Ready to Fall (A Second Chance Bad Boy Next Door Romance)

by Anne Connor

  “I’m not sure if this is what you meant when you said I deserved a good guy.”

  The monitors blink with his vitals; I don’t know what any of it means.

  I don’t know why I’m here. Even more importantly, I don’t know how I ended up here.

  Uneasiness and anxiety sweep over me as I see Dad’s fingers twitch. I’ve seen this before. The first time it happened, I ran out of the room and nearly knocked over a family trying to find Dr. Peterson. I thought it meant something good. But he explained to me that it’s just involuntary muscular movements. He said sometimes the body has memories that the mind can’t access.

  So now when I see his fingers move, I don’t become hopeful. It’s just a reminder of what’s happened to him.

  Leaning forward, I take his hand.

  “I wish I knew what you thought of Sean. He told me to trust him.”

  I look back at Sean. He’s still standing outside the room, stoic. He shows no emotion. The muscles in his arm twitch as he curls and uncurls his fists.

  Leaning back and closing my eyes, I allow myself to settle in for a moment. If I stay here, nothing bad will happen. If I stay here, nothing will change. The moment will be frozen in amber, and Dad’s condition won’t get worse. If I just stay here, keeping still, he won’t get worse. But he won’t get better, either.

  The doctor said Dad may or may not wake up. I don’t know what his odds are. I don’t know if I want to.

  The beeping of Dad’s machines is calming, somehow. I feel them measuring out the moments and doling out time. I realize this is the first moment that I’ve been able to just sit and be still. Where I’ve felt the passage of time as it should be.

  I feel like I’m in limbo. Stuck. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, but I don’t try to force away the tears.

  I’m not sure if I’m waking up, or if I’m dreaming.

  I feel Sean next to me, but I don’t know if I’m imagining it.

  He sits down next to me on the big, comfortable chair in Dad’s room. I don’t know how I got here, or how Dad got here. Someone must have brought him here, to this private room. Someone must have brought me here, too, because I wouldn’t have been able to find this place on my own.

  We’re out in the desert. I feel the sunless heat, the black night prickling against my skin through the big window.

  Sean slides down into the chair next to me, and then picks my limp body up, cradling me in his arms. I’m allowing him to hold me. I don’t know anything about him, but I’m allowing myself to be vulnerable. I’m letting myself sleep in his arms.

  Or am I still dreaming?

  I feel my eyes flutter open, and I’m completely at peace with the world. I’m suddenly aware of the anger I felt toward Dad, but I don’t feel it. It’s like it’s all just melted away. I don’t know how I could have ever been angry at him, though. He could never have known this would happen, that I’d be responsible for his sins. That I’d have to atone for them.

  Sean’s fingers brush the hair away from my forehead. I’m sweating, but my body feels light. His lips brush softly against my forehead, and his arms wrap around my shoulders. I allow myself to lean into him. I feel at peace. Not good, not bad, just...at peace.

  “How long was I sleeping?” I close my eyes and rest my head against Sean’s chest. I wrap my arms around his waist, and I can barely get my hands around him. He feels so strong, and big, and good.

  “Not long, Cherry. But you needed it. You needed to sleep.”

  I swallow thickly. My throat is dry, so dry. Sean shifts beneath me, taking his hands reluctantly off of me, and pours a cup of water for me from the old plastic pitcher, into one of the small paper cups on the night stand.

  “Here,” he says, tipping the edge of the cup to my lips. “You’re okay.”

  The cool water coats my throat as I swallow, and it feels so good. It feels like it’s the first sip of water I’ve had in years.

  “We should get you to my place,” he says. “You’ll be safe there.”

  Sean

  I’m careful to make sure no one follows us. In the desert, the land is flat and the roads are straight. We make it to our destination quickly, and she sleeps next to me.

  She’s strong. She had to be strong, not just for herself, but for her old man. It’s a damn fucking shame that she had to be brought into this.

