Fit to be Tied (Marshals 2) - Page 15

“M.”

The streetlights had all my attention.

“Look at me.”

I did as he asked, slowly, reluctantly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“That’s helpful,” I muttered, letting my head thump sideways against the window.

“Kohn,” Ian said softly, and I realized he was now on his phone. “Miro and I are out for twenty. We gotta eat.”

“Where the fuck are you eating out here? This is Englewood.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning just stay in the fuckin’ car. It ain’t safe.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“The hell it’s not,” he scoffed, and I could hear Kowalski chuckling in the background. “Is your vest on?”

“Could you shut up already and cover our position.”

“10-4,” he said snidely.

I needed air, so I shifted to get out of the car, trying to remember what was close, but Ian grabbed the front of the wool hunting jacket I’d changed into at the office and held tight. “What’re you doing?” I muttered.

He yanked me forward, framed my face with his hands, and kissed me hard, rough. I opened for him as he shoved his tongue inside, seeking mine. It was a hot, brutal onslaught, and I whimpered in the back of my throat as he reached around me to lower the seat so that once he leaned over the console, I was under him, taking what he was giving.

He loosened the long, gray cashmere scarf I had on and made me jolt under him when he suckled the side of my neck.

“Ian—”

He kissed me again, biting my bottom lip to shut me up before his lips settled hungrily, possessively, on mine.

Not much of a talker, my boy, but I heard him anyway, loud and clear.

“I trust you,” he panted in a broken whisper before he went back to mauling my mouth. “Only you.”

Only me. There was only me.

So yes, he could have other lovers, but he only trusted me, and because he did, that translated to a singular desire.

I needed air, so I shoved him back enough to gulp some.

“If I fuck someone else,” he rasped, “I’ll lose you, and I can’t have that.” He looked good all excited and hot for me, with his blown pupils and swollen lips and flushed face. “When Altman said what he did, all I could think was—if I fuck him, Miro’ll leave me, and then he’ll be lookin’ for a new guy to take home and put in his bed, and I wanna be the only guy who ever gets to be there.”

He was the only one I wanted. I didn’t even see anyone else but him.

“And besides, you’re way prettier than Altman.”

I snorted out a laugh. Having Ian—the man who was physical perfection himself with his sculpted body and gorgeous eyes; the smoky, seductive sound of his voice and his wicked grin—think I was beautiful was overwhelming. Him wanting me did fantastic things for my ego.

“Miro,” he rumbled, bending to kiss me again, “I’m yours.”

And I knew that, I did.

“Don’t second-guess me. Don’t think stupid shit anymore, all right? I don’t stay ’cause you’re the only guy who could hold me down or tie me up or whatever. I stay ’cause it’s us and we’re real and I’m safe, so”—he growled—“stop.”

He was safe because I made him feel that way. There was nothing else he needed and nothing else I wanted. I had an opening there, because in that moment he was vulnerable and I could’ve pushed. It would be easy to bring up the marriage thing again, say that if he felt the way he so obviously did, then there was, in fact, a logical next step. But it was nice between us now, and I didn’t want to screw it up by returning to an already sore subject.

“Okay,” I agreed, sighing as I accepted another kiss, “okay.”

“I wanna go home,” he said raggedly, and when I reached down between us and rubbed over his rock-hard cock straining against his zipper, his moan was sweet.

“You want me bad,” I teased, tilting his head and licking the base of his throat.

“Don’t gloat,” he cautioned, twisting around to flop down into his seat and then gripping the steering wheel tight. Moments later he called Kohn and told him we were back.

“Hold on, I’ma put you on speaker ’cause Jer wants to—”

“That was fast. What’d you eat?” Kowalski wanted to know.

“Nothing,” Ian said, his voice brittle with annoyance. He wanted to leave.

“Ohhh-kay, so—oh, wait. We have movement on the north side of the house. Everyone hold position.”

We were out front, so we couldn’t see anything.

“Shit!” Kohn yelled. “Go-go-go—suspect is fleeing on foot down 77th Street east toward Racine.”

Ian exploded from the car and took off running. I had no choice but to climb into the driver’s seat and whip the car out from between the two parked ones and into the street. I hated driving when Ian was running, and it was only worse at night when I had a harder time following him.

Tags: Mary Calmes Marshals Crime
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