Broken (Brody Brothers Book 4) Read online

  A heartbeat later it was his turn to cry out, the tendons in his strong neck popping out as his head flung back in a spasm of delight that she adored watching. And she kept on watching him, mesmerized, as he gave two more powerful thrusts before at last semi-collapsing onto her, catching himself at the last minute on his forearms while his cock stayed buried inside her. That was when she realized all her appendages were wrapped around him in a desperate kind of stranglehold, but she couldn’t seem to make herself give him up just yet.

  Somehow, from this moment on, she suspected she’d feel incomplete without him inside her.

  “Hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.” Breathless, he raised his head just far enough to look down at her, and the softness in his eyes made her soul melt. “Your body was made to take all of me.”

  “That was life-altering.” The words blurted out of her, but she didn’t care. He needed to know that if she had an ounce of energy left, she would have given him a standing ovation. “Seriously, I’m such a fan of this sex stuff now. I had no idea it could be like… like…”

  “Like getting a glimpse of heaven?”

  Thank goodness he felt it, too. “Exactly.”

  “It’s always going to be like this between you and me, you have my word on that.” Slowly he pulled out, and all the while his eyes never left hers. “Sex between a man and his woman should always be like glimpsing heaven.”

  She grimaced. “Yeah, well, it’s not.”

  “Don’t.” The harshness in his tone made her gaze snap back to his, and she could see the anger there. But there was no anger in the hand that smoothed the hair from her face, telling her without words that his fury wasn’t meant for her. “Listen to me good, ‘cause I’m only saying this once. You’ve never had sex before tonight. Don’t you forget that. You came to my bed a virgin in the truest sense of the word, and you freely gave that precious gift to me and no other man. Only me. That’s the truth of what just happened here, so you let that sink in until it’s the only truth you know.”

  She took in a slow breath. “Okay.”

  “I’m not mad at you.” As if to prove it, he bent and pressed his lips to her brow. “Just trying to get a point across. The hell you went through—fuck me, the hell any rape victim goes through—has nothing to do with what we just did. This was a perfect giving between you and me. An equal fucking and getting fucked. An open sharing of getting off, and a masterpiece that should go into the Hall of Fame of Perfect Fucks. And if you have any doubt left in your head, I’m going to be forced to spend the rest of the night with my head between your legs, making you come so hard you can’t do anything but scream. Any questions?”

  She pressed a hand to her thundering heart and wondered how she could find a way to stay in this miraculous man’s life for the rest of hers. “Could we eat first? Clearly I’m going to have to keep my strength up, if those are your plans for me.”

  His scowl vanished into a reluctant chuckle before he pulled her into a bone-cracking hug. “Yeah, I did promise you steak, didn’t I? But after that, your ass is back in my bed, and we spend the rest of the night tangled up in each other. Sound good to you?”

  “Absolutely,” she responded so quickly he laughed again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun was all the way up when Winnie let herself into the main house and quietly shut the door behind her. Not that this was the legendary Walk of Shame, she scolded herself when she found herself tiptoeing toward the sweeping staircase. It wasn’t. First, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was a grown woman, free to do what she pleased.

  And it pleased the heck out of her to do Des.

  Second, there was absolutely no reason to sneak around like she was some sketchy thief in the night. She was alone here. All the Brody brothers had houses of their own somewhere on the property that was approximately a gazillion times bigger than the town of Bitterthorn itself. The main house was strictly a place of business, with the odd guest or two thrown in to be pampered, Brody-style. Dallas was the office manager, of course, but she wouldn’t be in for another hour, so there was absolutely no one there to—

  “’Morning, Winnie. Man, I still love that dress.”

  It was a wonder she didn’t jump out of her skin as she whirled around. “Celia! Holy crap, you startled me.”

  Sipping from a mug Winnie recognized as one of the main house’s, Celia’s dark brows rose. “I did? Sorry, I just sort of assumed you smelled the coffee and knew you weren’t alone in the house.”

  “Coffee?” Winnie breathed in the unmistakable aroma, then sighed. This was the kind of moment where facepalms were born. “Right. Smells good.”

