Page 16 of Break Me

I could only nod.

The rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was no clubhouse. No rules. No reasons we should stay apart.

Just us.

Every breath. Every touch. Every heartbeat drawing us closer together.

The connection between us deepened until it felt impossible to separate where I ended and he began. The closer he held me, the more everything else faded away.

A familiar tension began to gather low inside me, building steadily.

Sam felt it too.

His breathing grew heavier, his gaze never leaving mine as though he was determined to memorize every second of this.

“Fuck, Raven.” My name came out as a confession—a prayer.

“Please, don’t st—” I started, but the words fell away as the wave crested, crashing over me. I let myself go completely.

The last of his restraint shattered. With my name on his lips, he buried his face against my neck, every muscle in his body tightening before slowly releasing with his own pleasure. For a moment, he held me so tightly.

Then the tension returned.

“I should've stopped this.” The words came out rough. “We can't do this again.”

He rolled onto his back.

I lifted my head and kissed his jaw. “Samuel,” I said softly, “you already know we will.”

And we did.

Again and again.

Until there was no line left to pretend we hadn’t crossed.

Now he touches me like he’s starving. Kisses me like it’s a sin he can’t stop committing. Holds me like he’s terrified I’ll disappear if he lets go.

But no one knows. Because Knox would kill him, and my father would bury him.

So we hide, stealing minutes behind closed doors. Pretending we don’t look for each other in crowded rooms. We lie with our eyes and tell the truth with our hands.

And every time we do, every time we slip away, every time he pulls me into the dark and touches me like I’m his, I know we’re walking a razor’s edge. We’re lying to everyone who matters, and I know one day, we’re going to get caught.

But when Samuel Morgan looks at me like he did tonight?

I don’t care.

Samuel

I should go straight to my room after dinner. It would put a couple of necessary walls between Raven and me before I do something even dumber than usual.

Instead, I walk back into the main room of the clubhouse with the rest of the guys, pretending my pulse isn’t still tripping over itself from the way she looked at me across the table.

That girl is going to be the fucking end of me.

Most of the brothers drift toward the bar, the pool table, the couches with springs long gone. The air’s already thick with noise. Bottles clinking, someone laughing too loudly, music thumping under the floorboards.

I grab a beer I don't want and settle into a chair near the fireplace while Mouse and Diesel argue over a game neither of them is sober enough to win.