Page 60 of Protecting Mr. Fine

I closed my eyes and let out a breath. Leave it to fucking Landry to be provoking.

It’s late here. I’m going to sleep. Get the lasagne. You can afford to enjoy yourself, even if you’re a little bloated on the runway.

I still had no idea why Landry killed himself to stay runway ready when he was already a billionaire, but then again, people would say the same about me if they knew about the money I’d made with the brotherhood.

Landry

Kiss that big, beautiful bodyguard for me.

His message was nothing but a tease. He’d have no way of knowing I’d actually done it and that I hoped (and planned and dreamed) of doing it again as soon as possible.

But still, my cheeks lit on fire, and I scrambled to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t tip my hand.

“You can just… not respond,” I warned myself before forcing myself to toss the phone back on the nightstand.

I blew out a breath and tried to calm down, but memories of Bear—of his possessive mouth, his talented tongue, and his gorgeous bear-sized cock—flooded my brain.

The bed was simultaneously too hot and too cold.Too hard and too soft. Too smooth and also itchy. I’d become freaking Goldilocks… except I was actually wishing for a Bear to come and share my bed.

Even after I turned on my podcast, it took forever for sleep to come, but when it did, it was deep and peaceful.

Until I awoke the next morning to the sound of something metal being thrown against the side of the house. I froze in place, suddenly demanding my sleep-fogged brain make sense of the noise. When I heard a muttered curse, I called out.

“B-bear?”

The rule was for me to stay in place or hide if I ever thought I was in danger. Bear or someone else on my team would come. Was that what this was?

“Zane? You awake?”

I moved to the edge of the bed and started to climb out. “Yeah? Did something happen?”

“You okay?” This time, his voice was close, just on the other side of my door. “Can I come in?”

I stood up and opened the door for him. He was dressed in workout clothes, his cheeks pink and his hair wind-blown like he’d just come back from a run. He didn’t look concerned, so I forced myself to chill. “What happened? It sounded like someone threw something at the house.”

The air was cold outside of my duvet cocoon, so I reached for a nearby sweatshirt to pull on over my pajama bottoms.

“No, shit. Sorry. That was me. I dropped a pan on the floor. I was…” He looked a little sheepish. “I was going to cook you that spinach breakfast casserole you like.”

I stared at him. “Gran’s breakfast casserole?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded before looking down at my bare feet. “I read an article last night that said spinach is good for your voice. It’s rich in nutrients like magnesium and potassium, which fosters healthy mucous membranes.”

That was what he’d been doing after he left me last night?Mystomach filled with sassy little butterflies. “You worried about my voice, Bear?”

His eyes flicked up to mine and back down to the ground. “Sure. I mean, always. So, anyway, I got out the pan to brown the sausage, but then I remembered I… uh… don’t know how to cook.”

I swallowed the laughter that wanted to come barreling out.

This guy.

He was so freaking nice. He liked to act like a grumpy bear, but he wasn’t. Not at all.

I reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking it so he had to stumble closer to me or risk ripping the shirt. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

He stumbled toward me and put his hands on my hips to keep from knocking me over. I let out a breath of relief at having his hands on me again. “I didn’t actually do anything, though,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s the thought that counts?”

I nodded and stepped even closer until my chest brushed his. “Definitely. Besides, there’s still time for you to do it. I can show you how.”

---