Break me Open Teaser

ayawinterromances
19 hours ago
12 min read

For Valentine's Day, I am spoiling you all with a teaser excerpt from Book Three of the Hartgrave Teller's Legacy Series that features Liam and Emma going on their first official public date after seven years of almost.

He gets to lace up her heels in front of the stylists. (Throwback to when he had to hide in the shadows just to put her shoes back on in Through the Glory and the Mess.) And my favourite micro trope, Liam begs Emma to order what she actually wants off the menu because he’s not her ex, the man who used to police her body. He doesn’t care if her ass gets rounder. He’ll worship it either way. They tease. They turn each other on at the table.

They finally get to kiss in public without hiding.

And then, Rick Bradley’s fiancée walks in.

Break Me Open (Book Three in the Hartgrave Tellers Legacy Series) is messy, intimate, and deliciously unhinged in love.

The wolves are circling. The war to rid the industry of corruption and sin has started. And Liam and Emma are at the centre of it all, leading the charge. But this time? They’re together.

I stood in the massive walk-in closet of my bedroom while Hannah adjusted the fit of my tailored black suit. The black shirt beneath it was slightly unbuttoned, intentional, casual, just the right amount of undone. She ran her hands through my hair again, trying to tame the curls from flipping on her and falling to the front. I don’t know why she bothered. They never listened.

“You need a haircut, Liam,” she said, inspecting me with the same ruthless precision she brought to photo shoots.

“You said that on the press tour, and yet I still haven't gotten one.”

“I did. Get one. Soon."

I nodded.

"The stubble is working,” Hannah added, giving my jacket a brisk, practiced brush. “Suit is clean. Sharp. That’s what we want. You...are ready, Mr. Teller.”

“Thanks, Hannah. You’re the pro. I just stand around and look pretty,” I said, giving her work a final once-over.

She chuckled.

“You ready for this, Hartgrave?” I called out.

From the bedroom, Emma answered, “What, you mean for our first actual date? The one designed to be a curated pap walk and fan-service spectacular? Almost.”

I smirked, glancing toward the open door.

She sat by the mirror in her chair while Shiloh, her stylist, lined her eyes with expert strokes of eyeliner, adding dramatic sweeps of shadow she didn’t even need, but I knew it would photograph like a dream. A few body-skimming, short-skirted dresses lay on the bed beside her, each one designed to stop hearts and start rumours.

And those heels. God, those heels already had me dreaming about taking them off and kissing my way up her legs later.

Emma stood still as Shiloh helped her slip into dress number one—a sparkling gold number that caught the light with every movement. She was out of it just as fast, Shiloh already shaking her head.

Then came the little red number. It looked like it had been ripped straight from a stage spotlight.

It made my heart flip in my chest.

“Is that from the collection?” I asked, sauntering over and dropping into an accent chair just outside the closet door.

“You know it,” Shiloh grinned. “Emma Hartgrave x Valois. Emma has immaculate taste.”

“Emma has a phenomenal stylist who taught her that taste,” Emma shot back, striking a pose and glancing at me over her shoulder.

“Heart-stopping,” was all I managed.

Zander popped his head in, already buzzing. “Okay, we’re running late. Press is ravenous and already lining up outside the restaurant. The poor staff’s probably doing everything they can to keep the other patrons from being annoyed as effff.”

“Fun times,” Emma said as she stepped into her heels. They were lace-ups, the thin ties trailing behind her, meant to wind around her ankles.

“This is working...all of it. Love it, Shiloh. You are unmatched when it comes to styling this goddess,” Zander said, appraising Emma’s look.

“Helps when the subject is gorgeous.” She said.

Hannah walked by. “Agreed. Have fun, you two.”

“Thanks,” Emma and I said in unison.

Shiloh left the room with Zander to get Emma’s jewelry while I leaned back in my chair, grinning. I was dying to do this.

“Come here, baby.”

Emma smirked and walked over, her heels only half on. She rested her right foot carefully between my legs, steady and deliberate.

