Jump Then Fall

by Alyssia Kirkhart

  Then again…fast.

  I licked my lips. “An amen.”

  “Right.” A dimpled half-smile. A gentle squeeze of my hand. “An amen.”

  After the ceremony, Lawson didn’t want to linger. He expressed his thanks to those who reached out to him on a job well done on stage, but only because those well-wishers were on our way out.

  “I ordered an Uber.” Lawson guided me through the exit doors, his hand at the small of my back. “Thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat, maybe show you some of the sites.”

  “There’s no after-party?” Because there was always an after-party. The news talked about them the next day, people posted photos on social media.

  He paused by the curb. Gazed down at me with amusement. “Several, but I figured you wouldn’t be interested.”

  I wasn’t.

  I didn’t care where we went.

  I just wanted to be with him.

  “Are you interested?” I asked.

  Beside us, the passenger window of a Toyota Camry rolled down. “Mr. Hill?”

  Lawson gestured for the driver to wait. His eyes were still on me. “Everything I’m interested in is right here in front me.”

  “Wow.” Wow. I slipped my arms inside his jacket, around his waist. He was so warm, his shirt slightly damp from sweating on stage. “That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really?” He arched a brow. “That can’t be true.”

  I laughed.

  “Because I’m sure I can do much better.” He opened the back door of the car.

  “Oh?” I ducked inside, scooting over to make room for him. “What do you have a giant book of pickup lines or something?”

  He shut the door, leaned in and kissed me. Just a gentle press of his lips to mine, but I felt that kiss everywhere. “Maybe.” Grinning, he sat back, fastened his seatbelt. I followed suit. “I’ve got one for you.” He tugged at his collar. “Know what this shirt’s made of?”

  “Oh my gosh.” Laughter bubbled inside my chest. “What?”

  “Boyfriend material.”

  I burst out laughing. Whatever had happened after his performance, wherever dark place he’d gone to, he was back now. Just Lawson. My Lawson.

  He gripped the driver’s headrest. “Hey, man. Any good hole-in-the-wall joints around here?”

  The driver glanced at us, smiled. “I’m from here, Mr. Hill. Everything worth knowing is someplace hole-in-the-wall. What did you have in mind?”

  “Burgers, maybe. Something lowkey.”

  “You got it.”

  Sitting back, Lawson stretched an arm over the seat. “Now. Where was I?”

  Gosh, this man. “You were telling me about your shirt, maybe?”

  “Ah, that’s right. Hey, do you have an extra heart?”

  “I’m afraid to ask. Why do you need an extra heart?”

  His head canted. “Because mine’s been stolen.”

  A small diner off the strip served burgers, fries and mile-high lemon meringue pie. We ate our fill and then some. Lawson paid the bill and I grabbed one of their paper menus for a keepsake. Then he took me to see the dancing Fountains of Bellagio. Water and mist swayed and jetted into the air to Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance. I didn’t suppose my eyes could’ve gotten any wider. I’d read about the lake and the choreographed sprinkler system on steroids, to quote one author. But it was far more spectacular in person. The lights were stunning, the streams of water twirling and leaping like real dancers. I’d no sooner rubbed my upper arms against the chill of the night air than I felt the weight of Lawson’s suit jacket on my shoulders. His arms wrapped around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder.

  I was crazy about this man.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I don’t gamble. Never understood the appeal. But I always look forward to coming to Vegas, because of this. The rush of the water, the lights, the music.”

  “I love it.” I turned, locked my arms around his neck. He palmed the small of my back. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For bringing me along. This is more than I could’ve ever imagined, although I’m not sure what I imagined.”

  “Burgers and pie, no doubt. I really should’ve taken you to a better restaurant, especially since it’s your first time and—”

  I pressed my lips to his to shut him up. “Not on your life,” I said. “I’ve loved every moment.”

  “And the performance?” It was the first time he’d asked.

  I drew in a sharp breath through my teeth, bopped my head from side to side.

