Breaking Him
Sherilee Gray
Publication Date: September 5, 2016
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Scorched, Erotic, Romance
Folks in town call him a monster—say he’s dangerous. But I know him simply as Elijah Hays, the quiet, gentle giant who works with the horses on my ranch. I can feel him watching me, that steady intense gaze making me crave things I don’t quite understand, burn in a way that frightens me. He’s always kept his distance…until that night.I remember him coming to my rescue, me following him into the barn, giving him his first taste of a woman, and his inexperienced yet barely reined touch turning me to ash.
Now all I can think about is exposing the dark desire I see deep inside him—having him turn those dark desires on me. That low, gritty voice rasping orders in my ear. Those huge, rough hands holding me down when a storm blows in.
I want his surrender. His control. I want to break him…and have him break me…
Elijah is an odd combination of innocence and dominance that I thought would be hard to pull off, but I'm impressed by the way the author made it believable. His past has made people afraid of him, and he has never had a sexual or romantic relationship. I loved seeing his transformation as Abigail's trust allows his true dominant personality to emerge. Abigail has fantasized about Elijah for a while, but when he rescues her after a date gets a bit too pushy, she finally gives in and does something about it. It was great that she was more experienced than him and helped coax him into taking the initiative with her after the first few times. These two have some amazing chemistry and they put it to good use for most of the story. Being part of Entangled Scorch line, it is heavy on the sex, so you've been warned. Having said that, there was enough non-sexual story line as well as character growth that I didn't feel that the only thing between Eli & Abi was sex. If you're looking for a short, panty wetting read, I highly recommend it!
I received an ARC via NetGalley for the purpose of an honest review. I was not compensated for this review, all conclusions are my own.
For the sex scenes
For the overall story
Chapter
One
The dry Montana heat was unforgiving today.
Dust coated the back of my throat, my sweat-slicked skin prickling from the
harsh midday sun. The thunder of hooves drew my attention from unpegging the
laundry and over to the field behind the house. Two of my horses galloped along
the fence line, kicking up more dust as they passed. I lifted my ponytail from
my sticky neck and shielded my eyes to watch.
They slowed, danced around each other, sizing
the other up.
Beautiful.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked to
the sky, searching for rain clouds. We were in the middle of a drought,
suffering the highest temperatures we’d had in over ten years. I had animals to
feed, a ranch to keep afloat. If the rain didn’t come soon, I’d have the bank
manager out here again, hounding me. These were the things that should be
occupying my mind as I tugged the last towel from the clothesline.
But how could I concentrate on any of that
with the low, steady murmur searching me out, coming to me on the light breeze?
The way that gravelly yet soothing voice was being used to gentle one of my
skittish mares made me tingle all over, until I was forced to squeeze my thighs
together.
Folks around town called Elijah Hays a
monster. They were intimidated, scared of him. Even said he was dangerous. Not
to his face. Never to his face. You’d have to be a stupid son of a bitch to say
any of those things to Eli—and crazier than they accused him of being. But I’d
never seen him that way. Not once. I trusted him to take care of my ranch just
like my father had.
The ranch’s main income came from cattle, but
with the drought and everyone selling stock to get by, unable to afford the
feed, cattle prices had dropped to an all-time low. If we sold now, we’d never
recover. We usually survived the dry season by selling off the wild horses we
brought in and broke for a nice profit. My dad loved horses, had wanted to
eventually expand that side of our business. But this year, with him gone and
only Eli here to work them, I didn’t know if we’d make it through.
Pushing back the strands of hair that had come
loose from my ponytail, I turned to watch him, unable to help myself. How could
I see him as the townspeople did when I witnessed him like this each and every
day? Eli had a way with horses unlike anyone I’d seen. It fascinated me,
watching this huge, at times unnerving, man care for and baby them. The way he
could break a horse with kindness—taming, bending them to his will with
whispered words and those big, gentle hands—until they seemed desperate to
please him.
