Dangerous Beauty: Part Four: Beautifully Broken

by Michelle Hardin

  Frowning disapprovingly, she shook her head. He knew better than to do that. That had been Reanna’s only rule.

  He quickly explained himself though, his hand tightening at her waist as he did. “Only on the days when I missed you the most, babe. And you have to understand, I took our break up really hard.”

  Reanna softened toward him, then nodded her head. “I took it hard, too.” Pretty much fell into a depression, convinced herself that she’d never love again … and that she’d die an old spinster surrounded by a hundred adoring cats and one colorful bird named Fruit Loop.

  “And I remember that I’d journeyed to the Infopedia site because I knew they always updated the small part about you and your sister, and to my surprise, your name was lit up.” He smiled. “When I put my cursor to it a big picture of you popped up, so I clicked on it. You had your own page, Reanna, with all these accomplishments listed, and it had only been two years.”

  Reanna laughed softly. Yes, it was true. She had an Infopedia page now. What could she say; she’d risen to the top fast.

  “When I left you were just an apprentice for a photographer.” He shook his head. “I had never been more proud in my life, babe. I’m so serious. I was proud,” his eyes fell to her lips, “and I was turned on.”

  This was one of those times when Reanna thanked God that Braden couldn’t see her blush.

  “I was so … awed by you, I still am.” The slow kiss that followed his words sent a small wave of pleasure rippling slowly through her body.

  It felt so nice.

  She felt him inhale a breath against her lips before he whispered, “How could I not still love a woman so amazing, so perfect?”

  She wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t hate him for thinking she was … well, at least not in this moment she didn’t.

  Cupping the back of his head before he could pull away, Reanna arched upward, and kissed him hard. She didn’t want to talk anymore, there was no need to. He’d gotten her—consider her thoroughly convinced of his heart’s genuine love for her. Now, she wanted him. Not only that, but she needed to feel his closeness, his touch, anything that would take her mind off of everything and everyone but him.

  Though he began to pull back a bit, probably to say something else, Reanna’s insistence eventually made him forget whatever it was that he was going to say. She closed her eyes, trying her best to become lost, and trying even harder to force herself to say the two words that would possibly set her free.

  Come in …

  That was all she had to say to him. If she said that, then maybe she and Braden really would be starting over, working toward something real again. All she had to do was say it. Say the words, Reanna.

  Pulling back from him abruptly, Reanna looked into his hazy, passion-filled eyes. “Braden,” she breathed, finally feeling comfortable enough to say her next words, “I want you to—”

  The words had been right on the tip of her tongue. Come in … But she couldn’t say them.

  “Want me to what, babe?”

  The hopeful light in his eyes dimmed almost immediately after Reanna pulled back from him even more, gave his chest a light pat, and finished her sentence with, “Have a good night.”

  ~*~

  Reanna stepped out of her beautiful, big bathtub with a satisfied smile dancing on her lips. There was honestly nothing better than having a nice hot bubble bath after a long day of dealing with a horny ex, mixed emotions, and chronic separation anxiety. It relaxed her immensely … well, that and the three glasses of wine she’d just consumed in their entirety.

  Either way, a nice long soak, and three extra-large glasses of wine, could leave a woman feeling both relaxed, and a little tipsy.

  Sighing happily, she looked around her big, empty, beautiful bathroom, admiring how lovely it was to be in her home, alone, spending time with her expensive bathtub.

  When she’d first bought this house for herself, her sister, and Ronaldo she’d pulled rank as the richest person in the family, and had stolen this bedroom for herself because of the bathroom and tub. And this wasn’t just any tub either, it was freaking incredible. The perfect size to more than accommodate all of her voluptuous sexiness. Hell, she could even fit another person in there with her if she liked.

  No wait, not another person. She definitely didn’t want that. Other people were too complicated, and complicated wasn’t allowed in her magical, happy place tub. And neither were stupid boys.

  Reaching over to her small towel rack, Reanna grabbed her oversized towel, chuckling lightly at her own words. She wrapped it snugly around her body. He-he, stupid boys.

