Until I Break (4 page)

“Thanks, Sean.”

“Enjoy it, chica,” he says, nodding at me
then at Chris before turning to make his way back to the
counter.

As I watch him go, I can’t help that my eyes
flicker to where Alec Brand is standing in line. He’s like Aurora
Borealis—colorful, fascinating lights twinkling in the dull, black
expanse of my internal sky—and I can’t help but fixate on him. He
draws my eye, my thoughts, and some deep and tragic part of my soul
toward him. I’m practically helpless to resist.

Blood rushes into my cheeks again when my
eyes collide with penetrating green ones. For just a moment, I wish
I was safely ensconced in Laura Drake. Not only has she already met
Alec, but she’d know just what to say, how to act, how to handle
herself in this situation. In
any
situation.

But I’m no Laura Drake. Without her façade,
I’m a wallflower with scars that only I can see.

Feeling the rise of insecurities that are as
familiar to me as my dark red hair, I turn quickly away, hoping
Alec won’t get a glimpse of them. I don’t know why I even care,
really. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. Twice is already
some kind of bizarre fluke. The odds of it happening again are
astronomical!

But still…he’s my Mason. If this is the only
moment I ever get with him, that’s not how I want it to go—all
bungling and embarrassment on my end.

“Da-yum! You two
really do
have some
kind of thing going on, don’t you? Maybe he
does
recognize
you.”

My heart drops into my shoes. “God, Chris,
don’t even say that!”

“Calm down, calm down. You know that’s not
even a remote possibility. What
I’m
really diggin’, though,
is the fact that he’s attracted to
both
of you. Maybe he’s
the man that can see beyond the surface,” she says, dropping her
voice into a soft, mystical tone. “Maybe he can break through your
walls, heal all your wounds, banish all your insecurities.”

“Stop it, you dork. This isn’t a romantic
comedy.”

“No, your life is
definitely
a drama!
A dark, twisted one.”

I say nothing to her comment. My mind is
still firmly on the man standing somewhere behind me. It’s not
until Chris starts freaking out that I have some idea of what’s
coming.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” she hisses
through lips that hardly move. “Here he comes!”

I freeze. I don’t move one single muscle. I
just stare into Chris’s wide eyes until a shape appears at my
right. Slowly, I turn my head and look up, falling headlong into
the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen in real life. I see them in my
head all the time. And I saw them from somewhat of a distance
yesterday. But no amount of exposure could’ve prepared me for the
reality of them up-close. They’re like drops of cool lime with a
splash of warm cream.

He glances away from me and nods to Chris
before his eyes return to mine. He tilts his head slightly to the
side as he considers me. Still, he hasn’t said a word. Still, my
pulse is racing out of control.

“Can we help you?” Chris says from across the
table. I can hear the smile in her voice.

He doesn’t answer for several long
seconds.

“I know you.” It’s a statement, not a
question.

A voice inside my head, one that I only
listen to when I’m writing, cries out emphatically.
Yes, yes,
yes! You know me inside and out! Just like I know you.

But I shush her. He doesn’t know me. He
couldn’t possibly. And I couldn’t possibly know him. Even though he
looks and, thus far, acts exactly like the man that arose from the
core of my imagination, from my darkest desires and deepest fears,
I can’t let myself forget that he’s
not
Mason Strait.

“No,” I reply.

He falls silent again, his continued perusal
making me increasingly breathless. Finally his eyes narrow on me.
“I want to.”

I don’t know what to say. I want to know him,
too. In a way. But in a way, I get the feeling that a man like this
could be the end of me, the end of my life as I’ve known it. I
write about star-crossed love every day, about people who need so
deeply and feel so passionately that their world caves in around
them. I’d be crazy to risk something like that.

But I’d also be crazy not to. As surely as
I’m sitting here, I know I would forever regret it if I didn’t say
yes to this man. At least once.

“Her silence means please do,” Chris chirps
happily.

I watch one brow rise again. It conveys so
much when he does it. It’s sarcastic. It’s devilish. It’s arrogant.
It’s challenging.

