Tomboy

Fuck, he was not going to make this into a marathon session, being inside her felt too good, too right. He sank in deeper, leaning forward so he could kiss her as he pushed forward and back again and again until the tingling started in the base of his spine. He clenched his teeth together, trying to make it last longer when everything inside him was screaming for release. Finally, when he couldn’t, he gave in to the need, letting go with an orgasm that rocked him all the way down to his toes.

He was still sucking wind by the time he was finally able to crack his eyes open and look at Fallon spread out on his bed. She gave him the blissed-out half smile of satisfaction that he figured was on his face, too.

By the time he made it back to the bed after a quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Fallon was under the covers with her eyes only half open.

“You’re trouble, Blackburn,” she said, sounding anything but pissed off.

He lifted the comforter and got in next to her, pulling her close. “How’s that?”

“Because that was a hell of a first period.” She laid her head down in the pocket of his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. “Think you can maintain that all game long?”

“Without a doubt.” At least, when it was Fallon in his bed.

Chapter Fourteen

The Ice Knights’ unofficial song would not stop playing while Fallon fought off an octopus armed with a machete for each of its eight tentacles. It really was the perfect background music for this kind of underwater battle, but just as she was getting her dance-fighting on, the music stopped, and the seafloor shifted under her feet.

“It’s for you.”

The booming voice came out of nowhere, and it stopped her cold. Something wasn’t right. The octopus in front of her started to fade, and it was like she was being dragged toward the ocean’s surface by a tractor beam powered by a really sexy voice. That made no sense—even after she’d been dance-fighting an octopus.

“Fallon, wake up,” the voice said. “It’s your brother, and he sounds pissed.”

Brother? Wake up? All the water disappeared in an instant, and BAM! she was up, jackknifing into a sitting position, her eyes wide open, and the Hartigan “oh shit” warning screaming in her head.

Heart hammering against her ribs, she grabbed the phone from Zach.

“Who’s hurt?” With three firefighters and a cop in the family, the phone didn’t ring without that worry hitting her hard.

“Depends on how likely it is that Mom will kill you for missing the matinee you were supposed to see together,” Finn said.

Relief whooshed out of her, and she collapsed back onto the pillows. Well, that’s what she’d meant to do but somehow had ended up with her back against Zach’s chest instead. “The movie’s not for hours.”

“Try again, sis,” he said, not bothering to keep the you-are-so-gonna-get-it chuckle out of his voice. “It’s past noon.”

“Shit.” This was not good.

In fact, it was the very definition of not good because one of the most painful places to be was in the middle of a Hartigan family gossip whirlwind, and, boy, would there ever be one. Her family lived and breathed hockey, and they’d spent entire meals discussing the man who was, right now, tracing circles on her

bare hip as he kissed his way up the back of her neck. It was distracting in the best of bad ways.

“I told Mom you got called in for a work thing.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “You are the best brother ever.”

Of course, the truth of that wasn’t going to stop her from hanging up on said best-brother-ever because Mr. Kept Her Up Until the Wee Hours by Banging Her into Oblivion was ready for round six hundred and eighty-five, judging by the steel poker pressing against her left ass cheek, and she was totally in for more.

“Yeah, tell me that again when anyone is around to hear—and that person who answered your phone doesn’t count,” Finn continued, oblivious (thank God) to what was happening on her end of the line. “Please tell me it’s not Dr. Asswipe.”

Yeah, the women in the movies might fall for their work nemesis, but Fallon was much more likely to set that jerk’s car on fire than have sex with him. “His name is Dr. Anderson, and no.”

“Thank God. The only one worse would have been Zach Blackburn.”

Fallon cringed, wishing her brother had an inside voice. With the exception of Felicia, an ant scientist, none of the Hartigans did. Their voices carried like sonic booms across time and space. There was no way Zach hadn’t heard her brother’s comment.

Finn let out a frustrated huff. “Blackburn? Really, Fallon?”

She snuck a peek over her shoulder at Zach, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. His calm acceptance of her brother’s idiot reaction, as if people said shitty things about him all the time—which they did—landed with a thud against her chest, and it pissed her off. Then she noticed the telltale tightness around Zach’s mouth. Yeah, someone was bothered by outside judgment more than he wanted to admit. Maybe she’d just set Finn’s car on fire.