The Right To Remain Mine (18 page)

        "Off how?" Willow prodded.

        He sent her a sour look. "I don't know. Like someone had been there who shouldn't have been."

        "Oh, you mean, like you?"

        "I mean, like someone who came across an unlocked back door to a sexy lawyer's house and decided to stroll right on inside."

        "Again," she said, "you mean, like you?"

        His gaze narrowed. "I thought you said you kept the door open for friends and family. Do I not fall under that category?"

        Willow lifted her eyebrows to let him know he didn't.

        He growled. "Just keep your back door locked from here on out."

        Sending him a hot little smile, she reached out and trailed the tip of her fingernail up his chest. "But if I do that, how will you get inside to treat me to another late night visit?"

        He grabbed her hand, letting her know he wasn't kidding around. Keeping his fingers wrapped securely around hers, he answered. "I'll knock. And any family member of yours who wants to come inside can damn well learn to knock too."

        "You know," she murmured, hoping to change the tenor of their conversation because he was being totally ridiculous. Cops were definitely a paranoid lot. "This whole macho protective man thing you have going on is kind of hot. I feel all tingly and warm."

        As if flipping a switch, his moody scowl changed. Eyes heating with desire, he tightened his grip on her hand and tugged her close. "Good. Because I'm ready to go again." Tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, he carted her toward her bedroom.

        Her body humming with anticipation, Willow let him.

~ * ~

     Raith woke to the blaring of DeVane's blow dryer. He rolled over,

checked the time and cursed. After crawling out of bed, he found his pants and yanked them on. Limping his way to the opened bathroom door, he winced into the bright interior and paused in the entrance, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

        "Why didn't you wake me?" He yawned and rubbed a hand over his beard stubble, but his fingers stumbled to a stop when he saw what she wore.

        She glanced his way and continued to dry her hair. Head tilted down to the side as she ran her bare fingers through the auburn locks, she sported nothing but a black demi-bra and a lacy pair of French-cut panties to match.

        "You didn't need to get up early yesterday," she said over the running motor. "I assumed you wouldn't need to today either."

        Raith skimmed his gaze down her long, lean length. "I always wondered what you wore under those fancy power suits."

        DeVane sent him an irritated look as she shut off the dryer. "Did you not hear the alarm clock?" she asked. "God, Malloy. I even hit snooze twice."

        He moved another foot into the bathroom so he could check out her backside. When he realized the French cut was actually a thong, his eyebrow quirked with interest.

        "Malloy?" she snapped.

        "Hmm?" His eyes reluctantly lifted to her face. She hadn't put makeup on yet, and she still looked amazing. Face paint didn't heighten this woman's beauty. It merely made her appear untouchable. But with naked cheeks, she seemed infinitely more... touchable. Realizing she'd been trying to have a conversation with him, he finally cleared his throat and focused on what she'd been saying.

        "Alarm clocks never worked for me."

        After a bewildered blink, she frowned. "And yet you woke instantly when Dylan stopped by."

        He shrugged, not wanting to explain. Besides, who could explain a cop thing? He could sleep like the dead, never hearing crying babies, a blaring television or music thumping. But let someone step over the line of the law and he was on full alert. He'd never quite been able to understand it himself, so he didn't even try illuminating it to DeVane.

        "Do you always wear this kind of stuff under those touch-me-not outfits of yours?" He had to know. Or was she just making a special effort because he was around?

        DeVane glanced down at her current state of dress, her eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. "What's wrong with my underwear?"

        "Not a damn thing," he answered and stepped toward her. But there must've been a bit too much heat in his gaze because she immediately backed away and held up a hand.

        "Oh, no you don't," she commanded. "I'm all cleaned up and ready to go to work. Just stay back."

"I won't mess up your hair. I promise."

        Though her eyes dilated and her body shivered when he reached out to touch her, barely skimming his knuckles over her abdomen, she jerked back and slapped his hand away.

        "Uh, uh," she said. "Out. Now, Malloy. I have to go to work. There'll be no hanky-panky this morning."

        He scowled but scooted reluctantly and painfully out the door. He had to leave too, but he'd gladly be late for a hot, wild quickie with DeVane.

        "Your loss," he offered, flashing her a heated, I-know-you-want-to grin.

        When she shut the door in his face as if she needed to get him away before she was successfully tempted, he laughed.

        But still… damn.

        Readjusting his suddenly too-tight pants, Raith realized DeVane had never denied him sex before. He didn't like it. He wanted to plow through that door and take her against the bathroom vanity. Then he wanted to drag her into the shower with him and take her in there too.

        Practicing restraint, he tugged the rest of his clothes on.

        Slipping on his boots, he retreated toward the kitchen, where he paused to check her refrigerator because his stomach growled. When he caught sight of her carton of milk, he reached in. Drinking straight from the container, he gulped until DeVane walked in.

        She jerked to a stop. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

        He lowered the carton, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and arched his eyebrows. "What?"

        "Don't drink my milk straight from the container."

        Raith just looked at her. He made a face when he found her dressed in a skirt, blouse, jacket, pantyhose, and high heels. Disappointed she'd returned to untouchable mode, he growled, "That... container... has been sitting in the fridge untouched for three days straight. I'm the one who finally opened it yesterday and it was at the same level this morning as it was when I put it up yesterday. So obviously, I'm the only one who uses it. What's the big deal?"

        "I use it to cook with sometimes." She gave him a pouting look as he put the milk away. "Now I'm going to have your icky germs in my food."

        Raith shut the refrigerator door and swaggered toward her. "Honey, if you don't already have my germs then something is seriously wrong."