  Boys were stupid, weren’t they? Stupid, and tall … with big muscles, black hair, wicked crooked smiles, sexy sky blue eyes, and drop dead, gorgeous, navy blue Armani suits that made Reanna’s mouth water every time she pictured him in it. Mmm … God, he’s sexier than the male models I take pictures of on a daily basis.

  Reanna paused, suddenly realizing where her thoughts had gone.

  Dammit!

  How did he do that? God this was so frustrating. Wasn’t booze supposed to make a person stop thinking? Reanna had no interest in tipsy thoughts of Kyle’s sexy, stupid body that he was most likely giving to Aniyah.

  Ugh! That thought made her stomach turn. What if that was what he was doing right now?

  It was the weekend, a Friday night, and only about eleven o’clock, which meant for exciting people like her sister, Ronaldo, Kyle, and Aniyah, the night was just getting started. Everyone was out, living free and being young, sexy, wild, and where was she? Home. Being a fatty, eating every piece of chocolate in her stash, and thinking about a man that was most likely at his girlfriend’s place having fantastic beautiful people sex.

  Dropping her head forward, Reanna pouted softly. This is such bullshit, she thought, walking over to the sink to stare at herself in the mirror. She slapped her hands to the surface of the tan marble counter dramatically, then stared at her reflection in anguish.

  Screw Kyle, dammit! Reanna could be beautiful, too. Maybe not Aniyah beautiful, but those were impossible standards to live up to. She was too busy—she ran a business, and was constantly on the run in the mornings, so she didn’t have time to do all that shit to her face. And Reanna hated—and she meant hated—wearing tight clothes. Even earlier tonight on her date, instead of wearing the tight little black dress Ronaldo had picked out for her, Reanna had instead made a huge production of throwing that skanky piece of crap in the trash, then pulled one of the sexy little shift dresses Carter had picked out for her on their last shopping trip, and worn that. The shift dress was airy, it showed a ton of leg, and with the right pair of pumps, Reanna had walked out of the damn house looking like a long-legged super model.

  That was Reanna’s version of sexy, and it was better. She swore it was better than Aniyah’s. Reanna cared about Aniyah and all, but … she liked herself better than she liked her. So why the hell didn’t Kyle?

  “Jesus Christ, Reanna!” she yelled at herself, pointing at her reflection. “Stop thinking about him!”

  But she couldn’t. When Braden wasn’t around, and when she wasn’t working, and, apparently, when she was a little tipsy, she had no distraction keeping her from getting lost in constant thoughts of Kyle. She had no one to keep her from thinking about how much she missed him, how much she wished she could hear his voice, hear him laugh, see that gorgeous smile of his. There was no one around to keep her from acknowledging him as her favorite person … or her best friend, or how stupid this idea of keeping her distance from him was beginning to feel.

  Sighing dejectedly, she looked away from her reflection, uninterested in seeing the sadness that was so obviously evident on her face. Okay, this was beginning to get depressing. Now she was just torturing her—

  Reanna’s thoughts cut off with a start as her head shot up when the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house … Yes, the doorbell. Someone just rang it at eleven p.m. at night, on a Friday.

 
“Umm … why?” she asked her empty home, then flinched when the doorbell rang again.

  She frowned. Who the hell could that be? She knew Tamara and Ronaldo were in Manhattan for their Friday night party hop, and all of her other friends were at home with their families, or out partying, too. So who in the world could possibly be at her door this late?

  As soon as she asked herself the question, it was as if a light bulb flipped on in her head.

  She smiled wide. “Braden …”

  It was Braden. That was the only person Reanna could think of that would be ringing her doorbell this late at night.

  She ran to her bedroom door just long enough to stick her head out and tell him she was coming. Thank God her bedroom was on the first floor, or else she was sure he wouldn’t have heard her, and she didn’t want him to leave, thinking she was asleep or something.

