Surviving the Fall

by Brittney Sahin

  “Well, you said you had some boring government job in Dallas. I guess you weren’t too interested in sharing your line of work either, even though—”

  “I’m not some kickass spy like you.”

  She laughed. “My job isn’t all that exciting. It’s for sure nothing like the movies.”

  As they approached the boardwalk, where the sidewalks bustled with people, and he could hear the soft sounds of the Mediterranean Sea eating at the sand, he stopped and faced her. “Tell me one thing. Do you really have all those gadgets from the Q branch, like in Bond films?”

  “We have a few things. But if I told you,” she said, squinting, “I’d have to kill you.”

  He held his hands up in the air and amusement flashed over her face.

  They both remained quiet for a moment, standing still as they looked into each other’s eyes. He knew she could feel what he was feeling—the tension, the pull between them . . .

  He finally broke contact by rubbing a hand down the nape of his neck and looking out at the sea. “What else did we do when I was in London?”

  “We went shopping, which is how I knew your size. You wanted some trendy new digs, so you had said, and we spent a couple hours bouncing around the city as you rejected almost all the clothes I had you try on.”

  “What on earth did you try and get me to wear?”

  “Oh, you know . . .” She paused as her brows pulled together. “I—oh wow, I have pictures. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before. They might help you remember something.”

  “You kept pictures of us?” His eyes went to her hands, which now clutched her phone.

  She looked up at him and nodded. “I kept a couple.”

  He watched her swallow like she was uneasy. “You going to share them or what?”

  “I want you to remember, but—”

  “But you’re afraid?” He cocked his head, studying her. How could this woman fight terrorists but be fearful of her own feelings?

  “A little.”

  “Why?” His hand curved up to her cheek as he stepped in closer.

  “Because then last year becomes real. You become real.”

  His hand fell from her face, and he reached for her wrist and raised it to his chest, pressing her hand near his heart. “I am real, Alexa. Memories or not, I’m right here in front of you.”

  She kept her eyes over his shoulder, her lip trembling just enough to notice.

  “Look at me, Alexa.”

  “I—I can’t.”

  “Why not?” he rasped.

  “Because I’m afraid of wanting you, Jake.” She yanked her arm free and turned away in a hurry, starting back down the sidewalk.

  He lowered his head and rubbed his palms down his face, taking a minute to breathe, and then he went after her, but he couldn’t move as fast as he wanted with the damn pain spiraling up his side.

  He didn’t catch up to her again until she stopped outside a restaurant. “Listen, Alexa, I’m—”

  “In the mood for some tapas?” she interrupted him, forcing a smile to her face, and he could tell the real Alexa was gone. In her place was the actress who played the part of an MI6 agent.

  “Sure,” he grumbled, annoyed to be adding her caginess to the long list of issues he had to face.

  He swung open the door and motioned her in.

  The hostess ushered them through the restaurant, past a glass wall where hundreds of wine bottles were displayed. The wood floors, which looked like board planks from an old ship, stretched along across the entire room. There was a man playing a grand piano and singing in Spanish, just off to the side of a small dance area, where a few couples were slowly turning to the music. The dim lighting and music were entirely too romantic for Jake’s mood.

  He sat down opposite of Alexa and listened politely as the hostess rattled off the chef’s specialties. Once the hostess had left, Alexa pressed her hands to her lap and leaned back against the red leather, looking out at the dance floor.

  “This is nice,” she said over the music. “Being here makes me almost forget everything.” She looked up at him from beneath long lashes, and he stiffened as her eyes found his. Her cheeks blushed, dark beneath the soft lighting. “What a poor choice of words, about the forgetting . . . I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  The waitress appeared just then. Alexa ordered a sangria and some tapas to share. Jake wasn’t all that hungry, however. A Jack and Coke was about all he wanted.

  He tried to relax but after subjecting his flesh to the hot water in the shower, he had to stay as upright as possible. His hand slipped beneath the table and he gripped his thigh, willing away the achiness.

  “You’re hurting.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He hadn’t realized she could tell. He’d been doing his best to hide it, afraid they might pull him off the case if he showed any weakness. Jake shook his head and glanced around the restaurant, unable to look her in the eyes. “I’m good.”

  “We should stop by a pharmacy soon and get you something for your back. I could help—”

  His hand went in the air. “I don’t need it.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  The waitress arrived, effectively cutting her off. He was grateful for the distraction and nodded his thanks and whisked the tumbler off the table and raised it to his lips.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” she said after a few minutes of awkward silence.

  “For what?”

  “For being such a bloody coward when it comes to you.” She pushed her hand into the pocket of her jacket and grabbed her phone. She tapped at it and then swiped her finger a few times before offering it to him.

  He took it as if she were handing him a grenade. Slowly. Cautiously.

  On the screen was an image of himself. He was standing in front of a tall mirror wearing a long, wool, tweed coat accompanied by a top hat. He looked like Sherlock Holmes. He had a ridiculous smile on his face. “This is what you recommended for a trendy look?” He couldn’t help but grin.

