If We Leap: A What If Prequel

by Nina Lane

  Urgency wrapped around us both. He cupped my breast, twisting my nipple through my thin cotton T-shirt. Beneath his taut skin, his muscles tensed with the onset of lust. He was hard already, the front of his jeans heavy with an unmistakable bulge. Before I could reach for his fly, he pulled the hem of my shirt up.

  I lifted my arms and let him strip me—shirt, bra, shorts—until I was only wearing my cotton bikini panties with Monday printed in bubble letters across the front. A wave of self-consciousness hit me, but he radiated such want that my apprehension quickly eased. He raked his hot gaze appreciatively over my small breasts topped with hard nipples, the curves of my hips, my bare legs.

  “It’s Friday.” He traced the letters on my panties with the tip of his finger.

  “It’s…” I twitched at his touch. “It’s Monday somewhere. I think.”

  “It’s Monday nowhere.” He edged his finger underneath the elastic and between my legs.

  A breath caught in my throat. “What about Australia?”

  “No.”

  “Mars?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe Venus.”

  “Oh.” I gasped as his finger edged into my pussy. “Do you really care what day of the week it is?”

  “Not at all. But for the first time ever, I want to kiss a Monday.” A wicked gleam flashed in his eyes, and he went down on his knees in front of me.

  My heartbeat accelerated, pulsing into my core. I braced my hand on his shoulder and let him spread my legs apart. He pressed his lips against the M on my panties, the heat of his breath burning through the thin cotton.

  “Wider.” He pressed his finger into my cleft, rubbing the material against my folds. “Ah, fuck, look at how wet you are already.”

  He stroked his tongue over the O and the N while easing his finger beneath my panties. My legs trembled. I dragged in a breath, my body already lifting and straining toward release. He had such a heady effect on me, firing me up from zero to sixty with one kiss or touch. I tightened my grip on his shoulder and pushed my other hand into his gold-streaked hair.

  “I’m going to come already,” I breathed.

  “Good.” He kissed his way across the rest of Monday and stroked one finger up to my clit. “You make Monday so fucking sexy.”

  He pulled back to look at me, his eyes hot with lust, his cheekbones cresting with a flush. He stroked me harder through my panties, urging my arousal higher and higher. I bucked involuntarily toward him, panting, increasingly desperate for the bright, shattering orgasm just within my reach.

  “Cole, I need you.”

  “I know you do.” He pressed his mouth against my belly button, dipping his tongue into the little indentation. I fisted his hair, aching to have him inside me. Any previous uncertainty I’d had was gone, conquered by both my intensifying love for him and the explosive heat we generated. He kissed a trail down to the edge of my panties, hooking his fingers into them and tugging them halfway down my thighs.

  He eased his hand between my legs, his fingers caressing the tender skin of my inner thigh. I shivered, a flame rising in my blood as I opened myself for the questing penetration of his touch. And touch me he did, sliding his forefinger into my opening, his breath rasping against my belly.

  My heart hammered, and sweat broke out on my forehead. I was already throbbing. All I had to do was writhe against his fingers and he’d bring me to an explosive orgasm. Then he leaned forward to stroke his tongue over my folds.

  I cried out. Heat boiled through my veins. He slid his hands to my ass. I fumbled for the doorjamb and held on, trembles wracking my body as he sucked and licked me. It hit me like the strike of a match, a sudden hot flare coursing through my blood.

  I came so hard my knees buckled. Cole held me upright until the sensations ebbed and eased away, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

  “Your turn,” I gasped.

  He rose to his feet, bringing one hand to the buttons of his jeans. My mouth watered in anticipation as he flicked the buttons open and he pulled his jeans off, leaving him clad in boxer briefs that did nothing to conceal the thick length of his erection.

  Arousal and more than a little trepidation flared in me. Mouth dry, I cupped my palm against the hard bulge. His cock pulsed against my hand, sending heat clear up my arm. Though I still couldn’t quite imagine him pushing all that thick, hard flesh into me, my whole body softened in readiness.

