Too Beautiful to Break Read online

  “If she what?”

  “Wants me in that way,” he muttered. “The whole way.”

  This time, when the woman laughed, it sounded dazed. “I think you’re safe on that front.” They both turned their attention to the rows of colorful boxes. “It’s been a while since my first time, but I was nervous. And when women are nervous, they need a little extra…” She tapped a finger against an orange box that proclaimed extra lubrication. “This isn’t me coming on to you, all right? But I’ve got kind of a sixth sense when it comes to these things, so…” Between two fingers, she plucked up the XL size and handed it over. “Am I right?”

  Belmont couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he gave a jerky nod. Things like size had never occurred to him as important. He’d noticed in places like the locker room growing up that he was built differently than most, but it hadn’t been part of his consciousness. Until now when there was a possibility Sage might see and touch him there. Weight dropped low and hot between his legs, so he started to make his exit, not wanting to be around anyone but Sage when those feelings hit him.

  “I’m Libby, by the way,” she said quickly as he passed.

  “I’m Belmont.” He put out his hand for a shake. A few moments passed when she only stared, but finally placed her hand inside his, staring as he squeezed and released. “Thank you,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you.”

  Any activity in the store seemed to be at a standstill as Belmont paid at the register. But it picked up again when the sound of singing intruded on the shop’s fluorescent bubble. Carolers? Paper bag in hand, Belmont stepped back outside into the cold and observed from the curb as a group of people, young and old, moved through the silent two-lane main street of town. Sage is missing this. She hadn’t gotten a real Christmas. Maybe she never had. And at that moment, she was alone in a tiny room, curled up on an ancient bed, alone where he’d left her. Listening to the tick of his heart clock in the darkness. After a curt exit. One she would never demand an explanation for, because that was Sage. Accepting and kind, even when she shouldn’t be.

  But she deserved better. He could do better.

  An idea struck Belmont and he stepped into the street.

  Chapter Ten

  Sage was still awake, staring up at the ceiling of the cottage, when she heard the crunch of tires. Two sets?

  The fact that there was more than one car sent her heart careening up into her throat. She jackknifed into a sitting position and remained frozen for long moments, watching headlights cut through the thin wrapping paper over the windows. Oh God. Who was it? Augie? Maybe some of his men? She’d been so sure no one knew about this place—even her parents—but there was every possibility they’d discovered it while she’d been gone. After the scene that day at the mine, she expected her boss to be livid, but she was safe here. Or so she’d thought.

  Sage’s legs trembled as she turned on the mattress and reached for her coat. Slowly, as if her movements might alert them to her presence inside—she dragged the garment around her shoulders and buttoned it to her chin. Her cell phone was off inside her suitcase, but she needed to call Belmont. Her throat constricted at how fast she’d defaulted to relying on him. Her fingers hesitated around the handle of her suitcase. Could she deal with whatever and whoever had come for her alone?

  Before she could make up her mind, the singing started.

  It was eerie at first. She swore it was one of the cars’ stereos blasting “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Maybe to unnerve her? After she’d had the worst-case scenarios trample over her common sense, it was Belmont’s voice calling her name through the door that caused Sage’s pulse to slow down to a normal pace. Well. As normal as it could ever be with Belmont close.

  Confusion having swapped places with fear, Sage crossed to the door and opened it. The elevated landing put her at eye level with Belmont. There he is, her blood seemed to whisper. The pull between them was so intense, she had to focus on staying still, instead of leaping toward Belmont where she knew he would hold her off the ground. His eyes were shadowed, his hair being torn at by the wind, coat whipping around his unmoving figure. Having him right there, so solid and vigilant in the darkness with so little warning, robbed her of speech. “What…”

  “Sage.”

  Behind him, a choir was captured in the glow of the Suburban’s headlights, the eight members singing their hearts out. The music was nothing short of beautiful. If God himself had descended with a host of angels at his side, she wouldn’t have been surprised, because surely they were calling right to him with their heartfelt harmonies and smiling faces.

