Dangerously Broken

by Eden Bradley

  Her face suddenly sobered. “What are you saying, Jamie?”

  He wondered if she could hear his heart hammering, his pulse racing in his veins, causing a roar in his ears, inside his head.

  “What I’m saying is that I want all kinds of things with you. I want to hang out with Mick and Allie. I want to get in my ’Vette and take a road trip, maybe go down to the Florida Keys and lounge on the beach. I want to go to the zoo with you.”

  “The zoo? I love the zoo.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  “I’m kinda liking this scenario. What else?”

  “I want us to talk to each other like we have a future together, and not just like we’re making plans for the next time we’ll see each other. I want us not to date or play with anyone else, and not just for health reasons. I want it to be about us, because we both want it. I want it to mean something. Because it already does.” He grabbed her shoulders and leaned down so he could look into her face—he felt like he had to. “I want it all because I love you, Summer Grace.”

  “Oh, Jamie!” she said, and burst into tears.

  “Wh—” His throat went tight with anxiety and he swallowed. “Sweetheart, what is it? Is it too soon to tell you that? Baby, what’s wrong? Fuck. Forgive me. Maybe I should have waited. Just . . .” He’d never felt so lost in his life. “Just tell me what the problem is.”

  “The problem is nothing!” She sniffed, but she let the tears course down her flushed cheeks. “The problem is that I was going to tell you the same thing. Because I’ve been in love with you forever. And I really never thought I’d hear those words from you.”

  He kissed her, just pulled her in tight and crushed his mouth to hers. Then he pulled back, peering into her face to make sure this was real. That she was real. But she was—real enough that she grabbed his cheeks and demanded another kiss. When their lips broke apart they stayed there for several long moments, their foreheads pressed together until he realized something.

  “Summer Grace. Do you love me?” he asked.

  “Of course I love you. Seriously, Jamie?”

  “Serious as a hand grenade.”

  She shook her head. “You are one dangerous man to mention a hand grenade in almost the same breath in which you tell me you love me for the first time.”

  “Well, to be accurate, it was actually in the same breath in which you told me you loved me for the first time.”

  “This is true.”

  “I do love to be right.”

  She laughed. “You’re the second person who’s said that to me this week. Wonder what it means?” Looping her arms around his waist, she buried her cheek against his chest.

  He wrapped a hand up in her hair and held her there. “Maybe it means you hang out with unbelievable egomaniacs?”

  “Probably,” she said, her voice muffled. “Must be the masochist in me.”

  All he could do was shake his head. Then all he could do was kiss her, there in her little garden, under the dark Louisiana sky, with the stars shining down on them like coins of good fortune. He felt that good fortune down to his bones. Which also kicked off the old tapes in his head that were trying to tell him the sky was falling. But for now his girl loved him. For now he had Summer Grace—in his arms, in his life. And he planned to spend the foreseeable future drinking that in, maybe even until he was whole again.

  CHAPTER

  Eleven

  IT HAD BEEN seventeen days—not that Summer had been counting or anything—since Jamie told her he loved her, and she was still flying. Things had been more amazing than ever between them. The sex, the kink, and every simple and complicated moment in between. They’d been to the zoo and it had been one of the most romantic days they’d had together. And tonight they were having dinner with Mick, Allie and Duff before everyone headed to The Bastille for a special burlesque performance, followed by a night of play.

  Before she’d met Jamie’s hulking cousin, she might have thought it would be uncomfortable being at the club with him there, but despite his gruff exterior and his unarguably Dominant ways, she felt incredibly comfortable with Duff. She’d been bringing the guys lunch on her days off, and sometimes dinner at the end of the day while they worked on getting the new half of the shop pulled together, and she and Duff had had the opportunity to get to know each other. It seemed important, and he was coming to feel like a big brother to her.

  Jamie was working harder than ever, but they still found ways to make every moment count. He was at her cozy little house almost every night, and she loved waking up in his arms in the morning. It was those quiet moments she loved most—when the sun was rising and the whole world was just coming alive. But tonight was going to be fun—their first big social night in a while.

  They’d decided to meet at Muriel’s, despite the fact that it was just off Jackson Square in the heart of the busy tourist district. But the food was some of the best Creole fare to be found in the city, and Allie and Summer were both in love with the décor: the exposed brick walls, the sheer curtains hanging from the high ceilings that divided the tables, even—or most especially—the Voodoo symbols all over the bathroom stall doors. It had such a New Orleans feel to it, and they’d all decided to brave the tourists packing the sidewalks in favor of a great meal in an environment that held such gritty charm.

  The cab pulled up in front of the restaurant and she and Jamie got out. He held her hand as they crossed the narrow cobblestone street.

  “You looking forward to this, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, to everything—dinner with our friends, the food, then getting to The Bastille later.”

  “It’s been too long,” he said, smiling down at her, his green eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

  “It has. I’m sure you’ll manage to make that my fault.”

  “Of course I will. All the better to punish you with,” he said, leaning in to steal a kiss. She loved the quiet threat in his voice—it always made her shiver.

