Page 22 of Unwrapping Deviance

“Hey, you.”

Mira turns her head over her shoulder and her beautiful face breaks into a radiant smile that lights up her eyes. Her skirt swirls around her legs when she spins to face me fully.

“Hey.”

My gaze lingers over the delicate contours of her cheekbones, the tiny indent in her chin, and finally stops on her plump lips for a heartbeat before drifting up to her eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask, walking closer, drawn to the scent of her skin, her orchid shampoo. The way she looks bathed in light and warmth.

Her.

And she lets me. She watches me approach with an unfiltered trust I don’t deserve. There isn’t a pinch of hesitance in the way she eagerly waits for me to reach her.

Catch her.

Have her.

I know I can grab her right here, sink craters into the soft muscles of her arms with my fingers and bow her into the front of my body and she would come willingly. She would watch me the way she is now and let me do whatever I want to her.

It’s partially amusing because aren’t women supposed to have an innate sense when they’re in danger? How can she not feel how close I am to scooping her up, slamming her into my father’s precious wall and fucking her until every framed memory shatters across the hardwood? How can she not sense just how badly I need to be inside her?

“Only one nightmare,” she’s saying when I pull my thoughts back.

That is a cold bucket of ice dumping over my boner.

“You had a nightmare?”

I hadn’t heard a damn thing. Not a peep all night. Are the rooms too far apart? Had she called for me?

“I didn’t hear anything,” I start.

She shakes her head. “I think I just woke up.”

I don’t like that. I don’t like that she could need me, and I might not hear her. Maybe I’ll kick Christian out of his room, and he can take the big room at the end of the hall. That would put Mira across the hall and...

Small, warm fingers curl around mine. Mira stands before me, having moved so quietly. She squeezes my hand.

“It wasn’t bad, or I’d come find you,” she promises with a small smile. “I was more startled to wake up in a strange place. I just went back to bed.”

I want so badly to hook my arm around her middle and pull her into me. I want to dip my head and taste her mouth. Having her this close is a different kind of torture.

“I’m sorry—”

She squeezes harder and shakes her head. “Stop. I’m honestly fine. But I am hungry, and the kitchen is a shrine ofcanned baked beans, string beans, yellow beans, and some other beans I’m not sure are actual beans, but I’m not a bean expert.”

My lip twitches in amusement. I twine my fingers through hers. “You know what they say about beans, don’t you?”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “That Jack’s mom wasn’t too happy he traded them for the family cow?”

I snort. “They’re the magical fruit. The more you eat, the more you toot.”

Mira blinks at me for a long moment with resignation. “Did you just say toot?”

Unable to contain my grin, I shrug. “Rhymes better than fart.”

“Oh my God,” she mutters, shaking her head. “That was awful.”

“Maybe that’s also why Jack’s mom kicked him out of the house,” I muse, rubbing my jaw with my free hand. “Maybe he gassed the place.”

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