The Harder You Fall (24 page)

“There's nothing wrong with a good sprint.” She worked a hand between them and, with a hard yank, popped the buttons of his shirt the rest of the way. The material gaped open, exposing the sexiest chest on the planet—and the name of his only love. Jealousy flared, followed by sadness, but she tamped them down. He was with her. Here and now, he was with her, and that was all that mattered.

Emboldened, she lifted her head to flick her tongue over his nipples.

The tone of the kiss changed, once again rocketing into a wild frenzy of tongues and teeth and hard aggression. She writhed against him, dragged her nails down, down his spine before dabbling at the indentations in his lower back and cupping the tight globes of his ass. His pants stopped her from doing anything more.

Criminals break and enter. It's expected.

She tunneled her hands beneath the waist of the pants...under his boxer briefs.
Keep me out?
Not in this lifetime.

“Jessie Kay.” He gripped her behind the knee, lifted, forcing her leg to bend...until his hip pinned it to the side of the couch, leaving her open, more vulnerable than ever...ready. He released her, only to cup her between her legs. A second later, his finger speared deep into her hot, wet core.

She cried out, back arching, head falling back. “Yes. Yes!”

“You...are...incredible.” He gritted the words as he lapped at the pulse hammering in her neck, his finger moving in and out of her...in and out...fast, faster, driving her pleasure high, higher, and oh...oh! He wedged another finger inside, stretching and burning her despite the wealth of her wetness, but it was good, so very good, because it was
his
fingers,
his
body poised over hers. This man who wanted more than one night with her—more than two months with her. This man who didn't think of her as disposable but as someone to covet.

“Almost there...please.” She bit into his collarbone, clawed at his back and might have shredded his skin. “Sorry, sorry.” Need held her in a tight clasp, stealing her breath.

“You're so luscious, kitten. I thought I could give everything tonight and take nothing for myself. Foolish.” He drew the lobe of her ear between his teeth before he sat up and anchored his pants and underwear under his sac. “You're too great a temptation, and I can't resist. Lick your hand and put it on my length.”

Lick, lick, lick, she coated her palm and each of her fingers. Trembling, she gripped his long, thick shaft.

“Yeah, kitten, like that. Now move with me.”

As his fingers surged deep, deep inside her, she stroked down his erection. As his fingers pulled out of her, she stroked up. He gave another of those animal growls, fueling her excitement, and she quickened her pace, forcing him to do the same.

Their heated breaths intermingled, ensuring she inhaled his air and he inhaled hers. An intimacy as beautiful as it was necessary. She stroked him again, and again, and he continued to reward her. Pleas poured from her mouth, but they were incoherent, emerging as ragged gasps. Her head thrashed over the cushions, her hair tangling around her shoulders. Sweat slicked her skin, slicked his as well, and as they writhed together, their chests rubbed, rubbed so perfectly, her nipples gliding over the hard planes of his chest, the friction pouring fuel on the flames of her already blazing desire. She burned from the inside out. Sizzled. Liquefied.

“Come, kitten. Give me your pleasure.” As he spoke, he pressed the heel of his palm where she ached most.

Like that, she soared over the edge of satisfaction. Muscles clenched and unclenched. A scream exploded from her lips. Her nails cut into his back, drawing blood as she arched into him, clinging to him. And she must have squeezed his length harder, must have set off a chain reaction inside him, because a second later, his roar echoed off the walls and his climax jetted onto her stomach.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

W
EST
COULDN
'
T
QUITE
compute what had just happened. He was a grown-ass man who'd been with his fair share of beautiful women. As a rule, he wasn't governed by his body or his passions. But today, with Jessie Kay, he'd lost control. He'd come, he'd come fast, and he'd come fast because of a hand job.

Any other time, he would have been embarrassed. Now? He was just too sated to care.

He shrugged out of his ruined shirt—where had all the buttons gone?—and used it to clean Jessie Kay's belly before tossing the material in the direction of the kitchen to be disposed of later. As he rolled to his side, keeping his sweet little kitty in the strength and warmth of his embrace, his heartbeat began to slow at last. Contentment settled over him, a strange thing he almost didn't recognize. How many years had passed since he'd experienced it? Had he
ever
?

“If you need proof of life,” she muttered, “I'm afraid I can't give it to you.”

“Good.” He reached back, opening a drawer on the side table, and nimbly plucked one of the caramels he'd hidden inside. As he unwrapped it, he said, “If you're dead, you can't steal my candy.”

“
Such
a rookie mistake.” She snatched the treat from his hand and popped it into her mouth. “You should have checked for a pulse. You'd have known I was simply lying in wait, ready to attack.”

“A fact you should know about me?” He rolled on top of her and anchored her arms above her head...then kissed her until she melted into the cushions, the sweetness of the candy only making the chemistry that burned between them better—or worse.

How was this possible? He was hard as a rock again, the idea of taking things slow suddenly abhorrent.
Want. Now.

He lifted his head before he lost all sense. “I believe in tit for tat,” he finished and returned to her side.

