The Right To Remain Mine (11 page)

        At the time? Ha. It still seemed like a good idea to sleep with Malloy. He was one sensuous man. He knew how to touch. How to kiss. How to—

        She winced when she caught Dylan giving her a "disapproving father" look.

        "Don't take this the wrong way, but... have you completely lost your mind?"

        For a split second, she wanted to hiss at Dylan and defend Malloy. Then sanity returned and she realized tonight had most likely meant a lot more to her than it had to him. Her shoulders sagged. "Probably."

        Her friend sighed sadly. "I owe you my life for the way you helped me and Camy get together. So I'm going to give you some helpful advice. Stay as far away from Malloy as you can."

        Willow straightened, a little alarmed by Dylan's conviction. "Why?"

        "Let me put it this way. I spit on him once when he arrested me, and he knocked the shit out of me for it."

        Willow waited for him to say more, but when he didn't, she grinned. "I hate to break it to you, honey, but if you ever spit on me, I'll knock the shit out of you too."

        Dylan shook his head at her humor, but then grew serious. "All I'm saying is he could've handled the situation a little more... diplomatically."

        Willow shrugged. "If you telling me he's got a bad attitude, I already know that."

        "Then why are you sleeping with him?"

        Willow couldn't seem to touch that question. She didn't want to dwell on the answer. She gave Dylan a helpless smile and shrugged.

        He sighed. "Just watch yourself, okay?"

        Willow smiled. "Thank you for the concern. You really are an exceptional man, Dylan Taggart."

        He looked away bashfully and said, "Thanks for the food," as he tucked his wife's craving cure inside his coat.

        "Any time," Willow answered. "Say hi to Camille for me."

        "Will do." He kissed her quickly on the cheek, then turned to go, but pulled up short when he saw Deputy Malloy, now in his shirt, shoes and coat added to the jeans he was wearing before, slouched in the doorway to the living room with his arms crossed over his chest.

        The two men paused to glare at each other before Dylan walked out the back door.

~ * ~

       "You should lock that door," Raith growled as soon as Taggart left.

        Willow lifted her face to scowl at him. "Only family comes in that door. Why would I lock family out?"

"It's stupid to lock your front door and not your back."

        She didn't answer, but sent him a steady glare. Raith grew uncomfortable and shoved his hands in his pockets, figuring he'd just outstayed his welcome.

        Damn it to hell.

        "I'm going to shove off," he muttered.

        "Yeah. Bye," she said, sounding rude, as if she wanted to add, "Good riddance."

        Raith sent her a scowl. She'd been all sweet and kissy to Taggart when he'd left. And now the man she had actually slept with was going, she had to turn pissy. It irritated him. It sent him into a jealous rage. And damn, it hurt.

        "What?" he sneered. "Don't I get a farewell kiss like good ol' Taggart?" He swaggered closer to where she still sat perched on the kitchen cabinet's countertop.

        Willow dutifully leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek the same way Dylan had kissed her.

        Raith pulled back, feeling bereft.

        So that was it, huh? She was done with him.

        Lungs squeezing tight, he began to turn away. But she caught his arm. He paused, came back and lifted his eyebrows when she didn't speak.

        Her gaze bored into him, and he could actually feel her digging around in his head, examining all the agony he felt. Just when he presumed she would laugh at him and shove him away for being such a weak romantic, she grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him close, touching her mouth to his. His stomach tightened into knots.

        Willow's robe parted as he pressed his tongue inside her mouth, and Raith immediately discovered she had nothing on under it. Groaning, he slipped his hand up her warm skin and eased his hips in between her thighs.

        "Jesus, you are so hot," he muttered and grabbed a condom out of his pocket before pushing his jeans down over his hips.

        Willow was ready for him, so very ready. "Don't stop," she commanded.

        He gave a harsh laugh. Stopping was the last thing on his mind. Stopping was the very last thing he ever wanted to do. In fact, lasting until they were old and grey, humping in creaking rocking chairs, sounded pretty damn fabulous to him.

        Her mouth dropped open as they came together. "Oh my God, you're so big. It feels so…Oh my God."

        Her eyes closed against the ecstasy of it, so she didn't see him wince. No promises of love and forever from her. Just sex. Physical, he reminded himself. This was just physical pleasure. Nothing else.

        If a good shagging was all she wanted from him, then he would give her one she wouldn't soon forget.

        Willow should've expected it. But the sight of Camille breezing into her office hardly ten minutes after she herself entered still managed to surprise her.

        "Okay. Spill it," Camille demanded, nosing her huge stomach past a filing cabinet and falling heavily into the chair across from Willow's.

        Being a junior partner at her firm, Goode and Wilson, Willow kept her own office, but it had no window and measured less than half the size of any other lawyer's office in the company.

        She'd had to do some serious feng shui to organize her desk, files, and law books to fit into the cramped space. Now, she was pleased to note, the place looked roomy and comfortable despite a couple narrow pathways.

        Her cousin, however, didn't seem to feel the calming effect the placement of the shelves and desk were supposed to bestow upon her. After plopping down across from Willow, Camille sent her an anxious look.

        "Why, good morning, dear heart," Willow greeted, pushing her lap top to the side, so she could fold her hands and set them calmly on the desk to give Camille her undivided attention. "I trust Dylan safely saw your snack home last night."

        "He did," Camille answered. "And he also delivered some very distressing news about the company you were keeping."

        "Did he?" Clearing her throat discreetly, Willow wasn't quite able to meet Camille's probing stare. She busied herself by glancing at her laptop and clicking on a link.

