Текст книги "Big Bad Wolfe"

Автор книги: Danielle Doolittle

Соавторы: Elle Doolittle
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

“Don’t give me that deer-in-the-headlights look. I know what you’re up to and it’s not going to work.” He stared at her for a moment before begrudgingly adding, “No matter how sexy you look.”

He thought she was sexy? She’d had the idea that he liked the way she looked tonight, but his behavior at the club had given her doubts. Narrowing her eyes, she looked back up at the man who spoke so fiercely yet held onto her like she was a precious treasure that he was worried would break if he held on to tightly.

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about.” She smirked at his shocked expression. Did he really believe that a few harsh words in her ear and she would spill her guts? The man had a serious problem underestimating her and she was not above using that to her advantage. He growled in response and the guttural, masculine sound pushed her desire from a slow simmer to a raging boil. Maybe there was something to this caveman thing after all.

After three tense minutes of Falon’s body slowly sliding against hers, she nearly jumped at the offer of drinks. He made sure to keep a hand securely on the small of her back and she didn’t know whether it was just gentlemanly behavior or if the man was deliberately trying to drive her crazy with lust. The quicksilver gleam of mischief in his eyes had her betting on the latter. She definitely needed that drink. The stronger, the better.

Slamming back the shot of tequila she ordered the second Falon excused himself to use the restroom, she shuddered as the heat of the alcohol burned through her system. A few more of these and her over-sensitive body wouldn’t be able to feel anything, let alone the urgent need to be in Falon’s arms, sans clothes.

“Whoa, slow down there,” Marcy said as she shook her head at the bartender when she tried to order another shot. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what’s the occasion?” Marcy asked looking her over.

“It’s a long story,” Sarah answered, leaning heavily on the bar. Apparently someone who doesn’t drink shouldn’t take two straight shots of top shelf tequila and expect to walk away unscathed. She felt Marcy’s eyes on her and fought the need to fidget. The woman had a way of putting her on the spot and forcing the truth from her. Sometimes she hated that about her.

“He’s the one isn’t he.” Not a question. Marcy’s statement had her whipping her head up. A move she instantly regretted as it caused the whole room to tip precariously to one side. Stabilizing herself with a death grip on the bar, she narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Oh save it. I know all about the guy who hurt you in college.” Holding up a stalling hand when Marcy saw she was about to argue she continued. “You didn’t have to say anything. I may not know the details but I know the signs and you, my dear, have them all.”

She had signs? What was that supposed to mean? Either the tequila was interfering with her thought process or Marcy was speaking in code. Probably fifty-fifty, she mused as the room tried to pirouette again.

“I don’t know what he did, or when, but you need to be careful that he doesn’t do it again. Falon Wolfe may be the hottest thing to walk into our agency in a long time, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him walk all over you.”

Sarah felt her chest tighten. She knew that Marcy thought of her as a friend, but she didn’t think the other woman cared that much.

“Don’t worry about me Marcy, I’m just going to teach him a lesson.”

Marcy studied her with worried eyes for a moment before giving her a reluctant nod.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Always.”

“And I want the details.” Marcy winked and suddenly the mood was light again.

“Not tonight,” Sarah answered as she spotted Falon weaving his way toward them again. She watched as nearly every woman paused to watch him walk past and warmth spread in her chest at the thought of him being there with her. As soon as she thought it, she banished the idea. He wasn’t there with her. They weren’t together. Her head was convinced but when he gave her that slow seductive smile of his, she had a hard time convincing her overactive libido.

She could only sit on her bar stool and keep a firm hold on the bar’s surface as she watching his trim body approach. She felt a goofy grin pull at her lips but she was helpless to stop it, the man was too damn handsome for his own good. When he stopped directly in front of her, she noticed his sexy grin had morphed into a look of concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Tequila,” Marcy answered for her. Sarah realized it was a good thing because with Falon so close, her mouth had suddenly turned into a desert.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. “I think it’s time I got you home.”

“What? But I thought …” Her words were cut off by his stern look.

“Sorry to cut the night short but I think someone needs to go home and sleep the liquor off.”

She felt herself bristle at the way he was taking charge, talking about her like she wasn’t sitting right in front of him. She wasn’t a child damn it, and she stood to give him an earful when the room chose to spin once again. Lesson of the night: heels and tequila don’t mix.

“You guys have a good night,” Falon said over his shoulder as he half led, half carried her out of the club. How humiliating.

“I can walk too you know,” she mumbled as she tried to wrench her arm away from his strong but gentle hold.

“And have that pretty little face of yours meet pavement? Not on your life.”

He thought she was pretty? Not the time Sarah. She was supposed to be making him wild with lust not feel like her babysitter.

