Chapter Eleven

Fallon looked up at the handsome man who seemed hell bent on getting her attention. “What, Detective?” she asked.

Intense gray eyes stared at her. Smears of drying mud streaked his face and clothes and yet he looked delicious. The mist highlighted his dark hair so it shone and sparkled in the fading light. The cold caused a healthy flush to his skin. The man still wore a short-sleeved shirt and the cuffs hugged his biceps like a lover. Fallon wanted to shift her body as wetness flowed between her thighs.

“A word, please.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys.” Fallon waved as they left her alone with a temptation that looked better and better each time she saw him. “What do you want?”

“I was just wondering how you were doing? I haven’t seen you since...that night.”

It had been four days since Fallon had seen him. She was touched by his concern, and flattered.

“What are you trying to do? Find out what I’ve learned?”

His eyes narrowed before a grin filled his face. “Nope, I want to piss off your brothers.”

That was intriguing.

Hands on hips, she asked, “How are you going to do that?”

His gaze scorched her body, and made her believe she was near the equator instead of winter in the Pac Norwest. Heat filled his eyes until they swirled like molten mercury. Ian pulled her into his embrace and covered her mouth with his. Like a storm, he swept through her mouth. One arm wound around her as he bent her back, never once ceasing his dominating sweeps.

Oh shit! I want him.

Her nerves were a jumbled mess. There was an insistent throb between her legs that almost made her lose control of her limbs. Fingers curled into her palms as she struggled not to wrap her arms around him.

Ian broke the kiss. He stared into her eyes. “That ought to do it.” He stood her upright and dropped his arm. “Have a great night.” Then he winked, saluted her with two fingers, and walked away to grab his jacket off a bench.

Fallon couldn’t stop the amused chuckle that burst from her. She had to admit it, he had balls.

“What the hell was that about?” Clay thundered. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

One shoulder lifted as she turned away from a retreating Ian. “He said something about wanting to piss you off.”

“Well it worked,” Clay rumbled as he glared after Ian.

***

Ian stepped into his shower with the grin still on his face. It may not have worked out exactly how he planned it. Fallon’s soft lips were so enticing, he had to kiss her. He had to force himself to stop before he screwed her in front of her family and friends, right there in the mud.

He braced his hands on the wall of his shower and allowed the hot water to ease his sore muscles and wash away the grime. When he felt better, Ian climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. A quick towel to his head and Ian padded to his bedroom.

Something was wrong.

Ian couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was definitely abnormal. Grabbing his Glock from its holster, he carefully crept up the hallway to his living room.

He heard his music, but still he didn’t let his guard down. Slow measured steps took him up to the end of the short corridor.

Ian didn’t see anything and he crept toward the kitchen. Nothing. The back of his neck prickled and he spun around, gun ready to fire.

It almost fell from his fingers. Sitting on a chair in the corner, beautiful in the glow from the lamp near her, sat Fallon Maddox.

How the hell did she get in here without me knowing it?

Ian flipped the safety on his gun. His throat grew dry as his cock grew harder. He lowered his gun to attempt to hide his growing erection.

A grin flickered across her face. She crossed her legs before picking at something on her cargo pants. “Never figured you for a classical music kind of guy.”

“What are you doing in here?”

She placed her hands on the armrests. “I believe ‘good evening’ is what one says in polite company.”

“And breaking and entering puts you in polite company?”

“Well, you told me you were raised well.” Fallon held his gaze, apparently undeterred by his mood.

“I could have shot you.” He put his gun down on the coffee table before striding over to her. “It was a foolish thing to break into my house.” His gut churned as she shrugged it away. “Fallon, I mean it.”

“Fallon, I mean it,” she mimicked. “Look here, Detective. I wasn’t looking for a father. And from the tent in your towel, you aren’t thinking like one. So let’s cut the protective crap.”

Ian refused to glance down at the erection he knew he had. “I never hid my attraction to you.”

