Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,55

Her strength ensures it isn’t just her looks I’m attracted to. I also admire her grit. She has been beaten and exploited, yet her shoulders don’t hold the weight of her abuse. Her heart does.

She thinks she deserved what happened to her.

I’m determined to prove otherwise.

My first thought when Jim interrupted us was to gather K in my arms and trek straight back to the safety of my car, but something altered the direction of my course. K needed a few minutes to catch her breath as much as I needed time to work out my next move. Jim’s ramshackle ranch wasn’t the best place for that to occur, but with my car bogged and Jim’s truck slipping and sliding on the graveled portion of his road, I didn’t have much choice.

The past hour has been good for K. After I sampled a small portion of the pork cutlets, mashed potatoes, gravy, and beans Arabella served her for lunch, she gobbled down her food like it wasn’t the blandest meal I’d ever tasted.

Arabella’s cooking skills have improved somewhat the past two years, but it still has a lot left to be desired. The potatoes were lumpy, the beans were undercooked, and the pork tasted more of the fat she cooked them in than their homegrown freshness.

K didn’t seem to mind, though. She ate and ate and ate until the tiniest curve propped out of the shirt clinging to her body since I refuse for her to get changed. With how timid she’s been since climaxing, I can’t let her out of my sight for even a second, which is why I shake my head, refusing Arabella’s request to take K to get changed.

I’m not being an asshole. I’m reading the silent pleas in K’s eyes. She likes Arabella and appreciates the meal she supplied her with, but she doesn’t want to be alone with her. She feels safe with me. Regretfully.

I can’t control myself around her. My instincts go to shit the instant our eyes lock, overcome with a sudden urge to make her mine. I want to protect and shelter a woman who’s already been hurt, even knowing my possessiveness could damage her even more than she already is.

You can’t incinerate brokenness without first setting it ablaze. It isn’t possible. But can I do that to K? Can I break her with the hope of piecing her back together? Or should I leave her alone to live in the bleakness she thinks is life?

My fingers tighten around the napkin in my lap when the truth smacks into me.

I don’t want to break K.

I want K to break me because as my dad always said, two broken people trying to heal each other is what love is all about.

The chaos stirring in my gut doubles when Arabella spots my head shake. After splaying her hands across her meaty hips, she squawks out my name in an ear-piercing tone. “Trey—”

“No, Arabella,” I cut her off, growling, pissed at both her disobedience and the inane thoughts in my head. I’ve barely known K for thirty hours, so why the fuck am I acting as if I can’t live without her? “If you’re so desperate for K to get changed, you can bring the clothes to her.”

I realize Jim has Arabella on a leash far too long when she huffs out, “Fine.”

She makes a beeline for a bedroom attached to the eat-in kitchen. With how messy her room is, I’m shocked by how quickly she returns. She didn’t just gather up a dress either. She has an assortment of accessories, including shoes, which K appears excited about. Her expression scarcely altered, but I saw a flare of excitement dart through her eyes before she could shut it down.

It was the same gleam her eyes got before she came.

My eyes rocket to Jim when Arabella snappily requests for K to remove her damp shirt. The heat of my gaze must be hot because he pivots on his heels not even a second later.

“I’ll be in the den if anyone needs me.”

He’s barely burst through the swinging wooden door when Arabella yanks K out of her seat with enough aggression for my jaw to tick. She may be accustomed to my brothers’ rough handling her, but that doesn’t give her the right to treat K like a whore. Anything she was forced to do under Vladimir’s watch wasn’t her choice, so I won’t have her treated as if it was.

“Move.” When Arabella attempts to ignore