Falling for the Bad Girl (Cutting Loose)

by Nina Croft

  He glanced around. In the dim light, he could make out a deep doorway that would hide them. He grabbed her wrists, hustling her toward the darkness. Placing her palms on the metal door, he moved in close, pressing his body all the way down the length of her back, his mouth finding the soft skin where her shoulder met her throat, nipping and licking, feeling the purr rumble through her body.

  He wrapped his arms around her, palming her full, firm breasts, rubbing the taut peaks. Then he slid his hands lower, down over her belly, her thighs, finding the hem of her dress and delving beneath it, cupping her sex. Even through the lace of her panties, the heat and wetness drove him crazy.

  He slipped a finger beneath the lace, and her breath hissed. Rubbing it along the seam, he pushed between the slippery folds. His cock pulsated, telling him to hurry this along, but first, he needed to make her come and come hard. He dipped inside her once, then spread her arousal over the swollen nub. A shiver ran through her as he found the sensitive spot.

  Circling with his fingertip until her hips jerked, he lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck while he added another finger, massaging in circles, varying the pressure, soft, then hard. He pinched the little nub between his finger and thumb, squeezed gently, and she came for him beautifully, her spine arching, her head falling forward to rest against the door. He pressed the heel of his hand against her, prolonging the pressure, and only when the tremors eased did he straighten.

  Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed a condom. As she heard the tear of the wrapper, she peered over her shoulder. “You came prepared tonight.”

  He’d bought them on the way, not acknowledging why. “Yeah. I’m a quick learner.”

  He rolled the condom down over his cock, wincing a little. Too sensitive. Then he fisted himself in one hand, lifted her skirt with the other, and spent a minute just admiring the smooth curve of her ass. The twitch of his cock reminded him to move. “Open your legs, sweetheart.”

  She did as she was told, and he hooked a finger in her panties, pushing them aside. He had to crouch a little, but then the head of his cock was where it needed to be. Taking a deep breath, he pushed inside. He shifted his hands to her hips, holding her tight as he pumped into her. The feeling was an exquisite pull on his cock, each stroke driving him higher. He was moving hard and fast, but she was pressing back against him, asking for more, and he released the last of his control. The alley could have filled at that moment and he couldn’t have stopped. He moved one hand from her hip to between her thighs and found her clit, rubbing it hard, his movements frantic. A small cry escaped her throat as she tightened around him, sending him over the edge, and he came hard.

  He stayed where he was long after he was empty. Only the sound of voices passing the entrance to the alleyway brought him to his senses, and he sighed. He didn’t want to move. He could stay like this forever, lodged deep inside her, and just forget the outside world existed.

  She shifted in his arms, and he sighed again, but pulled free. He dealt with the condom, then fastened his jeans while he watched her straighten her clothes, not that there was much to do. As she smoothed a hand down over her dress, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Waving toward the doorway, she said, “Did we do it like that so you couldn’t see my face? So you could pretend I was someone else?”

  He grinned. “No. I did it that way because I wanted to see your ass.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I have to go.”

  “So you’re the love ’em and leave ’em type?”

  That about described his normal mode of operations, but right now, he wished he could stay. Every logical cell in his body told him this was a huge mistake, and from the frown on her face, she felt the same. Unfortunately, he wasn’t working on logic right now. But he still had to go.

  “Maybe, but not so much tonight. My father’s in the hospital. I want to check on him.”

  “They let you in at this time of night?”

  “He’s dying. They let me in anytime.”

  Her eyes softened, and she took a step toward him, lifted her hand, and then allowed it to drop to her side. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not unexpected.”

  “All the same, it must be hard for you. Have you other family?”

  He shook his head. “No. My mother died when I was little, so it’s just been my dad and me.”

  “Oh, Nate.”

  “I do have a dog, though, and she’s on her own now that Dad’s in the hospital, so I have to get back.”

  He didn’t want her sympathy; it did queer things to his insides. She was a hardened criminal from a family of criminals. He needed to keep that in mind. She was trouble that could only ever complicate his life. All the same, he found himself contemplating what to say. And it wasn’t good-bye. “I’ll walk you to the tube station.”

  She searched his face but then nodded.

  They didn’t touch on the walk, but as they reached the station, he put a hand on her arm so she turned to face him under the light from a streetlamp. “Will you meet me for coffee in the morning?”

  She studied him, her head cocked. “Why?”

  “Truth? I have no fucking clue, but meet me anyway.”

  He was sure she was going to say no. That would be for the best, really it would, but it twisted his guts.

  “Where and when?” she asked, and his breath left him. He tried to keep his expression blank—he didn’t want her to know how much he wanted this, needed this. Even if he had no idea why.

  …

  Regan woke the following morning with a sense of anticipation. She told herself that was because she was in a new place and a new bed, and she was out of prison. She’d dreamed of this for so long. How many days had she woken in her cell, believing she was free, only to realize it was nothing but her imagination? It had been hard to keep the depression at bay.