He stood beside the mare, one hand gripping
the wide brush, dragging it over her shiny coat, the other following in its
wake while he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. My attention was drawn to
his forearms, corded and veined, dusted with dark hair. Pure strength. His
hands never left her once. And God, they were beautiful hands—huge and so damn
rough. I knew this because when I brought him coffee in the afternoons, his
fingers would brush against mine. But what had my nipples hardening against the
soft cotton of my dirt-streaked tank top was his unbelievably wide back. It was
bulked up with thick slabs of lickable muscle, deeply tanned from hours spent
outdoors. My gaze dropped to soft, worn Levi’s sitting low on his hips, cupping
an ass that was meant to be squeezed, and often.
But if what people said was true, no one had
ever squeezed that magnificent ass. No one had seen what he had hidden behind
that straining zipper, either…
He swept the brush across the mare’s side
again and again, biceps—thick as one of my thighs—bunching and rolling, dancing
as he worked. I’d never seen the likes of him in my life. The man was
beautiful, masculine on a whole new level. And he absolutely fascinated me.
The sound that had been steadily building in
my chest slid past my lips before I could stop it. The needy moan loud enough
for him to hear. I spun around before he caught me staring, quickly bending to
pick up the wash basket at my feet. But it was too late. I’d been caught. The
rhythmic cadence of Elijah’s deep voice cut off suddenly, followed by the
crunch of gravel under his boots as he spun around.
He didn’t say anything. He rarely did, not to
me—besides the “please and thank yous” he quietly rasped whenever I brought him
food or drink. Otherwise he kept to himself. Had done so since he started
working here twelve months ago.
I shivered again, that familiar zip of
electricity shooting across my shoulders and down my spine. His eyes were on
me. He had beautiful eyes, wide and thickly lashed. They were often on me,
maybe as much as mine were on him. I liked it. I didn’t see Eli as a monster.
Because if he had murdered his father when he was just a boy, like everyone
said, the man had deserved it. My dad, God rest his soul, had said so many
times. Said Wyatt Hays had been a mean son of a bitch and he was surprised no
one had done it before his son took a kitchen knife to him defending his mom.
But the folks here were still wary of him. I’m
sure people who visited Deep River thought they’d stepped back in time. The
people born in our isolated, backwater town generally lived and died here. And
that’s the way they liked it. Anyone different from them…scared them. They
didn’t like the way Elijah rarely spoke, the way he kept himself apart. Though
plenty of the women liked the way he looked just fine. I’d seen the lust-filled
glances cast his way. Still, they kept their distance, would never dream of
approaching him, frightened by his dark past, the gossip that surrounded him.
His size and strength were intimidating, not that I’d ever seen him use them
against anyone in anger.
No, Elijah preferred his own company, and I
didn’t blame him. Not when he’d only ever been subjected to the ugliest
versions of everyone around him.
When he wasn’t busy with the ranch, he was
reading, or giving the sand-filled bag he’d suspended in the corner of the barn
a beating.
He was a mystery, and I hadn’t gotten any
closer to him, learned any more about him, in the six months since my father
passed away and I took over running the ranch. Because despite the way he
watched me, he sent off unmistakable don’t-come-any-closer vibes that could be
felt fifty yards away.
“Miss Abigail?”
I jolted in surprise, goose bumps popping up
all over my skin like an icy breeze had washed over me at the sound of his low
voice edged with that delicious growl. Elijah never initiated a conversation.
Not when he didn’t have to. His voice sounded cautious, gritty, nothing like
the tone he used on my horses.
My heart galloped faster as I turned on shaky
legs. I plastered a smile on my face, forcing my eyes to stay above his
shoulders. “Oh, hey, Eli,” I said, like I hadn’t been acutely aware of his
quiet, dominating presence the whole time. Eli knew his job better than I did.
The only time I sought him out was when I needed him to come to town and help
me collect supplies. I usually just wrote what needed doing on a notepad in the
barn, and he did it. I squinted against the sun, taking several steps closer,
laundry basket resting on my hip. “Mare’s looking good.”
