Dangerous:Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)(15)

Three seconds passed in complete silence as I stared at him. My own  anger was still boiling underneath the surface, but the absolute  murderous rage in Blaine's eyes as he stared me down with wine dripping  from his chin made me realize I'd made a mistake. A really, really big  mistake.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I …  did that." My apology died into a  whisper when Blaine slowly raised one large hand to wipe the red liquid  off his face, and then cracked his neck without taking his eyes off me,  or even blinking.

Survival instincts-finally-kicked in, and my brain quickly abandoned  "fight" mode, opting instead for the much wiser "flight" option. I spun  around on my heel and practically threw myself across the dining room,  grabbing on to the door frame to turn the corner as fast as possible.

Behind me, the loud screeching of a chair being kicked out of the way  made my already frantic heart jolt into overdrive. Its pounding against  my ribs matched my feet's pace as I ran as fast as I could down the  hallway to the stairs. I didn't think of what would happen once I  reached my room-all I knew was that I needed to put as much distance  between myself and the lethal killer chasing me, and that one room was  the only place my panicked brain connected with any shred of safety.

I made it to the top of the first flight of stairs, but when I grasped on to the banister to reach the next level, he caught me.

Strong hands grabbed around my hips and pulled, and I was yanked backward so roughly I completely lost my footing.

I yelped as I flew through the air, arms flailing for purchase, and then  I was on my back on the landing outside Blaine's room, my impact with  the hard wooden floor thankfully softened somewhat by the thick rug I'd  had Greg put there earlier today.

I didn't have many moments to be thankful for my design decision. Less  than two seconds after I was on my back on the floor, Blaine crouched  over me, pinning my wrists next to my head with his large hands while my  lower body was strapped down by his knees. I was trapped.

"Let me go!" I pulled uselessly on my hands and tried to shift my hips  to throw him off me, but I might as well have tried to dislodge a  boulder.

Blaine growled, sounding so much like an enraged animal that I couldn't  hold back a small whimper. He was so much stronger than me, he could rip  me apart with his bare hands if he wanted-and right now, it very much  looked like he wanted.

Yet deep down, something in my core-something undoubtedly really  stupid-didn't believe he would actually hurt me. The startling moment  that thought rooted itself in my stomach was strong enough to pull me  out of my fear

Blaine stared down at me, his chest heaving as hard as mine and his face  drawn in a mask of anger. And suddenly, it all seemed so completely  ridiculous. I, a trained psychologist, for crying out loud, had resorted  to throwing wine in a man's face. And he, a scary-ass criminal, had  chased me down and was now pinning me to the floor. We seemed to have  reached a thorough stalemate.

The amused giggle slipped out of my mouth before I managed to stop it.

"Sorry, sorry," I gasped in between my still labored breathing. My  giggles died down as I stared up into his dark eyes. Behind his fury  there was something else. It took me several seconds to realize that it  was a glimpse of what lay behind his normally impenetrable shields. For a  few, short moments, I saw past the smartarse, the ruthlessness he  normally wore like a mask.

It only lasted a few second. Then raw and unbridled lust washed away  anything and everything else, and his lips crashed against mine.



 *





Chapter 12

Mira



Blaine's kiss was rough and wild, his lips bruising in their all-encompassing need.

It wasn't enough.

I kissed him back with equal strength, biting at his lip as he pushed  his tongue in between mine, fighting him for dominance. The heat of his  mouth was intoxicating, and all I could think of was getting more of  it-more of him.

Our tongues tangled and I moaned at the first brush. Yes, just like that-

He pressed down on top of me and in between my legs, and I felt the  heavy weight of his cock straining against his jeans just where I needed  it as he ground against me.

Yes, yes, yes! My body sang as my clit pulsed from the stimulation, and I rocked up against him to meet his thrusts.         

     



 

Blaine groaned into my mouth and released my wrists.

I immediately latched onto his shoulders, pulling his chest down on top  of me. I wanted to feel all of him against me, wanted all of his heat to  consume me-

The unexpected touch of Blaine's hand against my abdomen ripped me out  of my hazed lust more efficiently than a bucket of cold water would  have.

