Page 45 of The Fallen One

Would she be up working yet with the time difference, or still asleep in that little room of hers she’d been living in next door to her lab?

I shook my head in disgust. I couldn’t afford to give in to a weakness like this. “Fuck, what is wrong with me?”

I went into the bathroom, turned on the water and stripped down to nothing. Once beneath the hot spray, I lathered up my hand with soap and slammed my other palm to the wall while fisting my cock. I was hard the second I thought about the woman I couldn’t have.

My back muscles snapped together as I clamped down on my molars. I dragged my hand along my shaft from root to tip, then across the head and back down, over and over, doing my best not to think about Diana. But like every other time, my obsession with this woman, who I could never be with, pounded through my thoughts anyway.

Visions of her blonde hair falling over her chest filled my mind. Diana, wearing only her glasses, would climb into my bed, a place I never took a woman, and arch her back, her tits rising with each breath as I braced myself above her.

Missionary of all things. Fucking vanilla and missionary was how I’d take this woman. It made no sense. But this wasn’t real life. It was in my head. And there, I could have her any way I wanted her.

I kept a firm grasp of my cock, my body responding to the image of her spreading her legs for me. I’d take her bare. I’d even kiss the sinful smile on her lips.

My body trembled, already on the verge of orgasming as I thought about filling her tight pussy, knowing the fit would be hard for her to handle at first. But she’d adjust. Take it all. And give back as much as I gave to her, calling out my name on the cusp of coming, and . . . I blew my load like a college kid.

My chest heaving, the endorphins waning, I nearly punched the tiled wall, angry at myself for letting her take over my thoughts again.

At this point, I’d rather suffer the wrath of Gwen’s dad, lose all respect from my team at Falcon for having sex with Gwen, than feel this way for Diana Mackenzie.

I was far too close to taking my jet to Amsterdam to beg Diana for just one night. To taste her. Surround myself and lose my mind in her scent of fresh flowers. Then I’d ask her on my hands and my knees, why I was fantasizing about her, a woman I’d saved a million fucking years ago. Then I’d demand to know why I couldn’t stop thinking about her, especially when I barely knew her.

Of course, I really did know her. Like how she took her coffee: steamed milk and a stevia stirred in.

The music she listened to, and her little shoulder dance while at her desk when she really loved a song.

How she’d twirl the few stray strands of hair that always managed to escape from her messy bun or ponytail while she was working.

The way she’d roll her eyes and stick her tongue out at her ex-boyfriend when he annoyed her, but she always waited to do it when he wasn’t looking.

Then there was the fact she alternated between plain silk blouses and silly science T-shirts depending on her mood, and I knew her mood depended on the weather.

Worst of all, I knew how damn guilty wanting her made me feel.

After the shower, I dressed and got my stuff together and headed home. There was nothing for me at the office tonight, and packing my laptop away was one more barrier to me giving in and stalking her.

Dallas greeted me at the door. His tail whacked the floor in excitement as I turned off the alarm. He rolled to his back, and I crouched down and scratched his stomach. “I couldn’t go through with it,” I confessed. He kept flopping his tail around as he yelped back his response. “I know, I know. I’ve . . . got a problem, don’t I?”

When I shook my head and stood, he hopped up to all fours and followed me to the back so I could let him outside. The small house Dallas and I shared had a decent-sized yard for him to run around and was conveniently located five minutes from my “sex” office and ten minutes from Falcon’s secret headquarters at Bushkill Falls.

The team had nicknamed our headquarters, a cave behind the waterfalls, Batman’s Lair. When we’d first started out, I’d had no choice but to acquire the bunker since I’d still been a wanted man. It was best to remain off-the-grid. I may have been safe from Uncle Sam coming for me, but there were still plenty of people around the world I’d prefer never knew what I did for a living. Or where I slept at night.

I folded my arms, leaning inside the doorframe while I waited for Dallas to wrap up his business.

Not even a minute into him searching for just the right spot to take a piss, my Apple watch buzzed with a gate alert, and I straightened with alarm. Aside from Camila, Griffin, and Gray, no one else knew where I called home.

“Dallas,” I ordered. “In.” I locked up and went over to my security system and pulled up the camera as the driver of a large, black SUV hit the call button.

My phone began burning a hole in my pocket as it rang. I grabbed it, unsure what to think at the sight of the name on screen. “Secretary Chandler,” I answered. “Are these your men outside my house?”

“They’re not my guys,” he said in a somber tone. “They’re the President’s Secret Service. POTUS needs you at the White House. Now.”

19

CARTER

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The Oval Office was one of the last places I wanted to be. Too many memories unfurled in my mind in the space that was smaller than it appeared on the news.

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