He’s daring me.

“You’ve never met a man like me.”

His voice is like smooth, rich caramel,
pouring over my skin, oozing into every crevice, invading every
cell.

My answer is the same. “No.” And I haven’t,
outside of my head.

“Maybe you could tell her all about it
tonight at a black-tie fundraiser for Childhood Neurological
Disorders,” Chris adds. “Eight o’clock.”

Neither of us has spared her a glance since
his eyes came back to mine.

“Are you brave enough?” he asks. I would say
that he doesn’t know how much he terrifies me, but I think he does.
I also think he knows just how much he excites me. “Give me your
phone.”

With shaking hands, I grab my purse, reaching
inside to bring out my phone. He takes it from me, his fingers
brushing mine, his eyes seeing right through me.

When he moves his attention to the little
black rectangle, I feel somewhat released from his spell. My mind
is whirling with the same thought, over and over again.

Is this really happening? Is this really
happening?

I feel like Daire again. I’m caught in the
spider’s web. I feel the heat. I sense the danger. But still yet,
I’m captivated by the spider.

After a few seconds, he hands me the phone.
“Alec Brand,” he says quietly. “And you are?”

“Samantha Jansen.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven, Samantha
Jansen.”

He starts to move off, but I stop him.
“Wouldn’t it help if you had my address?”

“I’ll find you,” he replies just before he
turns and walks away.

CHAPTER SIX- Alec

Even after going home to change, fighting the
traffic and spending a long day at the office, I’m still thinking
about her. I know I shouldn’t have approached her this morning.
That alone was like taking several steps backward in my progress. I
know better than to involve a woman like her in the wreckage of my
life.

But I just couldn’t help myself.

If I were half the man I
should
be,
I’d stay away from her. I wouldn’t show up tonight. I wouldn’t
call, I wouldn’t seek her out. I’d just disappear.

But I’m not the man I should be. Yet. My
weaknesses still get the better of me now and then. And this one
will. I know there’s no point in even trying to resist. I’ve
already got her scent. She’s in my blood and I know there’s only
one way to get her out.

I know how this will go. It’s sick that I
take such pleasure in thinking of it. It’s not the ending
devastation that excites me. I do feel guilty for not being able to
love and commit to a woman like they want and need. But they know
that going in. I’ve never misled any of them.

No, it’s the innocence of a woman like
Samantha Jansen that excites me. Introducing her to new things,
watching her body come to life, showing her how good I can make her
feel, doing things to her that she never thought she would agree
to, much less crave.

And crave she will. Just like I can see the
innocence in her eyes, I can also see the sensual creature begging
to be released.

And I’ll make sure I’m around just long
enough to help her with that.

CHAPTER SEVEN- Samantha

I feel like an idiot. I’m standing in front
of the mirror, making sure everything looks as good as I can make
it, waiting for a guy that will likely never even show up.

I let Chris get inside my head. She has a
tendency to blow things way out of proportion. Like today, for
instance. She makes it seem like there were fireworks going off
over our heads. Granted, at the time, it
felt
like there
were. But now, in retrospect, when I think of him—Alec Brand—of
what a man like him probably likes in a woman, of what he’s used
to, I think Chris and I were both sorely mistaken. There’s no way
he’d be interested in someone like me. He must’ve just been passing
the time in the coffee shop.

Probably gets a kick out of striking women
speechless.

I think to myself that Mason isn’t like that.
Then I mentally slap my own cheek.

Snap out of it! He’s
not
Mason.
Mason Strait isn’t real!

With a sigh of resignation, I check my phone
once more. Still no word. No call. No text. No nothing. He’s
definitely not coming.

Taking a deep breath, I run my fingers
through my loose curls and give myself one last appraising look. My
eyes are ringed with smoky shadow that nearly matches the soft sage
dress I’m wearing. The color sets off the gray of my eyes and the
deep red of my hair. Tonight, it cascades to the middle of my back.
Below that is pale skin all the way to my waist.