  And the most fucked up part is that I want her. I can’t help myself. She drives me fucking insane, and I want to give up everything just to taste her again. Go against my family and keep her out here in my home, in my bed, and in my life. I’d bring her to visit her dad every single day, and I’d feed her and keep her safe and lull her to sleep in my arms, keep her full and begging for my cock, keep her on her knees like the good girl she is and make her beg for it like the dirty girl she wants to be.

  And it will be for me, and only me. She’ll never have another man’s name on her lips again. When she cries out, cumming, asking for more, asking nice and sweet and panting and sucking, it’ll be my cock between her pretty cherry red lips, my cock between her legs and making her happy.

  But I have to let her go, for her sake. I have to let her go, and I have to make sure she never enters my town again. After she leaves my secret home, I’ll have to make sure she never comes back ever again.

  We enter my driveway slowly, and I check my rearview mirror one last time. I don’t want to be looking behind my shoulder for the rest of my life, but when I entered this business it’s what I asked for.

  She wakes up slowly, blinking and wiping away the sleep from her eyes. She still needs more rest, though. She still needs to shut her eyes and let sweet sleep take her away.

  “This is nice,” she says, resting her head against her window and peering up to see my home. It’s a one-level ranch style home, in the mid century modern style with a sloping roof, terra-cotta trim and white fresh walls, and all the lushness and greenery I’ve been able to achieve out here.

  I don’t have a lot of things here. I have stockpiled cans of nonperishable foods, rice, other grains, cans of soup and stew, things like that. I don’t have a lot of clothing here, either. I don’t want this place to look lived-in, should anyone come upon it. I want to be able to vanish if needed, and I seldom come out here, anyway.

  “You’re not to leave the house,” I say, punching in my security code as we enter the vestibule. I drop our duffels bags on the floor and she walks past me, looking up at the skylight letting in the fresh, bright moonlight. It illuminates her perfectly, framing her face and making her glow. She’s otherworldly, celestial. I want to pin her inside a glass-framed shadow box like the gorgeous butterfly she is, keeping her safe and frozen.

  But I can’t keep her. I have to let her go.

  My cock twitches as she walks away from me. She’s walking away, but she’s going deeper into my home. Her heels click on the light bamboo floorboards as she makes her way toward the kitchen. I pick up our bags, following her.

  The kitchen is white on white, and glows in the light from the moon coming in through the glass walls on the East side of the home. Beyond the wall is my small, glass-enclosed pool area. Another time and under other circumstances, I would have told her to strip down to her bra and panties and told her to go outside, dip her toe into the perfect water, and slide her body down into the pool. I would have gone in after her and held her close, making her feel good, sliding my fingers against her. It would have hurt when I kissed her, because I would have made it rough. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from taking her.

  Another time, maybe. But not right now. Not tonight.

  “Sit.” I gesture to the row of chairs set up at the counter, and she slips easily into one of the high stools. “I don’t have much here, but you should eat.”

  I open up a few cabinets and find a few cans of soup, selecting a can of tomato with rice. This was my favorite when I was a boy, but mom make it homemade, but this is the best I can do for Cherry right now.

  I glance ov
er my shoulder at her as I pop open the can and pour it into a pot I grab from one of the bottom cabinets. Her teeth are gnawing at the corner of her lip, and she pushes her wavy red hair away from her face. She needs to eat, and she needs to rest, but she doesn’t look like shit. A little bit tired and worn out, but she’s still the most beautiful creature I’ve never seen.

  “Thank you,” she says in a small voice, licking her lips. She scoots up on her chair and looks past me at the soup getting hot on the stove. “I haven’t eaten in days.”

  In my head I work out how long she’s been with me, how long I haven’t let her out of my sight. The poor thing, she probably was so fucking nervous and on edge preparing to meet me that she didn’t eat before that. I curse myself silently and steady my teeth, biting down hard, clenching my jaw.

  “Go into the bedroom.” I turn and take a long wooden spoon from a drawer, closing it with my hip. The soup is starting to bubble around the edges of the pot, and I stir slowly, the way my mother used to. She stirred her soup so slowly, coaxing the flavors out of it. The potatoes, rosemary, the freshly cooked chicken and the carrots that she always cut up into misshapen pieces. She called it rustic, because she didn’t want to make it perfect. But it was perfect. It always was.

