The Right To Remain Mine (7 page)

        She frowned. But he merely waved and disappeared from the room, leaving her completely alone with the hulking man beside her. Her heart thumped heavily against her chest. It was one thing to be attracted to the man and know he felt the same. But to be left facing those feelings with no barrier between them, no third party chaperone—she wasn't sure if she could handle it.

        Instantly, the room grew smaller. Willow listened to her cousin leave his empty plate in her sink, then open and close the back door as he departed.

        She warily eyed Malloy.

        He appeared about as uncomfortable as she felt.

        "That's probably enough for tonight, anyway," he said and then cleared his throat, glancing longingly toward the door. Escape.

        Willow wasn't sure what came over her. She didn't want him to stay. The man overwhelmed every sense she had, and her dislike of him made this attraction all that more intense and bothersome. Yet she found herself saying, "I want to try that move one more time. I think I almost got it."

        He sliced her a leery, untrusting look. Her back rose with irritation. "Unless you're tired."

        His eyes narrowed. "Not at all. We'll go over it again. But I'm not going to hold back this time. I'm going to come at you hard."

        He was probably eighty pounds heavier and five inches taller. She didn't have a chance in hell against him. But Willow took up the fighter's stance and beckoned him with her finger. "Bring it on, big boy."

        Before she could fully brace herself, he charged.

        Her eyes went huge; for a split second, she choked. But then her minimal training kicked in, and she dodged at the last moment, deflecting his assault with a side step and knee to the outside of his upper thigh. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed his wrist, as he'd taught her, and cranked for all she was worth.

        But the deceptively quick man snagged her arm just as she took him down. And when he went sprawling, she fell too. They toppled to the floor together, a pretzel of arms and legs, with Willow piling on top of him.

        He didn't provide much of a cushiony landing. Deputy Raith Malloy was one in-shape fellow. He was all hard muscle and steel abs. With a raging erection stabbing her in the stomach.

        Biting back a gasp, Willow thrashed on top of him, desperate to untangle herself from temptation. But in her frenzy, she ended up straddling his hips, and the hard bulge under his zipper caught her right between the legs. Freezing, she took a moment just to relish the sensation of his hot, hard length nudging her aching center. Then she jerked upright and shot her guilty gaze to him.

        But he didn't appear to be mad. He appeared, well, he looked reluctant, as if the last thing he wanted her to know was how much she turned him on. And just like that, she realized she had to have him.

        Raith kept his eyes closed a few moments after landing. With the wind knocked out of him, he hogged a good two seconds of sucking in air before he could actually breathe again. But more humiliating than that, Willow DeVane sprawled on top of him with her womanly heat pressed snugly against his hard-on.

        She couldn't miss the signs of his attraction now, not when she sat on the damn proof. DeVane wasn't the type to politely ignore something like that, either. She would bug him and tease him for the rest of his natural life.

        And sure enough, when she realized what she straddled, she stopped clambering to untangle their limbs and immediately jerked upright.

        Raith cracked opened his eyes and warily met her gaze.

        "Well, my goodness, Malloy," she said, shocking him by rocking against his thick length as if to make sure she was feeling exactly what she was feeling. "Is all that for me?"

        Raith's face heated. Jaw popping, he glared at her, thinking up a thousand excuses to give when it suddenly struck him. Willow DeVane was sitting on his lap. She could feel his erection loud and clear, and she wasn't leaping off him like some kind of repulsed virgin. Instead, she moved against him as if wanting all their clothes to dissolve so he could push right on inside her.

        Shock spiraling up his thighs, he gawked, unable to believe his eyes. Something hot and inviting glittered in her expression, letting him know she liked the effect she had on him. Hell, she was just as turned on by all of this as he was.

        He glanced around the room for some kind of support to help restrain himself. Getting involved with Willow DeVane was the worst mistake he could ever make. They came from two different worlds. They totally didn't get along. And if for some odd reason they ever did hook up, he already knew she could have him wrapped around her pinky finger in a microsecond. He wasn't ready to give up that kind of control of himself to anyone.

        Starting something with her was all kinds of wrong, yet as she bit her lip with hesitation while giving him a look that said, Do you want to? all he could think was, hell yes.

        Growling out a curse, he reached up, grasped her face, and jerked her down.

        One kiss, he told himself. He would take one kiss and that was it.

        DeVane gasped out a sound of surprise as he brought their mouths together, but she didn't resist. In fact, the woman damn near melted around him like warm butter. Not one to pass up a golden opportunity, he caught her already-sagging ponytail and tugged it loose. In reward, a mass of auburn brown hair spilled into his hands. Flowing through his fingers like silk, it pooled around them.

        He groaned, realizing his prophesy about burying his hands in her hair had come true. Holy shit, this was honestly happening. Willow DeVane was kissing him. Her soft lips pressed flush against his and her talented, wet tongue slid erotically over his teeth. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her hot center scorched through his jeans, teasing his erection as if begging him to come out and play. The entire situation brought on a whole new meaning to wet dreams coming true.

        Marveling in the moment, he ditched her hair to run his fingers over her body, to feel her warm skin. Experimentally, he started with her arm, using his thumb to caress the softest inner part of her bicep. When she shivered and moaned, pressing closer, he went a little further, slipping his touch to the sides of her ribs to cup her waist.

        She ground herself against him, and his grip tightened reflectively around her hips, urging her administrations until she was dry humping him. Raith must've hit a sensitive spot because suddenly she gasped and pulled back.

        He opened his lids, bracing for her to return to her senses and fly off him in appalled realization. But she merely looked down at him, her big brown eyes wide like a startled doe.

        "What are you... Oh God." She flung her head back and groaned low and long. His body moved instinctively, arching up against her warmth, seeking relief. "Wait... how... I can't even stand you, Malloy." She panted as she curled her fingers around his shoulders and held on for dear life.