I pulled my head back from his kiss with a gasp and looked down. He'd  shoved my shirt up high, exposing my soft stomach to his hungrily  roaming eyes. And my scars.

"Stop it!" I let go of his shoulders and thrust both hands down in front  of me, pushing my shirt down to cover me again before I scrambled to  scoot out from underneath him.

Blaine froze, his expression turning from wild lust to confusion-and frustration. "What?"

"You can't just paw at me like a wild animal every time we get into a  fight!" I finally managed to get out from underneath him so I could sit  up, clutching my crumbled shirt tighter to my body as I glared at him.  The inexplicable wave of lust was-mostly-gone, replaced by anger and  fear once more. Though this time, it wasn't Blaine that caused my hands  to shake as they clutched at the fabric of my shirt. It was my own  reactions to him-how I couldn't seem to trust myself around him. One  minute I was pushing him far beyond the edge, even though I knew full  well it was a stupid thing to do, and the next I was writhing in  helpless surrender underneath him. And this time, I didn't even have the  alcohol to blame for my erratic behavior.

No, it was becoming increasingly obvious that, for whatever reason, my  brain switched off whenever I was around Blaine Steel-and that …  that  terrified me to my very core.

"Me?" Blaine pulled back, his upper lip curling with renewed anger. "You were not exactly an unwilling participant, were you?"

"You chased me through the house and tried to have your way with me on  the goddamn floor!" I hissed, hating that he knew just how much I'd  wanted it. "Tell me how I had a choice in the matter!"

Blaine's eyes darkened. Abruptly, he stood up, leaving me alone on the  soft rug. "Fine! If you want to pretend like you're a bloody victim,  that's up to you. I'm done with your bullshit." With one final glare in  my direction he started down the stairs. Less than twenty seconds after  the top of his head had disappeared down them, I heard the front door  slam.

Slowly, I gathered myself up from the floor and wiped irritably at my  cheeks. There was no need to cry-I'd wanted him to leave me alone, and  he had.

Gingerly, I put a hand to my stomach and traced the scars through the  shirt. I couldn't feel them through the fabric, but I knew their jagged  lines by heart.

Past lovers had asked me about them, and I'd lied and said they were  from extensive surgery when I was a kid. Blaine would undoubtedly know  what they were from a single glance. Heck, he'd probably been the cause  of similar scars in his line of work.

The thought of him knowing what had been done to me made me sick with  fear. Because the second he knew, he would know that I was weak. A true  victim. And I knew what men like Blaine did to the weak.

I swallowed thickly and dropped my hand from my midsection. I had to  stop letting him get under my skin like this. I'd thrown wine at him,  for Pete's sake, after goading him on a subject I knew was sore.

Was it my desperate need to show him I wasn't weak? Or was it …  I  hesitated to even think the thought through, but dug my nails into my  palms to steel myself. Was it that some shameful part of me wanted him  to lose control and take me like he had that night at the hotel?

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't deny my physical attraction to him, and the sex had been …

I shook my head when I felt myself redden at the memory, angry that I  let myself be so affected by Blaine's-granted, godlike-physique. I  wasn't some blushing teenager who had never seen a man naked before. I  had to control this-like I had to control my messed up relationship with  Blaine.

Trying to befriend him was obviously not going to work out before I  could figure out exactly why I was acting like I was around him, so I  had to find another way to make him respect me.

I glared balefully down the stairs where he'd disappeared not that long  ago. Clearly, there was a huge power difference between us, and when he  could run off whenever he didn't want to deal with me anymore, and I  couldn't, then he had no need to respect me.

But if I wasn't here when he came home …

My glare turned thoughtful as a plan slowly began to come together in my mind.         

     



 







Considering how much Blaine had emphasized that I needed to stay in the  house and that he had guards posted to watch the front door and the  perimeter, it was surprisingly easy to sneak out unnoticed.