“Not now Sarah,” he said as if guessing her intentions. “You can pick up whatever game you’re playing tomorrow. Right now you need to get home, take some aspirin, and get in bed or risk a hell of a headache.”

Falon unlocked the passenger door and gently deposited her inside. When had they reached the car? Maybe she really was out of it. But admitting to it would be admitting that he was right and she just wasn’t ready for that kind of confession. Leaning back against the headrest, she watched Falon cross the front of the car through narrowed, sleepy eyes.

“For the love of all that is holy, whatever you do, do not throw up in this car,” he said as soon as he slipped behind the wheel. “I love this car and that is one smell I’ll never get out of the leather.”

At any other time, she would have had the presence of mind to be offended by his assumption that she was about to toss her cookies on his expensive leather interior. Working up a scathing remark seemed like too much work and Sarah settled back further in her seat. Besides, for some reason she couldn’t get her sluggish brain beyond the fact that the spicy, masculine scent she could only identify as Falon was quickly filling the small space within the car.

“This baby’s like cast iron,” she said, lazily patting her tummy which let loose a gurgle in protest.

Falon snorted as he backed out of the parking space. “We’ll see about that.”

She must have fallen asleep, or passed out, or whatever it is that tequila makes a body that never consumes alcohol do because the next thing she knew, Falon was leaning over her telling her it was time to go inside now. Licking her suddenly dry lips with a tongue that felt two sizes too big, she tried to concentrate on his fuzzy features. Did he just say he was going to take her to bed? Seducing Falon was easier than she thought.

“Come on Sarah,” he huffed, pulling her from the car. “I meant what I said about throwing up in my car.”

Sarah couldn’t suppress her fit of giggles as he slung her arm around his neck. “Why so serious,” she said through pursed lips, which only made her laugh harder. An action she instantly regretted when the rolling in her stomach increased effectively silencing her.

“Come on, let’s get you inside before you make a mess,” he said before scooping her off the ground. Later she would blame it on the drunken haze that stopped all reason from entering her brain, but as soon as she felt the hard planes of his chest against her Sarah curled up closer to his warmth and let out a contented sigh. A girl could get used to this.

Falon hesitated for a moment before quickly walking up the stairs. When he reached the door, he let her down gently and held her until she regained her suddenly precarious balance.

“Keys,” he said gruffly when she didn’t automatically move to unlock the door. She was too busy enjoying his nearness to register anything else around her.

“Oh, right.” She dug into the small clutch purse she didn’t remember claiming back from the coat check at the club. Falon must have remembered to grab it on his mad rush to get her home. When she successfully located the keys, which proved harder than it really should have with such limited space to search, Sarah held them up in victory and nearly sent them flying over the railing and into the bushes beside the stairs.

“Allow me.” He snatched the keys from her loose grip and gently led her inside. Switching on the entryway light he directed her to the stairs. “Go get yourself in bed. I’ll be right up with a glass of water.”

She could only stand there, swaying slightly, and look at him. Was he saying that she thought he was?

“Do you need help with the stairs?” His look of concern shook her out of her thoughts and she gave a quick shake of her head, which sent the room spinning slightly, before slowly tackling the stairs. Thoughts of what she should do once she reached her bedroom circled in her head. If Falon meant to spend the night with her, she was going to make it a night he would never forget.

Chapter Six

Falon sat at his desk feeling miserable and Sarah Maxwell was solely to blame. After watching her shakily climb the stairs the night before he made a quick search of her kitchen cupboards for a glass. After filling it he stopped by her first-floor bathroom for a few aspirin he was sure she was determined she wouldn’t need but he would insist she take. What was the woman thinking drinking that much tequila? According to Marcy, Sarah only indulged in the rare glass of wine so it was no wonder the expensive and highly potent liquor knocked her on her ass.

Shaking his head as he took the stairs two at a time, he was working up the steam to give the stubborn woman an earful for her behavior tonight. The thought had him stopping dead in his tracks. What was it to him if she had too much to drink and felt miserable the next day? Shaking off the sudden protective instinct Sarah invoked in him, he vowed to keep things in perspective. She was just another woman in another city that he would be walking away from in a matter of weeks. It was none of his concern what she did or didn’t do to her body.

When he pushed open her half-closed door and found Sarah passed out across her bed, sexy little blue dress still wrapped lovingly around her curves, he had to repeat that thought over and over again. With a resigned sigh, he placed the glass and two small white pills on the bedside table. He carefully removed those sexy shoes and tried not to think about bending and nibbling the arches of her feet until she woke, ready for him to nibble his way up her body. He shook his head to clear the images her tiny, delicate feet invoked.

