Fall for Him

by J.C. Valentine

  So, I’m waiting. And occupying myself with his personal effects. He really is an interesting man. So much more complex than I originally thought. I certainly never would have guessed when we met a year ago that I would be sitting here now, in his personal space, as his girlfriend.

  After I’ve filled the box I’ve been working on to the brim, I stand up and retrieve the roll of tape. Once the box is sealed, I decide to take a break from packing and stretch my back.

  The clock tells me that Rebel has been gone for hours now, which I’ve already guessed by the sheer brightness of the sun standing high just outside the patio windows. I wonder what he’s up to and where in the city he’s up to it at.

  Heading to the kitchen, I decide to fix myself a snack to help pass the time. Except a quick check of the cabinets informs me that Rebel is not a snack kind of guy. There’s not a single box of crackers, cookies, or cereal. Not even a stick of string cheese in the refrigerator. What kind of person doesn’t eat snacks?

  I’ve found a fundamental flaw. I’ll have to warn him when he gets back that this could very well be a deal breaker. He’ll have to start eating snacks immediately or I’ll be forced to walk away.

  Ha! I bet he’d have a good laugh over that. I can already picture his face, that sly smile twisting his lips as he prowls toward me. The low thunder of his voice as he tells me something like, “Oh, pussycat. You should know better than to issue threats.”

  I can already feel the knot of anticipation coiling in my stomach and the answering throb deep in my core at the thought of what would transpire next.

  Crap, if I keep thinking like this, I’ll need another shower to rinse away all the sweat. “Get a hold of yourself, Joe.” Selecting a couple of carrots and a fresh cucumber, I locate the peeler and start stripping them of their skins. I’m slicing the cucumber when I hear keys jingling from the next room.

  Finally.

  “Rebel, are you home?”

  The hand holding the knife pauses mid-slice at the sound of the female voice. Hell, no. She wouldn’t really be crazy enough to let herself into his apartment again. Not after Rebel humiliated her like he had. But the proof is standing right there, not more than a few feet away, in the next room.

  “Rebel, honey?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and my grip tightens around the handle of the knife. Anger surges in my blood. I draw in several deep breaths and remind myself that I can’t kill her. It’s irreversible, and I’m too pretty to go to jail. “You don’t look good in orange, Josephine.”

  The clack of heels on the stone flooring makes my teeth clench, and I listen as they grow closer. I’m not mentally prepared to deal with this today, but it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.

  “Oh!”

  I turn around at the sound of her startled voice and...the flood of adrenalin pumping in my veins rushes out of me in an instant.

  “Seraphim? What are you doing here?” I ask Rebel’s mother. She looks stunning, her long black hair pulled back in an elegant twist and a sleeveless navy blue, fitted dress that falls to just below her knees. Suddenly, I’m aware of what I’m not wearing. Like a bra and panties. Or pants for that matter. I’m wearing exactly what I put on this morning: one of Rebel’s oversized t-shirts that I picked up off the bedroom floor. Sweeping the middle of my thighs, it’s indecent to be seen in by someone like his mother.

  Good God, will the humiliations around this family never end?

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she says, smiling breathlessly. “I thought you were Rebel in here.”

  “Oh, no. He went out?” I say, though it comes out more as a question than an answer.

  “Oh, well shoot.” Her lips purse in disappointment. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

  “No, sorry. He just kind of left. I’ve just been hanging out waiting for him to get back.”

  “He’s always been a bit of a mystery,” Seraphim says affectionately. “But we girls love that, don’t we?” She winks and I summon a nervous smile. “Don’t look so terrified. I promise I only break out my broom on special occasions.” She crosses the room and embraces me. It’s a fleeting hug as if she knows that I don’t take well to the physical stuff.

  In the moments of silence that proceed the hug, I search for something to say or do that will break through it. “Um...would you like something to drink? There’s water, milk. It’s probably too early for wine.” Even though I’m not particularly fond of it, it’s looking pretty damn appealing right now. I could certainly use something to take the edge off.

