Broken

Broken: Chapter 8

I lost my nerve the minute I was outside his hut. Standing there in my skimpy outfit, I remembered I was the one who'd sent him home. I was the one who'd told him we needed to step back and that his feelings for me couldn't be real. What was I thinking, going to see him and what? I still didn't even know why I was there. Was I just going to walk in and change the whole dynamic of our relationship and possibly even ruin the outstanding friendship we had? For what? Did I intend to fall into his arms and confess that I'd wanted him from the moment I saw him too?

"You know, I can hear you out there," he called from inside his hut, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. "Just come in already."

Embarrassed by being caught and not wanting to look stupid by running, I took a deep breath and went inside to face my future.

Having never been in his hut, I was surprised by how cozy it was. I'd expected something akin to what I'd seen in movies, with a single bedroll and maybe some cooking supplies over a fire. The bedroll and utensils were there, but there was also a small outdoor stove set atop an average round table flanked by a couple of chairs. There was also a very basic wooden desk with a laptop and several books along with three solar-powered lamps that cast a soft glow throughout the open living area.

"Nice man-cave," I teased, trying to calm my nerves by using my ever-ready sense of humor.

He smiled as he gestured to a chair across from the one he was seated at. "Nice shorts."

I hugged myself as I shook my head, preferring to stay close to the door. "So, I was thinking about earlier. You know, the kissing and making out and stuff."

He nodded. "Me too."

"Cool. Cool." He seemed so far away in the few feet between us. I wanted to close the distance but couldn't will myself to move beyond the wall next to the door. "Glad we're on the same page. Why don't we talk about what you're thinking?"

He got up from his chair and took a step toward me. "I don't wanna talk."

"Oh. Okay." Damn him, I thought as I grasped for conversation. "I just thought it'd help. You know, you say what you're thinking. I say what I'm thinking. Just get it out there, you know?"

He took another step closer, that damned smile faintly curving the corners of his mouth. "What's on yours?"

"Me? Oh, you know." I shrugged. "I was just concerned that you'd be worried about what happened and start to withdraw if you were uncomfortable and I wanted to make sure you knew that what happened doesn't change our relationship. You've come so far and I don't want you to worry needlessly. We're still good. We're great, actually. So don't worry, okay?"

He took the final step toward me. He was so close I could almost feel the heat from his skin. My breath hitched as I looked up to see those smoldering eyes on me again.

"I wasn't worried about any of that." He licked his lower lip. "I was thinking trying to figure out how to get you to let me kiss you again. The bottle just didn't cut it."

I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to say next, but the predatory expression he wore left me speechless.

"I know we said we'd take it slow," he growled as his fingertips traced my arm. "But when you do that, it makes me crazy."

"This whole situation is crazy," I whispered, staring at his oh-so-kissable lips. "We're both a mess."

"I know." He finally let himself smile. "That's why we're perfect for each other."

My fingers moved of their own accord, coming to rest on his cheek. "What do you see in me?"

"What do you mean? Des, you're beautiful."