Goose bumps broke out over her flesh, and she licked her lips, the action pure, wanton seduction. “Sugar bear, if the best things come in small packages, you're the worst thing that's ever happened to me.”

As he barked out a laugh, she leaned over him to reach for her clothes. He snatched the fabric from her hand and tossed it beside his shirt.

“You lost all rights to the garments. Your punishment, remember?” As she sputtered in indignation, he anchored her to his chest with a gentle headlock. “This is the part where you say, ‘Thank you, West. I appreciate your taking the time to teach me manners.'”

“Never! This is the part where you say, ‘Thank you, Jessie Kay. Thank you for allowing my testicles to remain attached to my body.'”

He shuddered and placed a hand protectively over his junk.

She laughed. “I'll let you keep your testicles if you tell me you penciled in pillow talk.”

“I did.”

“Really? Seriously?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. I'm not used to anyone sticking around after the main event.”

He almost asked the unthinkable—
Not even with Jase and Beck?
But he swallowed the question because, now more than ever, he hated the thought of his friends with her.
Mine. I won't share.

“You stiffened,” she said, worry dripping from her tone. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.” He kissed her temple. “It's fine.”

“We're gonna lie when the truth is hard? That's how this relationship is going to work? All righty, then.”

One of the pitfalls of being with a perceptive, stubborn woman: she knew your bullshit and wasn't afraid to call you on it. “I thought of you with Jase and Beck,” he admitted. “I didn't like it.”

Her nails dug into his chest hard enough to leave a mark. “I can't change my past, West.”

“I know.” Things were new between them, tentative, and he had to tread carefully. But he was new to this—
how
did he tread carefully?

For the first time since Tessa, there was time to figure it out. He actually had months...years to work through any issues that came up.

“I don't want to change your past, kitten. I like who it's made you. But I know the truth now. Once a man has touched these—” he cupped her breasts, and rolled her nipples between his fingers “—and this—” he slid a finger into the white-hot wetness between her legs, the new center of his world “—he will never be the same. He can never forget. I don't know how my boys can look at you and not
jump you.”

“For starters, we already know they're wackadoodle because they let me go.”

“This is true. You're catnip.”

“You mean man-nip.” She rubbed her knee up and down his leg, a contented little kitty. “I'm probably the best in the world.”

He hid a grin. She'd tried to sound unaffected and confident just then, but there'd been too much pleasure in her voice, revealing a vulnerability that squeezed at his chest.

“Probably,” he agreed.

A mock gasp of outrage. “How dare you!” Her claws returned to his chest. “I think you want to rephrase that.”

“Definitely. But we both know you need my goods and services more than I do, so be kind to them.” He pried her fingers loose and nipped her knuckles. “To answer your earlier question, yes, I really did pencil in pillow talk. Having no idea what you'd decide at dinner, I made a schedule for every possible outcome.”

“Even one where we're a couple indefinitely?”

“All right, not
every
possible outcome.”

“Well, color me intrigued.” Pale hair spilled over his chest as she ran his nipple between her teeth, and he marveled at her beauty, at the flawless, sun-kissed skin now touched with a strawberries-and-cream glow of satisfaction—satisfaction he'd given her. “What's the longest amount of pillow talk in your vast array of choices?”

“Twelve hours.”

“The shortest?”

“Eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes.”

She grinned at him. “Why the minute-long discrepancy?”

“If you rode me into a satisfied coma, I figured I'd need time to recover.”

She giggled—a sound that enchanted him—before kissing him just over his inked heart—an action that threatened to destroy him. “Do you remember when I told you I'd ask a million questions if ever we got together? Well, good news. The inquisition starts today. When did you get the tattoo? And why did you pick such a gruesome image?”

Sharing with her was instinctual, something he did without thought. “I'd been clean about a year, and I decided to honor Tessa with an outward expression, not just talk a big game inside my head. When I told the artist I wanted a heart, he showed me these neat and tidy designs, but to me, love wasn't—isn't—neat and tidy. It can be ugly and messy, so that's what I asked for.”

“Well. It's official.” She sat up, her hip pressed against his, and hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. “That tattoo is now my favorite thing about you.”

He blew her a kiss, and as she pretended to catch it, the truth of their situation hit him—and hit hard. He wasn't just engaged in a passionate relationship with her, one without a time limit, he was actually having fun. Enjoying life. Enjoying her and looking forward to tomorrow.

No thought for making things up to Jase and Beck. No thought for making things up to Tessa.

Until now.

Guilt climbed into the boxing ring inside his head and beat the shit out of him.

What right did he have to enjoy anything? How could Jessie Kay want him to?

She studied him for a long, silent moment, then traced a fingertip along his breastbone. “Do you need some time alone? It's okay if you do.”

Attuned to his mood already?

“I just need you.” He took her hand, wrapped her fingers around his shaft—once again growing thicker, longer and harder. “
This
is your favorite thing about me, and I'll prove it.”