  “Oh, that one was your idea.” She bent forward to swipe at her phone, and his eyes drifted down to the top of her blouse, where the swell of her flesh was exposed.

  She glanced up, catching him in the act. She sat back down and reached for her glass.

  He looked at the new photo and shook his head. “Come on? What is this? A yellow blazer and scarf? You have got to be kidding.”

  She pressed a hand to her lips, stifling a laugh. “You look adorable.”

  “Ha. Adorable isn’t exactly what a guy wants to be!”

  She held her palms up. “Okay. Okay. You didn’t buy it—no worries.”

  “I would hope not.” He swiped to the next image, and his lips parted as he gaped at it.

  “Where is this?”

  “In the London Eye. The Ferris wheel.”

  It was a selfie of them kissing. Their eyes were closed as their lips touched in the photo.

  “Those are the only ones I have.”

  “Interesting ones to save.” He handed her back the phone and took a drink. The liquor warmed his chest.

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I got rid of the sex tapes.”

  He almost choked on his drink. As she chuckled, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing on her as he wondered what might happen later tonight.

  “Kidding.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’d never get rid of those.” Her eyes pierced his, and he could feel his body thrumming with excitement, with desire.

  He needed another drink, he realized as he swallowed the smooth liquid, enjoying the way it eased the sorrow inside him.

  A soft English song began to wail from the singer, and it had Jake slowly shifting out of the booth to stand. He extended his hand, holding it palm up, waiting for her. “Dance with me.”

  “What?” She looked over at the dance floor where a couple was moving in a slow and steady rhythm. “This is crazy.”

  “Nothing about our live
s is exactly normal, is it?”

  “Good point.” She stood, graceful despite her black heels, and tucked her hand inside his, allowing him to guide her to the small dance area.

  He pulled Alexa close to him, sharing a smile with the couple to his right. He brought his hand to the base of her back, feeling the soft leather of her jacket. She tipped her chin up, and his eyes captured hers. “You’re beautiful.”

  She smiled up at him, and his chin rested against the top of her head when she stepped closer to him, pressing her cheek to his chest. They moved side to side, barely dancing. More importantly, he was holding her in his arms.

  When the song ended, Jake stepped back, and their eyes met. He knew one thing with all certainty—he needed this woman more than he needed their memories together. The here and now would be more than enough.

  He placed a fist beneath her chin and guided her face closer to his.

  “When I kiss you, Alexa, I want you to do something for me,” he said in a husky voice.

  Her eyes remained fixed on his. “What?” she asked softly.

  “I want you to kiss me back,” he said gruffly before he lowered his face to meet hers and kissed her parted lips.

  Alexa’s back hit the door, and Jake pressed a hand to the wall alongside it as his lips worked over her mouth. It felt like he was stealing her breath, reaching into the very depths of her existence with every slow kiss.

  “Key,” she mumbled, the word vibrating against his mouth as she shoved her hand into her pocket in search for the card.

  As she found the small piece of plastic between her fingers, his hand came down on hers, and he pulled it toward the door. He was breathing heavily, and his large, muscular chest moved as his eyes darted down to her breasts, which were aching to be touched by him.

  It had been too long. Too damn long since a man touched her. Since a man she had truly desired had been allowed within reach.

  “Hurry,” she cried as Jake swiped the card and the green light came on.

  She stepped to the side as he shoved the door open with one hard push, and then grabbed her wrist and pulled her in after him. Her purse fell to the floor at her feet, and her back was once again to the wall, but this time within the safety of their hotel room. Alexa angled her head, and a soft hiss released from her lips as he kissed her neck and gently tugged fistfuls of her hair. She’d been thinking about this moment since she laid eyes on him at the cabin in Montana. It was almost unreal.

  Her fingers moved over the material of his dress shirt, landing on the strip of buttons down the center. She began to work at them without breaking their kiss.

  He shifted her jacket back and pushed her shirt off one shoulder, his lips moving up her throat and over the skin there, as well. Her body sizzled with his every touch.

  She had vowed never to have sex while on a mission, but somehow she could find nothing in her that cared.

  She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him back a little. He straightened and ran a hand over his head as his smoldering eyes remained on hers. Her fingers skimmed up his open shirt, and she yanked it back off of him, exposing his tan chest and hard, sculpted body. He was so strong—a man with a body that could protect her.

  A body that was injured.

  “Are you okay for this?” she asked, her stupidity crashing over her like a cold wave. How could she not have remembered his pain?

  “Damn, Alexa. I think this is the only thing I’m okay for.” He pulled her back to him, his naked chest slamming hard against her breasts as he pressed both palms to her cheeks. He stared at her for a long second, and then his mouth seized hers once again.

  Her chest heaved as his hand glided down her neck to the base of her throat, and then traveled beneath her shirt and bra, pinching her nipple. His other hand cupped her ass, his fingertips biting into the material of her pants. She instinctively pressed her groin against his hard-on, needing to feel him.

  A few intense moments later, Jake stepped back again and reached for her hand.