  “It is good, and we’ve got Danishes and donuts to go along with it, fresh from Lucy’s Bakery in town. It used to belong to Pauline Padgett, but she retired a few years ago.”

  That sounded yummy, except for one teeny problem. “Wait. Did you say we?”

  “Yeah, we’re all here.” Celia gave her a funny look. “Didn’t anyone tell you we were coming over?”

  “No.” Though that would have been nice.

  “Oopsie. Well, we’re here. Us girls, I mean. The guys have already been up and out of our collective hair for well over an hour. Rancher’s hours are hell, girlfriend,” she added, heading back toward the kitchen. “Come on in and take a load off. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I’m, uh, just going to run upstairs to change super-quick.” Hoping that sounded polite and not at all freaked out, Winnie waved her farewell and jetted upstairs. But as fast as she moved, her mind was speeding along even faster. Why were they all here? Her hope of getting some alone-time to digest the plot twists life had thrown at her went up in smoke, while her brain shot off in a thousand different directions.

  Why were they all there waiting for her?

  She wasn’t used to dealing with her own family that often, much less someone else’s. And no doubt about it, Des had lots of family. The family in Bitterthorn, at any rate. They were billionaires and jetsetters. A single word from them could send the stock market soaring or delving into a nail-biting recession. She had no doubt they spent more money in a single day on living expenses than she did in an entire month. They were top-tier, and she was…

  What was she, exactly?

  The kid who used to wear rags to school.

  And now…

  Now, all their women waited for her downstairs.

  Why, though?

  Why were they there?

  Judgment, she thought, even as her skin iced over and her stomach knotted sickly. Of course they had to sense she was nowhere close to being good enough for Des. Maybe even a few of them remembered her from school and her painfully stitched-together clothes. Why else would they have gathered downstairs? The Brody wives were waiting to pounce on her the moment she came through the door to remind her of her place in the world.

  Damn it.

  And damn them, too.

  Her place was anywhere she wanted to be, Winnie decided, the old anger boiling just beneath the surface as she went to the closet to see what outfit would be right for running the gauntlet waiting for her. Middle school and high school had taught her how to play this game, and she hated it. But hate it or not, she’d be damned if she was going to meekly wait for them to wolfpack her without at least dressing for the occasion.

  Tight-lipped, she gathered up her newest two-piece creation and headed for the bathroom for a quick change and makeup overhaul. She might be all on her own, but she’d make sure they understood she was a wolf, too. And the last thing she was going to do was show up in rags.

  Ten minutes later, she walked into the kitchen, jaw locked, head high and strutting her best on the spangly espadrilles Des had lost his mind over. Half-expecting the conversation to come to a screeching halt when she entered, she was somewhat baffled when Celia, Dallas and Lilah barely looked up from an iPad propped up in a holder on the kitchen’s massive island.

  “’Morning, glory.” Dallas waved a
cheery hand while Lilah beamed at her, confusing her even more. So, their plan to wolfpack her started off with…being nice? “Want some coffee while you laugh at Celia’s never-ending attempts to teach us how to… wait, what’s that dance move called again, Cel?”

  “Flossing,” Celia said with a long-suffering sigh while Lilah, in all her pregnant majesty, got up from her stool at the counter to snag a new mug from the glass-fronted cabinet. “Winnie, please tell me you can floss, and oh, my God, I love what you’re wearing. Can I get one of those outfits at Cleone’s Closet when Des is done being crazy and overhauling that entire freaking property that’s not even his?”

  “This set is a prototype, but just tell me what colors you want, and, uh… I guess I’ll take care of it.” Winnie tried not to gape at the women, who were all so relaxed and happy to apparently just hang out without launching an immediate attack on her. That was weird. Why else were they all there, if not to make her life as uncomfortable as possible? “And I can floss fairly well if I start out nice and slow. Once I get a rhythm going, I’m off to the races.”

  “Sounds like sex,” Dallas muttered to Lilah, who chuckled and headed for the coffeemaker.

