Breaking Her (Love is War #2) (26 page)

Again, it stung, but it was a battle for another day.
 

I watched her face while my body pumped into hers, watched her watching where we joined, and that did it.
 
I'd wanted to last longer, wanted to savor more, but it was hopeless.
 
I should have been amazed with myself for lasting as long as I had.
 
The first touch of her nose nuzzling my shaft back in the living room had nearly had me coming in my pants.
 

I kissed her nape while I emptied inside of her, savoring with complete pleasure that moment of total abandon where I lost myself in her, my mind blown to bits.
 

I was still coming, spurting after-effects deep in her womb, when I lifted my head to watch her slack-jawed release, caught the way her eyes glazed over as the skin-tingling rush of her orgasm overtook her.
 

It was breathtaking.
 
A heaven worth going through hell for.
 
I'd never thought otherwise.

And the best part of all.
 
I got to have her again.
 
And again.
 

And I did.
 
I was greedy with it.
 
Insatiable.
 
Voracious.
   

She brought me to life.
 
I had her as many times as I could before she cried uncle.
 

There was never an end to this need she created inside of me.
 
This endless chasm of want in my blood for her.
 
Never had been.
 
Never would be.
 

CHAPTER
 

TWENTY-ONE

"I wanted the whole world or nothing."

~Charles Bukowski
 

PAST

SCARLETT

Gram was not happy about my decision to get a job.
 

Dante less so.
 
He was irate, predictably belligerent about it.
 
He threw such a fit initially that Gram ordered him to go for a run.
 

When we were alone, she tried several different tactics to get me to change my mind.
 
She was a formidable woman, not used to hearing no.
 
And when she did hear the word, she didn't even consider accepting it.
 
It was nothing but a challenge to her.
   

It was the closest we'd come to really butting heads.
 
That alone almost made me cave.
 

"Darling," she said with her most charming smile.
 
"We only just got you here.
 
I was looking forward to your company."

It was the principle of the thing.
 
I would not, could not, end up like my parents, like my grandmother.
   

"I've made up my mind," I told her stubbornly.
 
"It's not a big deal.
 
Just a few hours on school nights, a few more on weekends.
 
Now that I've quit drama, I have plenty of free time."

She tried a different tactic.
 
I knew she would.
 
"I wouldn't get your hopes up.
 
It's the wrong season for part-time jobs.
 
I guarantee no one is hiring."
 

I swallowed hard.
 
"I already have one.
 
The manager of the 5 and Diner hired me on the spot.
 
I start on Monday."

Her eyes narrowed on me.
 
"It's quite unnecessary.
 
Why on earth would you need a job?
 
Any need you have, I'm happy to provide for.
 
Just tell me what it is you're earning money for.
 
I'll buy it for you, darling!"

I gave her brutal honesty.
 
Not because I wanted to and not because I wasn't grateful.
 
It was a matter of self-worth.
 
If I was ever going to get some, I knew I had to earn it.
 
"I can't be a Durant charity case, not more than I can help.
 
At least if I get a job I'm
trying
to take care of myself."
 

She gave me the coldest look I'd ever seen her aim my way.
 
It made me shiver and instantly want to take back whatever I'd said that put that look on her face.

She was a force of nature like that.
 
What she felt, you felt.
 
If she was happy, the world knew joy.
 
When she was angry . . . yeah, you felt that too.

And when she was disappointed in you, you felt like absolute shit.
   

"I'm sorry that you thought this was charity," she said with haughty chill.
 
"You thought I felt some sense of duty toward you?
 
And here I thought I was doing it out of love.
 
Silly me."
 
Her tone was scathing.
 
A vacuum of disdain, it sucked all warmth from the room.
 
Took my stubborn pride and left me feeling ashamed and alone.
 

I was out of my league.
 
A trashcan girl could not hope to go head to head against a queen.
     

I shook it off, shed the feeling.
 
I would not back down on this, not even against Gram.
 
"I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorry it c-c-c-came out that that way.
 
I'm not u-u-u-ungrateful.
 
B-b-b-but I'm k-k-k-keeping the j-job."

The stutter did her in.
 
Her hard expression went soft, and she let out a soft, "Oh, my darling girl.
 
Oh, I'm sorry.
 
I lost my temper.
 
You see now where Dante gets it.
 
I won't stop you from having this job, if you really think it will make you happier.
 
I just worry about you."

I wasn't sure if I was relieved or completely humiliated that I'd won because of pity.
     

But I took it all the same.
 

Gram was one obstacle, Dante another.
 

Over the years, we'd learned to pick our battles with each other.
 
What that meant was basically whoever cared more won, whoever cared less compromised.
 

I just assumed I'd be winning this one.
 
I didn't count on him freaking out, his hellish temper coming out to play.
 

"No," he said to me first thing as he came back from his run.
 
He was sweaty and agitated.
 
He looked good enough to eat.
 