        Inside, she groaned, wishing her cousin would go away and leave the big inquisition for another day. She didn't want to talk about what had happened last night. She still felt too raw, and not just physically. Raith Malloy demanded things from a woman that left her reeling. She felt dazed, confused, hungry for more. And that totally contradicted the composed, unruffled persona she was determined to present to the world. Being a judge's daughter, she had to prove she'd gotten where she was by her own steam, had to prove herself worthy. She had to act as if nothing affected her. Letting some hot guy throw her off her game could not be permitted.

        Though, oh God, she couldn't stop thinking about him. His hands, his mouth, his cocky little smile, the sweet way he held her in his sleep, making her heart flutter off into—

        "You should've heard Dylan going on last night about that man who attacked him in your kitchen," Camille accused.

        Scowling, Willow cleared her throat. "Well, in my company's defense, he thought Dylan was an intruder." She had no idea why she defended Malloy. He had been rougher on Dylan than necessary. But Malloy wasn't a soft individual. That was just one of the things she loved about him. He didn't pansy around and—

        Wait, what had she just thought? That hadn't been the L-word tumbling around in her head, had it?

        "But that's not all Dylan had to say," her cousin continued.

        Willow fingers cramped as they stabbed at a few more computer keys, yet she managed to give Camille an unconcerned smile. "Yes, I did sense some underlying tension between him and Malloy."

        "Malloy?" Camille squawked in horror. "You're letting this guy stay the night, and you call him Malloy?"

        Willow frowned. "Why not? That's his name."

        "Lord have mercy," her best friend muttered as she ran her hands through her thick blonde hair. "You fell into bed with him and you don't even use his first name?"

        Willow swallowed. Since the situation already upset her cousin enough, she didn't think it would be in good taste to announce she hadn't even known Malloy's first name until last night. But there's no way she could refer to him as Raith. Raith. Just thinking the word gave her goose bumps. Her internal organs shuddered with longing.

        Raith with the talented mouth, hot hands and body that wouldn't quit.

        No, she couldn't call him Raith. Calling him by his given name would feel way too personal. And there's no way she could explain that to her cousin. Camille would never understand. She'd say something along the lines about sex being a very personal experience; of course it should feel personal.

        But there had been something more to Raith Malloy. He had managed to invade Willow, steal right into the deepest crevices of her being and touch something that was way too private. And whatever it was, it scared the crap out of her.

        God, she just wanted Camille to go away. She was befuddled enough as it was. Why was her cousin so determined to make it worse? She still couldn't believe her own behavior. It didn't seem to matter how irritated she became with him, as soon as he touched her, all she wanted was more. But she kind of liked his butthead ways. His quick wit and ability to set her teeth on edge without fail was a little thrilling; it gave her a challenge, got her blood pumping and her mind whirling. A small, deeply disturbed part of her actually looked forward to her next argument with him.

        But this morning told her that probably wasn't going to be happening any time soon. She woke up to him standing next to her bed, dressing. When she'd said his name, he glanced over his shoulder to look at her with blank, expressionless eyes, like some kind of stranger.

        "I should go," he said and turned away, tugging on his shirt.

        The instant rejection hurt. She yanked the sheets up around her, securing them over her naked, used body, hiding her pain.

        He swung his head around and pinned her with an accusing look that seemed to say, See, you don't want me here. I should definitely go.

        She wanted to snarl, and spit, and scratch. And cry. How dare he act as if this was her idea? He'd made the first move to leave.

        She wasn't about to relinquish her own stubborn pride and try to stop him. So, she'd given him a sullen look and blandly replied, "Yeah. See you around."

        "Willow, I'm worried about you," Camille said, yanking her back to the present. "Dylan didn't have one good thing to say about this guy."

        Willow let out a strained sigh. She didn't like him so much herself, so why did hearing someone else bash him make her want to stand up for him? "There's no reason to worry. It's not serious. You know me. The queen of a million dates. I can't stay with one man too long."

        "A million dates, yes? One-night stands, no. Relationships, God no. You have no problems going out into public with anyone, but that's as far as you venture. I mean, tell me honestly, when was the last time you've been with a man?"

        "Last night," Willow said dryly.

        Camille rolled her eyes. "I meant before that?"

        Willow sighed. "Okay. It's been..." she paused, realizing she didn't even know the answer to that question. A year? Two? "A while, but—"

        "I count four."

        Willow's mouth dropped open. "Four years?" Dear Lord, she'd definitely been overdue. No wonder she'd attacked Malloy the way she had.

        "Four men. Including last night, you've slept with four different men in your entire life."

        When Willow didn't answer, her cousin grinned. "I know. I'm good, aren't I?"

        "You're going to ruin my image if you start spreading around lies like that," Willow muttered.

        Camille laughed. "Lies? As if." When Willow gave her a moody stare, she sighed. "Oh, I'm sure I'm the only one who knows. The rest of the county thinks you're a total ho-bag if that makes you feel any better."

        Willow stuck her tongue out. Her cousin ignored the childish comeback and nailed her with a knowing grin. "Know what I think?"

"Do I care?" Willow retorted.

        "I think you're really a romantic at heart. Just like me." Talking over Willow's snort, she added, "You want what both our parents have. What Dylan and I have."

        Willow drew up a bored eyebrow. "Really? Is that why I'm a lawyer who capitalizes on divorces? Because I'm so enthralled by happily ever afters? Hmm. I've always wondered."

        "Okay, so you're a realist too. But I honestly don't think you can be a member of our family without believing in love and marriage."

        "Look. I admit that, okay, it would be nice if the whole love crap happened to me. But it never has, Camy. And I'm not just going to sit at home alone waiting for some guy who might not exist to come knocking on my door. Officer Malloy is not my Prince Charming. I know that. But he was hot and available and I thought, why the hell not, which turned out wonderful for me because the man is unbelievable in bed. And I mean, unbelievable."

        "I guess he showed you more than a few self-defense moves," Camille snickered.