  But while that was a huge part of it, there was also the expectation of seeing Nate again.

  He made her feel like no other man ever had. Just his simple touch set her on fire. And she would never get enough of how it felt to have him inside her. The thought brought her up short. She was living in a fantasy if she believed there could be anything long-term between them. They were too different, and while she planned to stay on the right side of the law from now on, she had a feeling that she’d never get Nate to believe that. No, she reckoned Nate had clear views on who were the good guys and who were the bad ones. And she was bad, through and through. During the case, he’d been all business. If someone had told her he’d had a hankering to get into her pants, she would have laughed in their faces. It was only that last look in the courtroom that had given him away.

  The heat of that gaze had kept her warm all the way to her prison cell.

  But however much he wanted her, she doubted he had anything long-term in mind; he was a career cop. They didn’t date criminals.

  He was clearly going through some sort of emotional strain. His father was dying. She was probably just a distraction to take his mind off that.

  And besides, she’d made a vow—no more relationships. Look at the last catastrophe. She clearly had crap taste in men.

  It was still early, before six although already daylight. She dragged on a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt—she didn’t want Nate to get the idea she was dressing up for him—and headed into the living room. The apartment was quiet, the doors to the other bedrooms both shut. She tiptoed through the room, grabbed a set of keys from the dresser, and let herself out into the hallway. She crossed the corridor and opened the door to her new business premises.

  Once inside, she turned around slowly. The place wasn’t big, but it was big enough. This was a waiting room, and she’d put a small desk in here and a couple of sofas. There was a corridor off one side with a small bathroom, and then a second door into what would be her office. It was about sixteen feet by sixteen feet with a big bay window looking out onto the main street. Right now, the walls were a dingy off-white, but she could d
o something about that. She’d go get a load of paint, invite her brothers over with the promise of pizza and beer, and they’d be done in a day.

  Was she tempting fate, doing the work before she got her license? Probably. She’d put in the application, though she was pretty sure they’d reject her. If they did, she’d have to reconsider her options. She’d already contacted her cousin Carl. Carl was ex-army and ran a security firm. He’d sounded optimistic and promised to put any suitable freelance work her way. It wasn’t perfect, but she’d survive.

  Summer was also putting some savings into the business, and together they’d done a budget. It was going to be tight, but that was part of the fun. Nothing easy was ever worthwhile.

  That made her think of Nate. Did he consider her easy? She pushed the thought aside.

  She spent the next hour doing measurements so she could figure out how much paint to buy, then she dropped off the keys—still no movement from Darcy and Summer—and headed out to the city.

  The coffee bar Nate had suggested wasn’t too far; presumably it was close to where he lived, though she had no notion where that was. She paused across the street and caught sight of him sitting at a table by the window, stirring a cup of coffee. As she watched, he saw her, and their gazes locked.

  She hurried across the road and entered the café. It was quiet. She guessed it served many of the offices in the area, and at this time of day, most of the regular customers would be at their desks. She headed to Nate’s table, then stopped short as something at his feet yapped.

  Looking down, she felt her lips twitch, and she took the last few steps to stop opposite him. “When you said you had a dog, I presumed you meant a German shepherd or a pit bull. Something…manly.”

  He smiled, and it crinkled the corners of his eyes. He’d shaved this morning, and she had to fight the urge to smooth her finger along his jawline. She shoved her hand in her pocket instead.

  “You don’t think Trixibell is manly?” he asked.

  She was adorable, tiny and white and fluffy, with huge liquid black eyes and a button nose. “Of course she is. Actually, it takes a very confident man to wander around with a…”

  “She’s a Chihuahua—well, part Chihuahua. God knows what the rest is. Rat, I think.”

  “Hey, don’t be mean to your dog.” She slid into the bench seat opposite him. A waiter appeared, and she ordered a cappuccino. “You’ve got to admit, though, she’s not what anyone would expect a big macho cop to have.”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  She studied him for a moment. He was big, and he held himself with a confidence rarely seen, as though he knew who and what he was. That innate confidence was what drew her to him. “Hell, yeah.”

  He shrugged. “We were called to a case around three years ago, a possible burglary and homicide. Turned out to be natural causes. An old woman. Trixie was there, and they were going to take her to the shelter. Hell, she wouldn’t have lasted a day. My dad was home then, just retired. So I took her with me, meaning to find her a new home. But it never happened. She’s been company for the old man.”

  “Aw, a cop with a heart of gold. You’re a cliché, Detective Sergeant Carter.” She reached a hand down and stroked the little dog, who pressed up against Regan’s leg.

  “She’s a pushover for attention,” he said.

  “She’s not the only one.” The waiter put her coffee down, and she took a sip to give herself time to think. He’d knocked her off balance again. “What are we doing here, Nate?”

  “I thought we could talk without getting…distracted.”

  “We do seem to get…distracted easily.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze dropped, and heat washed through her. “Did you know I can see your nipples?”

  “Don’t look, then.”

