Two Weeks and a Day (Finn's Pub Romance 2)

“That’s about stealing cars. The other one.”

“Con Air?”

Austen chuckles. “A plane full of criminals that’s basically a poor man’s remake of Die Hard? Sure. That’s exactly what this is like.”

Royal looks momentarily dazzled. “I knew you’d like Die Hard.”

Brendan made a sound of frustration. “No, it’s the other one. He’s—”

“National Treasure,” I say a little louder than I intended, because honestly this could take all night.

“Yes,” Royal and Brendan shout simultaneously, sending me matching looks of gratitude and pointing like I just scored a touchdown.

Austen smiles up at Royal “I didn’t realize you were such a movie buff.”

“We’re not,” Brendan answers for him. “But you’d be surprised how many Nicholas Cage movies play on international flights. There’s no escaping it. Kind of like this room.”

I’m the one who figured it out, but saying that out loud would ruin their moment and draw too much attention my way. Besides, I think wandering around to keep Brendan at a distance has had some advantages. Like discovering our ticket out of here. “Hey Austen? What time does that watch have?”

“One seventeen exactly,” Austen says, joining me beside the bookcase I’m studying. “Why?”

There’s a mantel clock on the center shelf. It’s topped with a small bronze figure of Benjamin Franklin, and the glass covering is lying beside it, almost like an invitation. Taking a chance, I move the hands to one-seventeen and we all hear a loud, whirring click before the bookshelf opens to reveal a hidden room.

“You did it!” Austen hugs me quickly and then she’s racing around me to explore the new area.

Not the way out then. Just another locked room.

Help?

Royal ducks his head beneath the smaller door to follow her, and before I can join them, Brendan’s arms slip around me, pulling me back against his chest. “Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

Not if I can help it, I want to shout, but I know that’s unrealistic and childish. “I’m talking to you now.”

“Miller.”

I sigh. “Of course I am. But maybe now is not the right time for this particular topic?”

“They’re playing with electricity,” he murmurs against my temple. “And it’s never going to be the right time if you keep avoiding me.”

I lean back, my body reacting to his nearness the way I knew it would. I never realized how hungry I was for this kind of affection. “I’m not avoiding you.”

His laugh is like a dirty secret in my ear. “Liar. Ever since I jumped you in the bedroom, you’ve been giving me the silent treatment.” He hesitates. “If I stepped over the line and you want me to leave the house, just tell me. I’ll never make you do something you’re not comfortable with. I hope that you know that.”

“No.” I turn around in his arms and tug him away from the open door. “I mean, yes I know that, and I don’t want you to leave. But can you blame me for freaking out? You show up after months of no contact and start acting like—like you—”

“Like I want you?” Brendan’s dark eyes glitter as they stare down at my lips. “It’s not an act, Miller. The question I stupidly thought I knew the answer to is, do you want me?”

Don’t answer that. It’s a trap.

My fingers are digging into his hips, but I’m not sure if it’s to pull him closer or keep him at a safe distance. “Six years, Brendan. You’ve never wanted me before. Something like that doesn’t change overnight.”

A dark thought crosses my mind and every muscle in my body tightens, preparing for a blow or the wrong answer. “This isn’t about the Robbie thing again, is it? Do you feel so bad about me not getting laid that you’re trying to make up for it? Because that would be seriously fucked up.”

I know I’m wrong the instant the surprise in his expression turns to anger. He walks me back into the wall and reaches for my hand, forcing it between us to cup him through his jeans.

Despite my surprise, my hand instinctively flexes around the hard, hot length of him and he grits his teeth, leaning into my touch.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s working,” he rasps. “I may not be going about this the right way—the slow, methodical, romantic way—but I refuse to believe you don’t know me well enough to realize the last thing I’m thinking about when I’m touching you is that asshole who didn’t deserve to breathe your air.”

The possessiveness in his gaze makes me gasp. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Isn’t wanting you this much enough?” He lowers his head to bite down gently on my chin. “Tell me I’m not wrong. Tell me you want me back.”

“You know I do.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief that makes me shiver. “We can be so good together, Millie. I can show you. I just need to get you alone and willing for a long enough period of time to prove it to you.”