Read Online Wanted (FBI Heat Book 3) by Marissa Garner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marissa Garner
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familiar bad-boy aura still surrounded him. Ironic, considering he was an FBI agent, a career he seemed so ill suited for.
Kat was trembling by the time he stopped a few feet away. Her heart pounded, and she could barely breathe. She bit her lower lip to stop its quivering. Kiss me, kiss me, her heart pleaded. You’ll only hurt worse when you can’t tell him the truth, her brain counseled.
Dillon cocked his head, and his eyes drank her in again. “You look good, Kat.”
“You too.”
“You okay? After last night, I mean.”
“Mild concussion. Couple cuts and bruises. No biggie.” She gulped. “Are you…okay?” After what I did to you, I mean.
His gaze hardened as if he’d read her mind. “Sure.”
He meant No thanks to her .
She looked away and drew a deep breath. “Thank you for having Special Agent Regis from the San Diego office call.” As she said it, reality hit her. Her head snapped back around. “You…you work in the San Diego office,” she said accusingly.
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”
She lifted her chin. “But you don’t want to help me.”
He hesitated a long time and then turned away. She thought he might not respond. But after several steps, he looked back over his shoulder.
“I can’t, Kat. I’d spend the whole time fighting with myself over whether I wanted to tell you to go to hell…or to fuck your brains out.”
* * *
“Jesus, I’m such an asshole,” Dillon muttered as he sat in his truck. What had made him say such an awful thing? He hung his head, which directed his eyes downward to the painful bulge in his jeans. “Traitor,” he mumbled. He could only hope Kat hadn’t noticed his hard-on from hell before he had turned and walked away. Damn, he felt like shit.
Sighing, he shook his head and then stared at the front of Kat’s little house. What were little houses like this called? Cozy. Quaint. Homey. A cottage? A bungalow? Yeah, that was it. Perfect for Kat. She never liked anything big or ostentatious. And this place would be just the right size for…one person.
He glanced around. No vehicles were parked in the driveway, and only his truck was parked at the curb. And she had answered the door even though she was obviously getting ready to step in the bath or shower. He growled when his dick jerked at the thought.
In addition to lust, he also felt relief. No husband or boyfriend had come to the door to establish his claim on Kat when he heard her talking to Dillon. No chatty female roommate had poked her nose into the conversation either. And there hadn’t been any background noise, like a TV or music, indicating someone else was there. Nope, she was definitely home alone. And yeah, he admitted reluctantly, he was glad she wasn’t living with anyone .
He sighed again and pressed back against the headrest. What was it about that woman? What had it always been about Katriona MacKenzie? He pushed his hair off his forehead in frustration. Face it, she did something to him no other woman had ever come close to doing. If he hadn’t already realized it before she pulled her Runaway Bride act, he sure as hell realized it after she was gone. While he struggled through the stud-reaffirmation phase, he’d fucked any woman who offered. And not one—not a single, solitary one—had affected him like Kat.
Not only had their sexual chemistry been red hot, but they’d connected on so many other levels as well. Even though their childhoods couldn’t have been more different, Kat understood and empathized with the scars that growing up in foster care had left. She even accepted why he didn’t want children—not children he fathered, at least.
Not many women would’ve gone along with his plan to eventually adopt a couple of older kids, but only after he and Kat had been married for a decade or so. She seemed to get how important it was to him to save other children from the heartbreak of never being adopted, of never being loved enough to be welcomed into a
Kat was trembling by the time he stopped a few feet away. Her heart pounded, and she could barely breathe. She bit her lower lip to stop its quivering. Kiss me, kiss me, her heart pleaded. You’ll only hurt worse when you can’t tell him the truth, her brain counseled.
Dillon cocked his head, and his eyes drank her in again. “You look good, Kat.”
“You too.”
“You okay? After last night, I mean.”
“Mild concussion. Couple cuts and bruises. No biggie.” She gulped. “Are you…okay?” After what I did to you, I mean.
His gaze hardened as if he’d read her mind. “Sure.”
He meant No thanks to her .
She looked away and drew a deep breath. “Thank you for having Special Agent Regis from the San Diego office call.” As she said it, reality hit her. Her head snapped back around. “You…you work in the San Diego office,” she said accusingly.
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”
She lifted her chin. “But you don’t want to help me.”
He hesitated a long time and then turned away. She thought he might not respond. But after several steps, he looked back over his shoulder.
“I can’t, Kat. I’d spend the whole time fighting with myself over whether I wanted to tell you to go to hell…or to fuck your brains out.”
* * *
“Jesus, I’m such an asshole,” Dillon muttered as he sat in his truck. What had made him say such an awful thing? He hung his head, which directed his eyes downward to the painful bulge in his jeans. “Traitor,” he mumbled. He could only hope Kat hadn’t noticed his hard-on from hell before he had turned and walked away. Damn, he felt like shit.
Sighing, he shook his head and then stared at the front of Kat’s little house. What were little houses like this called? Cozy. Quaint. Homey. A cottage? A bungalow? Yeah, that was it. Perfect for Kat. She never liked anything big or ostentatious. And this place would be just the right size for…one person.
He glanced around. No vehicles were parked in the driveway, and only his truck was parked at the curb. And she had answered the door even though she was obviously getting ready to step in the bath or shower. He growled when his dick jerked at the thought.
In addition to lust, he also felt relief. No husband or boyfriend had come to the door to establish his claim on Kat when he heard her talking to Dillon. No chatty female roommate had poked her nose into the conversation either. And there hadn’t been any background noise, like a TV or music, indicating someone else was there. Nope, she was definitely home alone. And yeah, he admitted reluctantly, he was glad she wasn’t living with anyone .
He sighed again and pressed back against the headrest. What was it about that woman? What had it always been about Katriona MacKenzie? He pushed his hair off his forehead in frustration. Face it, she did something to him no other woman had ever come close to doing. If he hadn’t already realized it before she pulled her Runaway Bride act, he sure as hell realized it after she was gone. While he struggled through the stud-reaffirmation phase, he’d fucked any woman who offered. And not one—not a single, solitary one—had affected him like Kat.
Not only had their sexual chemistry been red hot, but they’d connected on so many other levels as well. Even though their childhoods couldn’t have been more different, Kat understood and empathized with the scars that growing up in foster care had left. She even accepted why he didn’t want children—not children he fathered, at least.
Not many women would’ve gone along with his plan to eventually adopt a couple of older kids, but only after he and Kat had been married for a decade or so. She seemed to get how important it was to him to save other children from the heartbreak of never being adopted, of never being loved enough to be welcomed into a
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