The Radcliffes

by T. J. Kline

  “Fallon, don’t rush off.”

  Travis had seen the hurt on her face when she turned away from him. He needed to get a grip on this attraction to her. She was his boss, off-limits, and far more woman than he’d ever deserve.

  “No, I forgot that I have to…” her words trailed off as she exited the barn.

  To get the hell away from you, he finished in his head.

  Travis turned his attention back to Dreamer. He hadn’t meant to embarrass Fallon, and knew he should have never agreed to dinner. And he shouldn’t have asked her to go on a ride with him today. It was one thing to torture himself wanting someone he could never have, but it wasn’t fair to lead her on.

  He was a nobody. Hell, he wished he was a nobody. That would be a step up. Growing up, he was the kid people felt sorry for. The one with the ratty clothes and no food in his cabinets. The one who slept in the track barn with the horses because it was warmer than his dad’s one-room apartment since the power had gotten shut off after he gambled away the money for the electric bill.

  Dreamer nickered softly, as if he could read Travis’s dark thoughts. Travis ran a hand over the colt’s face. Dreamer’s success was the key to changing the way people saw him, but that required him to keep his distance with Fallon Radcliffe. A fling with her wouldn’t be media fodder—it would be career suicide. People would assume he’d only gotten the position by seducing her. And he needed to prove himself to everyone.

  He clipped the lead rope on Dreamer and turned him back into his stall before heading back to the office. He was going to cancel his dinner plans with Fallon. Then he would go find himself a hotel room in town.

  Travis scrubbed his face with a hand, exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It wasn’t a perfect idea, since he’d have to be up at the ass-crack of dawn to feed, but it was better than fighting his attraction twenty-four/seven. He swiped the keys from atop the desk and stepped out of the barn in time to see her car head through the gate.

  Damn it!

  Travis juggled the keys in his hand, needing something to distract him from the fact that it was too late to bail now. He might be an asshole, but he would never stand up Fallon Radcliffe.

  Chapter 13

  Fallon tried to ignore the sound of the shower down the hall as she laid the ingredients for spaghetti on the granite counter. What had possessed her to think she could figure this recipe out? The video online made it look so easy, but staring at the various items strewn over the kitchen, she wished she’d bought the jarred sauce and pre-made meatballs. The sight of the packaged ground beef turned her stomach.

  This was going to be a disaster.

  Especially when, thanks to said shower, she couldn’t quite get the image of a wet, naked Travis from her mind. Or the way the water must be trickling down those hard muscles of his chest and abs to trail—nope!

  She bit her lip, tugging her hair back before twisting it and securing it with a band in a messy bun on top of her head. Travis had made it clear he wasn’t going to cross the line he drew between them again. She’d asked him to make up his mind and, obviously, he had. She was going to have to respect that.

  After searching several cabinets, she found a cutting board and a couple pots. After filling one with water, she set it to boil, and then she grabbed the tomatoes and began chopping. She reached for the bunch of parsley and chopped that as well, dumping the whole mess into the other pot. That’s when she realized she’d forgotten to wash the produce. Cringing, Fallon prayed they wouldn’t get E. coli.

  She examined the contents of the pot again, certain it didn’t look anything like the sauce in the video. She must have forgotten a step. As she reached for her phone to watch the instructional video again, Fallon bumped the handle of the pot, tipping it over.

  The pot flipped toward her, and she was instantly covered in tomato guts before she could jump out of the path of destruction. “Shit!”

  She ran to the sink for a towel as the other pot boiled over, hissing and sputtering, splattering water on the stove. She ran to move it but her foot hit the tomato mess on the floor and she screeched as she slid on the tile, crashing to the ground.

  “Need some help?”

  Fallon looked up in time to see Travis step around the mess on the floor and turn off the burner. Her heart stopped for a moment at the sight of him, his hair still damp from the shower and carrying the delicious scent of soap into the room.

  “No.” She pushed herself back to standing, but her right foot nearly slid again. “Ugh! I’m completely covered in tomato.”

  “But you’re okay, right?”

  “Yes,” she said as she heaved a sigh.

  Travis bit back a smile.

  “It’s not funny,” she said.

  He eyed the mess on the floor, the ingredients on the counter, and the water all over the stove. “What on earth were you trying to do?”

  “I was trying to make you spaghetti.”

  Travis was trying not to laugh. Fallon didn’t find the situation humorous. She felt like a failure. She couldn’t even do something as simple as fixing a meal. Fighting back the tears, she threw her hands in the air. “I’ve never cooked anything, okay? I wanted to do something nice, but—”

  “Wait, you’ve never cooked? Not anything?”

  She rolled her eyes, hating to admit something that made her sound spoiled. “I’ve never had to. I mean, I’ve heated things up and have had food delivered, but most of the time, we have a chef at home. I’ve never actually cooked anything from scratch.”

  “At home? As in the Radcliffe mansion?”

  She nodded.

  “Wow, it must be nice to be a Radcliffe,” he muttered, blinking a few times before clearing his throat. “Okay, you go get cleaned up and change your clothes. I’ll take care of this mess and we’ll figure out something else for dinner.”