  “Well, you see, the problem is, where you’re concerned, I can’t seem to help myself.” He relaxed back in his seat, stretching his arms along the back of the booth. “And I’m guessing you feel the same way. The question is—what are we going to do about it?”

  Good question.

  And one she didn’t have a good answer to.

  She shook her head. “It’s just sex. I’ve been inside for nearly three years. Clearly, I’m desperate.”

  “Thanks,” he said wryly. “But why me? Why not go pick up some stranger, or an old boyfriend or…?”

  Because you’re gorgeous and I’ve been masturbating while thinking about you for the last three years. “Maybe because I know I can’t have you. I don’t want a relationship right now. I have things to do.”

  “What things?”

  “Doesn’t matter. But they don’t include men. What about you? I can’t believe you’d want a relationship with someone like me.”

  “No. But I’ve wanted to fuck you from the moment I first saw you. Sitting in that interview room, all prim and proper.” He leaned in closer, holding her gaze. “I wanted to bend you over that table, hike up your tight little skirt, and fuck you senseless.”

  Holy moly.

  Really, she could have done without that visual. She squirmed in her seat. “Well, you certainly didn’t show it.”

  “Of course I didn’t. You were a suspect. It was beyond being against the rules.”

  “What about now?”

  He looked away for a minute, then back, and his eyes were dark with some emotion. “Maybe right now I just don’t care about the rules so much. Maybe I’m pissed off at the rules.” He ran a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. “My dad was a detective—thirty years. He did everything right, yet he’s spent the last twenty-five years alone. And now he’s dying at sixty-five of fucking cancer. What the hell’s the point in following the rules?”

  There was so much anger in him. She was silent for a minute while she thought about how to answer him. “I did a lot of thinking in prison—there’s not much else to do—and I came to the conclusion that all you can do is try to be true to yourself and what you believe in.”

  “Maybe I don’t know who I am anymore.” He gave her a rueful smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to go all deep on you. The last thing I need is a relationship. I have enough to do, looking after Trixie and me. But I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you. The feel of you. The taste of you. What you look like when you come under me. I want to hear you screaming my name.”

  She swallowed. Everything inside her was melting, yearning. She was trying to formulate something intelligent to say when he spoke again.

  “So I thought to myself—why not? I want you. I’m pretty sure you want me. We’re never going to be friends or anything more. As you said, we’re from opposite poles of the universe, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have sex. Lots and lots of sex.” He took her hand, stroking her palm, and tingles ran along her arm. “Regan Malloy, I want to screw you until you can’t walk, until my dick is so sore I don’t even want to think about sex, and then I want to screw you some more. And if we do it enough, we’ll both get this inconvenient attraction out of our systems.”

  She opened her mouth but wasn’t sure she could get any words out, so she closed it again.

  “Well?”

  “I…” She swallowed, forced her brain in motion. “Just sex? We keep the rest of our lives entirely separate?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “Well, I have a feeling you’re not itching to introduce me to your family.”

  She closed her eyes for a second as she imagined that little scenario.

  Never going to happen.

  “Shit, no.”

  Could this work? She’d read in some women’s magazine that relationships based on sex never lasted. The couple had to have something else in common, some shared ground on which to meet. And she and Nate had nothing. So maybe his theory was correct. If they shagged enough, would they get over it?

  Did she want that?

  Who was she kidding? If they were alone now, she’d be tearing his clothes off already.

  “You’re thinking too much,” he said
.

  “Actually, I was thinking about getting you naked.”

  Shock flared in his eyes. “You know, you have such a deceiving air of sweetness about you that sometimes I forget you’re a bad girl.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I take it that’s a yes then?”

  She nodded and saw the tension drain out of him. “For one month only. That should be enough.”

  His cell phone rang at that moment, and he picked it up, glanced at it, and his brows drew together. “It’s the hospital.” He listened for a moment. “I’ll be right there.”

  God, was it bad news? She hoped not. “Everything okay?” she asked as he ended the call.

  “They just phoned to tell me he’s lucid. It might be the last time. I’m going to head over there. But can I see you tonight? We can talk about how this is going to work.”

  She didn’t even have to think about her answer. “When and where?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Regan plucked the phone from his hand and punched in her number. “Call me.”

  He rose to his feet and picked up Trixie’s lead. “I’d better go take her home. Poor thing doesn’t understand why she’s being left alone so much.”

  Again, she spoke without thinking. “I’ll take her, if you like. I’m going shopping, then just puttering around the house.”

  “New clothes?”

  “Paint.”

  “You living at home?”

  “No. I’ve moved in with a couple of friends. Not far from here.”

  “Are you sure? You like dogs?”

  “My mom’s allergic, but I always wanted one.”

  He handed her the lead. “She eats anything, and she likes her food at the same time we eat.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  And he was gone. Trixie whined a little as he disappeared out the door, but Regan picked her up, sat her on her knee, and stroked her until she settled. It occurred to her that in a relationship based solely on sex, perhaps she shouldn’t have offered to pet-sit. It was almost like looking after someone’s children.