Dangerous:Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)(23)

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.