Falling for the Bad Girl (Cutting Loose)

by Nina Croft

  He stripped off his jeans. Already hard, his cock was pale against the golden fur of his belly, the head flushed with blood. Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. She wanted to taste him, take him in her mouth.

  Next time.

  Because she could read the intent in his eyes. He dropped to his knees on the bed, then crawled up toward her. As he nodded his head to the left, she followed his gaze…to a pile of condoms lying on the table beside the bed. She fumbled for one, tearing it open as he came up on his knees. As she rolled it down over his length, his jaw clenched, and he gritted his teeth.

  “Next time, we’ll take it slow. This time…”

  And he was on her, pushing aside the thong, shoving into her with one hard lunge. Filling her. And she loved it.

  Loved that he was out of control.

  Loved that he was fast and furious…and as desperate as she was.

  She came hard just from the push and thrust of him. He followed straightaway, his back arching, and she came again from the look on his face and the feel of him spilling himself inside her.

  He collapsed on top of her and then rolled onto his back, dragging her with him, so she lay sprawled on his chest.

  “Good morning,” he muttered, and she giggled again, feeling light and strangely happy.

  “I hope you don’t do that to everyone who knocks on your door.”

  “Only the pretty ones.”

  He pulled himself up so he was leaning against the wall with her curled in his lap. “Christ, I was an animal.”

  “It was wonderful. I’m not delicate. I won’t break.” God, she’d been in prison. If that hadn’t broken her, nothing could.

  “All the same, next time we’ll take it slow.”

  “I like slow.”

  With Nate, she liked it anyway she could get it.

  He was the best ever; she hadn’t even known sex could feel like this. And that was a little worrying. But they’d given themselves a month, and she refused to spoil it by agonizing over how good the sex was.

  Beneath her bottom, she could feel him stiffening again. Growing thick and hard.

  Time to take it slowly.

  …

  “I have to go out,” Nate murmured into her hair. They were in his bed. Again. Ten days had passed, and Regan had come to his place every day, either before work or after. Once he’d called her up at lunchtime and asked her to come over. He usually decided the times, but then he had a job, while she worked for herself and could drop everything and come running. Sometimes they had sex, hard and fast, and then she’d get dressed and disappear, claiming she had work to do. Occasionally, she’d stay longer. Those were the times he liked best, when the first urgency was over and they could spend hours exploring each other’s bodies, learning how to give pleasure and take it.

  Right now, there was no lessening of his need. In fact, it seemed to grow each time he took her. Buried deep inside her, he could forget the outside world.

  He told himself he needed this. Deserved this.

  “Really?” She stroked circles around his navel with one delicate fingertip. “You can’t stay, just a little bit longer?”

  “One of the guys is getting married this weekend. We’re meeting for a drink, and I’m already late.”

  “Stag do?”

  “No. Just people from work—men and women.”

  He half expected her to ask to come along. But of course, she wouldn’t. The last place she’d want to spend time was a pub crowded with coppers. She’d never once stepped over the lines they had set. In fact, they’d only spent time together here in this house, in this bed. They hadn’t even started her bucket list yet. Though he had an idea or two he was working on.

  He sighed and put her away from him. “You want to shower?”

  “No, I’ll wait until I get home. We’ve got this big old bathtub and a brand-new boiler. I’m going to soak in some bubbles, drink some wine and…” She shrugged.

  It sounded fabulous. He wished he could join her, but she’d never invited him to her place. He had a weird notion that she was ashamed of him. He’d looked up the gym and the owner. Darcy Butler. She’d been in Holloway at the same time as Regan. She’d probably consider him extremely bad boyfriend material. Not that he was Regan’s boyfriend.

  He showered and shaved quickly, but Regan was already dressed when he came out. “I’ll see you, then,” she said, already heading for the door.

  “Wait five minutes and I’ll walk you part of the way.” The pub where he was meeting up with his friends was en route to Darcy’s place.

  She gave a little frown but then nodded. “Okay. You want me to take Trixie if you’re going to be late? And since you’re working all day tomorrow, I can keep her overnight.”

  “Okay. You’ll bring her back tomorrow evening?”

  “Yeah.”

  She’d taken Trixie a few days. He suspected she liked his dog better than him.

  “Have you always lived here?” she asked as they left the house and walked down the path to the gate. “It doesn’t seem your sort of place. Too big. Too sort of family-ish.”

  “That’s what it was meant to be. A family home. Apparently, my mother wanted loads of kids.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died of a miscarriage when I was only five. I don’t really remember her.”

  “That’s sad. And your dad never remarried?”

  “He was married to the job.”

  “Just like you.”

  He wanted to deny it, but it had usually been the case. Not always though. “Actually, I was married once.”

  She stopped walking and turned to stare at him. “Really?”

  That was a little unflattering. “What? You think no one would marry me?”

  She patted his arm and started walking again. “I’m sure lots of girls would love to marry you. I’m just finding it a little hard to picture you as a married man.”

  “It didn’t last. She was my college girlfriend. She wanted to get married, and I wasn’t bothered.”