  “Wait.” She bent forward and grabbed her purse, searching inside for the small box she’d purchased at the gift store. “I, uh, bought these . . . just in case,” she said as a smile danced up to his eyes.

  He took the three-pack of condoms from her and raised a brow. “Only three?”

  She chuckled, and he gently pulled her along to his bedroom. Alexa took in a calm breath as she crossed the threshold, grappling with the reality of being in Jake’s arms once more.

  A tinge of guilt over their past filtered into her lungs, causing her to inhale sharply as he looked at her. They were standing in front of the bed in his room, which was dimly lit by the light that spilled through from the bathroom.

  Then a ribbon of heat tore through her, making her forget the guilt, the regret. When the sun came up in the morning, they’d be two agents focused on destroying a terrorist organization. But right now, they were two people who needed to feel something deeper than they could manage alone.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” she couldn’t help but ask again, even though she’d probably lose her mind if he answered no. She was too primed for the moment.

  He tossed the box on the bed behind her, then came at her so fast she stumbled backward and fell onto the bed. He leaned over her in one quick movement, and she tried to ignore when he squeezed his eyes against the pain . . . but when his brown eyes settled back onto hers, his one arm bracing himself above her, she knew he wouldn’t let anything get in their way.

  Her hand curved around his neck, gently drawing him closer. “I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything more,” she whispered against his lips, and he shifted back just enough so their eyes could meet again.

  “Ditto.” His eyes smiled, his dimples deepened, and then he kissed her again. It was a kiss that obliterated all other kisses. It started warm and tender. Then, when his tongue found hers, the kiss intensified, almost bruising her in a sinfully delicious way.

  He groaned, or maybe it was a growl. To her, it sounded raw. Carnal.

  He moved to his side, probably trying to find a more comfortable position for his back. They remained like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other’s mouths and the feel of their hands on each other.

  Both their shirts were off now, and she sat up to unsnap her bra. Then she stood and unzipped her jeans, watching the way Jake’s eyes followed her hands—her every movement—as he sat up, bracing against the bed with a hand on either side of his legs.

  Her fingertips had glided over her swollen lips before she kicked off her heels and pushed her pants down. Standing before him only in her flesh colored knickers, Jake reached out and placed his hands on her hips. He gently urged her forward, and his lips brushed warm kisses across her belly button before his fingers caressed her hipbone.

  Then he pulled back, his brows pinching together.

  “What?” she asked in a daze as she looked down at him.

  He tipped his chin up to look at her. “Your scar . . .”

  “Hm?” Her hand came down to cover his, which was resting over the thin, six-centimeter mark on her hip.

  He’d noticed the scar the first time they had sex, and he hadn’t pressed then. Would he now?

  He leaned forward and kissed her scar, and she snapped her eyes closed, her chest constricting as emotions wedged deep in her throat. She rested her fingers over his shoulder blades, trying to maintain her composure. But her mind drew up images of her past—the good and the bad—and she felt as if the weight of her feelings would bury her.

  His hands were trailing around to her back, and he locked his fingers behind her before once again peering up at her.

  In her past, she’d had sex because she needed to let go, to release stress, to satiate some bare, animal desire. But the way Jake was looking at her now seemed to go so much deeper. She wasn’t prepared to face it, though—it didn’t make sense. They hardly knew each other.

  “I want you,” she whispered, giving him the permissio
n if he felt he needed it. He had been a gentleman with her their first time. Of course, to him, this would feel like their first time all over again.

  “Give me a minute to look at you.” He swallowed. “The past and present keep getting muddled in my head, and I want to enjoy every second.”

  He rose to his feet, his hands giving her chills as his fingers ran up her spine. Then they shifted to her chest, palming her breasts. She rolled her tongue over her teeth as pleasure moved through her, warming her in all the places she hoped he’d soon touch.

  She reached for his belt buckle and worked at his trousers. They fell to his feet, and she stepped back, admiring his toned physique.

  She dropped back onto the bed, her hair fanning out behind her, her mouth curving in appreciation as she looked at his body before her. He grabbed hold of his shaft as he moved toward the bed. He knelt on top of her, bringing the hot breath from his mouth to tease her inner thighs.

  She bucked as he tugged at her knickers, moving them out of the way, and his lips teased her sensitive flesh. She clawed at the comforter at her sides, resisting the urge to grab hold of his scarred back as he pushed her legs up a little and toward her chest.

  “Jesus, Alexa,” he murmured, and then stroked her with his tongue again. He’d clearly not forgotten how to make a woman lose her mind.

  She cried out a few minutes later when she could no longer handle the mounting pressure that had built inside her. “Jake.” His name was like an exhaled breath rushing from her lips. “I need you,” she begged, demanding that he fill her. He was like a missing piece she didn’t know she’d been without.

  His hot mouth had lifted, but her body still tremored and rocked with orgasm as he sheathed himself. She bit back her worry for his injuries as his tip met her center. He held himself above her, and when he plunged deep inside of her, she gasped and her eyes shut. She crested on a wave of sensations that utterly wrecked her, but in the best of ways.