Breaking Bristol

Bristol Hart had secrets. But so did I.

If it were up to me, I’d have taken the murky details of my past to the grave, but one look into those warm honey eyes and I knew she’d untangle the web I had so intricately weaved.

An ice storm forced us together, but that was just the beginning of what I hoped was a lifetime of peaceful days and passionate nights.

The mystery of her past emerges out of the shadows with a ruthless vendetta. She was my salvation, my saving grace, and nothing would stop me from protecting her, not even a bullet to the chest.

Chapter 2

Bristol

He stood to his full height, and I refused to show any fear, but it must have been etched on my face. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He didn’t come closer, but his foot slid forward like he wanted to. “I did.”

“No. You said you didn’t want to.”

“They mean the same thing, no?”

I almost laughed. “Not by a long shot.”

“Okay. I won’t hurt you.” To make his point, his long legs took a huge stride backward. “Ever.”

I blew out a breath. “Well, I won’t be seeing you after this, so it’s a moot point.”

“You won’t be?”

“Nope.”

He tilted his head. “What are you gonna do if you cut yourself again and need to get treatment from a doctor who is willing to do it for cash under the table?”

“You wouldn’t take my money,” I reminded him irritably.
“I know, sweetheart. I was joking.”

“Oh.” God. He gave every indication that he was being truthful about never hurting me. I wanted to believe him so badly—I did believe him—but I couldn’t tell him that. It was too soon… too risky.

He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “My truck’s parked around the corner, and I’ve got a kit in there with some scissors so I can remove your stitches.”

“Uh, that won’t be necessary.” I lifted my palm, and he was in my space in just a couple of steps, poking at my hand and scrutinizing it.

“Who took them out?”

“Me.” I swear he growled, and his grip got tighter. “Did you just growl at me?”

“Yeah, ’cause I’m pissed at you.”

I tried to tug my hand away, but he didn’t release me. “Let me go.”

Immediately, I was free, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” I studied my faint scar. “It looks fine to me. Is it not fine?”

I heard a chuckle and when he dropped his arm, he was grinning. “It is fine only because whoever stitched you up did a phenomenal job.”

Okay. I needed to get away from him before I did something like trust him completely. I reached into my purse and pressed the key fob. He heard it unlock and opened my door.

I walked around him and got into my seat, and he stood there, the faraway echo of the countdown at ten.

And then he slowly crouched down. Nine.

His hand landed on my thigh. Eight.

He reached across and cupped my neck. Seven.

His thumb brushed across my pulse. Six.

He whispered my name, and I looked into his eyes, not an inkling of fear in any module in my body. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” He held my eyes while he lifted my hand and pressed a gentle, sensual kiss to my knuckles. “Happy New Year, Bristol.”