Breathing (Ruined #6) Read Online T.O. Smith

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Ruined Series by T.O. Smith
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Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
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I nodded once at the club girl when I stepped into my apartment, and she quickly got off the bed, leaving the room. I shut the door behind me and toed my boots off before yanking my shirt over my head. My jeans and socks went next. I could feel Cannon’s eyes on me, but I wasn’t sure if I was capable of a more coherent thought, much less speaking.

Cannon carded her fingers through my hair when I laid down on my stomach, my arms buried under my pillow. I groaned, my eyes easily sliding shut. Fuck, that felt so good. I hoped she never stopped.

“Get some rest,” she whispered. “I’ll wake you if I need you.”

“‘Kay,” I mumbled, sleep already tugging at me. With the gentle, rhythmic movement of her fingers in my hair, it didn’t take me long at all to fall into a deep sleep.

14

Cannon

Paul loomed over me, a leer on his face as he unfastened his belt. My head was throbbing, my cheek already swelling from him punching me across the face. My lip was busted, and I could taste blood on the inside of my mouth. Scarlet liquid dripped out of my nostrils and onto my swollen cheek.

Everything hurt, and the world was blurring in and out of focus. It was taking everything in me to stay awake. To not succumb to the darkness threatening to pull me under.

“I saw the way you were looking at my brother, you fucking whore,” Paul sneered as he shoved my shorts and panties down my thighs. I groaned and willed my hands to move, to push him away, but I felt so damn heavy. I couldn’t move. It was like thousand-pound weights were holding my limbs down. Like there was a disconnect between my brain and my arms. “Guess I got to remind you who you belong to,” he sneered as he rolled me to my back. “You’re mine, you bitch.”

He shoved my thighs apart, and my vision began darkening at the edges.

Just move! I screamed at myself, but I couldn’t even get a finger to twitch.

“You’ll learn not to cross me one day,” Paul sneered.

Everything faded to black, and the last thing I was aware of was him ripping inside of me.

I jerked awake, screaming at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My head was pounding. My body ached so badly, I wanted to throw up. My entire body began trembling, my teeth chattering, and it just made the pain so much worse.

The apartment door flew open, and then Whiler was there, his arms wrapping around me. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, and when I drew in a ragged breath, the dam fully broke, and I fell apart in his arms, sobs wracking my chest with painful, constricting force.

With aching fingers, I clenched his cut in my fists and sobbed my heart out, open-mouthed gasps ripping from my lips as I tried to regulate my breathing. My ears were ringing, preventing me from hearing anything. But I could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my face, and it was soothing. Gave me something to focus on.

My fiancé rocked me side to side, his fingers running through my red hair, his other arm banded tightly around me. God, his hold hurt, but I needed the pain he inflicted right now. It was the only other thing calming me down.

The ringing in my ears slowly faded, and my breathing began to slow, my tears slowly drying up. “I’m here, baby. It’s going to be okay. Just let it out,” Whiler said, still rocking me. Had he been whispering that to me the entire time?

I hiccupped. “Whiler?” I croaked.

His rocking came to a stop, and the hand that had been running through my hair cupped my cheek, turning my face to his. Worry etched lines into his forehead, and concern flooded his dark eyes. “I’m here, baby.”

I sniffled. “I want a shower.” Fuck, after that flashback, I needed a shower. I wanted to scrub my fucking skin off.

“Anything, Cannon,” he said immediately. He slid off the mattress and shrugged his cut off, toeing his boots off at the same time. Then, he gently lifted me from the bed. “Will a bath be okay? You shouldn’t be on your legs, and your cast can’t get wet,” he told me.

I nodded. “A bath is fine. I just—I need to scrub,” I told him, my voice hoarse.

That concern in his eyes deepened as he gently deposited me on the bathroom counter. Then, he turned toward the tub and plugged the drain before turning the water on. I watched as he unscrewed a bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath and began to peel the covering off the opening.

“You bought bubble bath?” I asked in surprise. I sniffled after. God, my body hurt after that. Had I been tensing in my sleep?



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