  She didn’t realize all ten of her fingers were pressed to her mouth until Belmont’s warm hands closed over her own and drew them away. “What did you do, Belmont?”

  He was staring at her fingers, white puffs of his breath coasting off them, between them. “They were singing in town and I wanted you to hear them.”

  “So you just brought them here?” His touch was making her stomach flip, with warning, with lust. “That was pretty trusting of them to follow a stranger into the woods.”

  “I told them no one would appreciate their singing more than you.” The corner of his mouth edged up. “They drew the line at riding with me, though.”

  Her laughter was mixed with an exhale. “You were right about my appreciating them. Nothing has ever sounded better.”

  The relief in his expression was brief. “I’m sorry about how I left earlier. I’m sorry about how I always leave.”

  Sage pressed her lips together, because it was too tempting to tell him that behavior was okay. To pretend that giving every ounce of herself over to him—and then watching him flee with it like a thief—didn’t hurt. It did. It was painful every time, whether it was just an embrace or they were bordering on intimate. With the latter, there was more than pain; there was punctured feminine pride, self-doubt, and a bruised heart.

  “Why do you do it?” she whispered, just as the carolers started in on a new song, “Away in a Manger.” “If you know you’ll be sorry afterwards, why leave like I’m…burning you?”

  “You stop me from burning.” He choked on the words, like they’d been stored up inside of him forever. “At first. At first you do. But after I’m calm, after you bring me back down to earth with your smell, the way you touch me and whisper to me…I do burn. I burn so hot, I’m afraid I’ll eat you alive.”

  Sage sucked in a gasp, fireworks going off on the backs of her eyelids. Belmont looked almost pained at having revealed so much truth. But he didn’t take it back. He didn’t walk away, either. Truth. He was giving her honesty and she would do the same. “And now, after what we did in the shower, you think m-maybe I wouldn’t mind being eaten alive?”

  His fingers flexed at his sides. “I’d die before making that assumption.”

  “I did,” Sage said quietly. “All those times, I wanted you to eat me alive.” His breath started to come so fast, it formed a dense white cloud around his face. “But it’s wrapped up in how easy it is to let you numb me to everything else. Everything but you. When you held me during the trip, Belmont, you weren’t the only one who needed it. Not by a damn sight. I was coming back here and I was scared. We were using each other.”

  He turned his vibrating body toward Sage, blocking the wind, tension rolling off him like smoke. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here.”

  “No, I need to be scared. The fear is mine to own. I earned it.”

  “No.” Outrage bathed his expression. “No, you could never—”

  “Yes, Belmont.” She searched for the words to make him understand. “You would have eaten me alive, if we’d gotten that far. I would have disappeared into you. Us. Maybe you would have disappeared into me, too. But I can’t forget who I am on my own. I can’t lose myself.” Her throat burned. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not your perfect Sage. I get angry. I make mistakes. I made one that brought me back here. Don’t take my failings away fro
m me.”

  “Tell me. Everything.”

  She wanted to lay every card on the table, but couldn’t risk him trying to reshuffle the deck. Couldn’t risk him trying to ease her guilt, when she needed to hold on to it. “It’s Christmas.” Her swallow hurt on the way down. “Can we just listen to the carolers?”

  Frustration lingered in his expressive eyes, but he unblocked her view of the singers, his shoulder an inch away from touching her. “If you’re not my perfect Sage, let me learn you. Prove it. So I can prove to you I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sage couldn’t answer. What would she say? No? Already she’d hurt this incredible man. Disappointing him caused her pain, too. If she said yes, though, she’d be an open book to him. Let me learn you. Would he still want a less than perfect version of her? “I don’t know just now.”

  His nod was stilted.

  “Merry Christmas, Belmont.”