  “As far as I’m concerned,” the pregnant blonde drawled as she poured the steaming dark liquid, then allowed Celia to take it from her so she could deliver it to Winnie, “flossing is always going to mean a hygienic necessity you do with your teeth, or maybe on that rare occasion referring a bad-fitting thong. I’ll leave all the dance moves to you two cool kids. Or three, if Dallas ever figures it out.”

  “No way, honey.” Dallas laughed, a rich, throaty sound that seemed to make the world brighter. “I’ve got more important things to do with my life.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Celia wanted to know as she handed the mug over to a paralyzed Winnie. “Like what?”

  “Like,” Dallas said, glancing Winnie’s way, “being a total obnoxious nosey parker with my new bestie Winnie, who’s currently trying to be invisible over there. Grab a seat, Win,” she invited, nudging the stool next to her with her foot. “Come on, you might as well make yourself comfortable and tell us how your date went with Des last night.”

  “Since she came in this morning wearing the same dress she had on last night, I think we can all guess how last night went. Ignore us, Winnie,” Lilah smiled, reaching over to hand her some napkins, then scooted a pink bakery box full of sugary goodness her way. “We’re all married ladies now with no excitement in our lives. Well,” she added fairly as she picked out a chocolate-glazed donut for herself, “except for when your husband bellows at you just because you let an unexpected newborn calf drop on your head.”

  Winnie blinked, not sure if she was joking. “I’m sorry?”

  Lilah rolled her eyes. “I’m a vet, specializing in farm animals. These things happen every now and again.”

  “You mean they happen to you,” Dallas snickered. “I’ve never actually heard of any other vet getting bonked on the head by a baby calf falling straight out of the birth canal.”

  “Hey, in my defense, that heifer had already given birth to one calf. Its twin was quite the surprise package, but at least it had a soft landing.” Lilah posed triumphantly with her donut. “Me.”

  “You’re lucky Fin’s letting you go back to work today.” Celia gave her a look over the rim of her coffee before turning her attention back to Winnie. “But Lilah’s right, hon. We’re boring and married now, so I’m all for living vicariously through you and experiencing that first wild rush of starting up a new relationship.”

  “Is it a relationship? Not that I’m meddling,” Dallas added hastily. “I’m totally not meddling. I was just wondering, all casual-like, about how serious you and my little brother are, and if you two might be seeing each other again in the near future. You know, kind of like an actual dating couple, which I think would be fabulous.”

  “But she’s totally not meddling,” Lilah laughed while Celia just shook her head. “She. Would. Never.”

  “Okay, so maybe I’m meddling a little, but can you blame me? According to Killian, Des has never brought a woman onto the property to stay longer than a party, and he absolutely never invites them over to his private sanctuary. I mean, you guys know where he lives.”

  “Such a lonely place,” Lilah sighed and took a bite of chocolate-covered goodness. “Beautiful design, but it just might be the loneliest place I’ve ever seen.”

  “Exactly,” Dallas nodded. “It’s so way the hell and gone, it’s like South Texas’s version of Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. Until now I thought he’d never allow anyone into his private little world.”

  “Seriously?” That got Winnie’s attention in a big way, and for no reason at all the breath backed up in her lungs. “Are you sure about that, Dallas? He’s, uh, very worldly when it comes to women.” No way in hell was she going to tell Des’s doting big sister that he was a freaking animal in the sack. But it had to be said—the man knew his way around a woman better than most gynecologists.

  “I’ve known Des pretty much my whole life, so I can guarantee that what Dallas says is true,” Lilah offered, daintily wiping at her mouth with a napkin. “He was a real player on the rodeo circuit, racking up the buckle-bunnies like he was on a mission to break all scoring records—”

  “Buckle-bunnies?”

  “I knew I liked you,” Celia remarked before anyone could answer. “You might have lived in Bitterthorn your whole life, but you’re like me—totally at a loss when it comes to rodeo terms and all that ranch-life stuff. Buckle-bunnies are basically girls who chase anything wearing a rodeo buckle—the equivalent of a trophy.”