  “Oh no, I’m perfectly fine. Vincent is going to be taking me to lunch shortly.” Her expression softens as she looks me over. “You spent the night?”

  Gulping, I give her a tight nod. I’m reminded of Rebel telling me that he already told his mother everything about us, but I feel the need to defend myself. “I know how this must look, me being involved with both of your sons.”

  “It doesn’t look like anything,” she assures me. “Rebel and I already talked about it, and I know that the two of you have been seeing each other for some time.”

  “How much did he tell you, exactly?” I ask, stepping back and nervously gripping the countertop behind me.

  “Enough to know that your relationship hasn’t always been a smooth one, nor has it always been very loving. I also know that there have been some recent changes to that effect.”

  “So you know that Rebel and I are dating now. Officially.”

  Inclining her head, Seraphim positions herself against the counter on opposite side of the kitchen and mirrors my stance. Taking notice of the plate of sliced veggies, she reaches out and selects a piece of carrot and pops it into her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, she watches me with an unwavering stare.

  “Can I speak frankly here?” I nod, telling her to go ahead. “I know my sons better than anyone. I’ve had the pleasure of watching them grow from boys into men, learning their way around the pitfalls of life. So, I’m sure you can imagine that it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.”

  She chuckles softly to herself, her gaze dropping for a moment as she reflects back on a time that I can only imagine. “I know my boys aren’t the most well behaved. Hell, they’re not always the most civilized either. But they’re good men, each in their own way. They’ve had a great example to live up to,” she says, smiling and, I’m assuming, thinking of her husband.

  “I know you’ve had your share of ups and downs with both of them. I know they both care deeply for you, but as a woman I can only imagine how confusing this has all been for you. And how worried you must be right now standing in the same room as the person who raised them. You’re probably wondering if I hate you or something, but I can assure you that I don’t.”

  Her expression is so caring, so completely full of understanding and sympathy, that I finally release the pent up breath I’ve been holding since she walked through that door.

  “As a mother, I will tell you that Ransom is a great man. He’ll make some woman very happy one day, but I don’t think that woman is you. Which is what I told Rebel after dinner that night. Remember?”

  How could I forget? It’s been branded in my memories in the file marked Most Embarrassing Moments of My Life.

  “I could tell from the moment you three sat down at my dining room table that he was in love with you. It was obvious in the way he looked at you and responded to you. And I could tell by the way you looked at him that you felt the same.”

  “You did?” I try to think back to that moment, to search my thoughts and feelings for any sign that what she’s saying could be even remotely true, but I just don’t see it. So how could she?

  “Oh yes,” she says, nodding her head. “Woman to woman? I don’t know how to put this delicately.” Bringing her hand up, Seraphim twists the heart pendant dangling in the hollow of her throat as she purses her lips. It’s a nervous gesture that instantly worries me. “What...happened,” she starts slowly, “at the table? I know that was Re
bel’s way of staking his claim.”

  Oh. My. God. She’s referring to the way he fingered me beneath the table. I groan, dropping my head into my hands. This can’t be happening right now.

  “He’s a lot like his father that way. He’s a very possessive kind of man,” she rolls on. “So I knew when he...did that...that he was the real suitor. The right suitor. Unfortunately, Ransom has spent most of his life living in his brother’s shadow. It’s all very self-imposed, of course. He spent the majority of his childhood trying to be like him. It must be something to do with Ransom being the younger sibling, but he’s always looked up to Rebel. Vincent sees it differently, though. He’s always looked at it as a kind of sibling rivalry. However you choose to look at it, the fact still remains that you were meant for Rebel.”

  I’m shaking my head now, unsure of what to do with this information. I don’t even know if I believe half of it. Meant for each other? Is this woman a hopeless romantic or what? I wonder how she’d react if I told her I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get married, ever, or that her son has his heart set on collecting a harem of women.