  “Ach, that’s enough, you lovebirds,” Duff said. He was waiting for them at the door to the restaurant.

  “You’re just jealous,” Jamie said.

  “I am at that,” his cousin agreed before taking Summer in one of his usual bear hugs. He let her go and stepped back. “But maybe tonight my luck will change.” He wiggled his dark brows, making Summer laugh.

  “You haven’t had time to try your luck,” she protested.

  “True enough. And about time I took a night off to see if your dungeon girls are to my liking.”

  “I’m absolutely certain they will be,” Summer told him. “And Allie and Mick will be able to introduce you around. Oh—and I’m pretty sure Finn and Rosie will be at the club, too.”

  “All right, all right, enough cuddling with my girl,” Jamie said in mock irritation, pulling her gently away from Duff.

  “What? I don’t cuddle,” Duff protested.

  “Of course you don’t, cousin. Come on—let’s go see if Mick and Allie are here yet,” Jamie suggested.

  They went inside and found their friends at a long table half-hidden behind one of the sweeping chiffon drapes. It took a minute or two for everyone to say hello—Duff had already met Mick on a few of his previous trips to New Orleans, and Allie’s curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she’d dropped by the shop the week before. It was a comfortable group, and they lingered over their meal. As the men’s discussion of vintage motorcycles hit the second hour of the night, it left Allie to nudge Summer about her relationship with Jamie.

  “So, how are things with you two?”

  Summer knew she was beaming. “Amazing.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Have you two talked about the future? Moving in together or anything?”

  “I don’t know. He’s with me almost every night anyway. And he and Duff have the new business to th
ink about. Anyway, we’ve only been seeing each other for a month and a half.”

  “You’ve known each other forever. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah. But the dating part, the being a couple part, is still relatively new.”

  Allie lowered her voice. “But there’s a commitment, right? Since I’ve been traveling with Mick off and on the last few weeks we haven’t really had a chance to talk, and I have to know.” She grinned. “I’m sorry, hon, but Rosie and I have been dying. You’ve been so busy with him we haven’t heard anything, and of course Mick isn’t saying a damn thing, if he even knows. That ‘bromance’ pact of silence.”

  Summer couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, there’s commitment. We don’t see anyone else, even play with anyone else, while we figure this thing out.”

  “It seems to me there isn’t much to figure out. And I’m rarely wrong about these things.”

  “Jesus. What is it with everyone being right lately?”

  Allie shrugged and tucked a small piece of bread in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “It is what it is, hon. And in this city, you’d do best not to ignore the signs.”

  Summer bit her lip. “Maybe. It can be a little scary if I think about it too much, though. Like I’ll . . . jinx it or something.”

  Allie rubbed her hand over Summer’s back. “Aw, I’m sorry, honey. I’ll shut up now. Let’s just enjoy our night out. I’m looking forward to the burlesque troupe they’re having at the club tonight.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed.

  But her own words were sticking in her mind, making her roll and unroll the napkin in her hands beneath the table. She’d been ignoring the small fear in the back of her mind that she really could jinx the wonderful thing happening between her and Jamie. It was stupid, she knew, but she couldn’t quite shake the thought. And the closer they got, the more there was to lose. Anytime she wasn’t with him or staying too busy to think, the fear came creeping over her. Her only comfort in those times was going out to her garden and digging in the earth—and oddly, the aloof Madame had recently taken to curling up next to her on the sofa or the bed and letting Summer pet her. Stroking the old cat’s fur was soothing, whether she was stressing or not. Not that she really needed to be soothed. Did she?

  She gave herself a mental shake as she reached for Jamie’s hand. He paused in his conversation to glance at her, to bring her hand to his lips and brush a kiss across her fingers.

  Tonight was not the time to worry over silliness. Allie was right. They had a wonderful evening ahead, and she planned to enjoy every moment of it.

  Just in case . . .

  * * *

  THE BASTILLE WAS busy when they arrived—everyone had come out for the burlesque show that was about to begin. Summer stood between Jamie and Duff, which always felt as if she had a pair of bodyguards with her. She had to admit she sort of loved it.

  The lighting in the dungeon tonight was more red than amber, with a spotlight on the stage at the back of the main room. The music started, and from offstage came a saucy, rich alto voice singing “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” The headliner strutted out in her gorgeous finery, followed by eight backup girls, and the performance began. There were cheers and whistles from the crowd, and Summer lost herself in the show as they sang and danced and peeled their way through four more sultry songs. When it was over Jamie grabbed her hand and their group found an empty social area with three couches. A few moments later they were joined by Finn—a towering blond Aussie who was as tall as Duff and even more packed with muscle—and Summer and Allie’s friend Rosie, a dark-haired, heavily tattooed beauty. The guys set down their play bags—all of them black duffels—and she, Rosie and Allie sat down, followed by the men. She was discussing the burlesque performer’s gorgeous costumes with the other girls when Duff let out a low whistle.

  “That stunning bit is exactly my type,” he said, nodding his chin.

