Page 59 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Alaina

Finn moves so fast, my brain doesn’t even register what’s happening until my back hits the cold, grimy tiles, and his body cages mine.

His hands are already on me, calloused palms cupping my face, thumbs skimming my jaw, as his eyes pin me in place like I’m the only thing he can see, and he hasn’t spent days pretending I don’t exist.

It punches a hole clean through my chest, but before I can blink, before I can even so much as breathe, his mouth crashes into mine.

My whole body locks up, every nerve screaming, What the fuck , but my heart doesn’t get the message. No, my heart remembers too well how this was before, how it felt before he ruined it with his warm lips, the press of him, and the rough scrape of his stubble against my skin, so familiar, so Finn .

I fall into it, let myself feel it, and forget about everything else, before I hear a soft curse at the door through the pounding of my heart.

“ Merde. ”

I whip my head around just in time to catch Luc turning away, slipping back out into the throb of music and light.

Fuck. Luc just saw me kissing Finn.

My brain catches up, and I shove Finn back, hard, barely feeling the resistance as he stumbles. “What the fuck was that?”

His brows pull together. “I was just trying to keep your secret.”

Of course , he wouldn’t kiss me because he wanted to, because I meant anything, or because he felt something for me.

“And you think there was no other way to do that than kissing me?”

Finn’s mouth opens like he’s going to argue, but he stops himself.

“Yeah.” I shake my head, biting back the sting behind my eyes, swallowing it down hard. Blood roars in my ears as I spin to leave, needing to get out, to find Luc, to fix this. “You don’t have to say it. I know this was just another mistake.”

Finn grabs my arm, fingers wrapping tightly around my bicep. “Wait.”

My heart flips with the tiniest bit of hope.

Goddammit.

“ Baby girl. You can’t go out there like this.”

I look down at the beer clinging to my chest, at the way the wet fabric molds to every inch of me, and I know he’s right.

He releases me, then peels off his hoodie, holding it to me without meeting my eyes.

Reluctantly, I take it, then yank my ruined T-shirt up and off, standing there bare-chested, not giving a single fuck. As if he cares about my tits.

I hear the rough inhale as he turns fast, giving me his back. “ Fuck , Alaina. ”

Pulling his hoodie over my head, I sigh internally. It’s warm, soft, smells like him, and that makes my throat burn in bitter disappointment as I yank open the door and step back into the chaos of the club.

I scan the crowd for Luc but spot Otis first, standing off to the side, leaning against the wall, and looking more than a little dazed, cheeks flushed, but when I step in front of him, he blinks down at me.

“You good?” I ask, eyeing him critically.

“Sure.”

“Where’s Luc?”

Otis tips his head toward the exit. “Said he needed some air.”

I hurry outside and barely register the rain until I’m out in it. Fat drops hit my shoulders and soak straight through Finn’s hoodie, but the cold is nothing compared to the ache twisting my chest.

Squinting through the dark and the sheets of rain, I see him, just at the edge of the club’s glow. His forehead is pressed hard against a wall, one arm braced above him, boot slamming into the bricks, kicking out his frustration.

Fuck. I did that, didn’t I?

“Luc,” I call, but the rain swallows my voice. I push forward, my sneakers splashing through puddles, and when I reach him, I catch his arm, tugging. “Stop. Please .”

He turns to look at me, and it guts me, because I can’t tell whether the wetness in his eyes is rain or something worse.

My eyes sting to match.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely holding it together. “Please… stop.”

His blue gaze burns through me, before it flicks down to the hoodie I’m wearing. “You and Greer… are you a thing?”

“No.” I shake my head. “We’re not. It’s not like that. ”

I’m just a mistake for him.

Luc’s eyes narrow, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Did he force himself on you?”

The way he says force is like he’s already halfway to throwing fists and burn the world down if I said yes. And that’s what makes it worse.

That he cares .

That I hurt him anyway.

“No.” I shake my head again, flinging the raindrops from my face. “It’s… complicated.”

Complicated in the same way that everything I touch turns to shit. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I’m supposed to be focused, unstoppable, untouchable. Gold or nothing. Not out here getting hurt by one guy only to hurt another.