  Reanna knew she’d sent him home earlier, thinking that it was best that they separate for the rest of the evening, but secretly, because of the direction her thoughts had been taking in her lonely state, she was actually happy his horny ass came back. They weren’t going to have sex—she still wasn’t ready for that—but she was kind of in desperate need of good company, and Braden was that and more. Maybe they could spend the night talking … or better yet, making out like overly-infatuated teenagers. That seemed like safe territory.

  Reanna scrambled around her room searching for her sexiest nightgown. Just because they weren’t having sex didn’t mean she shouldn’t look nice for him. After all, in her opinion, wearing something sexy during an all-night make-out spree was a must. She was abstaining from sex for the time being, yes, but she still wanted him to leave in the morning with dirty thoughts of her in a little nighty, dancing around in his gorgeous blond head. The thought alone made her laugh at herself for her ridiculous need to be desired by him. But every woman wanted that, to be desired by the man that they were dating.

  She needed something memorable, too—something that would pop into his head every time he thought of her throughout his day. Except when he was saving lives, of course. In those times, he didn’t have to think about her. She wouldn’t want images of her irresistibly sexy thickness putting anyone’s life in danger.

  She chuckled again, this time at her silly desire to be his wet dream even though she had mercilessly taken sex off of the table for them, for now. But she couldn’t help her desire. She knew she was hot when she wanted to be. Though the plainness of her looks was nothing to want featured on the front of magazines, like the women she took pictures of on a daily basis, Reanna had her moments. She looked good, when she felt good. Just like every other woman in the world.

  It had only taken her about five minutes to find the perfect set. It was a short, silk, navy blue chemise, that ended an inch below mid-thigh, and had enticing little slits going up each side and white lace going across the neckline and over the hem at her thighs; it also came with a cute little matching robe. She’d bought the little number on an outing with her girls a few weeks back, and she’d been so convinced she’d never have a chance to wear it. But now, here she was, standing in front of her mirror, running her hands over her curvy hips, trying to decide whether or not she should wear a bra.

  It was a hard decision.

  She looked good with or without one, so it really didn’t matter. She supposed it was all based on where she wanted Braden’s focus tonight. Though she wished it wasn’t, Braden’s initial move when things got hot between them was to slip his greedy hands directly between her legs, and that left her breasts high and dry—which sucked because her nipples were extremely sensitive whenever she was thoroughly aroused. Seriously, the right type of friction equaled instant orgasm for her. Maybe not wearing a bra would draw his attention to her breasts, then she wouldn’t have to worry about anything going too far. Plus, she would get the pleasurable, safe zone attention she craved after four long years of having all work and no man.

  Nodding at her genius, Reanna quickly removed the bra she’d put on, then admired herself in the mirror once more. The set was perfect. Sensual, but not too provocative. Just modestly sensual, like her. Not too loud, and a little sweet …

  The doorbell rang again; this time going off twice.

  “I’m coming!” she shouted, then darted over to her dresser and snatched up her lotion. “Gotta hurry.”

  She quickly massaged her two favorite lotions on every part of her body until they no longer showed white on her skin, then ran to the bathroom once more to put a little oil on her wild curls. Once she finished, she ran from the bathroom and stopped at her full-length mirror to give herself one last once over, making sure her skin was smooth, and her hair looked as if she’d just gotten out of bed … in the sexiest way possible of course. Then, after grabbing her little robe, she strutted out of her bedroom, feeling confident and irresistible.

  Making her way to the door, Reanna only stopped to set out a bottle of wine and two glasses, then went straight to the front door, holding onto the knob as she gave her hair a quick ‘conditioner commercial’ shake.

  Taking a deep breath, she gripped the knob. “Act natural, Rea.” She let her robe slide down one shoulder, then opened the door with her best smile, ready to blow away Dr. Harrison with all her voluptuous sexiness. “What do you think you’re doing here—”

  Her words cut off with an abrupt gasp the second her now widened eyes locked with the intense pair of sky blue eyes.

  Not Braden.

  The words flashed through her head as she stood in the door motionless, her heart pounding and her mouth agape.