  “No?” He looked surprised. Maybe a tiny bit concerned.

  Teasing him was too much fun, but even I didn’t have it in me to keep up the ruse.

  “Lawson,” I said, “you were amazing. Okay? There. I said it. A-MA-ZING.”

  A gorgeous grin split his face. “Yeah?”

  “I mean, for a country boy from Louisiana.”

  “Of course.”

  “They have a category for that, right?”

  “Don’t think so, but maybe they should.”

  “They really should.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Hill?” someone said, and we parted, both of us looking for who’d spoken.

  Nearly two hours since the end of the awards show, and no one had bothered him. Sure, he’d garnered stares, giggles and whispers behind hands, but people had given him his privacy.

  A woman with a little girl at her side smiled, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi, I’m so sorry, but my daughter, she loves you and we weren’t sure it was you—well, she was sure, I didn’t believe her, but then she reminded me you were here for the awards.”

  She was still rambling when Lawson let go of my hand and sank to his haunches, eye-level with the little girl. “Hi.” He stuck his hand out, smiled. “I’m Lawson. What’s your name?”

  Big brown eyes beamed at him, followed by a toothy grin. “Amanda.” Her voice was so small, so precious, I couldn’t suppress a smile of my own.

  “Amanda,” he repeated. “That’s a pretty name. How old are you, Amanda?”

  “Six. My birthday was yesterday.”

  “No way.” He looked genuinely shocked.

  She giggled. “Yep!”

  “Well, happy belated birthday, Amanda.”

  “Thanks.”

  “When I turned six years old, my mom got me a baby goat.”

  “Aww!”

  “Yeah, but I wanted another guitar, so…” He shrugged.

  “My mommy got me a Barbie dream house.”

  “A Barbie dream house!” He acted surprised and she laughed. “That is so cool!”

  “Yeah!”

  “Do you mind if she gets a photo?” Amanda’s mom asked, holding up her phone.

  Lawson didn’t take his eyes off of the little girl. “Can I get a picture with you?”

  Amanda nodded and moved close to his side.

  He put his arm around her. “Okay, smile real big.”

  They both did and Amanda’s mom snapped a couple of photos. The surrounding crowd had begun to take notice. More and more people stopped their conversations, stopped gazing at the fountain to stare at him and the young fan.

  “Awesome. Hey, can I get a hug?” He opened his arms and Amanda instantly went to him. Lawson wasn’t a large man, no, but she was tiny by comparison. Her doll-like hands pressed into his shoulders as he embraced her. “Thank you so much.”

  He stood. Offered his hand to Amanda’s mom. “I’m Lawson, by the way.”

  Her brows snapped together, and she laughed, shaking his hand. “Oh, I know who you are. We listen to you every day in car line. I can’t tell you enough how much your music has meant to her. To both of us. I just can’t believe she finally got to meet you.”

  “Well, I appreciate the support.” Gazing down at Amanda, he presented her with his fist and she automatically bumped it with hers. “Have fun with you
r cool dream house, okay? And be good for your mama.”

  “I will!”

  His eyes found mine, and I knew. If one person had the courage to approach him, it was only a matter of time before the evening turned into a giant meet and greet.

  He was ready to leave.

  We took a cab back to the hotel. I was antsier than a kindergartner on picture day. I fidgeted with the hem of my dress. Pushed my cuticles back with my thumbnail. Why was anyone’s guess. The show, the meal, the fountain, the little girl with stars in her eyes. It was a lot to take in. Wonderful, yes, of course it was. I’d had the best time of my life, and every moment of it spent with Lawson. But he was larger than life and yet, in that same breath, quick to sink right back to his roots. Or to the concrete, as it were, to the level of a six-year-old girl who asked for a piece of his time.

  Lawson paid the cabbie and nodded to a security guard at the doors of the hotel. “You okay?” he asked as he guided us toward the elevators. The guard walked at a short distance behind. “Not too tired?”