Luc’s breath shudders out of him as he looks down at his boots with a glare that somehow feels hopeless.

I reach up and cradle his chin, tilting his face back up to mine. “ I’m sorry . I never wanted to hurt you.”

He catches my wrist and pulls me to his chest without hesitation.

Then he spins us, pressing my back against the cold, wet wall.

His body shields me from the worst of the rain, and his heat seeps through the soaked hoodie, while my heart beats out of rhythm as the world narrows to the space between us.

He brushes a raindrop from my cheek, knuckles grazing my skin, his gaze locking on mine.

“It would never be complicated with me,” he says gruffly as he traces the curve of my jaw, the line of my throat, the edge of Finn’s hoodie where it gapes loose. “And I would never make you cry.”

He’s so intense, serious, and earnest that each word hammers into my bones.

“I wouldn’t sneak around with you in the shadows,” he continues. “I’d tell the whole fucking world you were mine. ”

Mine.

“I’d kiss you in front of everyone because I wouldn’t give a damn who saw.

” His hand trails down my side, stopping at my waist, where his fingers splay over my hip, holding me close to him.

“I’d hold you in the middle of the pits, just like this, whenever I wanted.

Whenever you wanted.” He leans in, and I gasp, then shiver when he breathes against my ear.

“I’d do anything just to hear you laugh or see you smile.

Fuck anything else, anyone who would care.

I’d go right now and tell the media people that we belong together, consequences be damned. ”

The air between us crackles as he skims his lips across my jaw. Not a kiss, but a promise I can practically taste.

“And when you hurt…” he breathes out, “… I’ll take on the whole damn world to make it better.”

My chest constricts with something like panic because God, I believe him, and that is terrifying.

My soaked hair drips rain onto my face, and I can’t stop my tears from joining them, the warmth of them an intense contrast to the cold droplets.

“ Tu devrais me laisser être celui-là.” Luc’s hand slides from my hip to my cheek again, his thumb brushing away tears that aren’t slowing anytime soon. “ You should let me be the one.”

I inhale sharply, my voice cracking with the first thing I think to say. “I can’t.”

His jaw tightens. “Because you want him ?”

I swallow hard. “I do want him,” I admit. “But that’s not the reason. I am the reason.”

“ Putain. ” Luc breathes out through his nose. “I’m so done with this.” He presses his forehead to mine like he’s trying to soothe us both. “So done with you pretending you’re not into me the way I’m into you.”

I close my eyes because it’s too much .

He’s right, I am into him. So fucking into him, I can barely breathe around him.

The way he teases or looks at me like he sees me, and not just a walking mess of scars and lies.

The way he makes me feel alive again, wanted, reckless, safe, and how he holds me as if I’m worth holding on to.

But he doesn’t know what he’s asking for, not really.

He doesn’t know what I am or who I am, and if he did, if he knew , would he still feel like this? Would he want Alaina?

I tell myself to pull back because we’ve reached the line.

Don’t let him cross it.

Don’t let yourself cross it.

But I don’t move. My body is locked up tight, strung between the fear of falling apart and the ache of wanting more.

Luc doesn’t move either, staying with me, our foreheads pressed together while the rain slides down our faces, and all I feel is this pull toward him, my heart beating out of my chest in hopes of getting closer to his.

“I’m out of hesitation, bébé. ” He releases my face and runs his fingertips down the arm of my soaked hoodie, finding my hand at the bottom.

Instead of threading our fingers together as I expect him to, he guides my hand to his chest. Then, with his hand on top of mine, he pushes himself.

I don’t understand it at first, but then it clicks. He’s telling me you can stop this.

I don’t.

I should . But I don’t.

When he lets go of my hand, I grab it in a panic, not wanting to lose his touch. He trembles as he leans down closer, his breath ghosts over my lips, and I start to wonder if he would wait here like this forever.

Then, just before he closes that last inch, he whispers, “Laisse-moi te montrer.”

When his lips finally meet mine, they’re soft, gentle, like he’s afraid that if he pushes too hard, I’ll shatter into a million pieces, and he might not be able to grab them all in time.

