All Over You (All Falls Down #3) (7 page)

He's leaving? Just like that?

"What―? I―?"

He shoots me a look over his shoulder. With his cheeks flushed with arousal and his eyes dark, he looks like sin. The words of protest die in my throat. I lick my lips, and I can still taste him on them. My heart rolls, my stomach bottoming out. I lift my fingers to my face, pressing them against my swollen lips as if doing so will lock his taste in and keep it there.

Desire flares brighter in his eyes as he watches me. He exhales a ragged breath and shakes his head, smiling.

"Behave," he mutters, and then he's gone.

chapter six

black widow

"I'm coming!" I yell, stumbling through my apartment while rubbing my eyes. It's barely even light outside, and I tossed and turned all night, my mind refusing to shut off and stop analyzing what happened between me and Detective Lewis before he walked away yesterday afternoon. I replayed the scene a thousand times after he left, becoming more and more aroused each time. Nothing helped ease the ache.

Why did he walk away?

Why did he kiss me in the first place?

I don't know the answer to either of those questions and they're driving me insane.

The loud rapping on the door comes again as I unlatch the chain.

"Hold your freaking horses!" I shout, irritated to be woken up when I only just fell asleep a couple of hours ago.

Whoever is on the other side of the door stops pounding long enough for me to unlock the deadbolt and fling it open.

"Morning," Detective Lewis says, leaning against the doorjamb with a cup of coffee in each hand and a smirk on his face. He's dressed casually today, in jeans and a dark t-shirt. His tattoos once again peek from beneath his sleeves. He's foregone shaving. The scruff on his face makes him even hotter than usual. He's all rough and rugged, and what is he doing here?

"What are you doing here?"

He throws his head back and laughs at me, the wicked sound making my belly flip.

His laugh is incredible.

Before I can decide if I'm offended he's laughing at me, confused that he's here, or happy to see him again, he straightens up and holds out a cup of coffee like a peace offering.

"Wasn't sure how you take it," he says, his hungry gaze running up and down my body. Desire flares in his eyes as he takes in my tank top and tiny shorts, turning them that same dark, stormy gray from yesterday. "But I'm thinking you got about as much sleep as I did last night, so it's strong."

I take the proffered coffee, gaping at him.

"You gonna invite me in?" He cocks a brow at me, smirking again.

"Didn't think I needed to," I grumble, lifting the cup to my nose and inhaling the rich scent. "You didn't wait around for an invite yesterday."

He narrows his eyes on me, clearly not amused by the sarcastic edge to my comment, but I'm not nearly awake enough to heed the warning inherent in that look.

"Sure, Detective Lewis," I enthuse loudly, holding the door open wide for him and rolling my eyes. "Come on in."

He steps inside, crowding me even though there's plenty of room for him to go around me. My nipples immediately pucker as his scent wraps around me. God, why does he have to smell so divine? I can't deal with him smelling that good this early in the morning, especially not with those tattoos on display.

He crowds closer, until he's right up in my personal space, his breath washing across the side of my neck. "Dreamed about that smart mouth all night," he mutters right beside my ear. "So don't fuck with me if you don't want me giving you something to fill it with, kitten."

Jesus. That mouth. That filthy, sexy mouth.

A shiver rolls down my spine, and a little whimper escapes my lips.

He hums as if he's satisfied by my reaction and steps away, giving me room to pull the door closed. I take a moment to turn the deadbolt, trying to marshal my thoughts before I face him again.

What is he doing here?

And why is he so fascinated with my mouth and filling it?

"Nice place," he murmurs when I turn to face him.

I just stand there, inhaling the scent of fresh, hot coffee and watching him over the rim of the cup as he takes in my space. My apartment isn't large by any means and I can't exactly afford designer anything, but I'm proud of what I've managed to do with the place. While small, the living room is inviting, the large windows covered with thick curtains I keep flung wide open most of the year, allowing natural light to flood into the room. The dark furniture is deep and comfortable, the carpeting plush. Photographs of me and Erin, my family, and a few more artsy shots of San Francisco, as well as artwork from my students, adorn the walls and shelves scattered throughout the room.

The place looks lived in and cozy instead of cramped and crowded. Detective Lewis wanders around, examining my photos as he sips his coffee. He looks comfortable here, at ease. And he's completely overwhelming me.

"Seriously, why are you here, Detective Lewis?" I ask, watching him carefully scrutinize a photograph of me and my sister―one of the last ones we took together before she and my mom died in the car wreck that paralyzed my father. With our arms looped around each other and big, happy smiles on our faces, it's hard to tell that we were two years apart.

He replaces the photo on the shelf and turns slowly to face me, that one brow cocked again. "I know what you look like getting off on my hand, kitten. Call me Cam."

I blanch, sloshing hot coffee all over my hand. It burns like fire. Hissing, I fling it off, managing to splatter it all over my tank top in the process.

Detective Lewis―Cam―shakes his head, smirking at me again.

"What?" I snap, setting the coffee cup down before I do even more damage, and slam my hands down on my hips to glare at him. It's early. I'm tired. And he's pissing me off and confusing me in turns. "Stop laughing at me!"

He chuckles, the sound rolling over me, causing my nipples to harden again. I throw my hands up in the air and stomp toward my bedroom to change when his gaze immediately drops to my chest, his eyes darkening. He snags me around the waist as I try to pass him, jerking my body into his. I try to push him off, but trying to move him is like trying to move a mountain. He's hard all over, easily holding me captive against him.

