Hard to Fall

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Hard to Fall Page 9

by Marquita Valentine


  She sets her bag down and looks around. “Okay.” As if in slow motion, she begins to take off her clothes, leaving her in a hot pink bikini that shows off every sweet curve. “Where should I sit while you navigate?”

  “Right here.” I pat the chair in front of me. “I’ll steer from behind you.” I want to tell her that I’m fully amenable to teaching her how to steer the boat, but she still looks shocked.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Suddenly, she blinks, snapping out of her funk. “Very. Sorry. I had stage fright. It’s been a while since I’ve been boating. Now I’m okay.”

  I cup her shoulders, looking deeply into the chocolate-colored depths of her eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take such good care of you that you won’t want to leave.”

  “I know you will and that’s a little scary, too,” she admits.

  Dipping my head, I press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s only scary until you get the hang of me.”

  She smiles as I lean back. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.” Taking out the clipboard I keep hidden away in one of the myriad compartments, I perform a safety check. “They do this for us, but old habits are hard to break when it comes to boating.”

  “You used to do that a lot?”

  “Any coastal boy worth his salt is sailing by five years old.”

  “We used to sail around Tahiti, whatever island my mom could get a rental for the day, and Ocracoke. We actually had a house there.”

  I slice my gaze to her. “Is that where you grew up?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “What about the other times?”

  “Boarding school in Raleigh.”

  Okay, maybe I should do more sharing instead of asking questions. “I grew up near Wilmington, in a town called Burgaw. My entire family lives there. It’s huge, like Evangeline’s family huge.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Walkers tend to live into their nineties, so longevity helps keep the family reunions packed. And our propensity for twins.”

  Her brow arches at that. “So you’re a fertile family.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” I grin. “Anyway, we helped found the town, back in the 1700s, before the Revolutionary War. Sold a lot of goods, made a lot of money, bought a lot of land. Didn’t farm it, though.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Beekeeping. Our family is the largest manufacturer of honey on the East Coast. We have two product lines. One of them is for organic honey. Our symbol on the label is a tiara over a bee.”

  Her eyes round. “You’re Royal Honey. I love that honey. We even feed it to the dogs when their allergies act up. No more than a teaspoonful, though.”

  “I’ll have to tell Uncle Gideon. He runs the day-to-day operations, but we’re all required to work there part-time until we settle on a career. And since we have a family exemption, that meant I had to start working when I was nine.

  “If I hadn’t gotten paid, I think I would have rioted by the time I was fifteen,” I joke.

  “Is that why your boat’s called Sweet Vacation?”

  “You would be correct.” And I’m a trust fund kid. A trust fund kid with a work ethic, but still set for life all the same.

  “Color me impressed.”

  “My boat is impressive,” I agree.

  She shakes her head. “Not like your honey. Tell me more about your family. I love families!”

  Encouraged not only by her excitement but also her genuine interest, I start at the beginning, figuring that she’d love a good saga.

  “The Walkers weren’t always on the good side of the British Empire.”

  Her eyes round. “You were rebels.”

  Oh, yeah, she’s totally digging this.

  “Taxation without representation was a big thing then, as we all know, but so was withholding our honey from King Charles. Rumor had it that he was convinced it kept him…manly for the ladies.” I wriggle my eyebrows at her.

  “Who started that rumor?”

  I grin shamelessly. “My family.”

  She giggles, sitting in the captain’s chair and spinning it around. “Keep going.”

  “Later we pissed a lot of people off by opposing slavery—traditionally Walkers are Quakers and merchants—but we also smuggled in a lot of goods when the port was captured by the North—people were starving. After that, someone had the mighty fine idea that my triple-great-grandfather Josiah Walker should officially run for office instead of just being appointed, and that’s how the Walker legacy began.”

  “That sounds like a lot to live up to,” she says. “They have to be proud that you’re a fireman. That’s ultimate public service, beyond serving in the military.”

  “My dad graduated from West Point.”

  “Did you?”

  Once my eyes were opened, I made sure to do exactly the opposite of what the senator did, but she doesn’t need to know that. At least not right now.