  “Well, I’m glad that you have so much faith in us as a couple,” I say carefully. “I’m not sure if I would agree with everything you’ve said, but I can tell you that we’re working on it.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask.” Clasping her hands together in front of her, Seraphim grins widely. “Well, I should be heading out. Would you tell my son that I stopped by and let him know that everything is set for Monday morning?”

  “Sure,” I say brightly, trying to mask how fast my mind is churning with possibilities. What is set for Monday?

  Pushing off the counter, Seraphim dusts off her dress. The warm way in which she looks at me is a dead giveaway of what her next move will be. I brace myself for the unwanted contact.

  “Honey, I’m home!” The sound of Rebel’s voice is a lifesaver. Seraphim stops mid step and lifts both sculpted midnight brows at his endearment. I give her a shy smile in return.

  “I have a big bag of glazed donuts so you’d better be naked and in bed,” Rebel continues on as his voice grows closer, “because I’m about to get you sticky in ways you never imagined possible. Oh, shit! Mom, what the hell are you doing here?”

  Rebel’s shocked expression as he rounds the corner and spots his mother standing in front of him is comical. I’ve never seen the man less than composed, and right now he is anything but. His dark eyes are as wide as saucers, and his face is quickly flushing scarlet from embarrassment.

  I cover my mouth, holding back a fit of giggles at the sight. If this wasn’t so damn awkward, I think I’d die laughing.

  “Well,” Seraphim speaks slowly. “I was just stopping in to tell you that everything is ready for Monday like you asked. I didn’t realize it would be a bad time.”

  Playing it cool, Rebel summons a mask of calm that I’ve seen him wear a dozen times. Crossing the floor, he embraces his mother while simultaneously handing the bag he’s carrying off to me. I gladly take it, grinning shamelessly ear to ear. His eyes narrow into tiny slits that I would normally find menacing, but when combined with that easy smile? Nothing but handsome.

  Grasping the tops of his mother’s arms, Rebel holds her away from him to get a better look at her. “You look pretty today, Mom.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She skims her palms over her slender figure. “Your father is taking me to lunch today.”

  “Someplace fancy I’m guessing.” Releasing her, Rebel saunters the last few steps to me, takes the bag from my hands, and drops a quick and affectionate kiss on the top of my head.

  “You know your father,” Seraphim replies. Looking us over, I catch the slight twitch of her lips. “I would ask if you two would like to tag along, make a day of it, but I’m guessing neither of you have plans to leave the apartment today.”

  Rebel grins shamelessly as he digs a chocolate glazed donut from the bag and bites a huge chunk out of it. “Not for a second.”

  “Ah, young love,” his mother says wistfully. “Well, as I was telling Josephine, I need to be heading back. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Not if I see you first. Want a donut for the road?” Rebel asks as he leaves my side to see her to the door.

  Seraphim flips her hand in the air. “Oh, heavens, no. It sounds to me like you two already have plans for them.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom,” I hear Rebel tell her, his voice growing more distant as they reach the front door. “I’m sure we can spare one. Although it could make this one thing I had in mind a little tricky but...nah, we can make do.”

  “I’m beginning to rethink that open talk policy,” Seraphim drawls. “I’m going to have to strip down the second I get home as it is and scrub myself clean of these thoughts a mother should never have of her son and what he’s getting up to in life. I just hope your father is up for helping relieve the stress you’ve placed on me.”

  “Oh, Jesus, Mom. I don’t need to hear that,” Rebel complains. I smile to myself, enjoying their back-and-forth banter. It’s teasing and full of so much love. It also reminds me of what I’ve been missing in my life all these years.

  “Fair turnabout, my dear. You two have fun. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “See you later, Josephine!” Seraphim calls out to me. “I expect to see you at the next family dinner!”

  “’Kay!” I yell back, suddenly wrought with doubt. Dinner? Again? I knew this whole relationship deal was going to be a pain in the ass.