I growl and briefly consider kicking him.

"Stop fighting me, kitten," he murmurs against my ear, nipping my skin with his teeth and then soothing the sting with a flick of his tongue. His scruff feels heavenly against my sensitive skin.

"What is your game?" I demand, giving up and going limp in his arms. My voice trembles, though I'm not sure exactly why I feel like crying. I think he's toying with me, and I don't like the way that thought grinds in my chest, making my heart ache. "What do you want from me?"

He nuzzles his face into my throat for a moment before easing back. He tilts my chin up until my watery eyes meet his. "Why do you think I'm playing a game with you, kitten?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"It suits you. You hiss and claw like a little tigress, but you're harmless."

I narrow my eyes on him and growl again.

Another smirk twitches at his lips as his gaze roves over my face. Whatever he sees there must alert him to the fact that I'm dead serious because he sobers. His fingertips fan across my cheekbones. "I'm not playing a game with you. I'm attracted to you. You're attracted to me." He shrugs. "Seems self-explanatory to me."

"I don't sleep around."

"Never said you did."

"You think I stole money from a kid and then told him to kill himself."

Cam stills his fingertips against my face. He stops moving entirely, standing completely still and rigid. Something flares in his eyes―anger, I think. His gaze roves over my face again, scrutinizing me. And then he sets me away from him, all traces of that teasing smirk and filthy mouth gone.

"You seriously think I'd touch you if I thought you were guilty?"

"I don't―" I lick my lips, too scared to hope. "I don't know. Why
did
you kiss me? What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," he mutters, grabbing his coffee from the shelf where he'd set it. Yep. He's definitely pissed. "I don't want anything from you except to get to know you. I thought you felt the same attraction. Clearly, I was mistaken."

I flounder, feeling guilty as he walks toward the front door, but I can't seem to find words. They're all stuck in my throat, closing it up with panic at the thought that he's going to walk away right this minute. I don't want him to stay because I need his help, though. God help me, I want him to stay because he's right. I
am
attracted to him. It's making me crazy.

"Cam, I―"

He doesn't stop.

"I do feel it," I blurt out.

He hesitates, but he doesn't turn back around to face me.

Screw it.

I swallow my pride and bravely continue. "I just don't know what to think. You're a cop, and I'm being accused of a crime. I don't―I'm not―I'm so confused." I sink down onto the arm of the couch and hang my head. Confused is an understatement at this point, I think. I have no clue what's going on, but I like him. "I thought you thought I did this," I whisper.

"Kitten," he mutters, exasperation in his voice. "I don't make a point of making out with criminals."

"I can't prove I'm innocent," I warn him. That's the worst part. Whoever is behind Fake Ivy made sure no one would be able to tell that she isn't me unless they met her face to face. How do I prove that the person pretending to be me isn't when they're using my name, my photos, and my address to perpetrate their crimes?

Cam strides across the room toward me, but I don't look up. I'm honestly afraid I'll piss him off again and he really will leave. What am I supposed to do then? He's quite possibly the only person who can help me clear my name. And I'm so ungodly attracted to him. This is bound to blow up in my face.

What happens then?

"Look at me," he says, standing so close his pant legs brush my bare skin.

I reluctantly lift my gaze to his.

"Told you I was gonna help you, kitten," he murmurs, reaching out to run his fingertip across my bottom lip again. "Can't have you going to jail before I get in there."

I stare at him for a long moment, seeing nothing but sincerity and desire in his gaze. The combination throws me off, breaking through better than anything else. "You really do believe me."

"Said I did, didn't I?" He frowns and shakes his head. "You didn't do this, kitten. I knew it the first time I saw you. You confirmed it the first time I spoke to you."

"H-how did you know?"

He just smiles at me and shakes his head again instead of answering. His finger traces along my bottom lip for another moment before he runs his hand behind my head and tilts it back farther. His expression is warm, heated, as I lick my lips again.

"Gotta get in there," he mumbles to himself and then, "Get dressed. We have something to do."

"Where are we going?" I ask, glancing over at Cam as he pulls away from the curb outside my building half an hour later. I'm dressed in skinny jeans and a long t-shirt with my hair up in a ponytail. I've downed the coffee he brought me, and feel more human, if not any less confused by his presence. But I trust him when he says he believes me. For now, that's enough. I'll sort out the rest later.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you ask a lot of questions?" he asks, shifting his gaze in my direction.

"What's wrong with asking questions?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Do women usually just do what you tell them?"

"Usually." A devilish smile twitches at his lips.

"Of course they do," I snort, rolling my eyes. He probably snaps his fingers and they come running, ready to follow him anywhere, no questions asked. "I bet they fall all over themselves to do your bidding."

"Jealous?"

"Hardly." I roll my eyes again, and then jump in my seat when his hand lands against my thigh.

"Told you not to fuck with me, kitten," he mutters, squeezing lightly, causing me to jump again. "I think you are jealous, but that's okay. I like knowing the thought of some other woman's hands on me bothers you."

"You would," I say, shaking my head, bemused.

He squeezes my thigh again and then eases off, just resting his hand there. "The thought of anyone touching you pisses me off," he says after a moment.

I turn around in my seat to face him, only to find him staring straight ahead, a thoughtful frown on his face. He cuts his eyes in my direction.

"Huh. Never felt that way before." He sounds surprised.