  “How romantic.”

  “Romance is not a strong point of mine. Anyway, about a year after we got hitched she wanted to start a family. Only by that point, I’d already realized I didn’t love her…didn’t even like her much. So we parted.”

  It had been almost painless. They’d just drifted apart. Melanie had been pissed off by how much time the job took. And the more pissed off she got, the longer the hours he worked. In the last months of their marriage, they’d hardly seen each other. “The divorce was final five years ago. We’d been renting a place together and she stayed. I’d just made detective, so I bought my own place. I have a small apartment on the Isle of Dogs.”

  “So why aren’t you there?”

  “I moved back in with my dad two years ago, when he was diagnosed. The apartment is rented out.”

  She fell silent then, but hooked an arm in his as they walked. It seemed natural. The walk took twenty minutes, and he halted opposite the pub. He handed her Trixie’s lead. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah, me and Trixie will be there.”

  “Good.” He cupped her jaw, stroking a finger along her lower lip, then lowered his head and kissed her slowly. Reluctantly, he raised his head. “I’ll be thinking of you in that bath.”

  He watched her walk away, and then turned and waited for a gap in the traffic before crossing the road. Then he stopped. Phil stood, leaning against the wall by the door to the pub, his arms folded.

  “Please tell me you’re working undercover,” Phil said. “Tell me there’s a good reason I just saw you kissing Regan Malloy.”

  “I’m not telling you fuck all.”

  He pushed through the double doors and hoped he’d heard the last of it.

  Highly unlikely.

  He’d been partners with Phil for the last three years, though he wouldn’t say they were friends.

  In fact, thinking about it, more often than not, Phil pissed him off.


  “You know, if the bosses get word of this, you will be in big-ass trouble.”

  “Well, you should be pleased then. More chance of you getting that promotion you’re crapping yourself for.”

  “I’ll get the promotion anyway.”

  Phil was probably right. The guy might not be a brilliant detective, but he was great at kissing ass. There was an opening for a detective inspector in the department. They’d both put in for it, though Nate had just been going through the motions. It was the next logical step in his career, but really, it would probably just mean more time at a desk and less time doing the actual detective work he’d always loved. He was sure his attitude had come across at the interview. But like a lot of things right now, he couldn’t make himself give a shit.

  Phil could have the promotion.

  He always looked right at home behind a desk in his smart suits. Even tonight, at a pub, he was wearing a goddamn tie. Asshole.

  Nate headed to the bar, in need of a drink, but someone put a pint into his hand before he got there. “Here you go, Sarge.”

  He sipped the cool beer. He’d worked with these men for years. Phil aside, he had friends here, and many came up to him, offering their condolences for his father. He might have enjoyed himself if Phil had left well alone.

  “Really, Nate. What the hell is going on with you? You’re screwing around with an ex-con. Where the hell do you think that’s going?”

  “Leave it.”

  “But Regan Malloy? She might be hot, but she’s a case. You think you’re above the rules. You’ve got the whole Dirty Harry thing going, but you know that doesn’t make it in the department any longer.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, imagining Regan neck-deep in bubbles, her dark red nipples peeking out. When he opened his eyes, Phil was still standing there, that superior self-satisfied expression on his smug face. “I think—”

  “Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you think.” He grinned, because he enjoyed telling the truth, and he spent way too much time these days biting back what he really thought. “Go get me another pint.” He handed him his empty.

  “What’s she like? She must be bloody good to get you to risk your career.”

  “Drop it. Pint.”

  Hell, he could be washing Regan’s back right now.

  …

  The room was packed, leaving hardly enough space to wield a paintbrush. Five brothers, two girlfriends, and her cousin Carl, who had promised to talk work with her later, filled the tiny space. She hadn’t seen Carl in years; he’d been in the army when she’d gone inside. Some elite unit doing dodgy black ops, or so she’d been told. He did have a tough, edgy look, his hair still military-short, a lean muscular build, and a distinct limp—the reason he’d left the army.

  “I think we’ll split them into two teams,” she said to Darcy. “You can take half into the apartment and get started on the living room. I’ll stay and organize in here.”

  “Okay.”

  “So tell us what to do, little sis.” Her older brother grasped her by the waist and twirled her around. “I like your friend,” he murmured as he placed her down on the floor.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she snapped.

  Darcy was going straight. She did not need another Malloy in her life. Regan loved her family dearly, but she was the first to admit—they were bad news.

  Pity her brothers were also gorgeous. But she wasn’t worried about Darcy. Her friend had more important things on her mind right now than gorgeous guys.

  She handed out paint and brushes, then sorted everyone into teams. The offices were being painted a nice neutral pale gray. Classy. The people in the apartment were having more fun. The living room was half in pale pink, half in a deep purple—it was going to look fantastic.

  They were also doing the hallway in cream—to brighten it up and give a good impression to arriving customers.

