heart beating much harder.

I peered up at him.

“Having fun?” he asked in that sexy, growling tone.

I forgot about after-sex talk and everything else when faced with the glory of his chest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I loved it.”

“You did? But I wasn’t doing anything specific like trying to turn you on.”

Boone curled his hand around the side of my face. “That’s why I loved it. But it did turn me the fuck on. Watching how much you liked touching me.”

“So I really can touch you any time I want?”

He laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

“Because of the look on your face. Like I’ve just given you a present.”

“Being here with you in the present is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Then I found myself flat on my back with Boone on top of me.

He hadn’t been kidding about being turned on.





I couldn’t sleep.

I should’ve had the best sleep of my life in Sierra’s bed, with her wrapped around me.

But I was panicked. I needed to move. So I could think. So I could breathe.

When Sierra shifted her position, I escaped.

I found my athletic shorts in the foyer where I’d left them and slipped them on before I made a beeline for the sliding glass door in the kitchen and stepped into the night.

The patio tiles were still warm, as was the air. The light from the pool cast shimmery shadows across the water. I paused by the edge. Since I hadn’t seen exercise equipment, I couldn’t burn the feeling off. Maybe a quick dip would loosen me up. Cool me off. Keep these thoughts from churning and becoming murky.

I eased down the steps into the water that was colder than expected. I wished I could turn off the pool lights. Darkness and water would be my own sensory deprivation tank. To get that effect, I closed my eyes when I submerged myself, holding my breath until my lungs ached. I popped up like a cork and bobbed around for a bit before I sank below the surface again. I repeated this process a dozen times until the jittery feeling was gone.

After I climbed out of the water, I stretched out on the cement and stared at the sky. No clouds. No stars. Just the continual orange glow of urban light pollution. I closed my eyes. That panicked thought jumped out first thing.

She’ll think you’re a freak.

How can I tell her the truth?

How can you not tell her? She will know. It’s not like it won’t be obvious.

It hasn’t been so far.

Haven’t you lied to her enough? A lie of omission is still a lie.

Fuck.

I’d always resented my parents. But until that moment, I hadn’t really understood how much they’d fucked me up. I’d always told myself I didn’t care. And I hadn’t—not until now. Not until it mattered. Not until this ignorance in yet another part of me that had nothing to do with my dyslexia might cost me the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose—Sierra. Either by seeing her pity if I nutted up and told her the truth, or by sensing her frustration if I didn’t and she witnessed my inadequacies firsthand.

How fair was it that I could be so spectacularly fucked…after the most fucking spectacular night of my life?

I don’t know how long I lay there, mired in dark thoughts.

I heard the whisper of feet crossing the pavement.

Sierra.

She probably thought I’d run out on her.

Maybe I should have. Maybe she would’ve been better off.

No, you fuckhead. You are here. You will goddamn deal with this. If she kicks your ass to the curb it won’t be because you weren’t honest with her.

A beach towel landed on my belly and I jumped.

A puff of air flowed over me as she spread a towel out beside me. Softer scraping as she settled next to me on the cement.

I tucked my towel under my head as a pillow.

She broke the silence first. “You’re freaked out.”

“Yep.” I didn’t elaborate—yet—and she didn’t ask.

But she reached for my hand.

My heart raced.

One little thing. One thoughtful gesture that reminded me that I wasn’t alone. One small sign of solidarity with me.

But that was all it took.

I was all fucking in with this woman. No holding back anything.

I said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You probably wouldn’t have since you’re so stealthy, Mr. Army Soldier, but the alarm for the patio door went off.”