His brown eyes were locked on mine, making me
squirm. He dipped his chin, dark hair that was darker from sweat falling
forward across his brow.
Damn, the man had a way of looking at a
person, direct, unwavering. Telling you without words that he didn’t care what
you thought about him, that he didn’t care one whit if you believed all the
talk about his past or what your opinion was about it, either. I didn’t know if
that was true or not, or if it was a defense mechanism he’d built to protect
himself, but it was unnerving as hell.
I retreated a step. “Right, well, I’ll leave
you to it. I have to…ah, go get ready.” He didn’t say anything, just kept his
steady gaze locked on mine, and as usual my mouth ran away with me, trying to
fill the inevitable silences when we were alone. “I’ve got a date, you know,
with Kyle, so I better…”
Something flickered behind his eyes, something
that had the skin crinkling at the corners—not from a smile, no, he never did
that—he looked tense, strained. That square, scruff-covered jaw was tight. His
Adam’s apple slid up and down the front of his thick neck before his expression
smoothed out, once again impassive. My eyes dipped, like someone else had
control over their movement. His sudden discomfort made my thigh muscles
clench, wanting to move me closer, to brush his hair back and search his gaze
until I knew what caused that unease.
Then my brain registered what my eyes were
looking at, and I sucked in a breath at the sight of his bare chest. Something
about his size…his bulk… The brown hair that dusted his pecs, bisecting his
deeply ridged abs, all the way down to the waistband of his jeans, made me lose
my breath every damn time.
Those tight abs tightened further, and my eyes
darted up. Color darkened his broad cheekbones, but that was the only sign that
he’d caught me ogling him. His rugged features remained arranged in their usual
inscrutable position.
The strong and sudden urge to force him to
react, to tempt him past his control—to climb that massive, ripped body, wrap
my thighs around his hips, and hang on while he bucked into me like an ornery
bull, snarling and grunting until we were both spent—was near overwhelming.
Then I noticed the way his powerful fists
clenched and unclenched at his sides. It wasn’t threatening. He was
uncomfortable. Guilt swirled in my belly. He may watch me sometimes, but he’d
never given any indication that he wanted more. He was happy with the horses,
with his own company. I hated that I’d made him uneasy. He’d had enough of that
his whole life, being stared at like a sideshow freak. I refused to be lumped
in with the gossiping townsfolk whispering behind his back, speculating,
judging. Eli wasn’t the kind of man you toyed with, and I’d been reminded six
months ago, as my dad was lowered into the ground, that close ties,
relationships…love, only ever caused pain.
“Well, it’s getting late…”
He motioned to the overflowing basket in my
arms. “Let me.”
At those two words, just an innocent
statement, my heart jumped forward, smacking against my ribs, my quickening
pulse relocating itself between my thighs. “I’ve got it. Thanks, though.” I
stumbled back another step. Like I had two left feet. “You have a good evening,
Eli.” Then turning away, I hustled my ass inside.
And somehow I knew his intense stare followed
me the whole way.
…
“Girl, I’m sick of your damn teasing.” Kyle
dragged his sweaty hand higher under my skirt. “You finally gonna give me
what’s under here, or what?”
There was a slight slur to his voice, a slur I
hadn’t noticed when we left the bar. “How much did you have to drink? You said
you only had a couple beers.”
He shrugged. “A few shots as well.” He grinned
in a way I knew he thought was charming, but with a gut full of beer and
whiskey, he just looked like a big, dumb idiot.
I’d known Kyle since high school. Back then
he’d been a chauvinistic, irresponsible asshole; it seemed nothing had changed.
When he’d asked me out a month ago, I’d decided to give him the benefit of the
doubt, hoping he’d matured. The fact that he was good-looking, built, and had
all his teeth may have played a part in my decision to give him a shot. Not to
mention an eight-month-long dry spell and an itch that needed one hell of a
good scratch. But nothing was going to happen here tonight. Not now, not ever.
I shoved the passenger door open and slammed
it shut behind me. His door wrenched open as well, and he rounded the car fast.
