Unbreak Me by Lexi Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

this go unspoken. I’m numb when I’m whole and you left me unbroken.”
    And the pictures? Dear God. If I had been the kind of teenager who watched music videos instead of the kind who broke her father’s heart, I never would have forgotten that face or body. Turns out half-naked pictures of a rock star dubbed “Sexy Beast” are plentiful. Thank you, Internets. But there still weren’t enough. Not when you consider how when I close my eyes I can feel his muscles flexing under my fingers, still taste his salty skin on my tongue.
    I pack up my laptop and head to the parking lot with a sigh. I just wasted half a day obsessing over a rock star who will never sleep with me. Maybe I am sixteen again.
    Stepping out of the library, I squint into the setting sun and see Asher “Sexy Beast” Logan leaning against my car.
    My steps stutter and his lips curl into a grin as he looks me over.
    Play it cool .
    “Your wife kick you out, Pretty Boy?”
    He looks damn fine standing there, his dark shades blocking his eyes from the setting sun, a tiny silver hoop glinting in each ear. He is all hard muscle and tan in his fitted black t-shirt and faded jeans. I always said there’s no man as hot as my car. Now I’m not so sure.
    My first thought is that we could be naked and in my bed in twenty minutes. My second is of the story Lizzy just told me, a story that makes Asher the worst kind of bad boy—capital B, capital N, Bad News.
    I pull my keys from my purse. “What are you doing here?”
    His too-goddamn-perfect mouth quirks into that cocky half grin. “I wanted to see you.”
    “Aw! That’s what all my stalkers say.”
    He chuckles. “You owe me a date.”
    “How’d you even know to find me here?”
    “How’d you get the cash for such a sweet ride?”
    I drive a deep blue Mustang GT, a gift from my granny. She’s terrible with money and we love her for it.
    “Marry an old man for his money?” he asks.
    “Sure. But I was screwing his brains out when he died, so he didn’t mind much.”
    His smile never wavers. “I want to take you out.”
    “We discussed this already,” I say, my traitorous gaze dipping back to the bulge of his biceps. Lord have mercy. “I don’t do dates.”
    “So we’ll call it something else,” he says. “Try not to get hung up on semantics.”
    “And what if I say no?”
    Asher’s smirk should piss me off. This is a man who gets what he wants, and it’s written all over his face.
    I sigh. “Fine, but only if you have a signed note from your wife that says it’s okay if you play with others.”
    “It’s one night. What? Are you afraid you can’t resist me?”
    Damn. That’s a challenge. “Dinner,” I say, punching my key fob to unlock my doors. “But none of this macho, He-Man, I-drive-the-lady crap. I have free will and I like to keep my vehicle at my disposal. You might be hot, and I might be joining you for a meal, but you don’t own me.”
    “Are you done?”
    I try to stop the smile that’s coming, but I can’t resist. I don’t meet many men willing to call me on my bullshit. “Yeah.”
    “Do you like Cajun food, loud atmosphere, a good beer list?”
    I look him up and down again—a visual journey that is worth it every time. “Goddamn, Asher. You keep going and I might just think you had my number. Cajun Jack’s?”
    “I’ll see you there.” He heads toward his Jeep. When he turns back to slide his eyes over my body, I have to tell myself that the heat rushing through me is only a product of the scorching May afternoon sun.
    ***
    “You’re staring at me,” I protest between bites of crawfish etouffee.
    Asher lifts a shoulder. “Just watching in case you get foodgasmic again.”
    I hum as I swallow a particularly decadent bite. “I’m close. You like to watch, huh?”
    His pupils dilate and his jaw goes a little slack as his gaze drops to my mouth. Just like that, we’re not talking about food anymore. Maybe we never were.
    I take a sip of my beer to