  They all followed the direction of his gaze to a lovely woman whose smooth caramel shoulders were bared above the black satin corset and tight black pencil skirt that showed off her curves. Her dark, curling hair was piled high on her head, and with her back to them, Summer could see the vertical line of heavy Tibetan script tattooed down the back of her neck and disappearing beneath the edge of her corset.

  “I don’t think so, cousin,” Jamie said.

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  “No way, Duff. That’s Layla,” Rosie said. “She’s a Domme.”

  “So she thinks,” he said.

  “You’d be in trouble with her,” Finn told him cheerfully. “Pure Top, and a wicked sadist, too. Never seen her bottom.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Duff responded, narrowing his gaze in Layla’s direction.

  Summer watched as Layla turned around and her gaze met Duff’s. She stopped what she was doing and stood there for several moments, blinking. Then her features went hard as she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, her green eyes blazing from across the room, and Duff grinned.

  “Challenge accepted,” he murmured.

  Mick shook his head. “That won’t be a challenge—it’ll be a fucking battle.”

  “What is she, some raving bitch? I don’t see that in her at all. Oh, she’s hard enough on the outside, and I like it. But bitch? No.”

  “She’s a sweetheart,” Allie put in. “But being a female Dominant, some of the male Doms give her a pretty hard time. She’s got her defenses up. Anyway, more than one good Dom has tried to get her to bottom for them, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

  Summer nodded her agreement. “I like Layla—I’ve talked to her in the women’s changing room a few times, but as sweet as she can be she has plenty of salt, too. I don’t think I’d try it if I were you, Duff.”

  His grin spread, and from the corner of her eye Summer swore she saw Layla flinch. “Luckily you’re not me, sweet Summer Grace. And lucky for Layla, too.”

  Jamie groaned. “Okay. But it’s your funeral, cousin. Just don’t come crying to me when she hands you your toys and tells you to go home.”

  “Ha! Not likely.”

  Mick shook his head once more. “All right, kids, I’ve had enough of your charming company. Now I need to take my girl and test out my new jute rope on her.” He slipped an arm around Allie’s waist and they got up.

  Allie bent to give Rosie and Summer a quick hug, a happy smile on her lips. “I’ll see you two later?”

  “Of course,” Rosie said. “Anyway, you have a tattoo appointment with me at Midnight Ink on Sunday.”

  Allie beamed. “I wouldn’t forget—I’m so excited!”

  “Tattoos later—right now my rope is calling,” Mick said, and Allie took his offered hand.

  “We’re out, too,” Finn said, pulling the tiny Rosie to her feet then throwing her over his shoulder. Rosie yelped and pounded on his back.

  “Like a flea, my beautiful girl,” Finn said, smacking her ass. “Apparently my girl here needs a little lesson in humility. ’Night, all.”

  As he carried her off Summer could hear her muttering, “Goddamn it, Finn. You and your fucking caveman act.”

  “Which you love,” he said, smacking her ass again.

  Rosie giggled as he carried her away.

  “You’ll be fine on your own?” Jamie asked his cousin.

  “Sure I will be,” Duff answered, his eye still on the beautiful Creole woman across the room, who was ignoring his glances, bent over her own toy bag.

  “I’ll order the coffin, just to make sure I’m prepared,” Jamie said.

  Duff chuckled. “You do that, cousin.”

  Jamie offered his hand to Summer, helping her to her feet, and immediately her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

  They hadn’t gone far when he yanked her into his side and whispered in her ear, “Time to se
e how much heat you can take, sweetheart.”

  “Wh . . . what?” she stammered.

  “Hot wax, sugar. And it will be very hot. Extra hot for my extra-hot girl.”

  He kept his arm around her and his hand gripped her waist, his fingers digging in, making her feel owned. Making her head sink into subspace even as they maneuvered their way through the crowded club. And as her mind sank, her limbs going warm and loose, the people faded away and the world narrowed into a pinpoint bubble where only she and Jamie existed—them and the throbbing beat of the music, which was some dark, edgy metal with a hard drum line that reverberated in her belly, in the blood pounding through her veins. It was perfect for the mood Jamie had already set with those few frightening words—frightening in the best way possible.

  He guided her into one of the hallways off the main play space, where she knew some of the club’s theme rooms were. He paused in front of the open doorway to the medical room, and Summer shuddered as she looked in on the old dentist’s chair, the padded table with the shining chrome stirrups, the white walls that seemed more intimidating than the sleek black and red walls found elsewhere at The Bastille.

  “Hmm, fascinating, isn’t it?” Jamie murmured. When she instinctively started to pull out of his grasp, to back away, he only held on tighter. Leaning in, he whispered, “Scary as hell, this room, huh, sweetheart?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not taking you in there. But . . . never mind that first part—you still have plenty to worry about.”

  “Fuck, Jamie.”

  He only chuckled in answer as he led her past the dreaded medical room to the one next door, and they stepped inside. The walls were painted a deep red, which seemed oddly comforting and threatening all at the same time. There was a long table padded in red vinyl in the center of the room, and a heavily carved wooden table—probably an old Spanish piece—against one wall. A few red leather chairs and a double-wide lounge chair piled with pillows filled the space, and dim lamps glowed with a golden light from sconces on the walls.