  Fallon ducked her head as she hurried out of the kitchen. She may have been born into wealth, but she couldn’t do the most basic tasks. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried to be “normal,” she ended up flat on her ass.

  Travis eyed the slump in Fallon’s shoulders as she walked out of the room. He hadn’t expected it from her and wondered how an inability to cook—which he still couldn’t quite fathom—warranted that sort of surrender. He wasn’t sure what had caused the brimming tears he’d seen, but he was willing to do just about anything to make sure they didn’t fall.

  He heard the water turn on in one of the bathrooms down the hall and tried to distract himself from the visions of Fallon stepping into the shower, warm water sliding down her satiny skin, using enough soap to make her body slick as his hands—that’s enough!

  It would be easy for him to drive into town and grab them dinner, but because she was upset about not being able to cook, he decided to teach her a few basics instead. Travis quickly cleaned up the counters and floors before washing the pots. Then he rummaged through the refrigerator, which was still practically empty even after her shopping trip, and he found cream and a block of mozzarella cheese. A quick search of the pantry yielded a loaf of sourdough bread and tomato juice.

  Fallon returned as he set the ingredients on the counter, her long hair still damp, making her eyes look large and luminescent. His breath caught in his chest and heat spread through his veins slowly, inching toward his groin. Travis tried to fight the longing, but it was a losing battle.

  “Why’d you stop wearing glasses?”

  Fallon looked surprised at first, but then she smiled. “How did you know I wore glasses?”

  Think of something, Mitchell.

  He watched a wide smile curve the lips he desperately wanted to taste again. “You googled me, didn’t you?”

  He must have looked as guilty as he felt. He was busted and he knew it.

  She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “And what did you find out?”

  “You’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, for one thing.”

  “Is that all?” She eyed
him suspiciously.

  He wasn’t about to tell her how much he suspected he knew, even without reading the media puff pieces. Her lack of confidence was obvious when she stood with her family. She doubted her abilities around them, and she simply wasn’t happy. But he also knew what made her smile.

  “I can see how much Dreamer means to you,” he said, thinking about the picture of her with the newborn colt. Travis took a step closer and lifted a wet tendril of hair, letting the curl twirl around his finger. “And that you’ve managed to get this mop under control.”

  Fallon’s cheeks blazed pink and he laughed as she covered her face. “You saw pictures of me as a kid, too?” She shook her head. “I guess that’s one of the joys of being part of a famous family. My awkward years of frizzy curls and thick glasses were documented for public consumption.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You were adorable.”

  “Sure, I was.” She rolled her eyes and frowned at the items on the newly cleaned counter. “What’s all this?”

  Travis followed her gaze. “I’m giving you a cooking lesson.”

  She looked at him warily. “My last attempt didn’t turn out so well. I’m not sure I’m up for round two. Maybe we should go out and get something instead.”

  “Trust me.” Travis reached for her hand, dragging her toward the stove, and trying desperately to ignore the electric shock that shot up his arm when his fingers touched hers.

  He stepped behind her, and placed his chest flush against her back. Then Travis reached for the tomato juice. The heat of her body scalded him, but he tried to ignore his body’s response to it as he leaned closer to her ear to give her the instructions. Her wet hair was cold against his lips, yet did nothing to cool his raging lust.

  “Everyone should know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. And, since you’ve got the fixings for tomato soup, we’re going to have a feast.”

  Chapter 14

  Fallon shivered as Travis’s breath fanned over her neck, igniting her desire for him. She inhaled sharply as he let his hands fall on her hips.

  “This is going to be easy,” he promised, his voice hungry, and she quickly prayed for focus. “First, open the cans of tomato juice and pour them into the pot.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper of sound.

  Fallon reached for the electric can opener, wondering if it always took this long to get a can open or if it only felt that way because Travis’s hands were on hers. She fought to keep herself from leaning back into him.

  “Now what?”

  He turned on the burner. “Pour those into the pot and add some cream.”

  “I have cream?”

  He chuckled and she felt the rumble against her back, goose bumps breaking out over her arms. “You don’t remember buying it?”

  Fallon didn’t trust herself to speak and simply shook her head.

  “Now, grab the whisk and stir it while you pour it in so it doesn’t separate.”

  “Which one?” She turned her face toward him and gasped when it put her lips a fraction from his. She could kiss him if she chose to move just an inch.

  Travis’s eyes went stormy, going dark as he slid his hand down her arm and reached for the utensil in the holder on the counter. “This one.”

  His lips nearly brushed against hers as he spoke and she tried not to acknowledge the longing swirling in her like a tornado, out of control. Placing the whisk in her hand, he dropped his to splay against her stomach and her body arched in response.

  “Fallon.”

  His lips brushed against the hollow behind her ear, the tip of his nose trailing over the curve of it. The sensation sent delicious spirals of heat swirling through her, coming to rest low in her belly, beneath his hand. Something about this man made her feel like she didn’t have to impress him, that being herself was better than being the Fallon Radcliffe she’d been shaped to pretend to be.