I caught her ankle and lifted it to my shoulder, my hand gliding slowly up her calf before tracing its way back down.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

A low groan slipped out of me, followed by a wolfish smirk. “Immensely. Mostly because I can do this to you, and there is no one to stop me.”

Unhurried, I finished wrapping the delicate laces around her ankle, tying them snugly into place.

Slowly, I let my hand glide up her calf again, savouring the silk-smooth feel of her skin beneath my touch. It was impossibly soft against my calloused fingers as my hand trailed higher, lingering at her thighs.

We were never making it through dinner.

I kissed her ankle.

“God,” I muttered against her skin, “can we just skip the whole ordeal and stay home… have each other for dinner?”

Emma laughed softly.

“No. Because the paps will never leave us alone if we don’t go. Although,” she tilted her head, eyeing me, “it’s tempting as hell. You look damn good in that suit, Teller.”

I smirked against her skin and gave her ankle a light bite. Relenting.

She yelped, then burst into laughter at the expression on my face, full eyebrow waggle, and

all, smacking my shoulder with her clutch.

“You’re wicked, Teller.”

“No argument there.”

“Also… the stylist is still here,” Shiloh called out as she reappeared from her trip down the hall, a sparkling diamond necklace draped carefully over her arm.

“Right.” I sat up straighter, adjusted the lapels of my suit, and reached for Emma’s other foot, tying up the other shoe quickly. “Sorry, Shiloh.”

She shook her head, amused. “I get it. It’s still the honeymoon period. Here...put these on our dear Emma, and then you two are good to go.”

She handed me the necklace and a pair of delicate, dangling earrings, and then waved goodbye to both of us.

I patted my lap, and Emma settled into it with practiced ease. She gathered her hair up, exposing the elegant line of her neck so I could fasten the necklace. My breath caught as she glanced back at me over her shoulder.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I murmured, wrapping the diamonds around her throat and securing the clasp.

She answered with a slow, satisfied smirk.

Then she let her hair fall back down, and the scent of her nearly unravelled me.

She took the earrings from my hand, and I gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer for just a second longer than necessary, breathing her in while she slipped them on.

“Christ, Emma,” I muttered against her skin, “you really do know how to drive me bloody mad, don't you?”

“I might."

She finished with her earrings and gestured for a final inspection, still perched on my lap.

“You look gorgeous, Emma,” I said quietly. “You always look gorgeous.”

“You’re biased, Liam.”

“I’m not,” I replied, meeting her eyes. “I’ve just spent years admiring you from afar. Every inch of you is perfect.”

Her expression softened.

“I love you.”

She answered that with a kiss. Slow, deep, unrushed.

Then...

"We need the obligatory selfie for Ashley and the team,” she said, smirking as she reached into her clutch.

She pulled out her phone, but before she could lift it, she gave me that look, 'you are my undoing.'

She took a photo. “That one’s for me,” she murmured.

Then she took the real one, the “official” one. We checked her lipstick, took a second one, made our most ridiculous faces, and sent the chaotic one and the necessary one to Ashley and team.

My phone buzzed a second later. Security was ready for us.

We made our way downstairs. The team was already waiting in the foyer. Cliff, Dante, Sasha, Tony, Walter. Terry and the others were stationed around the property. I’d doubled security.

My team and Emma’s had joined forces. Round-the-clock coverage. Someone walking the perimeter every hour on the hour. Full lockdown.

No fucking risks.

We climbed into the extended SUV. Security took the front rows; Emma and I sat in the back. I helped her in, no small feat in that impossibly short dress.

“Babe, you’re gonna have to watch your arse getting out at the restaurant,” I said, chuckling.

“Or the headlines are gonna look very different than planned.”

“That’s what I have you for,” she grinned.

“A job I take very seriously,” I replied with a smirk.

She laughed. “Good. Then ‘Emma Hartgrave goes on a first date with Liam Teller and flashes the world her heart-shaped ass’ won’t be going viral tonight.”

“‘Emma Hartgrave goes bottoms up at Zucco’s—in more ways than one.’” I deadpanned.