But it was the wrong approach.

"I already have the job.
 
I was hired to wait tables.
 
You're just going to have to get used the idea."

"No.
 
I'm putting my foot down about this one."
 

A fight it was.
 
"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."
 

Hello, temper.
 
It's me, Scarlett.
 
What are we going to do about this bossy son of a bitch?
 

Likely nothing productive.
 
Still, we'd try.
 

"What the hell is your problem?
 
And when did you get the idea you could tell me what to do?"
 

"Why the hell do you want a job?
 
If you need something, just tell Gram."
 

I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw it.
 
"Spoken like a true trust fund baby.
 
I need to start making my own money."

"Why?"

"Why do you care?"
 

He was right in my face, leaning down to me.
 

I met him glare for glare.
 

"Why do you always have to push it?
 
I don't
sleep at night
, worrying about you since the attack.
 
And now you want to go off on your own, for hours a day, and for what?"
 

That softened me a bit.
 
"He's dead, Dante.
 
He can't bother me or anyone else ever again."
 

"And what about that fucking cop?
 
If he gets wind of you working as a waitress, he'll bother you every day."
 

I swallowed the lump in my throat.
 
Now there he had a point.
 
"I'm sorry you're worried, but I'm not quitting.
 
I can't live my life in fear of what ifs, and I can't be a Durant charity case for the rest of it either.
 
I need to be more independent."
 

"
What
?
 
What the hell is that supposed mean?"

"It means I'm a loser.
 
I don't do anything.
 
I don't contribute.
 
I'm living here, in a mansion, and I've done nothing to earn it."

"That's bullshit.
 
You're a high school student.
 
That's your job right now."

That was laughable.
 
I was a C student on a good day, when I was actually trying.

Most days I didn't even try.
 
My mind tended to wander as soon as a teacher started talking.
 

"I don't deserve any of this, Dante.
 
I don't deserve to be here."

"Deserve?
 
What does that even mean?
 
And if you don't deserve to be here, I don't either."
 

It was so outrageous I almost felt slighted by it.
 
Insulted.
 
"
Please
.
 
Look at you, with your perfect GPA, your scholarships, your college applications, your SAT scores, your popularity, your football, your perfect
everything
.
 
You belong here, in a house like this, in a life like this.
 
The only thing about you that doesn't fit in here is that, for some reason, you want to be with
me
."

That got to him.
 
I'd been bringing up a sore spot of mine, but I saw I'd rubbed us both wrong.
 
His voice when he spoke was derisive.
 
Offended.
 
"
None
of that's for me.
 
You think I enjoy any of it?
 
And do you think I have a choice?
 
Those things are the bare
minimum
that's expected of me, the Durant heir, and even that is not enough.
 
And you're not a fucking Durant charity case.
 
You might as well be a Durant.
 
You will be someday, because you're never leaving me.
 
Not happening."

That did something to me, played havoc with my heartstrings, made me become more agitated and go soft.
 
It was nothing so much as a hostile, backhanded proposal of marriage, but sucker that I was, it still made me melt.
 

I was flushing as I tried to get back on topic.
 
"I'm keeping the job."
 

His lips curled.
 
He looked like he wanted to punch a wall.
 
"Fine," he bit out.
 
"But I'll drive you to and from."
 

I didn't argue the logistics of it with him.
 
I'd won.
 
It was enough.
 
I didn't need to rub it in his face.
 

All that fussing aside, talking about having a job and the reality of it were two different things.
 
After four days waiting tables, I wanted to quit.
 
Pure stubbornness was all that kept me from it.
 

People were rude, men were gross, and the manager was a lech.
 

It was an old-fashioned diner with a pretty simple menu, but it seemed like I did nothing but screw orders up for at least the first week.

And worse, much worse than any of that, five days into the job Harris found me.
 

He didn't do anything I could take real exception to at first.
 
He just occupied a booth in the corner, ordered cup after cup of coffee, pretended to work on a laptop, and watched me.
 

For hours.

I tried my best to serve and then ignore him, but the barest amount of small talk was required for the job, even for him.
 

"Do you bring your work here often?" I asked him begrudgingly the first day he did this.

He smiled warmly.
 
"Every day."

Oh joy.

I asked my manager, Brett, about that at the end of the shift.
 
He was an overweight, middle-aged man that I was 100% sure had hired me because he thought I was attractive and he liked having eye candy around.
   

As always when he spoke to me, he addressed my breasts instead of my face.
 
"I think he's been in once or twice.
 
Be nice to him.
 
Don't charge him for coffee.
 
Police discount."
 

I tried not to roll my eyes, and complied.
 

"Do you ever eat?" I asked Harris on his third day of stalking me out in the open.
 

He sat back in his seat, biting his lip.
 
Something new had entered his eyes.
 
Something I did not like.
 
"That an invitation?
 
You want to grab a bite to eat with me after your shift?"