Grabbing my arm, he hauled me back and pinned me to the car before I’d barely
taken two steps.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” He pressed
into me, the liquor on his breath invading my nostrils. “Time you paid up,
honey. I’ve done the time, taken you out, bought you a burger, drinks, all that
shit. Time to give it up.”
I shoved at his shoulders. “You’ve lost your
goddamn mind, Kyle Harris.” I tried to wriggle free, but he wasn’t having any
of it. “Back the hell up, get in your car, and get out of here.”
Grinding his hard dick against my leg, he
grunted and nipped my earlobe, yanking my shirt down over my shoulder.
“Cock-teasing whore. What the fu—”
Kyle was on me one minute, then being pulled
away the next. My jaw went slack as Elijah, fingers wrapped around the back of
Kyle’s neck, dragged him like a sack of potatoes to the driver’s side and
slammed him face-first against it. Kyle flailed and cursed while he was being
manhandled. The door was yanked open, and Eli shoved him in like his own
personal rag doll, then slammed it shut behind him.
The expression on Kyle’s face as he blinked up
at the big man through the window was priceless. He looked shit-scared when he
realized who he was staring at. The car started a second later, then it was
gone the next, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
My gaze shot to Eli. I don’t know how it was
possible, but the man looked even bigger, muscles flexing, jaw tight, nostrils
flaring with each angry breath. “Elijah?” I took a step toward him, and he
jerked back suddenly, shock covering his face, before he turned and stormed
toward the barn. The bang of the door after him was loud, echoing through the
quiet night.
I had two options: I could go inside like a
coward and pretend what just happened hadn’t, or I could go after him, thank
him for coming to my rescue, and attempt to erase some of that worry I’d seen
in his dark eyes.
Wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, I headed
toward the barn. It was still hot out, but there was a breeze, and the light
floaty fabric of my skirt whispered around my thighs. Anticipation ignited low in
my belly as I neared, then the deep, repetitive thump of those solid fists
connecting with the punching bag in the corner of the barn reached my ears.
I’d heard the same sound often as he beat the
crap out of that bag, but this time was different. He was hitting harder,
faster, working off his anger and frustration. Maybe I should be afraid. Maybe
going in there now was a damn stupid idea, but I couldn’t make my feet stop,
couldn’t make them turn me around. Pressing a hand to the barn door, I pushed
it open and stepped inside.
The familiar scent of hay and motor oil hit me
first. Every light was on, throwing a golden wash into the corners. A tractor
took up one side of the barn. Tools and other equipment were scattered on the
workbench that ran the length of the wall. On the other side was a rough wooden
staircase that led to Eli’s rooms, and in the corner, beating the hell out of
that bag, was the man himself.
I stood there motionless, unable to take a
step closer, yet I couldn’t turn and walk out, either. As if he sensed me, he
stopped abruptly and spun around. His wild stare crashed with mine, and I
sucked in a breath. Every ripped muscle, vein, and tendon bulged. He’d
obviously tugged off his shirt when he’d walked in, because now his chest was
bare and glistened with sweat. He was breathing heavily, fists still clenched
tightly.
“Miss Abigail?” he said through panted
breaths.
Despite that wild stare and the way his body
throbbed with aggression, when he spoke, none of it came through. His cheeks
were dark from exertion, mouth slightly parted as each heavy breath pumped from
his lungs, struggling to maintain control, but still he hadn’t directed any of
that anger at me.
I managed to unglue my feet and started toward
him. He seemed to brace himself as I moved closer, hands on hips, back and
shoulders stiff. When I stopped in front of him, instead of his direct stare,
he aimed his eyes at the ground. “Eli?” He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Reaching
out, I touched his arm. “Elijah?”
He jolted, muscles tightening under my
fingers. God, I felt tiny standing this close to him. He finally answered,
voice low, “Ma’am.”
My nipples tightened painfully. He didn’t pull
away. “I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did back there.”
His head was still down, not allowing me to
see those dark eyes. Without thought, I reached up, threading my fingers in his
hair, and tipped his head back. My only thought had been to get those eyes on
me again. I needed them on me.