        He stopped right in front of her and glanced at her outfit. She looked like the ideal woman lawyer with her briefcase held down at her side. Her starched white blouse and camel-colored suit jacket with a matching long tight skirt screamed professional tight-ass until he lowered his eyes and saw into the gap of her blouse where her lacy black bra peeked up at him. Instantly, his body grew hot and heavy.

        "You know," he drawled, lifting a finger to trace the neckline of her too-white blouse. "Every time I see you in this lawyer garb, I just want to mess it up."

        Willow lifted her face; he saw her nostrils flare with awareness.

        "I already told you, Malloy. I have to go to work."

        "So do I," he retorted.

        Hell, he still had to go home, take a shower, put on his uniform— which took twice as long as putting on regular street clothes—and then go to work.

        Seeing the determined look in his eyes, DeVane stepped in reverse until her back met the wall. "Malloy—" she started, but he cut her off with his mouth.

        Trapping her against the wall with his body, he set his hands against the sheetrock on either side of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. She lifted her face to meet the kiss. Taking that as a cue to proceed, he slid his palms down until he reached waist level. Then his fingers deserted the wall and sought her hips. They kept traveling down until they found the hem of her skirt.

        Gathering the material up, he sucked in a breath when he cupped her bare ass. Good God, she wasn't wearing full pantyhose, but thigh highs. His undoing came with the realization that the only thing keeping him from her hot center was a damp pair of flimsy lace thong panties.

        Raith leaned against her, pinning her in place. She gasped against his mouth and dropped her briefcase to wrap her arms around his neck. One long leg looped his hip, the heel of her shoe stabbing him in the back of the trousers.

        Relishing the pain, he fumbled with one hand to release his zipper. Before he pushed his jeans down, he rescued a condom from his pocket. Tugging it on in seconds, he snapped the narrow crotch of her panties a heartbeat later.

        Both faces lowered, Raith and Willow watched him nudge her entrance. She gasped and threw her head back, bumping it against the wall. He lifted a hand and sifted it through her hair to the back of her skull as if to soothe the pain, but he never took his eyes off himself as he slowly pushed inside. To assist, Willow hitched a foot onto the top of her kitchen table, opening her thighs wider for him.

        Raith groaned and sank home. Finally, he lifted his face to gauge her reaction and felt the immediate punch of male satisfaction when he saw her suck her bottom lip in between her teeth while her eyes dilated. As if he had all the time in the world, he slowly began to love her. She whimpered and clenched her fingers into his shirt, raking him with her nails.

        Air puffing from her lungs in labored ecstasy, she cracked her eyes open and skewered him with a look. "Damn it, Malloy. You know I don't have time for this."

        He gave her a slow smile. "Want me to stop?" He halted suddenly.

       She growled. "God, no. Don't stop. Don't stop. Just hurry."

        He didn't. Not for a good, long while. Instead, he drove her absolutely mad with his leisurely pace, needing to punish her for rejecting him in the bathroom, needing control of something between them because he'd lost control of his heart days ago. But it felt so damn good, he found himself beginning to rush.

        She came first, as was his plan. He'd wanted to make it last, make her orgasm stretch on and on until she begged him to remain inside her forever... until she went totally wild in his arms and started spouting out crazy shit, like she loved him or something. He wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish. He just wanted to prove she couldn't ever deny him.

        But when she tightened around him, he couldn't hold back. She was so glorious to watch, he threw back his head and shouted out his own release.

        Afterward, he buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. Panting, they held each other until she squirmed under him. "Gotta go to work," came her muffled voice.

        He wanted to deny her, to keep her here in his arms for the rest of the day. But he pulled back instead. She sank to the floor and sat there, letting out a long satisfied sigh.

        "I'm going to be late," she said, but her voice totally lacked conviction.

        Still, she unsteadily rolled to her feet. He reached out to help her. As their hands clasped, their eyes met. She fell immediately quiet when she caught the tense look on his face. It made his stomach pull taut. The woman suddenly looked like a little girl who was being sent to the principal's office for being naughty.

        Not sure why he cared, why he had to ease her worried nerves, he leaned forward and pressed a small, simple, closed-mouth kiss to her lips. "Thank you for being late for me."

        She blinked, obviously startled by his words. He cleared his throat and turned away to remove his condom. "God, woman," he muttered, not wanting her to think he was getting too mushy. "You're going to make me go broke with all these rubbers I'm buying."

        He kept his back to her because he didn't want to see the dirty look she had to be giving him. It was his own fault for making her scowl, but he'd had to get rude to keep some emotional distance between them. Couldn't let her know he felt more for her than she did for him.

        It took her a moment to respond and when she did, he couldn't help but notice the heat in her words. "Oh, quit complaining, Malloy. You're getting laid, aren't you?"

        She had a point, so Raith shut up. Though he might argue he wasn't just "getting laid." He was living out a dream he'd had for two years. He was sleeping with the woman he'd been fantasizing over for months. And it was better than he'd always imagined it would be. Merely getting laid was the understatement of the century. Wondering what she would do if he suddenly reached out and hugged her, Raith looked away to concentrate on pulling his jeans up.

        "I gotta go," he said. "I still need to shower and change before I head to work."

        Willow blinked and lifted her face. She nodded. "Yeah." The word was a dazed murmur. "I need to leave too."

        But she didn't move. He opened his mouth to say, I'll see you tonight before it struck him. Would he really see her tonight? He had to be pushing it, coming over every evening as it was. They never made plans for the future, though. So he didn't this time either.

        "Bye," he said shortly, giving her a brief nod. He wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss her goodbye. His gut burned with the need to do just that. But because he wanted it so badly, he took a step back and then another.

        Finally, he turned and walked from the house. As soon as he pushed his way outside, another blockade waited for him. Raith jerked to a stop and came eye to eye with Chase DeVane, who pulled to an equally surprised halt to find Deputy Malloy stepping from his sister's back exit.