“Absolutely not. Not on my watch. No one gets to see your beautiful heart-shaped ass but me.”

She let out a laugh just as I grabbed said ass and gave it a playful squeeze.

Then she pulled me in, kissing me slow and deep. “Come on, Teller,” she whispered. “Take me on a date.”

“I’m trying. But you’re ravaging me.”

“I’ll stop, I promise.”

“Please don’t.”

I turned to security. Everyone looked ready to roll. “Alright. Let’s go. We’re ready.” I glanced back at Emma and added dryly, “Apparently, taking a megastar out for dinner requires the logistics of a military operation.”

“Well, I am high maintenance,” she said with a wink. “You knew that going in.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said. “I love you. And I love spoiling you.”

Her smirk turned wicked. “Well, if you’re aiming to get laid after this date… you’re doing really well.”

I laughed. “The end game is a bit bigger than that, but I’ll settle for getting laid.”

“Now you’re just showing off,” she muttered, grinning.

I slid in beside her as the SUV rolled forward. We drove through the city lights, chatting easily. Nothing heavy. No band logistics. That was the deal—no shop talk unless it came up naturally. Just the two of us, in the moment.

“I’m starving,” Emma said, stretching slightly in her seat.

“You researched the menu, yeah?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“So, what are you getting?”

“Steamed fish and vegetables.”

I shook my head. “Knew it. I’m ordering you a burger and fries.”

“Stop! We’re going on tour in a few weeks. I can’t eat like that.”

“You can. And that’s the only shop talk I’m allowing for the rest of the night,” I reminded her.

She narrowed her eyes at me but didn’t argue.

When we pulled up to the restaurant, the press was everywhere. Flashes went off like a red carpet premiere. Fans were behind barricades, how the hell were fans even here?

My stomach dropped. My pulse ticked up. Emma felt it instantly and put a hand on my arm.

“It’ll be fine, Teller,” she said quietly. "This is the whole point, remember? Give them what they want. So, they will give us some peace."

“There was only supposed to be a few paps and photographers. But, they always find us,” I muttered.

“Staff probably leaked it. Someone always does.”

Of course. We got away with nothing.

“This is a lot, Em,” I said under my breath.

“I know,” she replied. “But… we did breadcrumb them for seven years.”

I huffed a laugh. She wasn’t wrong.

“Okay,” I exhaled. “Let’s just get inside fast. No autographs. No selfies. This is still technically a date, not a bloody press tour. The album launch is next week. They can get all the attention they need then, yeah?”

“Agreed,” she nodded.

The SUV rolled to a stop.

The security team got out first.

Showtime.

I stepped out to a wall of noise, cheers, screams, flashes going off like a war zone.

Paparazzi barked my name, but the second Emma’s heel touched the pavement, all hell broke loose.

The sky lit up with camera flashes. Reporters started shouting over one another, and the crowd surged forward, screaming, cheering, crying. Signs glittered with hashtags—#Eliam Forever shining in pink, gold and silver.

“Liam and Emma, over here!”

“Look this way!”

“How does it feel to finally be a couple publicly?”

“You two look amazing!”

“Give us a smile, Emma!”

“Liam, kiss Emma for us!”

We moved slowly through the crowd, letting them get their shots. Security flanked us, tighter than usual. My phone buzzed nonstop in my pocket, notifications lighting up like fireworks. Emma’s clutch vibrated as she gave a graceful wave to the crowd, playing it cool, doing her best to look like she was being swept up in the moment.

I kept my hand on her back, no more hovering. I could hold her now. Really hold her. And fuck, it felt good. If it weren’t for the blinding flashes turning night into day, it might’ve even felt normal.

We made it through the chaos and into the restaurant, where staff quickly ushered us through to a secluded booth at the back.

Thank God.

One pap walk down.

One more to go.

******

After a few more obligatory selfies and a couple glasses of wine, I was working on a scotch, buzzed, happy, and very much enjoying myself.

