Page 23 of Chasing the Fall

One can never be too careful, though. Still holding the gun, I move to the door and open it a crack. “Who’s there?”

“Scully.” The reply is uttered in resonant Irish tones, and I swing the door open fully, safetying the pistol.

His gaze travels down to it, and I tuck it beside my thigh, pointing to the floor instead of my unexpected visitor. “Sorry about that. Habit. You’re here from Kael?”

He nods. “Aye. I have the girl’s computer. Kael wanted me to take a look around, too, make sure you were good here.”

I nod and take the bag from his grip. “Thanks, and have at it. Just be quiet…Tallulah is sleeping.”

“Tallulah?”

Belatedly I remember that virtually everyone knows her as Twiggy from that stupid nickname I gave her. “Twiggy.”

Scully nods and pulls his collar closer to ward off the chill of the night. “All right, then, I’ll get to it. Kael wants regular updates.” He peers around me, into the interior of the cabin. “She’s asleep?”

“I’ll make sure to do that. Thanks and good-night.”

Without further conversation, I close the door. Rude, I suppose. I could’ve offered the man a drink.

Right now, though, I’m at a breaking point where Tally is concerned. If she were to stumble out of that bedroom dressed in anything less than a muu-muu in front of another man, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.

Better he stay outside.

Better he stay alive.

Eleven

Twiggy

Sunlight filtering through theslatted window blinds brings me to wakefulness by degrees. First, there’s the awareness of a bed other than my own.

Then, remembrance of where I am, and why.

Finally, there’s the recollection of last night’s events, the ones that started sometime in the evening and lasted until I collapsed, exhausted, well after midnight. Delicious aches in every part of my body remind me of Bran’s devastating mastery as he took my body time after time, sweet brutality present in his every touch. My core pulses at the memory.

If I thought I could move, I’d want more.

Hell…I want more even if I can’t move.

Eyes closed, I slide my hand slowly across the cool percale of the sheet, my fingers searching for Bran’s warmth. I come up empty, though, and pop my eyes open to find the stretch of mattress beside me empty.

Well, damn.

Shoving aside my immediate inclination to be hurt, I get up and take a few minutes to brush my teeth and restore some semblance of order to my hair. The scratch on my arm is healing well, faded to a tender scratch that I decide to leave unbandaged today.

I dress in one of Bran’s huge T-shirts that I find in the dresser, tug a pair of his socks up to my knees, and leave the room.

Bran stands at the island, what looks to be an empty glass of whiskey beside him. Raw steak is on a platter in front of him, and he pauses in the act of brushing it with olive oil to let his gaze travel the length of my legs. His eyes flare with heat before returning to his task. “Morning.” His voice is gruff.

“Good morning,” I murmur, walking around him to reach the refrigerator.

Be normal. So you had sex last night; doesn’t have to mean anything more than you were both horny.

Maybe I should tell him that…set his mind at ease. Maybe he’s thinking that I expect a ring since I was a virgin, and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t in bed this morning…

And the thing is, I don’t want or need a ring. I’m not some fainting maiden, distressed that I’ve been ruined. I’m capable of handling this situation like an adult.

I gnaw on my lip as I search the contents of the fridge, my nipples pebbling my T-shirt in response to the cold air. Tension stretches between us, and finally I break it.

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