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Alone, I paced the steel-reinforced room, my legs restless and hands itching for something to do. The tailored suit and tie began to shrink, tightening around my limbs and neck, restricting my movements. Fuck. I needed to change and get the hell out of here for a while. New scenery would help me focus on tonight’s meeting and not a certain sexy redhead.
After swapping out my lightweight wool for denim, a long-sleeved Henley to hide my wrist sheaths, and a leather jacket to cover my holster, I headed for the garage, agitated and eager to take a long fucking ride to clear my head of all the bullshit. On top of my nonstop fantasies of bending Miri over, tearing off her panties, and claiming her sweet pussy, now I had to deal with El-fucking-Cuchillo.
Goddamn bastard. What the fuck are you planning, you sneaky little piece of shit?
“Boss.”
I nodded at the man patrolling the backyard and continued toward the garage that housed my most prized possessions. I couldn’t give two shits about anything in the house, but my cars and bikes? They were housed in a humidity and temperature-controlled, fireproof steel structure. I pulled open the side door and the space that should have been dark was lit up like the Fourth of July. A flick of my wrists and I had a blade in each hand. Yes, it could just be Frank in here doing regular maintenance on my cars, but the prickle on the back of my neck had me thinking whoever it was, wasn’t Frank.
The clang of a tool hitting the ground was followed by a loud, but distinctly feminine curse. Christ. Definitely not Frank. With a sigh, I re-sheathed my knives, tugged down my sleeves to cover them, and followed the sound to the far end of the building.
What I found when I turned the corner at the end of the row of cars was so surprising, it knocked the breath out of me. Unable to speak, I simply stood in place and allowed myself to enjoy the stunning sight, blinking to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
Miri—beautiful, frail, tiny Miri—was lying on the ground on her back while using a torque wrench on the chain of my classic Suzuki. Every reason I used to justify staying away from her vaporized and left me with nothing but raw, primal desire.
Miri was makeup free, wearing a short, delicate dress that had hiked up to expose long, shapely legs. Pert nipples raised the thin fabric across her breasts and I knew she hadn’t bothered to wear a bra. Her pale skin contrasted with dark streaks of grease staining one thigh and both of her small hands. The smudges of dirt that would normally have me itching to shower, instead drew me closer.
“Dammit!” Miri dropped the wrench and shook out her hand while cursing. She sat up and inspected the injured finger. From my vantage point, I noted a thin trickle of blood running down one side.
“Need some help?”
“Holy shit!” Miri’s arms flailed and she nearly fell backward. It made me laugh but Miri didn’t seem to find it very funny. The scowl she shot my way might have frightened a lesser man. Me? I fucking loved it. Miri was so damn sexy all fired up and pissed off, just like she was the night she slapped me and made my cock so hard I jerked off in record time.
“Jesus, Boss. You surprised me.” Miri used her uninjured hand to clutch at her chest.
I smirked at her breathless, husky voice and cocked my head. “I could say the same about you. What are you doing in here, doll?”
Miri’s pale skin flushed, the gorgeous crimson spreading from the tips of her ears and down her neck to cover her collarbones. “I-I…” Miri’s eyes darted around as she fidgeted. Her finger was still bleeding and the tiny thing held it out to keep from dripping onto her innocent yet seductive, nearly transparent dress.
“We’ll talk in a minute. Let’s clean you up first, okay?” I held out a hand.
Gaze wary, Miri accepted my offer and put her good hand in mine. I pulled her to her feet and couldn’t help but run my lust-filled eyes over her body, devouring her from head to toe and every sexy-as-sin part in between.
Fuck, Miri never looked as beautiful as she did right now, the little vixen—barefoot, streaks of grease on her chin and hands, cheeks flushed, brilliant red hair knotted on top of her head, and wearing one of the flimsiest dresses I had ever seen. Yes, it covered everything important, but the gauzy material was so lightweight, if you shone a light behind her, you would be able to see the outline of every curve of her body beneath the fabric. I didn’t even care that she transferred some of the grease from her hand to mine. My cock swelled in appreciation.
No way could I be expected to resist this. Miri was pure temptation and I was a man who was born to sin.
“Ummmm…” Miri shifted uncomfortably and extended her hand to prevent the blood from falling onto her dress.
Shit. I was so caught up in fantasizing, I forgot about her injury.
“The sink is over there.” I pointed to my left. “Go wash up and I’ll grab the first-aid kit.”
My entire body was on fire, red-hot desire fanned into an inferno by not-so-innocent Miri. For fuck’s sake, the woman knew bikes. And not only that, she worked on them while wearing a sexy fucking see-through dress. How could I be expected to resist? The woman was a temptress, pushing every single one of my buttons at once. She would lead me right down the path to destruction. With my hands clenched at my sides and my jaw tight, I spun and stalked across the garage to the cabinet housing the medical supplies.
Jesus Christ, Jag. Get a fucking hold of yourself before you do something stupid.
Something like lift Miri onto one of the countertops, flip that short dress up, tear her panties off, and fuck her right here in the garage—hard, dirty, and fast. I groaned as my imagination ran wild with all of the possibilities. My thoughts were so goddamn filthy, I had to lean against the cabinet and imagine some of the most gory, horrific shit I’d seen and done just to get my cock down to half-mast. I breathed slowly through my nose and managed to grab the kit and walk back to Miri without growling and claiming her as mine. She was mine. My property. My fiery temptress. My broken doll.
Those were the types of fantasies that dominated my mind lately. The fantasies I didn’t want to have yet loved every single second of them. Miri was all I could think about, and it was getting out of goddamn control to the point of obsessive. That was why I was avoiding her. I knew I had obsessive tendencies, but normally only toward clothes, organization, and cleanliness. I never obsessed over another human being. Well, if you don’t count getting revenge on the bastard who killed my sister. I was pretty obsessed with him at the time. Hell, I still haven’t let it go.
Focus. Miri is bleeding.
I blew out a long breath and approached Miri. She was propped against the sink, head down and biting on her lower lip as if she were a child caught doing something naughty and waiting for her punishment. I swallowed a groan. I’d be happy to spank that pale ass red if punishment was what she wanted. Fuck. Miri. Injury. Bleeding. After placing the kit on the counter and opening it, I gently took her hand and inspected her finger, ignoring my aching cock as it strained against tight denim.
“The cut isn’t deep. A Band-Aid will do.”
“Okay.” Miri’s voice was soft and wavering.
