Page 63 of Fiona and the Fixer

“What are you doing?” she asked, when I nudged her thighs apart and settled my shoulders between them. She lifted her head, and I looked up at her from my new favorite place.

I could see her sleepy eyes in the dim light.

“Eating.”

With one hand sliding her panties to the side and the other holding a thigh nice and wide, I put my mouth on her. Sweet, soft, and scented like heaven.

Fuck, she tasted good.

“Dax!” she cried, her head dropping back onto her pillow and a hand tangling in my hair. Tugging.

Right here, right now, she was safe. With me, she didn’t need to keep her fucking gun beside her to sleep. She was being cared for.

Her cries of pleasure? Mine.

The pain in my scalp from her grip? Worth it.

Because for some fucking reason, I wanted to make Fiona happy.

And make her mine.

28

FIONA

I hadno idea what came over Dax the night before. Waking me with his head between my legs? Holy hell. He’d been voracious and thorough. Attentive. Oddly… sweet. No, not sweet. I didn’t know what it was, but we hadn’t yelled at each other. We hadn’t threatened to use our guns. We hadn’t even really talked, other than me sayingYesandHarderandI need itand Dax murmuring filthy, amazing things in my ear as he first ate me out to one orgasm, then fucked me through two more.

That was why, when I woke at five with him wrapped around me and I smiled, I knew I was in trouble. I had to slip out of bed. Give myself some space. He was warm and hard–everywhere–and cozy and I felt protected and otherthings I couldn’t process this early in the morning without coffee.

Where did Dax even live? He said he wasn’t from Coal Springs. Did he have a house here? If he did, he didn’t use it.

It scared me.Hescared me. Not in an I’m-in-danger kind of way, but more what-the-fuck-is-going-on scenario. This, the warm bed, was so dangerous.

What was I doing getting comfortable with a guy? Letting him break into my house over and over and not shoot him or at least have him arrested?

Letting him climb beneath my covers, wake me from sleep, and fuck me? He wanted me, his hard dick and insatiable sexual appetite was a giveaway. But he wouldn’t have come back from whatever he did in Denver and climb into my bed if he didn’t want to be there.

If he didn’t like me, he didn’t have to see me. Or lick my pussy. Or fuck me.

Or worse. Hold me. Spoon me. Kiss the back of my head.

He wasn’t going to hit me or verbally abuse me like my father had. I was way past that kind of fuckery and would have put him down like a rabid dog. But he was going to fuck me over. Somehow. Maybe just walk right on out of my life when he was done with me.

Because he would be. Soon. He’d wring from me whatever it was that he wanted, then move on.

Dottie would, too. She’d see the real me and change hermind about bringing me food and taking me to craft night and telling me she was proud of me.

I could handle that, but it would suck. I’d been letting my guard down, or they’d been slipping beneath it like they snuck into my house without having a key.

It was all going to end, but I was going to do it on my terms. I’d walk out first. Starting right now, grabbing my gun, pulling on my running gear and slipping out of the house.

Sure, the orgasms were great, and so was five-dollar prize money, but I was in Coal Springs to take down the pickle people. Arrest the bad guys. Confirm I was a good agent. That the bad guys always lost.

That was why my morning run took me downtown. Before I could make it past the second block on Dreidel Lane, a car stopped in the middle of the intersection in front of me.

I stopped, tipped my head up to the dark sky.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dax snapped after he got out, then approached. His car was still running, the driver’s door opened.

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