Dangerous: Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance) (16 page)

Mira made a half-choked little noise and finally found the will to snap her attention away from my rapidly growing cock.

“For fuck’s sake, Blaine! Put that away!”

“Why?” I grinned, taking a few steps toward her. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Mira retreated backward toward the door, as if fleeing from a prowling predator. She did everything to look anywhere but at my now fully hard dick. “Just—just stop it! God, why do you have to be such a prick! I mean jerk—oh,
God
!”

I laughed out loud at her flustered sputtering. It turned into a full belly laugh when she seemingly gave up on winning the argument and turned around on her heel to flee down the stairs.

“Hey, wait up, what were you going to tell me?” I called after her. “Is dinner ready, or what?”

No reply came from downstairs, apart from some loud banging of pots from the kitchen.

I was tempted to follow her down without putting my pants on, but figured it might not be the best idea if I ever wanted her to cook for me again. Besides, my cock was already uncomfortably hard. Seeing her all flustered and trying desperately not to look at it while we were in the room most of my fantasies about her played out in would likely torture me more than it would her.

Sighing, I walked to my closet to find some clothes.

* * *

When I came down the stairs, Mira sat at the dining table, already eating what looked like tomato soup. She’d set a plate out for me as well, and a bottle of wine.

“Smells lovely,” I offered as I sauntered in to take my place.

Mira didn’t look at me, but I could see her cheeks turning a delicious pink again.

I grinned. “Oh, come now, love. I’ve put pants on—it’s all safe.”

She made a huffy little sound, but finally raised her head to level me with a glare. “I really didn’t need to see that.”

“Oh, on the contrary—I think you did.” I winked at her and grabbed a chunk of bread to dip into the soup. “Gotta give you a bit of material for those late night self-loving sessions. I am your husband, after all.”

Her cheeks went from light pink to a tomato red that rivaled the soup in seconds. “Thanks, I’ll manage!” It came out as a hiss, but her flaming face spoke its own truth.

My grin widened. So she did, in fact, use me as her source material to get off? Hmm. I popped the bread into my mouth while I enjoyed her squirming in her seat, no doubt regretting that she didn’t just eat in her room. As much as I wanted to continue needling her, just to see how far I could take it before she snapped, I reined myself in. I did need to talk to her, and I’d rather not do it with a faceful of wine.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you—how often are you right when you assess people like you did Gerald?”

Mira’s eyebrows shut up, probably in surprise at the change of subject.  “Most of the time. Body language is pretty universal and hard to control. Why?”

“Because I’ve got a…” Best make it sound optional to avoid resistance. “...business proposition for you.”

Her mouth flattened into a disapproving line. “I’m not going to come with you to poker games, if that’s what you’ve got in mind.”

“Always think the worst, huh? It’s got nothing to do with gambling. I simply want you to come along for my business meetings. As an adviser. You can sit in while I meet with potential business partners, and give me your opinion of them after. It would be a good way for you to get out of the house. Since you’d be with me, you’d be safe.”

Mira frowned, a somewhat conflicted look passing across her pretty face. “I… I don’t want anything to do with illicit affairs, Blaine. If the day ever comes where I need to explain to the police how much I knew about your activities, I don’t want to have to lie to tell them I had no involvement.”

I nodded. That was fair enough, given how she’d tried her best to get away from this world. “It’ll only be above-board dealings. You won’t be privy to anything less than kosher.”

“And after these meetings, we’ll go somewhere else for a little bit?”

I raised an eyebrow at the excitement she was clearly trying—and failing—to hide while she attempted to negotiate with me. I might not be as skilled at reading body language as she was, but I knew I had this one in the bag. She was way too desperate to not be cooped up in this house to turn me down. However, I didn’t see the harm in letting her think she had some pull.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just… browsing a few stores, some window shopping… stopping for an ice cream if we fancy. Normal things that normal people do. A museum visit once in a while, perhaps?”

I grimaced. “How about we skip the museum and catch a movie instead?”

“Can it be French?”

“No.”

Mira sighed. “Fine. But no explosion-y action flicks, either.”

I laughed and reached my hand across the table. She sure did drive a hard bargain. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Tentatively, she reached out her own hand and put it in mine. It was small and soft, and the touch of her palm sent a pang to my needy cock. “Deal.”

I wrapped my fingers around hers for the briefest of moments, under the guise of shaking on it, but really, all I cared about was feeling the touch of her skin. Why,
why
was I so desperately attracted to her? From the first time I saw her I’d wanted to bed her, but after our drunken night together, the urge to be inside of her hadn’t diminished. Quite the contrary. I’d never been with a woman who made all others seem completely uninteresting, even for a short while.

Reluctantly, I let go of her hand. “What types of movies do you like? And don’t even bother listing any artsy shit.”

“Oh, the usual stuff. Dramas, rom-coms, an occasional psychological thriller. How about you?” She raised a teasing eyebrow at me. “And don’t even bother listing any action-y shit.”

I laughed at her cheek. It was nice to have a normal conversation for once, even if it was just about cinema choices. Everything had been such a battle from day one, it felt good to just have a relaxed moment together. It made me bold enough to suggest, “Why don’t we see if we can find something we both can agree to? I saw you got us Netflix, and we haven’t even broken in the couch yet.”

Mira looked downright shocked, her mouth hanging slightly open at my suggestion. “What, so… watch a movie together? Here? Now?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t until I saw her reaction that I realized what I’d suggested. Dinner and a movie. Not only would this be the first time outside of meals and taking her to see her horse that we’d voluntarily spend any time together—it also sounded an awful lot like a date.