  I hear Cherry behind me, sliding out of her seat, padding over to me. She comes up behind me wraps her arms around my waist. I feel her tits pressed up against my back. I want to turn around, push her up against a counter and roll her little nipples around in my fingers, make her flesh pebble and flush against my hands.

  “Go to the bedroom,” I repeat. She takes her hands off of me slowly. She doesn’t want to let me go, either.

  My thoughts flash back to that hospital room where her old man is laid up. If he pulls through this thing, will he forgive me for fucking his daughter? Or will he thank me for saving her?

  She pads away from me. She must have taken her shoes off, and I didn’t even notice. That means she feels comfortable around me, comfortable in my home. Fuck, that’s all I want, isn’t it? For her to feel at home in my home, to feel safe in my bed, to feel good with my cock filling her up. I want to cook for her, fuck, I’d even clean for her. Treat her like the princess she is. I’d spend all my money and time looking for the perfect way to make her happy.

  I feel her pause as I continue stirring her soup, but I don’t look over. I feel her looking at me, but I say nothing. I let her keep walking.

  Cherry

  I’ve never been in a house like this. It’s easily the most gorgeous home I’ve ever seen, but it doesn’t seem lived in. He has one of those refrigerators with the clear glass doors, so you can see everything inside, but there’s nothing in there except a few bottles of white wine and a clear glass jug of some clear liquid. He doesn’t have milk and eggs, juice, everything you’d normally have in your refrigerator.

  But the house is gorgeous. And I almost feel at home here.

  I laugh to myself and shake my head. Home? That’s a funny word right now.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen to Dad, and I don’t know where my home will be after I find out. We live together in a nice house that’s fully paid off, which my mom’s parents bought when they moved out here from New Jersey so very many years ago. I don’t know what’s going to happen if I have to live alone, though. I’ve been trying to push it out of my head.

  A wave of heat nearly overtakes me as my heart speeds up. I grab onto the wall, grasping at nothing to make myself steady. I can’t lose Dad. I just saw him, and he looked so peaceful. I even felt peaceful next to him. I should have stayed there, with Sean. We could have stayed in that room forever, witnessing a thousand sunrises and sunsets through the window over the hospital bed, and Dad would have been okay.

  But we couldn’t stay there forever. Sean had to take me away. He’s taken me away over and over. He’s helped me, but I don’t know if it’s a curse in disguise or a blessing in disguise. He told me he’d keep me here temporarily, and then I had to be gone. Gone forever, destined to walk the desert alone.

  I can still feel his touch on my lips. I can still taste him on my mouth. A feeling of sickness starts to overtake me.

  I feel my nails grasp at the wall as I start to slide down. I have nothing to hold onto. There is nothing for me to grab. I’m slipping and I feel the floor rising up to meet me. My vision starts to go purple, with splotches of dark colors appearing before my eyes.

  I slip...down, and farther down, and I start to give up. I start to allow the darkness to overtake me.

  But then, I feel strength. But it’s not my own strength. It’s coming from outside of me, from someone else. Sean’s strong, muscular arm ropes beneath my body and his hand grabs my waist easily, like he’s picking up a ragdoll. I’m able to open my eyes. I start to fight, with his help. Time speeds up and I feel him take me against his body.

  “Cherry, just relax. I have you. You don’t have to work so hard. Let me.”

  The smell of something salty, fresh, yeasty fills my nose, making my mouth water. I close my eyes and let him take over. I don’t fight what’s inside me, I don’t fight what’s happening to my body. I can’t. I’m out of fight. I let him take over.

  There’s a pause, and then I’m being lifted in the air. I open my eyes suddenly, and I see my world upside-down. I’m being carried over his shoulder. It’s like I’m a dishcloth that he’s flung over his shoulder, or an apron. Something light, something that can be wadded up and thrown aside if needed.

