Good Gone Bad (The Fallen Men 3)

“How’s my thorny Rose this morning?” he asked, his eyes bright and carefree in a way I hadn’t seen them since he was a teenager and I was just a girl.

I put my hand on the wrist of the hand he had on my face to orientate myself, dazed from our lip lock. “Huh?”

He chuckled, the feel of it against my nipples like a caress. “You look good. Like the sight of you in my stuff.”

“Possessive,” I noted, slightly surprised.

Danner didn’t strike me as the caveman type of guy, one of those men who liked to lay claim to their women in every conceivable way, like my Dad had done with Lou.

He moved away, around the counter and pulled out two bowls then a couple of spoons in preparation for breakfast. “Got you tattooed over my heart, rebel girl. Don’t know if it gets more possessive than that.”

I realized that in my haze the night before, I hadn’t really taken in his naked body, let alone the expanse of the tattoo that covered his entire left pectoral and up onto his shoulder. My eyes traced the intricate design as he leaned back against the counter and dropped his arms, giving me unobstructed access to it.

As Laken had described, it was a lion, exquisitely rendered mid-roar, fierce, proud and beautiful just like my human version. The animal burst forth from a thicket of wicked looking brambles and huge, gorgeously red roses, some furled and some spilled open into full bloom. It was the most beautiful tattoo I’d ever seen and all the brothers of The Fallen including my dad and brother had great ink.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to downplay the way that tattoo made me feel, as if Danner had linked his heart to mine with ink and thought. “Guess not.”

He reached into an open cupboard and grinned at me as he revealed a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “My specialty.”

I laughed, thrown back to the early mornings before school the ten months I spent living with the Danners in elementary school. On mornings that his mum, Susan, was busy with her charity work or shopping, Danner was in charge of making King and me breakfast. Cinnamon Toast Crunch was about the extent of his culinary prowess, so it was a good thing that both of us fucking love the stuff.

“My fav,” I said as he slid a bowl drowned in milk over the counter to me and then took up a lean against the counter to eat his own portion.

“We should talk about a few things,” he said, taking off his cap, tossing it to the counter and running a hand through the longer hair on the top of his head.

I tried to focus on what he was saying, but I gave myself a pass because any woman would drool over a man as ludicrously hot as Officer Danner.

“Talk?” I echoed lamely around a mouthful of cinnamon-y goodness.

He grinned. “If I’d known taking off my shirt was all it’d take to make you docile, I’d’ve done it a long time ago, a helluva a lot more.”

I glared at him and haughtily brought my mug of liquid heaven to my lips. “I just haven’t had enough coffee yet this morning.

His eyes slid to the empty coffee pods strewn across the counter and then back to me, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t judge me,” I warned him, which made his lips twitch. “Let’s focus. What did you need to talk about?”

He sobered instantly, discarding his bowl of cereal and crossing his arms over his chest so that every muscle in his biceps bulged and glistened in the morning light.

I spoke into my mug before he could get started. “You want me to pay attention, I suggest putting a shirt on.”

I smiled as I took a sip of coffee when he burst out laughing and stalked over to grab his discarded tee.

“Better?” he asked when the tight athletic shirt in a shade of green that exactly matched his eyes was glued to every inch of his beautiful body.

“No,” I answered truthfully, but I waved the concern away with my hand. “Continue anyway.”

“What happened last night, it’s not going to happen again,” he promised. “I called Sgt. Renner this morning and we’re going to put a plainclothes officer on your apartment while you’re at home. We’ve got the budget and thanks to that crap you pulled yesterday morning, you’re worth it to the RCMP to keep alive so they’re extending the funds to do it. You’re also going to fucking obey me when I tell you to take Hero with you every-fuckin-where you go unless you’re with me. He’s a trained police and guard dog, Harleigh Rose, and he loves you. There aren’t many situations he isn’t an advantage in.”

I chewed my lip, hating that I had to agree with him.