  “Nope.” I start the engine and put it in reverse. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get to our cove.”

  “Thanks for telling me about your family, Hayden.”

  “You’re welcome.” Strangely enough, for once, I feel…proud to be a Walker.

  —

  The lake’s surface is as smooth as glass as my Hatteras 60 cuts through the water. Monitoring my depth, I keep as close to shore as possible to avoid Jet Skis, water skiers, and entire rafts full of kids being pulled behind flashy little speedboats.

  “We’re almost there,” I murmur.

  It’s all I can do to keep my focus off her and on what’s in front of me. Today she’s forgone her glasses and has her hair in some sort of knot. Loose tendrils of hair have escaped, brushing against her skin as the wind moves them.

  “How often do you come here?” she asks.

  “Not often enough.” I turn the boat to port, backing down the engine and allowing it to drift into our private cove. Pressing a blue button, I drop anchor and put the engine at full stop.

  The cove is flanked by trees and honeysuckle bushes. The sweet smell is so distinct that I can close my eyes and imagine running in Grandmother Walker’s backyard with my brothers.

  I hear her gasp. “It’s really beautiful.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I keep my boat here. This section of the lake is partially private. No one will bother us. If you want to swim to shore and lay out, there’s a storage shed with chairs and towels for us to use. Or we can float….Or, my very favorite option, we can go skinny-dipping.”

  Her mouth quirks. “Wondered how long it would take you to get to that.”

  “Ever been?”

  “Only as a small child. My mother didn’t believe in the restriction of clothing.”

  “That had to be interesting.”

  “It was my life.” She laughs. “It didn’t seem so different to me.”

  “Far be it from me to prevent you from reliving old memories.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she gives me a playful tap. “You wish.”

  “Hell, yeah, I do. I’m not going to lie about it.”

  Her face falls a little and she gets all quiet.

  Fuck. I’m right back to square one. However, I refuse to stay there.

  “So.” I rub my hands together. “The first thing I like to do when I get here is grab a beer and relax, or in your case grab a cherry Coke with lots of ice and extra cherries. I know, I know…it’s pretty scary for two bosses to actually not think about work, but you and I, we’re going to give it the old college try.”

  “I dropped out of college once I found out I’d have to cut up animals to get my degree.”

  “Graduated from Duke and don’t even use my degree, so basically I’m in the same boat.” I wink at her, then spread my arms wide. “Literally, we’re in the same boat.”

  She bites back a smile. “Now you sound like me.”

  “You sound cute.”

  Her lashes flicke
r, dark eyes surveying my body. I’m not wearing a shirt, just a pair of board shorts that I know damn well look good on me and hang low enough that it shows off the vees on each side of my hips that I had to work my ass off to get.

  “Cute is not the word I’d use to describe you.”

  “Boring?”

  “We’ve already gone over that.” She hops down from her chair, her breasts bouncing with the movement as she suddenly takes my hand. Desire licks at my nerves, putting me on high alert. “Aren’t you going to take me on a tour of your vessel?”

  “Didn’t ask you out here to get laid, Saylor.” I run a free hand through my hair. “This is a date.”

  “Are you telling me that your dates never involve sex?”

  My face heats. “A gentleman doesn’t discuss things of that nature.”

  Her lips purse a little, like I’ve just fed her a lemon instead of a line. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “You can take that any way you want, sunshine, but my lips will remain sealed.” I gesture to the wide, cushioned seat along the bow of the boat. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll be back with lunch.”

  “No swimming for thirty minutes after we eat.” She begins to twirl a stray lock of dark hair. “Whatever will we do to pass the time?”

  “Lucky for you, my boat comes with board games.”

  Her seductive pose, the one that’s confusing and arousing, melts away. “Please tell me you have Uno.”

  “I have Uno.”

  She waves me away. “Hurry up. I so want to kick your butt.”

  Even though my head is spinning from her mercurial moods, I haul ass to the galley and grab the picnic basket prepared just for us before yanking open the center drawer in the console by the flat-screen television and snag the pack of cards.

  Her eyes widen in pleasure when she sees me. “A picnic?” Spinning around, she searches for a blanket, finding one under the berth seat and spreading it out. “Sit down.”