My belly dipped and swirled at the rough sound
that tore from his throat. I was about to pull away, to apologize, but he
tilted his head, pressing more firmly against my palm, moving the tiniest bit
closer. Finally, he raised his chin, thick lashes lifting, and I had them. My
body zapped, sparked, breath escaping in a rush, heat curling and growing like
a wildfire was spreading over my skin.
“You like my hands on you?” I whispered before
I could think better of it.
His breathing had grown ragged, a softness, a
vulnerability in his eyes that made me want to give him everything I didn’t
think he’d allow himself to ask for. His gaze darted to my bare shoulder, where
Kyle had yanked my shirt down, and his wide chest expanded with his sharp
inhalation. He didn’t like the reminder of what happened, of Kyle touching me
that way.
“Do you want to touch me, Eli?” I could
barely believe the words that just came out of my mouth, but I didn’t want to
take them back, I wanted those massive hands on me, had wanted them on me for
the longest time.
The tip of his tongue darted out, sliding
across his bottom lip, then his head dipped, just a fraction.
“You do, don’t you?”
He stared down at me, his large frame, thick
with muscle, towering over me, looking like he could pick up that tractor
beside us and fling it halfway across the field, which made the almost innocent
curiosity, the restrained excitement he was currently aiming my way all the
more surprising.
“Yes,” he rasped, cheeks darkening further.
He made no move to touch me, though, kept his
arms at his sides, fingers curled in loose fists, bracing for I didn’t know
what. I reached down, taking one of his hands in mine, lifting it slowly. The skin was as rough as I
remembered and hot, so damn hot. He smelled of clean sweat, the outdoors, the
soap he used. The combination was incredibly sexy. I uncurled his fingers and
rested his hand just above my heart. My top was low cut, so we were skin to
skin, and my body went up in flames from that simple touch.
I watched him, gauging his reaction. His eyes
were locked on his fingers. His hands were scarred with cracks and gouges, dark
and stained, as clean as they ever got. The contrast against my lighter,
smooth, unblemished skin was startling—exciting.
“Is this what you want?” I asked softly.
He dipped his head again, fingers flexing
slightly, stare intent, scorching.
“More?”
“Yes…please.”
Oh God, the way he said it, deep, rough… I
jammed my legs together, the throb between my thighs making me reckless, making
me do things, say things I might not usually. But here in the barn, so quiet
and still, it was just us and this moment. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
Wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist,
the coarse hairs tickling my skin, I lowered his hand slowly, until his palm
grazed the swell of my breast. “You ever touched a woman here, Eli?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the
other, jaw tightening, then shook his head.
I could barely believe it. No, he didn’t talk
much, kept to himself, but he was smart, gorgeous, and a harder worker I’d
never met. “Why not?”
He didn’t answer, just kept his eyes locked
with mine. An answer wasn’t necessary. I knew why—the same reason everyone in
this town kept their distance. Fear. I moved his hand lower, struggling to
breathe when the rough skin of his palm dragged over my hard, aching nipple. He
swallowed audibly and made another one of those hungry, low sounds.
“Your skin’s so hot,” I whispered, curling my
fingers around his, encouraging him to squeeze me. He flexed them, but he
didn’t let up this time, no, he pressed in, tightening around me in a way that
had me soaking my panties. “Feels good?”
“Yes, ma’am.” When he said those words, there
was a spark of something thrilling in his eyes. His nostrils flared. “Better
than good.”
Copyright © 2016 by Sherilee Gray. All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in
any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please
contact the Publisher.
Sherilee Gray writes sexy, edgy contemporary and paranormal romance. Stories full of heat and high emotion, following stubborn characters as they fight against the odds… and their happily ever after. She’s a kiwi girl and lives in beautiful NZ with her husband and their two children. When not writing or fueling her voracious book addiction, she can be found dreaming of far off places with a mug of tea in one hand and a bar of Cadburys Rocky Road chocolate in the other.
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