He’s right.

I breathe him in—rain, warmth, and Luc—and for one perfect moment, I forget to be strong.

I let my mouth find his, soft at first, tentative.

Just enough to taste him. His lips are warm and slick with rain, and the way his hand cups my jaw makes something inside me tilt.

I lean into the way his hand curves at my jaw, thumb stroking slowly, coaxing me closer.

That’s all I allow myself, that one kiss , but then he groans softly, low in his throat, and kisses me again.

The flutter in my chest is instant and wild, wings catching wind, and I’ve already lost control.

His movements are just as soft this time, just as slow, like he’s tasting something he’s wanted for a long time but doesn’t dare rush. His nose brushes mine as he pulls back a fraction, then he surges forward and captures my mouth again, deeper this time, surer.

I sigh against his lips in undeniable pleasure, and he swallows the sound like it’s something sacred. His other hand slips to my waist, steadying me as my knees shake, threatening to give out.

“ Mon Dieu.” He breathes against my lips between kisses, his voice thick with something that makes my heart stumble. “ T’es parfaite.”

I don’t need a translation for that.

You’re perfect.

Perfect.

I have never applied this word to myself, especially not now.

But the way he says it, like it’s an absolute truth, finds its way to places I’ve kept closed off, places that have never dared to believe something like that could be true.

“ You’re perfect,” I manage to whisper back against his lips.

His whole body stills before his mouth is on mine again, claiming me, harder and desperate this time, all the softness burning away.

His hands are everywhere, framing my jaw, trailing down my sides, in my hair, and holding me like he doesn’t care if we both drown in this rainstorm.

Then he starts to consume me. His tongue slides against mine, demanding, and I meet him there, kissing back with everything I’ve got.

There’s still enough sense in me to keep my hands between us, to have a barrier between his chest and mine, but I end up grabbing his soaked shirt instead, fists curling tight into the fabric, dragging him closer.

That’s when he finally lets loose the groans he’s been trying to hold back. The ragged noise escapes him completely as if I’ve just undone him.

One of his hands snakes down and around my back, gripping my ass tight, squeezing in a way that makes me gasp against his lips. Then his mouth leaves mine to trail kisses along my jaw until he finds my throat’s sensitive skin.

Sucking.

Biting.

Marking .

A moan slips out of me then, and my head tips back against the wall, giving him better access. He groans again before pressing the hard length of his cock into the side of my hip, grinding against me like he can’t help himself.

I want to lose myself right here, pinned between him and the wall, letting him take whatever I have to offer.

Someone clears their throat.

I jolt as panic flares sharply through me, snapping me back just enough to release a hiccup.

It doesn’t stop Luc, though. He doesn’t even falter as his lips keep moving, trailing fire along the curve of my neck and dragging shivers across my skin with every soft scrape of teeth and caress of his lips and tongue.

“Delacroix.” Piper’s voice is edged with amusement.

Luc stamps a kiss against my rioting pulse before grinding out, “ G o. Away.” Then he nips at me, and I laugh.

Piper chuckles. “We need to get Otis home. He’s had too much.”

Luc groans, finally peeling himself off me. His hand lingers at my waist like he’s fighting every instinct to stay, fingers flexing once before he lets go. Ripping himself away, he drags both hands through his rain-soaked hair, frustration written into every part of his body.

Piper is standing just a few feet off, trying but failing to bite back a grin, one arm looped around Otis, who looks about two seconds from puking all over her boots. Dane is there, too, arms crossed, smirking like he just caught his little sister sneaking out past curfew.

Which, yeah, pretty much.

But it’s Finn I notice last and only because he’s leaving .

His back is already turned, shoulders rigid, his shirt soaked through, sticking to the curve of his spine as he walks toward the waiting car without a word.

I hate that I want him to turn around.

Hate that I want to see his face. To know whether it’s full of anger or hurt, or indifference.

Because no matter how many times he’s pushed me away or how many times he’s made me feel like a mistake, I still care if I’ve hurt him.

And I hate that too.