  She sat on the sheet-covered desk—a brand-new purchase—and directed operations. There were more than enough paintbrushes being wielded, and things got a little chaotic. She’d covered absolutely everything that she didn’t want painted, so she didn’t worry too much about the mess. The only thing she hadn’t covered was herself; she was getting liberally spattered. But she’d dressed prepared, in ancient cutoff shorts she’d picked up from home yesterday and a pink tank top, flip-flops on her feet.

  At half past twelve, the offices were just about done, and she went into the hallway and called the local pizza delivery place, ordering pizzas and beer. Not too much beer, though. They still had the hallway to do after lunch.

  She let herself into the apartment. It was looking good. Their cell in Holloway had been painted a particularly boring shade of beige, and she’d promised herself color when she got out. In the kitchen, she set out the paper plates and plastic glasses she’d bought on the counter. Then she poured herself a glass of cold white wine from the fridge and sat on a stool to wait. She still savored these moments alone. Sometimes inside, she’d thought she’d go crazy from all the people all packed so close together.

  What was Nate doing today? Where was he?

  This was the first day since their agreement that she wasn’t seeing him. She’d told him she was too busy. Which was true, but she’d also needed to prove to herself that she could do it. Sex with Detective Sergeant Carter was addictive. She was supposed to be getting him out of her system; instead she wanted him more than ever.

  She presumed he’d be at the hospital most of the day. Apparently, his dad was going through a good period, and Nate was spending every spare moment there. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His dad was his only family. Nate was a loner, but maybe he’d made himself that way. She wanted to hug him, tell him he wasn’t alone. But that wasn’t part of the deal. They were halfway through the month now. Then…

  The doorbell rang, and she went out, found Darcy already there and accepting a big pile of pizza boxes. She took the bag with the beers and paid the man.

  “Lunch is ready,” she called through the open door, and a moment later she was almost smothered under a stampeding horde of Malloys.

  Carl leaned against the counter beside her with a beer in his hand.

  “So talk,” she said. “Have you got any work for me?”

  “Yeah. You know I started up the company when I left the army.”

  “No. I had no idea. I’ve been away.”

  He grinned. “Well, let me bring you up to speed. It’s security, but not like you’re planning. Mainly providing muscle—bouncers, bodyguards, security for events, and so on.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I do get the occasional request to check out security systems. I had a guy, but he’s left. It’s not something I’m interested in—too specialized for me—so if you’re interested, the jobs are yours. At least until you’re up and running.”

  It sounded good. “What if I don’t get up and running? What if my license is refused?” She held her breath.

  “Then I can put the word out that I’m interested in that type of work and then run any jobs that come in through the company. I’m sure we’ll pull enough in to keep you busy.”

  “Really?” She grinned, finally admitting to herself how worried she’d been. She needed to stand on her own two feet, and deep down she knew the license, and her own firm, were a dream. For now, at least. Leaning across, she gave him a quick, hard hug. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, you’re family.” He stepped back. “There’s one current job. I’ll call you Monday with the details.”

  He wandered away, and she sat back on her stool.

  “You look happy,” Darcy said.

  “I’ve got a job.”

  “That’s good.” Darcy perched on the counter beside her. “Has anyone ever told you your family is a little overwhelming?” She nabbed a slice of four-cheese pizza.

  “Tell me about it,” she mumbled between mouthfuls.

  “But they’re sort of nice and kind of useful.”
/>   She smiled. “Yeah.”

  Darcy had had only one sister, and she’d died in a car crash while Darcy was in Holloway. Her sister’s husband had been a cop, and Darcy was in prison for breaking his arm. She reckoned if she had done more, and broken the bastard’s neck instead, then her sister would still be alive.

  The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Darcy said, and jumped down from the counter.

  She came back a minute later, a frown on her face.

  “What is it?” Regan asked.

  “There’s someone to see you.” She narrowed her eyes at Regan. “Is there something you haven’t been telling us, Regan Malloy? Have you been consorting with the enemy?”

  That gave her an inkling of who was at the door. She pursed her lips. “Maybe. Just a little.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Absolutely no idea.”

  “Oh well. Just be careful. But he is gorgeous.”

  Regan jumped up, brushed herself down, and hurried out of the kitchen. Everyone was busy, eating and drinking. She really did not want her brothers meeting Nate. That would not be good on so many levels.

  As she peered out into the hallway, she found him leaning against the banister. She shut the door behind her.

  “I know you said you were busy,” he said. “But I didn’t realize you were having a party.”

  Was he jealous? “It’s a pizza and paint party.” She took his arm and guided him down the stairs and out the front door, into the alley. “Sorry,” she said. “But I don’t want you meeting my brothers. They might recognize you, and that would not be good.”

  “Ashamed of me?”

  She grinned. “Hell, yes.”

  His gaze dropped down over her body. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

  “I was hot.”

  He pulled her into his arms and pressed her back against the door, then kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, his hands snaking up beneath her T-shirt to squeeze her breasts. Her knees went weak. “I missed you,” he said.

  She was breathing hard. “Is that what you came to say?”

  “No. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”

  They’d agreed to spend the day together. Her reward for being good and not seeing him today. Except here he was. Why hadn’t he just phoned? “What about tomorrow?”