  We enter a room as the floor changes from light wood to light, beige carpet. It’s luscious and looks new, like no one’s walked on it yet. The clanking of metal against bone china fills my ear and then I slide down his shoulder and he places me down softly on his bed. I sit, and the softness envelops me.

  “You almost fainted,” he says. “You’re dehydrated. And that tight outfit is not helping you.”

  He sits down next to me and flashes me a wicked smile as he guides me shoulders so I’m facing away from him. Tenderly, he unlaces me from my corset. It’s what I wore for him, so he’d like it. Maybe so he’d be distracted and wouldn’t be so hard on me. Now I don’t know if it was the right choice.

  His hands are steady and tender, but there’s a strong, impatient fierceness just below the surface. I can feel it radiating off of him. He wants something. All women know that feeling, when a man won’t say what he wants, but we know it’s something. I don’t know what it is, but I can guess.

  I want it too. I swallow hard, but it’s difficult to clear the lump from my throat. The aftereffects of being carried here still flood my head, the blood only starting to return to the rest of my body. I’m lightheaded and I can feel a rush from his hands as he takes the corset away from my body.

  I’m not wearing my bra anymore. I’m not wearing any panties, either, but I’m getting wet from his touch. I close my eyes as his hands come down onto my shoulders and he turns me around again.

  His thumb grazes against my lip. I want him to kiss me...of course I do. I’ve never felt anything like his touch before. The way he handled my body...it wasn’t the right thing to do. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him have me like that. But I begged for it, and he gave it to me. And was it a welcome distraction from the situation, or was it part of the situation? Was it fated, that he would have me, consume me, take me? God, I don’t know, but I want it to happen again. This man has some kind of power over me, and it’s not right and it’s not logical.

  It just feels good.

  And I haven’t felt good in a long, long time.

  I part my lips slightly, feeling my brows wrinkle together. I know I don’t look pretty right now. I’m exhausted, and starving, but I thirst for him. There’s an emptiness inside me that he can only fill by making me beg for him.

  His thumb comes into my mouth and I close my lips around it. I sweep my tongue lightly against the pad of his finger. I know I don’t look pretty right now, but the way he’s looking at me is making me feel sexier than I’ve ever fel
t before.

  I don’t want this to ever stop. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever known, and he’s the one man I cannot have. Not after all of this is over. And it has to be over, one way or another. It has to end. Sean and I can’t go on.

  He puts one hand between my knees and pushes my legs open. I close my eyes, whimpering for him. The heat I can feel inside my core, between my legs, is almost too much to handle. I’m so hot and so wet for him. So ready.

  I tremble at his touch. His thumb slips out from between my lips and drags down my skin to my chin. His other hand pulls away. I open my eyes and see him get up, walking away from me, to the nightstand where he’s placed a silver tray containing my meal.

  I want to tell him not to stop. I want to tell him to touch me, tease me, taste me.

  Please.

  “You need your strength,” he says, picking the bowl up carefully. He holds it from the bottom, where it’s wrapped up in a heavy dishcloth. “Sit up, sweetheart.”

  I do as he says and scoot back so my back is against a few pillows propped up against the headboard. The room is quiet and dark and lush, and there’s a window that opens up to a view of his backyard.

  Sean stirs the soup carefully with the silver spoon and ladles some, scraping the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl. He blows on it softly, his lips puckering up as his eyes flash to mine, and he smiles as he brings the spoon to my lips.

  I part them, letting him feed me. Settling into the bed, I let my body relax. I’m still on edge around him, but I can allow myself to relax just a little bit.

  “You’re going to listen to me, Cherry.” He keeps ladling spoonfuls of the hot, salty soup into my waiting mouth. The liquid spreads down my throat, into my stomach, filling me with warmth. “No one is going to come here. I would tell you not to answer the door, but no one is going to come knocking. Just don’t leave.”

  I swallow thickly. He’s doing this for my own safety, I know that. But it’s hard to agree to comply when I don’t know where he’s going, what he’s doing.