Broken Boy

Bonus Chapter: MADDY - 1

That deer in the headlights look? Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's written all over my face. By the time my brain has indeed registered that a man is undressing in my office, A.J. is in the process of pulling his white t-shirt up. And it'd be a lie if I said he was anything less than perfect.

A.J. stretches his arms above his head, freeing himself of the shirt, every muscle covering his abdomen flexing in turn. His lats fan out, and the broadness of his shoulders seems to take up every spare inch of the room. The deep cut of muscles from his chest to his stomach to his arms is proof of several hours spent at the gym on a daily basis. Even his skin is pure perfection, a shade of deep golden bronze, a flawless masterpiece painted by his heritage and the sun itself, except for the black lines that ink the right side of his ribs.

I suck in a breath of air as if it's the last bit of oxygen left in the room, and it might as well be by the way A.J. studies me—like he doesn't need anything else to survive, except me.

Panic grips me, and I white-knuckle the Inner City Hearts t-shirt in my hands. I don't need this—I'd accepted the path my future was headed down. But the reminder doesn't help. My speeding heartbeat, shallow breath, and inability to speak—I can't ignore the affect A.J. has on me.

Ellis would be...disappointed?

I lick my lips before I take what's unspoken between us, and remind A.J. that we are only friends. Friends? Are we that much—I barely know him. But my own questions are never answered. He closes the space between us, his gaze never breaking from mine.

And fear takes a hold. Fear I'll break my promises. Fear I'll lose everything. Fear A.J. will kiss me. Fear I won't hold back.

He's close—so close. The heat of his body and the skin-prickling scent of his aftershave invade my personal space. It wills me to indulge in something I thought I'd never need.

"Maddy." The whisper of my name eats at my resolve, and as if A.J.'s taking some intimated cue, he leans into me. And I could let him, but my hand snaps out, shoving the blue t-shirt into his chest.

His hand covers mine so my fingers brush the bare skin of his chest, the prickle of his hair beneath my touch sends a wave of heat through my body. Damn him for not taking that as a hint. I'm caught in a tug-of-war between mind and body. Devotion and Need. And my strength wanes the longer I look into A.J.'s honeyed-brown eyes.

"Lunch," I manage.

"What?"

"Last night you asked me to lunch. I think it's a fantastic idea." And then I take every ounce of my failing morality, and I leave the shirt in his hand. I brush past him without looking back because if I do I might not be able to walk out that door.