“Just a movie,” I hastily interjected. “No ‘Netflix and chill,’ I promise.”

She laughed when I crossed my heart. “Alright then. But I’m warning you, I’m a crier.”

* * *

She was.

Mira sobbed her way through what was meant to be a “great, romantic drama,” which I found so tedious I nearly dozed off midway through. She even cried through parts of the Jim Carrey comedy I put on next in an attempt to stop her tears and my boredom.

“It’s not sad!” I repeated for the fifth time when the credits finally rolled over the flat screen TV she’d bought for the living room—and which should have been at least twenty inches bigger—and she dabbed at her eyes with a much-used tissue and sipped more wine from the glass she’d been nursing through the past hour and a half.

“His wife
left
him,” she protested with a sniffle. “And he raised those boys all on his own.”

I didn’t manage to smother my eye roll. “That was at the start of the damn movie! I’ve literally never known anyone who could cry at a Jim Carrey movie. Is it that time of the month or something?”

Mira gave me a reproachful look from behind her tissue. “Three hours is your max capacity for not being a jerk, huh?”

“Pretty much. I’m going to put on
Alien vs. Predator
, and if you shed as much as one tear, our movie-deal is off the table. Got it?”

She wrinkled her nose at me, either at the choice of movie or my threat I didn’t know, but didn’t bite back. I took that as acceptance. A choice I soon came to second guess.

“I thought I said no action crap,” she moaned about fifteen minutes into the movie. “This is so boring.”

“I sat through
The Notebook
. I will hear no complaints. And if you’re bored, at least you’re not crying.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“We’ve established that. Now, shush—someone’s about to have their head ripped off.”

Somewhat to my surprise she did quiet down, albeit with a semi-rebellious mumble, and I became so engrossed in the movie that it took me nearly forty-five minutes to realize she’d not said a word since. When I looked back at her, she was fast asleep, all curled up against the backrest of the couch with her head in an uncomfortable angle.

Her glasses still had salt stains on them, and a piece of her hair was stuck to the side of her face. I reached out to brush it away and she murmured in response.

“Mira?” I whispered, testing to see if she was awake. No response. She was still out cold.

I looked at her sleeping face and felt something odd stir in my chest. She looked so fragile and innocent, completely at odds with the snarky bitch I knew her to be. It made me want to protect her, even if there was nothing to protect her from at the moment.

I frowned, somewhat confused by the ridiculous notion. I’d only ever had protective feelings toward my family and, to some extent, my crew. And only when there was an actual threat to them.

Perhaps it was because she was under my care. She lived in my house, and it was my money that kept her warm and fed—even if she resented it.

I reached out to stroke her cheek without knowing why I felt the urge to.

She murmured again and pressed her face into my touch, much like a cat would. My heart took a couple of extra beats in response, but it felt good. Hmm.

As carefully as I could, I reached out to wedge one arm underneath her head and the other under her hamstrings, slowly shifting her until she was resting in my lap with her head leaned against my shoulder at a more comfortable angle.

She made small sounds of protests while I moved her, but seemed to quiet down quickly enough once I had her settled in my arms.

The press of her body against mine felt good too. She was warm and soft and solid, and she smelled like wine and woman. My cock stirred predictably, but I ignored it. Holding a woman like this, with no expectation of it turning sexual, was a new experience, and I found I liked it.

A lot.

* * * *

Chapter 18

Mira

The violent urge to puke out my guts ripped me from my sleep, as it had for the past many days now. I rolled out of bed and ran for the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time.

It took me more than twenty minutes before my stomach finally settled down enough that I realized I was wearing the same clothes as I’d been in the night before, rather than my sleep attire.

I frowned at the toilet seat as I rested my forehead against it. Come to think of it, I had no recollection of going to bed last night. The last thing I remembered was the boring alien movie Blaine forced me to watch. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. Which begged the question—how had I made it from the sofa to my bed?

The only logical explanation made me pull my head back up with surprise. Blaine must have carried me. Huh.

A dry heave made my contemplations come to a halt as I crouched over the toilet again, but nothing came up this time. Probably because my stomach was completely empty.

Maybe I should bite the bullet and go see a doctor. If it was a stomach bug, it was really persistent. And perhaps I should also stop having wine with dinner—it probably wasn’t helping things.

When my stomach finally settled down again, I cleaned my teeth and changed into fresh clothes before I went downstairs to forage for my usual breakfast—crackers and ginger ale. To my surprise, Blaine was in the kitchen when I came down, sitting by the counter on one of the bar stools and eating a bowl of cereal. If I hadn’t felt so queasy, I might have appreciated the way his chiseled chest strained against his T-shirt or his triceps flexed when he lifted the spoon.

“Morning,” I grumbled as I shuffled to the cabinet that held my stash of crackers.

“You look like shit,” he said. Just what every girl wants to hear first thing. “Are you sick again?”

“Still.”

His dark brows pulled into a frown. “I’ll get Rob to make you an appointment with our doctor. Are you too ill to work today? I just got a call about a meeting this afternoon.”

Despite how poorly I felt, I perked up at that. I missed using my brain, and there was only so much sudoku a girl could play before going bonkers. Sitting in on business meetings might not be as stimulating as seeing patients, but it beat hanging around the house all day.

“Yeah, I should be fine in a couple of hours. Can we go look at some shops after? There’s this artisan confectionery shop I’ve been dying to go to.”