* * *

“W
E
HAVE
A
major problem, sugar bear.” After make-out round two, Jessie Kay wedged her body between her boyfriend—her boyfriend!—and the couch, and proceeded to kick said boyfriend to the floor.

He—her boyfriend!—landed with a hard thud.

Won't ever get tired of those words.

“I picked at my dinner and now I'm hungry. Starved! As my boyfriend slash gentleman lover, it's now your job to feed me.” She pointed to the kitchen. “Hop to, man slave.”

He stood and fastened his pants. “How many jobs am I going to have, exactly?”

“Thousands, but all revolve around one thing— whatever I want, I get.”

“Well, then. I better make you a sandwich.” He strode away, disappearing into the kitchen.

Jessie Kay released a pent-up breath as worry she'd tried to fight at last bombarded her. There for a bit, West had been tense and, if she had to guess, angry. His eyes had been narrowed, his lips pulling tight over his teeth in a scowl.

Did he already regret being with her? Wish he'd stuck to his guns and insisted on only a two-month affair?

Maybe she shouldn't have pushed for more. What if two months passed and he grew to resent her?

Had she done herself a disservice, insisting they do things her way?

When had her way ever been the right way?

Dang it! She liked him. She really, really liked him. More than she'd ever liked another man. A lot freaking more. And even though they hadn't yet had sex, she felt closer to him than she'd ever felt with another, had shared more with him than any other, and the idea of losing him already devastated her.

Well, screw “what if.” Fear shackled.

She was enjoying the time they had together, and that was that.

She spread a blanket on the living room floor, and when West returned with a sandwich, patted the spot beside her.

“Another picnic?” He sat willingly.

“A naked picnic. You're overdressed.”

He stripped in a hurry.

To her surprise and delight, he snatched the BLT from her hands once...twice to steal a bite.

When the sandwich—and crumbs—had been devoured, he kissed her shoulder and said, “Time for my dessert?”

“Yep. Bon appétit.”

He paused to tilt his head to the side. He frowned. “I think we have visitors.”

“What!” She raced to the front window just in time to watch Jase, Brook Lynn, Beck and Harlow exit an SUV. With a screech, she burned rubber all the way to her bedroom to dress.

How would West act around the others? How did she
want
him to act?

Easy: totally devoted to her.

When she emerged, she pasted a sunny smile on her face. She had to take this relationship one step—one day—at a time and not expect everything to be perfect now, now, now.

Jase and Brook were already snuggled on one side of the couch, and Harlow sat in Beck's lap on the other. West, who'd pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, had claimed the center, right where they'd made out.

The memory alone heated her blood.

Jessie Kay waved at the lot of them. “Hi, guys. I'd like to say I'm glad to see you, and if I can find a way to sound convincing, I will. What's going on?”

“Well.” Brook Lynn grinned. “Jase and I had just experienced the most romantic hot-air-balloon ride ever when everyone in town decided to call me to ask if you were okay. Seems your roommate decided to get physical with you. Not only did he carry you over his shoulder, he made you beg for mercy.”

For goodness sake. Mrs. Brashear! “I never begged for mercy.”

“The way I remember it,
I
was the one who begged,” West said and everyone laughed. He cocked a finger at her. The moment she was within reach, he grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her onto his lap.

She curled close, loving his heat and scent—now fused with hers—and his unabashed affection for her in front of the gang.

Perfection!

“We decided to check on you, make sure you hadn't been killed—by pleasure,” Harlow said with a toothy grin of her own.

“You two certainly seem more relaxed than usual.” Jase rubbed his jaw. “A day at the spa must have been just what the doctor ordered, huh, Jessie Kay?”

“You know who's going to die tonight?” She waved her fist at him. “You guys.”

“Please. You need me alive.” Brook Lynn rested her head against Jase's shoulder. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, crap. My last day to shop.”

West stiffened against her. “Are you staying in Strawberry Valley or going into the city?”

“City.”

“I'll go with you. I—”

“Oh, no, no, no. You're staying here. I'm picking up your gift.”

He
really
stiffened. “We're exchanging gifts?”

Did he think it was too soon for that?

“Yes. We are
all
exchanging gifts.” Beck wrapped a lock of Harlow's dark hair around his finger. “I've already been informed. And found not-so-discreet hints about what to give.”

Harlow shrugged, unabashed. “I figured you could use the help.”

West scrubbed a hand down his face before standing, forcing Jessie Kay to stand with him. “You guys have officially overstayed your welcome. Get out.” He pointed to the door.

She slapped his hand. “
So
rude.”

“I know,” he said. “They're still just sitting there.”

The guys laughed while Brook Lynn and Harlow snickered, but they
did
leave.

Brook Lynn gave her a hug and whispered, “I'm so happy for you,” before following Jase out the door.

“Lincoln West.” Jessie Kay stomped her foot. “What's wrong with you?”

“I'm tired.” He led her into his bedroom, stripped her, then himself, and moved the covers for her to slide underneath. He settled beside her.