“Not hiding it now, either.” Her gaze traveled over him. The light was low, but he was sure he witnessed desire and lust in it.

Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Ian demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“Am I making you nervous, Detective Cavanaugh?”

Hell yes! Ian swallowed hard as her teasing words sent spirals of pleasure through him. “Fallon,” he growled. “Tell me.”

A husky chuckle trickled from her. “How long have you been a detective? I thought it would be clear what I was doing here.” She stood up. “I want you.”

Ian’s body shivered at those words. His heart rate sped up, his palms grew damp, and his cock throbbed. Immediately he closed the distance between them, his hands clasping her upper arms, holding her against him. A sultry look filled her face.

“Make sure you know what you’re saying, Fallon.”

“I don’t have a stutter, Detective.” She slid her arms up his bare chest, fingers slipping through his chest hair.

“Mine, Fallon. You’re mine,” Ian vowed as he thrust his hips forward and lowered his mouth over hers.

***

Fallon reached up and kissed the man holding her. His substantial erection prodded her belly. The feel of his warm, hard, almost naked body made her even more wet and ready.

He smelled so crisp and clean. Pure male. Her pussy pulsed with anticipation.

It had been a spur of the moment idea for her to go to his house. She still couldn’t fully explain it. But after that kiss at the football field, she knew he was an overwhelming distraction and that she had to get him out of her system. So she came here and broke in.

When he had appeared brandishing the gun, she had wanted to drool. The man looked so hot and sexy wearing only a towel and carrying his gun. Like sculpted marble, his body was even more impressive without clothes. His moves were powerful and athletic. She ogled the muscles in his arms, the stunning pectorals, and his eight pack abdominals. Men were not supposed to be beautiful, but the one before her—wrapped in a dark gray towel—was.

Handsome, beautiful, dangerous, mouthwatering, and a whole bunch of other things.

They explored each other’s mouths, bodies pressed tightly against one another. Fallon’s insides rollercoastered as Ian’s hands moved over her. He slid one hand up under her shirt. Each touch of his callused palm on her skin sent waves of current through her. She laced her fingers behind his head as his second hand joined the first under her top.

“Your skin is like silk,” he murmured in her ear, before tracing the outer edge with his tongue.

She could feel the wetness begin to run down her inner thigh. His mouth moved down her jaw and along her neck. He licked, nibbled, and sucked until her eyes were rolling back.

I am going to die. He hasn’t even moved his hands yet.

Ian held her around the waist, strong fingers splayed over her ribcage. Her breasts ached for his touch.

That ain’t the only thing, girl. This man has started a fire in you unlike any other. As if she didn’t know that.

Fallon arched against him. Her head dropped back to allow better access for his wicked mouth. The stubble on his face stung as he rubbed against her sensitive skin. He nuzzled behind one ear before he bit her gently. She trembled as her nerves grew tighter. Release was what she needed. His touch. His kisses. Him.

Ian dropped a hand from her waist, only to sweep her up into his arms and carry her. She smiled at the possessive edge to his gaze as they entered his lit bedroom.

“Undress.” He issued the command as he placed her on her feet.

The intensity and palpable lust in his gaze sent her insides on yet another ride. I’m surprised there isn’t a damn puddle at my feet. She took another hungry look at his body. Damp hair, amazing chest, strong legs, and one impressive tent in the only thing he wore. A towel as gray as his eyes.

His brow arched. With impatience or challenge, she didn’t know.

Fallon brought her fingers up to the dark khaki, button down and unfastened the top button. As if there was all the time in the world, she slowly slipped each pearled khaki button through its hole, watching him the entire time. The clenching of his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, his hands balling into fists, all of it made her experience a sense of power unlike any before. The fact she could turn this tall, strong, handsome detective into a lusting man, was a heady aphrodisiac. As she undid the last button, he licked his lips and moved his gaze to her breasts as if unwrapping a gift he was anxious to see. Fallon rolled her shoulders and shed the shirt, allowing it to fall in a pile behind her.

Ian’s loud groan filled the room.