I bite my brick-stained lip. I’ve never
bought, much less
worn
such a dress before. It’s nothing
Laura Drake would wear; it’s far too sexy and…accessible. Yet it’s
nothing Samantha Jansen would wear either. It’s bold and risqué,
colorful and confident, adjectives that don’t apply to me. They
apply to Chris, though, and I have her to thank for the dress.

Grabbing the matching purse from my vanity
and stuffing a few essentials into it, I shut off the light and
make my way to the living room. There’s no use putting off the
inevitable. Mom will just have to get over it when I show up
alone.

Again.

I detour to the kitchen to make sure Jinx has
water before I grab my keys and head for the door. I fling it open,
never expecting to see Alec Brand standing on the other side of
it.

Yet he is.

Startled, I gasp.

“Something wrong?” he asks in his deep voice,
that one brow shooting up again

I want to say that nothing is wrong, that
nothing in the whole entire world is wrong. That everything has
never felt more right. But I don’t. Instead, I look him over. Drink
him in. He goes down so smooth!

They say clothes make the man. I can honestly
say that, in this case, the man makes the clothes.

Alec is dressed in a tuxedo. It’s nothing
special, but he effortlessly turns the plain black suit and white
shirt into something more, something dashing and debonair.
Something dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

“If you’re going to look at me that way, I
might need to warn you about me,” he says, taking a step toward me.
Instinctively, I retreat. One side of his mouth quirks into a wry
grin. “Or maybe you already know.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” I manage to
squeeze out quietly over the pounding of my heart.

“I’m not the warm and fuzzy type, Samantha.
It’s not my intention to make you feel love. I don’t have that kind
of emotion in me. But there are other things I can give you, other
things I
can
make you feel. Really feel.” His eyes are
hooded as he looks down at me. He takes one more step forward. This
time, I don’t back up. “Excitement,” he says, reaching up to wind
one long, red curl around his finger. When his eyes meet mine, I
feel like he’s doing the same thing to me—winding me around his
finger. “Anticipation. Desire. Warmth. I can make you feel very,
very warm.”

As though his words alone can evoke the
sensation, I feel hot blood rush to the surface of my skin and pool
in the lowest part of my belly.

“You might even feel a little fear,” he
continues softly. “But even that can be intoxicating in its own
way.”

I’m mesmerized by his words, caught off guard
by his honesty. I’m surprised and I’m a little afraid. But I’m also
all in. I feel it in my bones, just like I feel that there will be
some part of me that will live to regret it.

“But not tonight,” he says, moving away from
me, giving me room to breathe as if he knew I had none. But even
with more space between us, I’m still breathless. I have a feeling
I will always be this way in his presence. The question is: How
long can I survive without air? “Tonight is your one free pass.
Just know that the next time you look at me this way, I’ll feel
compelled to do something about it.” Alec walks to the door and
opens it, sweeping his arm out in front of him, asking me casually,
as if he didn’t just drop that little bomb on me, “Shall we,
Samantha?”

That question is full of so much more than
just the request to follow him to the door or to the fundraiser.
He’s inviting me into his world, into the place he described. A
place of excitement and anticipation, both of which I can already
feel. And fear. And I can feel a little bit of that already,
too.

I know I should hesitate longer over my
response. But I don’t. Instead, on numb legs and with butterflies
in my stomach, I walk toward him.

I stop in front of him. My eyes drift up to
lock on his.

I say nothing. But I don’t really have to. I
suppose my action speaks volumes. And Alec understands it. I know
this when he leans forward just enough to whisper in my ear, “I
hope that’s still your answer tomorrow.”

I don’t respond. I know he doesn’t expect it.
I simply let him lead me from the room. Lead me on. Despite the
risk, I can’t
not
go with him. I can’t
not
see, not
feel, not try.

Mason bends the woman over his arm, his hand
gliding up the glistening space between her breasts. His long
fingers splay across the width of her neck, the tips coming to rest
along her jawline. Her chest rises and falls with her excitement as
he nudges her head to one side, exposing her throbbing artery.