        Sweat beaded on his upper lip and popped out along his brow. "And here, I've been hopelessly in love with you for the past two years," he wheezed even as he slid his hands down, unable to stop touching. She was so soft. So smooth.

        She started to frown at him for his smart-ass retort, but at the edge of her shorts, he found warm skin and slid his palm up the back of her thighs until all ten fingers dived up into her shorts, under her underwear where he cupped her bare, taut globes. Her glare dissolved into a glazy-eyed gasp.

        "So we hate each other," he clarified, massaging the soft, heated flesh. "Want me to stop?"

        She squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to clear her head and think rationally. All the while, his hands took on a mind of their own. His fingers slithered along until he found heaven.

        Dipping her face back down to his, she kissed him with a renewed urgency that almost had him coming undone. She bit his bottom lip, bringing tears to his eyes when she gripped his hair.

        "Malloy," she gasped. "Oh, my God."

        "I want you. I want you. Now. Please, please don't say no."

        Later, he would bang his head against a wall for begging, but at the moment, he would do anything—say anything—just for a little more. This was his dream, his ultimate fantasy, becoming a reality. He didn't care how much trash talk she might give him afterward, all he wanted was to be inside her.

        It was a miracle upon miracles that she didn't laugh in his face and say, "Nice try, Malloy," in that cool, dry voice of hers and then oh, so casually crawl off him as if she would rather bed down with red ants.

        No. All she did was tug off his shirt and rasp, "Hurry."

        Following her lead, he stripped her top and had to pause when her high, rounded breasts bounced into view. "Mother of God," he groaned. Mouth already watering for a taste, he curled his fingers around her ribs and tugged her down, fitting his teeth over a ripe nipple.

        He kneaded one with his hand as his lips suckled the other, her ragged breathing urging him on. As he licked, she occupied herself by crawling out of her shorts and panties. He pulled back only when he realized she was completely nude. Needing to see this spectacular view for himself, he lifted his upper body enough to take in the entire show and rested his elbows on the floor behind him.

        "Jesus, DeVane," he breathed. She was too busy unzipping his jeans to notice how stunned and fascinated he appeared. But when he felt himself spring into the opening of his fly, he glanced down in time to watch her pull his swollen member into her waiting fingers.

        "Oh," she gasped in surprise. Her eyes flared wide and her mouth dropped open. "You're so..." She must've realized she was about to praise his size because her gaze snapped to his in shock. "Average," she finished lamely.

        Countless women had admired his massive girth in the past, but DeVane's reluctant appreciation flattered him the most. He chuckled, glad she approved. But the sound strangled in his throat when she wrapped her sweet hand around him. Attempting to hold himself back, he closed his eyes and tensed his muscles, waiting for that first moment to feel her embrace him and slide home. His fingers curled into the carpet, wishing he could hold onto something. Anything. Her.

        He held his breath, straining and yearning. The sweat trickled off his temple and into his ear; he barely heard her whisper his name. Eyes popping open, he stared up into her pale, frozen face. She was going to stop; he just knew it.

        He reached out to hold her in place and beg her, offer her anything to stay.

        But she merely choked out, "Do you have a condom?"

        He was so shocked he could only stare at her for a minute. Then he laughed. "Shit, I forgot."

        Never in his entire life had he ever forgotten protection. Always prepared, he kept a foil package in his wallet for any sort of surprise encounter, just like this one in fact. He had to admit, though, as he twisted around to yank the wallet from the back pocket of his jeans—which were still pooled around the lower portion of his legs—this had to be the first impromptu sex of his life. And it was going to be with Willow DeVane, of all people.

        He must've made someone up above very happy. His stars had to be aligned in their proper place. He didn't know. But this was the luckiest moment of his life. And it scared the hell out of him.

        Cash and credit cards flew from his billfold as he fumbled. So nervous he dropped the package twice from his suddenly slippery fingers, he cursed under his breath.

        "Hurry," DeVane urged, grabbing it from his hand.

        "Hey," he said and snatched the package back.

        She treated him to an irritated look. "Well, you were taking too long." Frowning, she reached out again.

        He held the condom away from her. "And this is saving time, how?"

        "Oh, my God," she railed. "Will you just hurry?"

        When he realized she wasn't going to fight for possession again, he started to rip the foil open.

        "What's the big deal, anyway," she muttered, climbing off him.

        Raith dropped the rubber in order to catch her and keep her from leaving. "No one touches my condoms but me," he rushed to explain. He wanted her to understand. "I've heard too many horror stories."

        No sooner did the words leave his mouth, though, than he realized his explanation only made him look worse.

        Spearing him with a glower, she struggled to break free a second time. "Just what do you think I was going to do? Poke a hole in it? Yeah, because I sooo want a bunch of rude, arrogant little Malloys running around." She laughed out a harsh snort and then stopped suddenly, only to smack one of his hands still wrapped around her waist. "Let go!"

        He did, lifting his palms away from her in a show of surrender. His heart plummeted as she crawled off him and gathered her clothes from the floor in one swoop. "I must've lost my mind," she muttered more to herself than to him. Hurrying to her feet, she stared down at him and shook her head sadly. "I cannot believe I almost did that with you of all people. I just... I can't believe it."

        Turning swiftly, she hurried from the room. Raith didn't bother to move. He could only stare in defeat as he watched her perfect, bare butt race away. Then he fell back, thumping the back on his head on the floor and whispering a curse.

        His shirt lay halfway across the floor, his pants remained wadded around his ankles, and his erection throbbed out a silent scream of denial. But he wilted there, immobile, and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He'd been so close. Willow DeVane had been on top of him, actually frantic for it, and he'd gone and messed it up.