  Holy shit. Kyle.

  In all his freaking giant, sexy, disheveled looking glory. Who the hell was standing in front of her right now? It looked like Kyle, yes, but there was no way it was him. This man was too … messy. And not at all in a bad way.

  The man standing in front of her was far from the well put together businessman Reanna remembered from just a couple weeks ago. No. The man in front of her looked not just tired, but sexy tired. His suit, which was normally always straightened to perfection, was unkempt. The jacket was open, the top four buttons of his shirt were loose, his tie was hanging around his neck as if he’d just attempted to take it off, and the belt that he usually wore with his suit pants was nowhere to be seen. Then there were his eyes. He looked chronically sleepy, but instead of bags forming under his eyes like a normal human being, he had even sexier bedroom eyes than he had when he was wide awake. His pitch black hair was a bit longer than he normally kept it now, messy even, and it fell into his blue, bedroom eyes in the most gorgeous of ways. He looked like a classic bad boy. One Reanna would imagine came out of a scandalous romance novel. And the shadow of a beard covering his normally clean-shaven face only made his ‘badass’ look even hotter than it already was.

  What was he doing here, at her house? He’d never done this before, come to her; it was always the other way around. He’d call her and she’d come to where he was. This was weird, different, and a little confusing. Reanna was kind of at a loss for words.

  Unable to think of anything to say, she lifted her eyes from his clothes, hoping to nonverbally communicate her confusion. But to her surprise, when her eyes lifted, she found that Kyle’s eyes and focus were elsewhere at the moment.

  It was like the second she noticed his smoldering stare, the second she noticed his broad shoulders rising and falling with deep steady breaths as he raked his gaze over her body, was the moment her body went into overdrive.

  She tried her best to keep a neutral expression as to not give away the effect his gaze had on her, but it was no use. She could already feel her nipples hardening, and she noticed the exact moment when he’d noticed, too, because a low grunt filled the silence between them.

  Her cheeks warmed.

  Son of a bitch. She’d forgotten what she was wearing. This was going to be a very interesting interaction.

  Quickly, she pulled her hanging robe up her shoulders and covered herself, and was reli
eved when his eyes lifted from her chemise back to her face.

  Mustering up the courage needed to push past her shyness, Reanna gave Kyle an awkward smile. “Hi,” she whispered, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking. “T-to what do I owe the pleasure …”

  Chapter 9: First Date

  “Hi,” she’d whispered shyly, her voice slightly shaky. “T-to what do I owe the pleasure …”

  Kyle frowned at her shy behavior, at the clumsy way she stood in front of him holding tightly to her now closed robe, and at the way she stumbled over her words as if she were … uncomfortable in his presence; like she didn’t know him at all.

  It didn’t sit well with him.

  For hours he’d been sitting in his car, waiting for his temper to calm so that he would be able to approach her like a man after her heart rather than an enraged savage, plagued with jealousy because he’d just spent the past two hours picturing her in the arms of another man.

  But that all seemed useless now.

  And he hadn’t even been upset when he’d first come to the door either. No. He’d taken his time, he’d calmed himself down, hell, he’d even called his father and had a talk with both him and his little brother so that he wouldn’t lose his self in a jealous rage. The call had been short, but highly effective in simmering Kyle’s anger. Which was what he’d needed at the time to keep him from ordering the team of men that he was stuck with—due to his high ranking position—to brutally murder that pretty-boy fucker that spent half the night putting his fucking hands, and mouth, all over Kyle’s woman.

  His father had convinced him not to kill the man.

  “Son,” he’d sighed, when Kyle had told him what he’d wanted to do.

  Kyle had only planned on going to her house after he’d left his father’s because he hadn’t trusted that she’d answer the phone if he called. After all, she’d been avoiding him, so he felt it better that they talk face-to-face. And why not? His parents’ home was close to Pleasant View, and there was no need to go all the way back to Manhattan without stopping to see her; he had been spending the last two weeks missing her after all.