  “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered the instant before he covered my mouth with his again.

  The earth fell away beneath my feet. I spun downward, endlessly, and the only solid thing in the world was the man holding me against him.

  He lowered me onto the bed, pushing his hips between my legs, stroking my breasts. We kissed, touched, and licked, exploring each other’s bodies as if we were memorizing every curve and angle.

  Cole only moved away from me to retrieve a condom packet from the nightstand. He sheathed his erection and turned back to me, self-restraint lacing his muscles. He slipped his gaze over my naked body, his eyes burning.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak past the heat in my throat. He eased my thighs apart and settled between them, nudging the tip of his cock against my pussy.

  My heart raced, my nerves twisting with longing. I opened my legs wider and dug my fingers into his smooth shoulders. He kissed me, sliding his hand down to open me for his penetration.

  I gasped, arching into his touch as he fingered my pussy and slid his thumb around my swollen clit. He knew instinctively what I liked, what I wanted, a firm, steady pressure that lit my blood on fire and had me aching for more.

  Energy radiated from him, like the sea itself coursed through his veins. He eased his cock partway into me, his movements slow and controlled as he let me adjust to him. My body stretched around his pulsing length. Little flames licked through my blood.

  “Cole.” I swallowed to ease the dryness in my mouth. Sweat trickled between my breasts. “Hurry.”

  “Christ, you’re a goddamned dream.” His breath expelled in a rush.

  My heart beat wildly. I bit down on my lower lip as he pushed farther into me, the invasion both exquisite and intimidating.

  I arched my hips, encouraging him to thrust even as I braced myself for the pain. A groan shook his chest. He gripped my waist and sank fully inside me, breaching my tender flesh with a power that wrenched a cry from my throat. He swore, his lips coming down hard on mine, his tongue penetrating my mouth, his cock so deep inside me I felt it pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.

  He lifted himself partway off me, giving me a chance to adjust. Panting, I twisted the bedcovers into my fists, my body quivering as I struggled to accept him. He stroked my breasts, twisting my stiff nipples between his fingers, sending shocks of pleasure to my core. Our gazes locked like a chain through the tension-thick air.

  “Do it,” I gasped, pushing my body upward, feeling the head of his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Fuck me.”

  He pulled back and pushed forward, not taking his eyes off me, his shoulders tight. Slow at first, a delicious glide stroking me from the inside. Heat unfurled through every part of me. I shifted and wrapped my legs around his hips, encouraging him to move faster.

  He lowered himself on top of me, bracing his hands on either side of my head, his thrusts shifting to a rhythmic cadence that submerged me in sensation. Sweat dampened his bronzed chest, and his eyes burned.

  I never wanted it to end, the rocking and thrusting of our bodies, never wanted to emerge from the haze of lust and need. I raked my fingernails down his back, inhaling the clean, male scent of him. A sweet, hot pool of need expanded inside me, pushing against the barriers of self-restraint.

  “Oh, please…” I dragged my lips across his stubble-rough cheek. “I want to come again.”

  “You will.” He edged his hand between us to rub my clit. “Let me feel it, nice and hard.”

  I groaned, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The air fille
d with the wet, smacking sounds of our bodies colliding. Arousal spread through my belly, tightening my nerves, urging me toward the blissful peak.

  “Oh my God.” Everything in me was alive and on fire. “So good…I’m going to…oh!”

  I cried out. Sensations burst through my veins, a thousand colors sparking and popping over my skin. I arched upward and threw my arms around his shoulders as if he were the only secure element in the blissfully spinning whirlwind. His groan echoed against my skin as his body stiffened with his own release. Together, we slowly descended to the other side.

  Cole collapsed onto the bed beside me. Our breathing rasped through the hot air. He pulled me to him, tucking me against his side. He threaded a hand through my hair and twisted a few strands around his fingers.