  I don’t leave the kitchen until I hear the door close. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” I comment as I walk back into the living room.

  Turning around, Rebel heads straight for me, his strides long and determined. “You could have warned me before I said that shit.”

  “When did I have the chance? You were spouting off your dirty mouth the second you walked through the door.”

  “If you knew the things that have been running through my head all morning, you’d know why I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

  Bending down, Rebel grasps the backs of my thighs and scoops me up off the floor, wrapping my legs around his lean hips. Carrying me back into the kitchen, he snatches the bag of donuts from the counter and heads back the way we came, making a beeline straight for the bedroom.

  “Why don’t you enlighten me...Mr. Scott. What kind of dirty, depraved things are going on in that head of yours?”

  When his knees hit the side of the bed, Rebel grins up at me. “Oh, pussycat, wouldn’t you like to know.” He releases me unexpectedly, and I scream as I fall back onto his bed, bouncing twice. A giddy laughs escapes me, and Rebel grins as he stares down at me.

  Breathless and exhilarated by the sudden shot of adrenaline, my voice comes out raspy. “Someone is in a really good mood. What game are we going to play first?”

  Opening the bag, Rebel takes out a donut covered in pink icing and colored sprinkles. Holding it up, a wicked smile takes over his face. “How are you at ring toss?”

  A slow smile spreads across my face as I climb onto my knees and crawl to the end of the bed, kneeling in front of him. Rising up, I drape my arms over his wide shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Baby, if there’s one thing I know how to work, it’s a pole.”

  Twenty-One

  Rebel’s heated stare holds mine prisoner for several heartbeats, charging the air between us with anticipation. Fire glints in the depths of those charcoal eyes causing the blood to pound through my veins. Without any notice, Rebel’s mouth crashes down on mine, consuming me with a sinful kiss that rocks me to my core. Our tongues dance together, licking, stroking, sucking. I taste a hint of chocolate still lingering from the donut he ate, making him even more decadent and utterly edible.

  Breaking the kiss, Rebel stands back. A whimper crosses my lips, a plea for him to come back, to finish what he started. Then I notice the cool, calm mask he’s wearing. The one he uses when he wants ultimate control—over me, my body. The world.<
br />
  My mystery man has entered the room. A thrill of excitement shoots through me like a bolt of electricity, sending hot and cold signals racing into my twitching muscles.

  Placing the donut gently between his teeth, Rebel holds me in his granite gaze as he begins stripping off his clothing. Taking his cue, I do the same. His shirt that I’ve been wearing all morning is cast aside, leaving me completely bare to him.

  His eyes peruse my naked body, the desire growing by the second. As he steps out of the last of his clothing—a pair of silky black BVDs that hug his powerful thighs like a second skin—his cock springs free, standing straight out from between his thighs like a steel pole. He removes the sticky sweet pastry from his mouth and approaches the bed.

  “I want you to hold this in your mouth,” he says as he extends the donut out. I open my mouth, tasting the sugary sweetness on my tongue as he inserts it between my lips. Stroking my cheek with a finger that’s covered in glaze, he gazes down at me with barely contained excitement.

  “Very pretty. Your mouth looks good when it’s stuffed full.” My lips curl up at the filthy compliment. His expression remains stony, but I imagine that in his eyes I can see tenderness. “Are you ready to play, pussycat?”

  I nod my head, careful not to bite down on the donut.

  Climbing onto the bed, Rebel lies back with his head on one of the pillows. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he crosses his feet at the ankles and arches a dark brow. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me so I can watch those beautiful tits sway.”

  I do as he says, taking my time to drag the moment out as long as possible. Rebel’s eyes scan up and down my body, lingering on the curviest parts of me—my thighs, my ass, my breasts. With each part of me he stops at, his cock jumps and a wave of heat pools between my legs. When I reach his waist, he stops me with nothing more than a look.