With more force than necessary, Falon yanked back the colorful comforter that was spread across her king-size bed. What a little woman would need with that much bed he didn’t know, and as he slid her slender legs under the covers flashes of just what she could use the bed for raced across his mind. Yanking the covers up to her chin, he quickly left the room. Double-checking the front door locked from the inside, he shut it and climbed into his car before he turned around and made a fool of himself. He was in no state of mind to join Sarah in her bed that night, not to mention she was dead to the world.

That night, in his lonely hotel bed, Falon had a dream he hadn’t had in nearly ten years. He was back in his college dorm room when the door suddenly opens and a warm body slides in next to him on the narrow bed. Thin arms reach for him and then he’s drowning in the hottest kiss he has ever experienced. The sudden feel of warm, naked flesh against his bare chest caused him to fly into a frenzy as he ripped his boxers off and pulled the woman under him.

His hands explored her compact curves that were designed to drive men wild. His breathing grew labored and he had to know who was pushing him so close to insanity, so in a flash of movement before her tongue could break his will Falon pulled back. Instead of the vague outline of features he had experienced in his previous dream, when he pulled back it was Sarah under him looking at him with such desire and longing he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Just as he bent to fiercely claim her mouth, he was wrenched awake by his alarm. Lying there panting covered in sweat and with a tent in the sheet boy scouts could camp under, Falon acknowledged he had come dangerously close to having his first wet dream since discovering his foster father’s Playboy stash.

Sitting in his office just feet from Sarah with the memory of last night’s dream still fresh in his mind had him on edge. His nerve endings felt raw and just the thought of her bare breasts pressing against his chest had him shifting his seat in an attempt to alleviate the pressure.

As much as that dream had made him want to get on with his plans to get Sarah into his bed, he couldn’t figure out how she earned the starring role in the dream that had haunted him for nine years. It had been his senior year in college when he first had the dream. There was a party on his floor and he’d had quite a bit to drink and stumbled his way to bed in the early hours of morning. He woke a few hours later sated and wondered if maybe the events had truly happened. He searched for the mystery woman who ignited such a response in him for weeks¸ desperate for a repeat performance, but could never find her. That’s when he decided his oversexed brain mixed with copious amounts of cheap beer had been the source of his greatest sexual experience. Sad. But true. And now Sarah has taken that spot which could only mean one thing. He had been too long without a woman, something that he needed to change as soon as possible.

***

Sarah sat behind her desk and rubbed her aching temples. Every time she thought about her actions last night she winced as if they caused her more pain. What had she been thinking to go out and try to make Falon jealous? The man obviously had a heart of stone and a libido kept tightly in check. How was she supposed to seduce Falon if he was locked up tighter than Fort Knox? Deciding that these were thoughts for a few aspirin chased by a strong cup of coffee, she headed for the kitchen.

“You look like hell.”

“Good morning to you too,” she grumbled without looking up as she poured another heaping spoonful of sugar into her mug.

“Please tell me it’s not just the tequila that gave you those lovely bags under your eyes.” She shot her a withering look as the other woman came further into the room. “Okay, just the tequila then.”

Sarah felt Marcy studying her as she took a warming drink of her very sweet coffee. Wrinkling her nose as her stomach rolled in protest to the sugar invasion, she conceded she probably should have taken it light on the sweet stuff.

“So, Falon really has nothing to do with this?” Marcy asked in disbelief as she made a show of examining Sarah’s rather unkempt appearance.

“I … don’t think so,” she mumbled into her mug. When Marcy put her hands on her hips and took her do-I-need-to-kick-a-dude’s-ass stance, she figured she ought to clarify.

“It’s not what you think,” she began while placing her mug on the counter where she eyed its contents longingly. All she wanted was a cup of coffee. Instead, she got the Marcy Monroe version of the Spanish Inquisition. She should have known better than to step foot out of her office today unless it was in the direction of the nearest exit.

“The last thing I remember about last night is him telling me to go upstairs and he’d be right up with a glass of water.” She shrugged. “I woke up under the covers and fully clothed at about four this morning.”

What she didn’t tell her friend was that Falon had obviously been in her room because on her nightstand sat a glass of tepid water and two aspirin. Nor did she tell her about the delicious dream that rocketed her into consciousness. They were filled with hot kisses and Falon’s talented hands. She suppressed the shudder of desire that shot through her. Some things were better kept to oneself, or at least between the participants in the dream. She wouldn’t mind finding out if Falon was as talented as his dream persona had been. She shook off the memories before things got embarrassing.