  “I love you,” I said. The words flew out of my mouth with such ease, as if I’d been storing them in my heart and waiting for the moment when I could open the box and set them free.

  He stilled, shock flaring deep in his eyes for an instant before clouding over. My heart constricted.

  “Oh, don’t,” I whispered.

  His throat worked with a swallow. “I can’t give you anything, Josie. I’m broke as hell and in a shitload of debt. Next summer after I graduate, I’m finally getting out of this town. I don’t know what I’m going to do after that…work, grad school, travel, whatever.”

  “I don’t know either.” Irritation rippled through me. “And don’t use money to try and push me away when this is still about you not thinking you deserve to be loved.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You don’t want to get stuck with me.”

  “Stuck with you?” I lifted myself onto my elbow. “What are you, Velcro? I love you, Cole Danforth. If it’s too soon for me to say that, then too damned bad. And no, it’s not because we just had sex. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time, and I know myself well enough to realize that at some point, that crush turned into love.

  “I love your strength, your work ethic, your protectiveness, your intelligence. I love that you have a world map on your wall, that you like fart jokes, and that you don’t care what people say about you working at the carnival. I love that you open doors for me, stroke my hair, and that sometimes I catch you looking at me with…awe, like I’m something miraculous. I love that you brought me my backpack in fourth grade and that you know how a great white shark breathes. But if you can’t believe me, then everything I love about you is for nothing.”

  He stared at me, his eyes dark and his expression implacable, as if he were deflecting every last one of my heartfelt words. My throat tightened to the point of pain.

  This was where he was supposed to haul me into his arms and confess how much he loved me too. This was where we kissed, laughed, and realized we’d be deliriously happy living in a shoebox apartment, scraping for rent, and eating canned beans and crackers…because we’d be together and deeply in love.

  None of that happened. Cole averted his gaze, his features tensing. Clouds gathered over him again, the approach of a storm.

  After pushing the bedcovers aside, I yanked on my clothes. Trembles of anger and hurt rippled through me. Not wanting to give him a chance to say anything—that moment was long past—I shoved my feet into my flip-flops and hurried out the door.

  He didn’t follow me.

  Chapter 8

  Cole

  * * *

  I’d never liked my birthday. It was a reminder that I was Kevin Danforth’s son. Which made it sickeningly ironic that the first thing I did when I turned twenty-three was drive to the Iron Horse Brewery.

  Nausea curdled in my gut. I hated the kegs, boilers, conveyers, fermentation tanks. The smells of mashing grain, yeast, sulfur. The noise of the brewpub—mugs hitting the wooden tables, silverware clanging, raucous laughter. Everything about the Iron Horse made me sick.

  I walked to my father’s office in the back, my muscles tight. He rose from his desk and extended a hand, a pleased expression crossing his face.

  “Happy birthday. Glad you could make it.”

  I stayed by the door and didn’t take his hand. I’d wrestled for the past week with whether or not to show up.

  The battle had kept my mind off Josie. If I let myself think about her, I’d shatter into a million pieces.

  “Sit down.” My father gestured to a chair in front of the desk.

  “I’ll stand.”

  His jaw tightened, but he gave a casual shrug. “All right. I take it you’ve read the full letter?”

  I nodded. It was a shitload of money set in a conditional trust. My father would be the one to determine how much of it I received and when. The thought of giving him that kind of power sparked a firestorm rage in my blood.

  But.

  If I had the money, I could eradicate my debt. Make a plan for the future. Look into graduate schools without stressing out over tuition and expenses.

  I could go to Josie with financial security and—

  No.

  Having money wouldn’t suddenly make me worthy of her. I had no idea what would.

  “Your grandfather put this money aside for you to ensure your financial security.” My father tapped his finger on a stack of documents. “But he designated me as the trustee because he didn’t want you to squander it if you received it in one lump sum. He also wanted to ensure that you were deserving of it. Worthy.”

  My hands curled into fists. “And?”