  Long moments passed while they listened to the song finish. When it was over and the carolers started the next, Belmont turned toward her again. “Merry Christmas, sweetest girl.” His brow knit together as he scrutinized her mouth. “After what you said, after me leaving, I know I’ve forfeited my right. But I have a need to kiss you. The way I should have done earlier.”

  Oh boy. Ohhhh boy. Despite the touching they’d done earlier, he hadn’t kissed her. Not once. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t even been facing the right direction, had she? Their mouths hadn’t actually met since the train platform. Despite a wave of trepidation over being vulnerable to this man who could consume her so easily, she couldn’t stop the excitement from opening up like a thousand umbrellas in her bloodstream. But, no. No. Kissing Belmont would set her back, same way it had done when she’d boarded the train and watched him walk away, dragging her resolve to be independent along behind him.

  “I would say yes if I thought it could just be a kiss.” Moving on its own, her traitorous tongue slipped out to wet her lips and his eyes turned to liquid at the movement. “But nothing is ever that simple with you and me.”

  “I understand,” he rasped. Clearly troubled, he started to back away. Cold air rushed between them and she panicked. Her knees started to shake and it hit her. She’d quit Belmont cold turkey and her body was reeling at the lack of him. Words flew out of her mouth, tumbling over one another. “But I—I do kind of owe you, since you bought me that lovely clock for Christmas and I didn’t get you a thing.”

  Based on the dramatic uptick of his gaze, it had been the wrong thing to say. Was there a right thing to say here? “Ah, Sage. You’ll never owe me anything. Not even if I buy you a present every day for fifty years.” The furrow of his brow deepened. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  That did it. His seriousness about giving her a gift every day for fifty years crumbled her resolve. Just a kiss. Just one? It’s Christmas. She could forgive herself for behaving like a woman who’d been surprised by carolers and asked politely for a kiss, couldn’t she? From a man with a heart so big, he could barely operate around the size of it? Taking a deep breath for the courage to stop after one, Sage grabbed Belmont by the lapels of his jacket, drew him close, and molded their lips together.

  He made this sound—mmmhh—and followed it with a groan so long and deep, she got lost in the never-ending vibration of it. His salty ocean eternity scent clashed with the forest, his texture, the heat of his body, exploding her senses. She’d barely processed that her feet had left the landing before they were dangling in midair, Belmont’s forearm slung beneath her bottom, the opposite arm wrapped around her back. So tight, like he’d never expected to hold her again. And it was holding, the hallmark of their dependency on each other. Which would have alarmed her if there weren’t a million more things demanding her attention.

  Unlike the morning they’d kissed on the platform, he wasn’t clean-shaven. Felt like his chin and cheeks hadn’t even seen a razor since that first time their mouths had met. Those rough whiskers rasped on her face now and she nuzzled closer, harder, wanting him to leave burn marks on her skin. Was that crazy? She didn’t know. It felt right. It felt as if Belmont heartily approved of the decision because he slanted his mouth on hers all the harder, licking against her tongue, crushing her to his big chest.

  Around them, the music seemed to get bigger, swallowing them whole. It rang in her ears and inside her heart, the only other audible sound her rioting pulse. Her sole problem in that moment was not being able to open her mouth wide enough to satisfy Belmont’s appetite, which seemed to grow stronger with every stroke of lips and tongue.

  The thick ridge forever straining behind his fly grazed her stomach—and just like that, she was standing back in the doorway, Belmont’s giant hands on her hips to steady her. His cheekbones were stained with color, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in breath after breath. “I was so sick over putting you on the train last time, I didn’t get enough of the way you taste.”

  “Oh,” Sage breathed. “And?”

  He had to think about it. Not the sentiment, but the right words. She could see him weighing and measuring them behind the incredible blue of his eyes. “And I’m going to do everything I can…” His hand left her waist, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. “To make sure you never make me go a day without it.”

  The moment cut itself out of time. Everything else was before or after. Belmont, white plumes of breath wreathing his gorgeous face, carolers belting about joy behind him, twinkles of snow beginning to fall. And there she stood in her coat, watching it all from above, like an out-of-body experience. He was making a vow—and when Belmont made a vow, it became fact, surely as if it were etched in stone and read to the masses.