  I threaded my fingers with his. “I’m more than okay. And, no, I’m not too tired. Actually, I’m worried I may not sleep tonight, the excitement’s been overwhelming.”

  “Yeah?”

  “A little.”

  “Hmm.”

  We made it to the room without issue, Lawson scanning his key card and nodding to the security officer with a respectful, “Thanks, man. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  Upon entering the room, my phone lying face down on the chest of drawers caught my eye. I’d opted out of a clutch for the night, figuring I wouldn’t need it, anyway. Which had been true; I hadn’t. But as a millennial baby, of course my phone was almost always attached to my body. I went for it. What if Dad had called or texted? I hadn’t talked to him in almost two weeks, and I was beginning to get a little worried.

  “Wait.” Lawson’s hand on my arm stopped me.

  I turned, blinked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, I…” He hesitated. If hadn’t known better, I would’ve said he was nervous. “Can we just…you know.”

  I laughed. The look on his face was too amusing. “What?”

  He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his phone. Held it up, used his thumb to switch it to silent. “Give these up for one night?”

  “What if someone called or texted?” Like my dad.

  “I’ll spare you the suspense.” He placed his phone beside mine, face-down. “Savana texted about twenty times.”

  I popped my hand over my mouth. “She’s going to be so mad at us.”

  “She’ll get over it. Always does. Impossible for her to stay mad at me for too long. Brother-sister thing.”

  “But you’re not related.”

  “Might as well be.”

  “Right. Well. She may not be so lenient with me.”

  “Now, there you’re wrong.” He reached for me and I went to him, an involuntary action that wouldn’t be the last where he was concerned. “You’re with me now, Columbus. Same rules apply all the way around.”

  I didn’t think that was true, but it was a nice sentiment. He had a way of making me believe anything he said. “We’ll have to give her a full report in the morning. Where’s Katie?”

  He pressed a kiss to my brow, another to my temple, and I dragged in a shaky breath. “Already in her room. She’s a lightweight.”

  “And yet she keeps up with you.”

  A kiss to my cheek. A kiss to my chin. “That, she does. But the real question is…can you?”

  “Keep up with you?”

  A masculine grunt and his lips brushed my lips and my breaths turned shallow and I thought for a split second my knees were about to buckle, but they didn’t.

  Thank goodness, they didn’t.

  “Probably not.” It was nothing more than a whisper, stolen, as his mouth took mine.

  chapter seventeen

  I kissed him back. His jacket fell off my shoulders and my hands surged up his chest to his neck. Marvelous, the warmth I found there. He was hot. So very hot and every part of me ached for him, to crawl inside, revel in that delicious, masculine heat. He backed me up against the nearest wall, kissed me hard and deep. I clung to him, weak, desperate, sure that if I didn’t feel more of him—more, God, please, more—I might’ve died from the relentless ache between my legs.

  I wonder if I can make you wet for me, right here, in a room that’ll soon be packed with over sixteen thousand people.

  His words from earlier in the evening fueled my desire as his lips traced soft, open-mouthed kisses down my jaw to the hypersensitive line of my neck. My heart began to beat with anxious intensity. My fingers speared into his hair, holding him to me. He was strong, his every move calculated, driven by lean muscle and tightly wound need. For half a breath, I imagined what he’d be capable of once we’re in the bedroom, if this…this was only the beginning of what I’d fantasized, what I’d wanted weeks of touching and kissing to lead to.

  You may think, beautiful girl, that I don’t notice how damp your panties get when we kiss, but I do. I notice.

  Desire ripped through me, and I twisted my head, our cheeks brushing, and nipped at his earlobe.

  An animalistic growl stirred in his chest, one that vibrated through my body and had me practically climbing him to get closer. His fingers answered my plea, digging into my hip, pulling me flush against him. His hips ground into mine and I let out a gasp that echoed off the walls of the suite.

  He murmured, “Shit, darlin’, you taste so good,” in his southern drawl and it was the hottest, most erotic thing I’d ever heard.

  Especially when he punctuated it with another frantic claiming of my lips.