  “Given the way you’ve behaved these past few years, you haven’t yet proven yourself.” He sat down, steepling his fingers. “One of the conditions of the trust, which is not contestable by the way, is that you are to work in a position I designate for at least one year.”

  Tension gripped my spine. “You want me to work for you.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m not asking a lot. You can wash kegs, clean the bathrooms, maybe bus tables in the pub. I just want you to exhibit some responsibility and work ethic.”

  “I work two jobs. I’m a full-time student.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “But how do I know you’re telling the truth? You haven’t made any attempt to contact me in years.”

  Anger burned hot in my chest. He wanted me back at the Iron Horse both to control me and so the town residents would think he was such a great father for reconciling with his shitty son.

  “And if I don’t work for you?”

  “You forfeit your right to the money.”

  Shit. My grandfather, whom I’d never even known, was as manipulative as my father. Controlling us both from the grave.

  “Look, I realize we’ve had a rough relationship.” My father ran a hand over his thinning hair. “But you are my only son. My only child. I know deep down you’re a good kid. I’d like for us to make amends.”

  How many times had he used this tactic? I knew exactly what he was doing. And I hated the dark, buried part of me—so small it was almost invisible—that still wanted to believe him.

  “I loved your mother.” He stared at his hands, rubbing the finger on which he used to wear his wedding ring. “But she wasn’t well. It concerns me terribly that those kinds of disorders are inherited. When you acted out, I was so afraid you were exhibiting the same symptoms as your mother.”

  I dug my fingernails into my palms. My heart was beating too fast.

  “I want you to prove your commitment to me and my company.” My father lifted his gaze to mine. “Come and work for me, earn your keep, and we’ll get this trust fund sorted out in no time.”

  I stared at him. The air was hot and suffocating.

  “All right?” He lifted his eyebrows in encouragement.

  “Fuck you.” The words burst out of me like bullets firing.

  He blinked. “What did you just say?”

  “Fuck. You.” I stalked toward the desk, my fists tight enough to break. “You want me to prove my commitment? I don’t have a commitment to you or your goddamned company. I hate it here. I always have. I hate you. You’re a fucking viole
nt bastard who killed my mother.”

  He rose to his feet, his mouth compressing and his eyes filling with the dangerous light I knew all too well.

  “You watch your mouth, you little shithead,” he snapped. “I can see to it that you don’t get a dime of this money.”

  “I don’t want a penny of it.” My tension suddenly dissipated. “Especially not from you.”

  He rounded the desk and came toward me. Veins throbbed in his forehead, and his face contorted with anger. He brought his hand up—to hit me, grab me, something.

  I caught his wrist, blocking the movement. His eyes narrowed. He strained to break free, but I was stronger. I tightened my grip and lowered my head to look him in the eye.

  “You are a conman, a liar, and an abuser.” After releasing his wrist, I pushed him away. “You know it. I know it. One day this whole town will know it too.”

  “You’re making a big mistake.” His eyes blazed. “You’re a batshit lunatic to turn down this kind of money. Fucking crazy, just like your mother.”

  “You can take this conditional trust…” I pushed the documents off his desk with one swipe of my arm “…and shove it up your goddamned ass.”

  I stalked past him to the door, crashing my shoulder against his. He stumbled.

  I strode out of the brewpub without looking back. When I reached the parking lot, a sudden lightness filled my chest. Like the sun breaking through a storm.

  Chapter 9

  Josie

  * * *

  “I have a colleague who’s doing work with voodoo art.” My mother set another bowl of chocolate-chunk ice cream in front of me and patted my shoulder. “I can ask her about ex-boyfriend curses.”

  I attempted to smile, though if ice cream in the kitchen of my childhood home couldn’t make me feel better, voodoo curses certainly wouldn’t work.

  “No need.” Vanessa pulled out the chair across from me, her mouth twisting. “I’ve got a bunch of ex-boyfriend curses you can borrow.”