  She’d made her own vow, though. To herself. Her parents. The devil. The sentiment paused on her lips, though, when his fingers slipped into her hair and cradled the back of her head, his thumb massaging her scalp. “Where can I find you in the morning?”

  “Uh…” She worked for a deep breath. “I’m going to clean my parents’ house. Make sure they’re okay for food and everything.”

  That thumb had stopped moving. “Then I’ll be there, too.”

  Sage knew there was no point in arguing. Her battles would have to be chosen very carefully going forward. They had the weekend in front of them, clear of the underground hell that lay at their feet like a trap, but it would loom closer soon enough. Two days. And then they would stop pretending that he hadn’t vowed to face his greatest fear to keep her safe. And how she would do anything in her power to prevent it.

  “Good night, Belmont.”

  He nodded once. “I’m going to sleep out here in the backseat.” His gaze cut to the side. “I won’t rest knowing you’re out here alone.”

  You can stay in here with me.

  Don’t. Don’t say it. He’d hurt her and swept her off her feet, all in the space of a couple hours. If she started giving in to her impulses, she would be right back at the beginning of the road trip, letting him overwhelm her at every turn. So instead of inviting him inside, she took the extra blanket off the nearby shelf and handed it to him.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  As she closed the door, there was something new in Belmont’s expression she’d only seen in glimpses, but never in a prolonged way.

  Hunger. It kept her awake until the dawn light began to break.

  * * *

  When Belmont woke up the following morning, Sage had already gone up to her parents’ house. His later than usual rise might have had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept since passing out in the motel room, almost three days prior. Last night, after sending Sage back into the cottage and positioning himself in the Suburban to have a perfect view of the door, blackness had claimed him so fast and hard, his head ached this morning from the impact of unconsciousness.

  Lord knew Sage was an early bird, too. Every morning of the road trip, she would set out on a quest for coffee, whether it was at a motel, a hotel, or a cabin. He would follow. Most
of the time, they didn’t exchange words during the process of Sage ordering and doctoring her coffee. Removing the lid to blow steam off the surface through pursed, soft-looking lips. Something about that lack of pressure between them at the break of day tended to dissipate toward the end of her first cup, though, and they’d be back to…tense.

  Her shoulders would creep closer to her eyes the nearer Belmont came, and she would begin sending him looks from beneath her lashes. He knew those glances like the back of his hand. Does he need me? Will he soon? When will it happen?

  It being his inevitable need to have Sage plastered against him, anchoring him, reminding him with murmured words that change happened all the time and it wouldn’t split him down the center. That he couldn’t control the universe or his family or the outcome of a situation.

  Apparently he’d been blind, though. Because all that time, she’d craved their contact, too.

  When you held me during the trip, Belmont, you weren’t the only one who needed it.

  His growl shattered the silent atmosphere of the car. When she’d made the confession last night, it had taken every drop of his willpower not to pounce. Knowing she hadn’t simply been tolerating him…but benefiting? Loving his arms around her? Refraining from touching her would be a lesson in torture from this point forward. But he would not—would not—allow them to use each other. They were more than that. Strong and real and good. As Belmont trod through the woods behind Sage’s parents’ house, he recalled the first time he’d held Sage. It was a memory he hadn’t pulled up in a while, because he’d stacked so many more fresh ones of her on top of it. That moment before the wedding rehearsal, after she’d straightened his tie, laid her hands on his lapels, and stepped back, he’d frozen up. Cold had started in his hands and moved higher until his jaw locked, teeth grinding. He was preparing to be the focus of a large group of people, to make a speech and dance. But it was the change, too, that got to him. The letting go of his little sister and standing aside as she went about a new life. He’d been happy for her, but the very idea of the future unfolding and being left up to chance stabbed him between the shoulder blades.