“Anyway, I’m here now with a headache the size of a small country, a mouth that feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls, and I have to spend the next six hours with nothing but a flimsy wall separating me from a potentially embarrassing situation.” She huffed and picked her mug of cooling coffee back up.

“Why would it be embarrassing?” Marcy asked, leaning her hip against the counter. Sarah forgot Marcy was tenacious when the situation called for it. Apparently this was one of those situations.

“I got a little tipsy last night, remember?”

“I would say a little more than tipsy.” Marcy snorted. “Why did you drink last night anyway?”

She felt herself blush as she shifted from one foot to the other. Should she tell the woman what she was up to and risk Falon finding out? Could she really keep it to herself much longer? She eyes Marcy again. Maybe she could be of some help …

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she said, lowering her voice. “But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not even Frank.”

Something in her voice must have conveyed how urgent it was that whatever she had to say not get out because Marcy suddenly looked very serious. It was either that or the woman was just looking for a juicy tidbit of gossip. Even if she couldn’t share it with anyone else, Marcy loved being in the know. After a beat of silence, Marcy promised to keep her lips sealed and she let loose the whole twisted story of her past interaction with Falon—though she may have edited a few things, her surprise at discovering him here and her plan to break him free from the shell of his rigid control.

Marcy stood silently through her whole story looking thoughtful. When Sarah finally ran out of words, she could only give her a helpless shrug. “I know it sounds crazy, but it drives me nuts that he has changed so much. You should have seen him back then, Marcy. If you think he’s hot now … Off. The. Charts.”

“What do you want me to do?” Marcy’s question surprised her. She had planned on asking her for advice, but she didn’t think that Marcy would go out and offer it. But now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“After last night and the way Falon kept a lid on it, I don’t know what to do.” She looked at the other woman helplessly. She truly didn’t know what move to make next.

Marcy threw her head back and laughed. “You actually think the man kept his cool last night?” More laughter. “My dear, sweet, Sarah. He was nearly crazy with jealousy! Why do you think he threw that guy out of the club?”

“Because it was the nice thing to do?”

“Would he honestly do the ‘nice’ thing?” Marcy snorted and she realized she was right. Falon would never go out of his way to be nice, at least not now anyway. The old Falon was a whole other story.

“I suppose not,” she finally said to get Marcy to stop laughing.

“From what Frank tells me, the man was practically chomping at the bit to hunt you down and rip you from the arms of whatever unlucky man had the pleasure of dancing with you.”

“But we weren’t dancing with anyone.” They hadn’t been. Marcy had told her that she liked to drag Frank to places like the club they visited last night to build anticipation and make him feel manly, somehow. Sarah didn’t get it, but whatever worked for them.

“I know that, and you know that. But he didn’t know that and let me tell you, Mr. Falon Wolfe was none too happy about the idea of another man laying hands on you.”

“Okay, but how does that help me now? I still have the drunken incident to work around, remember?”

Marcy waved her off. “Nothing a man can’t get over with a little teasing. Let me let you in on a little secret …”

For the next twenty minutes, Sarah and Marcy hatched a plan to get Falon squirming in his well-tailored suits and hopefully got her one step closer to her goal. When she was leaving the kitchen, Marcy stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Tell me one thing,” Marcy said, looking slightly troubled.

“Sure.” She was a little concerned about her friend’s change in mood. What if she went back on her word?

“Are you going to sleep with him?” She was speechless for a moment. Was she going to sleep with him? She hadn’t thought about it. She knew she wanted him to wake up and stop acting like a robot. She also knew that deep down a part of her wanted to feel the way he made her feel one more time. So yeah, maybe she was.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Just be careful. I have a feeling this guy has the power to hurt you, and if things don’t go your way I don’t want to have to track him down and hurt him.”

Sarah gave Marcy a shaky smile. The woman kept surprising her with how much she seemed to care. With a quick nod of understanding, she headed back in the direction of her office to attempt to get some work done. With the thoughts of Falon and what Marcy had suggested she do swirling around her head, she doubted she would get much done beyond staring at a blank computer screen.

Five had rolled around before she knew it and she still hadn’t talked herself into anything Marcy had suggested. Just thinking about it caused her to blush. Shutting down her computer, she decided to leave it for another day. She couldn’t be that appealing today anyway. She felt like she had been rolled in grime and was almost positive her breath still carried traces of alcohol. Hot. Sarah ran her tongue over her fuzzy feeling teeth. What she really needed was a toothbrush and her bed.

Distracted by warm thoughts of being minty fresh and thousand thread count sheets, Sarah wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. When she collided with the warm, solid mass that went by the name Falon Wolfe, she had to suppress a groan. When his arm wrapped around her waist to balance her, she nearly groaned for a completely different reason.