  She sighed softly, melting against him as his thumb rubbed over the soft cotton of her shirt, slipping between the buttons and brushing against her bare skin. That simple touch was enough to ignite the inferno in her. White-hot lust shot through her, making her quiver in response, and she dropped the whisk into the pot.

  “Careful,” Travis said, shifting her away from the stove and turning it off, keeping one hand still at her hip. “You don’t want to get burned, do you?”

  Too late.

  Somehow, Fallon managed to keep the thought to herself as she turned in his arms, facing him, thrilling in the forbidden pleasure of her body arching into his. She wanted to regain some sense of self-control and laid her hands against his chest to move away, but when his gaze met hers, she saw a desire that matched her own.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, her voice more breathless than she’d intended.

  A shadow flitted over his eyes, darkening them. “Not for food.”

  Without warning, his mouth slanted over hers, his kiss deep and insistent. He wasn’t demanding, but easily coaxed the response she was so willing to give. Nipping at her lower lip, Travis plundered her mouth, leaving her gasping for air and clinging to him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his arms. His skin was hot, branding her, but she wanted more. As his mouth moved over her jaw and her neck, she couldn’t stop the soft moan when his tongue traced the column of her throat where her pulse raced.

  Fallon slid her hands to his back, feeling the muscles clench and bunch beneath her fingertips. She had to touch him, to feel his skin under her fingers. She tugged at his shirt as his fingers deftly found the buttons on the front of hers. He released them, and then his hands played over her ribcage. As he pressed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, his palm cupped the mound of her breast, and she felt the explosion of need from within. Travis curved his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. His mouth closed over the material of her bra, ripping another moan from her throat. Her response was shameless.

  “Fallon?” His voice held a note of doubt and she didn’t think she could stand his rejection again.

  “Travis, if you stop, I might have to kill you.”

  She felt his smile against her skin, and then her nipples hardened as his tongue swirled over them, one by one. “I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to,” he admitted.

  There was a flurry of hands, mouths, and tongues, her clothing was cast wherever it landed, and Fallon found herself pressed against the closed door of her bedroom in nothing but her sensible bikini briefs. She wished Travis would hurry up and remove those as well, so she finally hooked her thumbs in the sides, determined to do it herself, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and stopped her.

  In the same way he effortlessly convinced Dreamer to follow his lead, she let him guide her to do the same. Lifting her hands to either side of her shoulders, he held her wrists against the door, letting her feel each glorious inch of him pressing into her. Then he rocked his hips into her.

  If she’d wondered about his attraction to her, his rock-hard erection dispelled her doubts.

  “I want to see you, Fallon.” His voice was hoarse, tortured, as he slid down her body. His mouth explored every inch of her. “Let me.”

  Travis released her hands to cup her breasts, teasing the nipple to a taut peak with his thumb before tasting her. Fallon whimpered as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her knees gave out when his hand moved down her belly to cup her gently, his finger slipping beneath the material of her underwear.

  “This isn’t going to be slow and sweet,” he growled against her skin. “I…I can’t.”

  Fallon dug her fingers into his hair and tugged his face back to her, the scruff of his day-old beard scratching against her skin and making her shiver with need.

  “Good,” she whispered. “Because that’s not what I want.”

  She ran her hands over the breadth of his chest, easing him backward toward the bed, before reaching for the button on his jeans and pulling them open. She shoved them down his muscular thighs and let he
r nails brush over the rough dusting of hair as she reached for the band of his boxer briefs. His impressive erection strained against the material.

  Travis’s gaze crashed into hers, searching for answers to questions she wasn’t aware he’d asked. She gave him a light shove to sit and straddled his lap.

  “What is it that you do want, Fallon?”

  “I want the natural feeling I have with you, how instinctive it seems.” She wanted his strength, and the confidence he brought out in her. Fallon gave him a smile, feeling surer than she had in a long time. “I want you, Travis.”

  Travis slid his hands around the curve of her butt and inhaled slowly, his face tipped up. He watched her with passionate yearning in his eyes, though they were shadowed with doubt. “You might regret it.”

  Not waiting for his argument, she dipped her mouth to his. Then she slid her hand to cup the back of his head, meeting his desire with her own, and said, “No, I won’t.”

  Chapter 15

  Fallon drove him wild. Like a siren, she mesmerized him and put him under a spell.

  There was no other explanation for the way he seemed to lose all self-control when he was with her. But it was too late for him to turn back now. Travis was lost. In her eyes, in her confident assurances, and in her touch. He needed to bury himself in her more than he needed to breathe.

  Grasping her perfect ass, he rose from the mattress, settling her on her back and leaning over her. She sighed as his hands slid into the back of her underwear, as his fingers instinctively clenched into her flesh, and when he pulled the garment down her thighs, dropping it on the floor. Then he quickly shed his own and stepped between her thighs. Running his thumb over her seam, he rejoiced in her gasp of delight. He’d never had a woman respond to his touch with such desperate yearning, and he loved it.