  His fingers tugged at my dress, first the skirt, then the zipper, followed by the clasp of my bra. Space between us didn’t exist, but I helped him as best I could, shimmying my hips until my gold dress and the bra beneath fell in a heap of fabric at my feet.

  He drew back, his hands resting on my hips, just above the thin band of my underwear. I try to catch my breath. To tell myself not to be embarrassed as he took me in. Desire-darkened eyes assessed, appraised, paused for a second on my breasts, before moving over the plane of my stomach.

  “Harper.” He touched the skin below my navel. “You are so beautiful. So…soft. I never imagined…” He didn’t finish. He swallowed the words as if they were lost to him.

  He sank to his knees and I gasped, alarmed. “What are you—?”

  “Out of these.” He tapped the stiletto of one of my heels.

  The thought to disobey didn’t even cross my mind.

  Trying not to tremble, I stepped out of them, and he said, “Good girl.”

  Hazily, I wondered if I should’ve been offended. No one had ever spoken to me like this. Good girl. Should I have been insulted? If so, why was I so turned on? Why did the fantasy of him giving orders and me obeying like a good girl all of a sudden seem like the greatest, most stimulating idea since the very first idea in the whole universe?

  His gaze roamed over my legs, and he gripped my ankles, slid his hands up my calves and around my knees. Thank goodness I shaved earlier.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Oh my gosh.” The statement whooshed out of me as if I’d been holding my breath the entire time. Maybe I had.

  His head tilted back. “Are you okay?” Calloused fingers moved further up my leg. “I can stop, if you want me to.”

  I shook my head, hair scrubbing against the door.

  He pressed a kiss to my left thigh. Another to my right. His hair brushed my center and a rush of pleasure skyrocketed through my body. When I looked down at him through the valley between my breasts, tight and swollen, the nipples peaked, he gazed up at me with an expression so fierce I nearly lost my breath.

  His fingers hooked in the waistband of my underwear. “Now’s the time to tell me no, if you don’t wanna do this.”

  I licked my
lips. “I want to. Please, Lawson.”

  A smooth arch of a brow. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  He tugged my underwear down the length of my legs, allowed me to step out of them.

  And then his tongue…

  Holy mother of—oh oh oh, his tongue slid along the folds of my sex. Without warning. He tasted me. Shifted my entire world off its axis. I bit back a cry, because, holy crap, his mouth felt amazing. The feel of his warm breath, the silky softness of his tongue sliding along my slit. I shuddered. Gasped. The pleasure was so sharp, so consuming, I got a little lightheaded.

  But then he rose, and I had to bite my lip to stop a whine of protest. “What are you doing?”

  His hands slipped beneath my knees and he lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist. He was hard—so hard and powerful, and the pressure of his erection right there where I wanted him so badly had me seeing stars.

  “Okay?” His eyes were blue fire staring into mine.

  I nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

  He moved, kissing me, my arms around his neck, his hands cradling my back. Depositing me to the bed, he flipped me over, face down on the mattress.

  O-kay. That, I did not expect.

  For a moment I wondered if this was about to turn terribly bad. I’d read the stories online, watched the news, heard girls in the restroom talk about date-rape when I was still in high school and much too busy to go out with a guy, much less sleep with him. The night started out great: a party at someone’s house, music, drinking. Girl meets good-looking boy who says nice words and then, boom, she was underneath him, not knowing what the hell was going on. Positive she didn’t bank on being forced against her will.

  But Lawson hadn’t forced me. In fact, he’d stopped and made sure I consented before proceeding any further.

  So.

  I laid there. Unsure if I was relieved because I couldn’t see what he was doing or petrified, because I couldn’t see what he was doing.

  Unable to decide, my eyes squeezed shut. I braced myself. For gentleness, for roughness, for whatever he wanted to do, because damn my stupid female libido, I told him yes. And then please. Those words actually came out of my mouth.

  “Look at you.” One of his hands settled on my back.