“You all right?” His voice rumbled close to where her head rested against his chest.

“Uh.” She pulled back before giving in to the temptation the hard planes of his chest presented broke what little willpower she had left. “Yeah, just a little distracted I suppose.”

Falon fell silent causing her to look up in wonder. Suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath. He was standing so close and the heat of his hands, still held firmly on her waist, were the only things grounding her. The look in his eyes was purely predatory and she instantly felt the instinct to flee before he devoured her. So slowly she didn’t realize his intention, he moved them toward the glass walls dividing the offices from the hall. When her back came into contact with the cool surface, she hissed as the sensation of Falon’s heat to her front and the cold glass pressed to her back shocked her nerves to life.

“There’s something I forgot to give you last night.” His voice was a low growl that triggered some base reaction in her deprived body to do somersaults. She did all she could to not melt into a puddle of need at his feet as she swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. She meant to ask what he had forgotten but couldn’t find her voice. Instead, she forced her gaze back to his smoldering eyes and could only hold on for the ride.

A smirk curled the corner of Falon’s lips, breaking the spell he cast over her. She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to let him know just what she thought of that smirk when his mouth suddenly claimed hers. He effortlessly invaded every corner of her vulnerable lips in an onslaught that robbed her of her breath. He slipped his tongue between her lips that were still parted to deliver a scathing remark, and she lost all thought outside the way he made love to her mouth as he stepped closer, pinning her more tightly between the solid surface of his hard body and the glass behind her.

Unable to stifle her moan of pleasure, she was suddenly propelled into motion. The taste of him on her tongue drove her beyond reason as she dug her fingers deep into his dark hair and pulled him closer. Lost in the pleasure of his body aligned with hers, she dueled with his tongue giving back as much sensation as he gave. She wasn’t sure if she remembered to breathe or if he was forcing his breath into her lungs. It didn’t matter as long as Falon kept doing that trick with his tongue.

Remembering she had hands, she put them to good use exploring his strong back and shoulders. She ran them up his spine and felt a tinge of satisfaction as the movement elicited a shiver of desire. Falon deepened the kiss again and she could do nothing more than burrow her hands in his thick hair and hold on.

***

Falon had wasted most of the day trying to push thoughts of Sarah from his mind. He couldn’t get the images of her from his dream to stop teasing him. Every time he blinked she was there, in some new provocative scene torturing him. He was going crazy. It was the only explanation. There was no way he could possibly want he that badly. Deciding he had burned enough energy in the farce of being productive, Falon called it a night and that’s when the object of his current unrelenting fantasies practically tackled him in the hallway. What was a man to do?

The moment his lips connected with hers, he was lost. He had never spent much time thinking about the pleasure of kissing—there had been more important things to enjoy—but the feel of Sarah’s lips beneath his, the thrust of her tongue moving in time with his own had him seriously rethinking its merits, at least where this woman was concerned.

The little sounds of pleasure she was making threatened to drive him wild. He was almost certain she was unaware of the mews and tiny growling pleas escaping their kiss. Pulling her closer to his body he couldn’t seem to get enough of the feel of her, the rightness of her in his arms. That thought shocked some control back into his seriously depleted willpower. He wasn’t doing this because he couldn’t stop himself. He was doing it because the woman turned him on. Simple as that, nothing deep, nothing lasting. He didn’t do lasting. When his hand started inching to the tempting swell of her breast, he knew he was in trouble.

Slowly decelerating the kiss, he worked up the strength to pull away from her lush mouth. Seeing it swollen and wet from his kisses made him want to dip his head once more and say to hell with control. The hot-blooded man in him urged him to take her where they stood. Then again across his desk, and maybe on hers, and that’s what had him pulling back further. That unrestrained side of his nature was the very thing he didn’t need making decisions for him. Ever.

Breathing deeply, he forced himself to take a step back. Banking the fire that undoubtedly burned in his eyes, he studied Sarah as the haze of passion faded and awareness once again took over. When those beautiful chocolate eyes narrowed, he relaxed in the knowledge that his mask of indifference worked. Inside he was burning for her, but he couldn’t act on impulse. He had to bank the fire. He still wanted her so badly he ached, but he would only have her on his terms.

“Good night, Sarah,” he whispered through the reverence of the moment.

Walking away from her flushed skin and the anger now simmering in her eyes was one of the hardest things he had done in a very long time, which only had him picking up the pace. He had to get a handle on this thing before he took that next step and he needed to do it fast. His body couldn’t take much more of this abuse. At least he had his dreams. Starting his car, he grimaced at the certainty of a cold shower once he reached his hotel.