The restaurant was a massive glass structure in Malibu, all glittering chandeliers and Michelin stars. The chef came by to say hello, shook our hands, and posed for pictures. We sent them to the team. They were already making the rounds online. Ashley replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

Finally, we could just enjoy the night. Like an actual date.

“Alright, babe,” I said, nudging her gently. “Order something besides fish. I mean it. It’s fine if that’s what you want. But you’ve got taste buds. Use them. Live a little.”

Emma made a face at me, scanning the menu.

“I wouldn’t mind if that heart-shaped ass of yours got a bit rounder,” I murmured, leaning over to kiss her neck.

“Yeah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “All men say that and never mean it.”

“I’m not your ex, and I’m serious,” I replied, voice low. “If we ever have kids, your ass is gonna get full and round, and I’m gonna love every second of it.”

She shook her head, grinning. “I really thought you’d be more focused on the boob situation, Teller. The girls are gonna be unmanageable.”

“I cannot think about that right now. We’re in public, Emma. I will end up hard and helpless in Zucco’s, and no one wants that.”

My hand drifted up her thigh. I eyed her like I wanted to taste her instead of the menu, because I did.

“Liam,” she warned, “what did I say about talking about your dick in public places with that accent of yours?”

I chuckled. “Ah, right.” I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “The accent kink. Are you all hot and bothered now, love?”

She shifted in her seat. “What do you think? Panties ruined.”

I grinned, wolfish and hungry, completely, stupidly obsessed with her. “Want me to take care of that for you?” I murmured, hand inching higher.

She smacked it away, “Don’t tempt me with those deadly hands of yours”. Then she patted my crotch, “Down, boy.”

I groaned, kissing her neck again, pulling her a little closer with one hand. She laughed, then kissed me, twice, right on the mouth.

God, it felt good to kiss her like that in public. Openly. Like we had nothing to hide. Like we were just… stupidly in love.

Then our phones buzzed.

Ashley: Heads up. Photos from inside are being leaked.

Of course they were.

“Leaks,” I said, meeting Emma’s eyes.

She glanced down at her phone, then looked back at me. “I do not care,” she said. Then kissed me again.

I smirked, a little drunk on her.

“So… what are you ordering?” I asked, sipping my scotch.

I knew she had habits she struggled to let go of. Patterns carved by pressure and image. I just wanted her to know she didn’t have to hold so tight anymore. With me, she had room to breathe. To choose for herself.

“I don’t know,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been deliciously distracted by the most handsome British man in creation, looking sexy as hell in a suit. And the realization that I’m gonna bounce on it later.”

“Emma, stop,” I groaned. “Have mercy on a very turned-on man in a public setting.”

“Nope. You and that accent never give me a reprieve, so I’m not giving you one either.” She grinned wickedly. “What are you having besides me...later?”

I shifted in my seat, exasperated and aroused all at once. My skin felt too tight, and my body buzzed, aching for relief. “Steak. Potatoes. The whole deal.”

“Yeah, well I’m not having that,” she said, still sipping her wine. “What do you want me to try?”

I leaned closer, scanning the menu over her shoulder. “That one. The chicken karage,” I said, grinning because I knew full well she wouldn’t go for it.

She gave me a playful glare. “You are just throwing me in the deep end, aren’t you, Teller?”

“You were in too deep the minute you laid eyes on me,” I said with a low chuckle.

She laughed. “Truer words.”

“I’m getting the lobster sashimi rolls,” she said eventually, “then order us some fun appies. Surprise me.”

“Good girl.” I smiled.

“Unfair, Teller,” she groaned.

“You want me to order for you?” I chuckled.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I like it when you take control...in certain scenarios.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You'd better actually enjoy my ass when it gets rounder.”

“I can guarantee that I will,” I said, smiling at her like she was the only thing in the room.

She gave me that look like I was absolutely incorrigible, and she was right. But then her gaze flicked to someone approaching, and I saw her posture shift. Straighten. Her smile dropped.

“Oh God,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Why?”

I followed her gaze...and froze.

Cece Aimes.

Striding right toward us.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

Why?