  “Think of boy-band groupies,” Lilah added. “That’s your basic buckle-bunny.”

  “Got it.” So that’s where Des got his female anatomy lessons. Impressive.

  “But that’s all in the past.” Dallas waved a dismissive hand, clearly on a protective big-sister kick. “We’re talking about the present, which includes you being driven out to Des’s house. What’d you think of it? Isn’t it gorgeous? He designed it himself. See? You have so much in common. You’re both so creative.”

  Winnie’s jaw dropped. “He designed that house?”

  “I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you. Getting my brother to open up about things can be…well, a bit difficult. After we were separated, Des and the rest of the Brody boys had what you would call a rough upbringing—”

  “No kidding,” Lilah muttered into her mug. “I was there to witness a lot of the blow-ups, and it was about as bad as you can imagine.”

  “So,” Dallas went on with a shrug, “it made them all a bit skittish about reaching out to people.”

  “Reaching out to people can be a scary thing when you’ve had a bad upbringing,” Celia added. “Something like that could eventually mean closeness, and closeness means having to open up and trust someone not to hurt you. That’s a tough nut to crack when you’ve been hurt by someone, like family, during your growing-up years.”

  Winnie thought about her reflexive need to run from Des only seconds after sharing her darkest secrets. She knew she had trust issues, of course. But with their perspective—from the outside looking in—she could see just how crippling those trust issues might become if she wasn’t careful. “I see.”

  “He’s not irreparably broken, though,” Dallas went on, clearly misunderstanding Winnie’s reserved response. “That’s the point I’m trying to make. Des has wasted no time in getting you here so he can share his part of the world with you. In fact, he’s opening up in a way I’ve never seen him do before, and it’s great to see th—”

  “Winsome?”

  She jumped at the sound of Des calling her name a second or two before he appeared in the kitchen doorway. When he took in the scene before him, his gaze bouncing from face to face, a long sigh escaped him. “Well, shit. I can see I’m too late.”

  Winnie blinked. “Too late? For what?”

  “To warn you that every Tuesday and Thursday,
the girls gather here at the home office for coffee and gossip, and whatever the hell else they do. I didn’t want you to freak out if you happened to hear someone moving around in the house before office hours.”

  “Oh, I already managed to scare the crap out of her,” Celia volunteered brightly. “But we made up for it with coffee and donuts. Want one?”

  “I’m good, thanks. You good?” He looked directly to Winnie, looking her over as if expecting to see fresh cuts and bruises. More ashamed than ever over her wild assumption that the friendly women around her had gathered there to attack her, she had to dig deep for a smile.

  “I’m always okay. I thought you were on your way to work,” she added, hoping to change the subject. “Something about a water tower?”

  “Fuck that headache of a tower. I’ve got something I want to show you anyway, so come on…” He stopped and stared at her footwear. “Winsome.”

  Oy. “Desmond.”

  “Didn’t we talk about those deathtraps?”

  She also looked down at her shoes. “We did.”

  “And you said you wouldn’t wear them again.”

  “Revisionist,” she muttered. “What I said was that I promised not to go leaping off of things while wearing them.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Same difference.”

  She stared at him while Lilah mumbled something about the Brody brain. “In what world are those two statements even remotely the same? Granted, they share the basic topic of footwear, but other than that—”

  “Look, we’ll figure out some actual shoes for you later, but right now you’ve got to come with me. I’ve got a surprise for you, and you’re going to love it.” In a couple strides, he’d crossed to where she sat, grabbed up her hand and had her out the door before she could say another word.

  “If you’re trying to convince me that wedge espadrilles aren’t a good substitute for running shoes, you don’t have to work quite so hard at it,” Winnie announced, half-running to keep up with his long-legged stride. They were making a beeline for one of the red and white barns, and if their speed was any indication, it was a life-and-death situation if they didn’t get there as fast as humanly possible. “Tomorrow, I promise I’ll wear my boots with jeans and a T-shirt, if you promise to slow the hell down.”