  I crouch down beside her, unpacking our food and other items until there’s barely any room for us to sit. That doesn’t seem to bother her in the least because she plants her cute ass right beside me and proceeds to fix a plate for the two of us.

  “Feeling better?” I ask, popping some grapes in my mouth.

  She nods, turning slightly so that we can face each other. “I’m sorry. Sometimes, when my mom visits, it gets me all out of whack. I see her and what she does, and I feel so…so…well, not like her. When I saw your pocket yacht it reminded me of the men she dates…superrich guys who aren’t really interested in her as a person.”

  “I think I’ve made it obvious that I want to get to know you as a person.”

  “You have. I guess it’s just a silly feeling that I should have gotten rid of a long time ago.”

  “To be honest, I feel the same way when I visit the senator,” I admit.

  Confusion shines in her eyes. “The senator?”

  “Ah, yeah. That’s what I call my dad.” I stretch out my legs and lean back on my hands. “He’s been after me to quit my job and go into the family business.”

  “Selling honey?”

  Smiling, I cock my head. “Politics.”

  “Selling honey sounds like a lot more fun.”

  “On that we would agree.” I lean forward and grab a bottle of beer, popping the top off with the opener. “But he’s not listening to me.”

  “Maybe you should say it louder.”

  “I’ve been shouting it for years.”

  She frowns a little. “My dad doesn’t pay attention to me, either.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he’s…married. With kids.”

  That has to be hard on her. “Is he famous like your mom?”

  “Not like her, no.”

  Recalling her aversion to baseball, I ask, “Was he a minor league player or one who didn’t get a lot of airtime?”

  “Who?”

  “Your dad.”

  “I have no idea if he’s ever played baseball.”

  “Then why don’t you like it?”

  She gives me this look before intently focusing on pleating a cloth napkin into neat rows. “Went out with a baseball player once.”

  “And?”

  Peering up at me through her dark lashes, she says, “A lady doesn’t share about her past conquests.”

  “You conquered him.”

  “No, but I made it sound like I did, didn’t I?” She squints at me and I wonder if she needs her glasses or maybe a pair like mine.

  “Can you see without your frames?”

  “Mostly.” Rising up on her hands and knees, her bathing suit bottom curves around her plump ass. “I’m pretty sure I packed some sunglasses.”

  “Take your time.” Swear to God, she wriggles her ass at me right after I tell her that. It’s heart-shaped, perfect for gripping, perfect for pounding from behind…perfect for biting.

  “Are you ready?”

  “What?” I tear my eyes away from her as she sits down.

  “Ready to play Uno?” She holds out the deck. “I’ve got mad skills, so be prepared for a lot of draw fours to be dropped, yo.”

  A laugh pops out of me. “I have never met a girl like you before.”

  “Maybe that’s because I’m a woman.”

  “No maybe about it.” I allow myself one last lingering gaze before I put on my game face. “Bring it, Dean.”

  We spend the rest of the afternoon playing cards, eating, jumping into the cold-ass lake water to float on our backs and on inflatables that prove that Jack and Rose could have shared the damn door…and talking.

  Never have I shared so much while learning so little about another person. Saylor is the ultimate mystery, seemingly revealing all while revealing little.

  “I’m freezing,” she says, teeth chattering. “Let’s head back to the boat and warm up.”

  The sun is starting to set, so I dive into the water and pull our float in so she doesn’t have to get any colder than she already is.

  She climbs up the ladder first. I pull the float up after me, turning it so that it lies in the sun to dry.

  Just as I go to grab a towel, Saylor starts to take off her top. “Whoa.” I turn around, but my brain can’t get the image of her perfect tits and pointed nipples out of my head.

  “You’ve already seen me, Hayden. It’s not a big deal.” Her voice wavers with uncertainty.

  Slowly, I turn to face her. She has a towel wrapped around her body and her hair is flowing over her shoulders in wet strands that are starting to curl at the ends. Expressive brown eyes gaze at me. They’re vulnerable, yet confident, which is sweetly erotic. However, that vulnerability brings out a protectiveness in me as well.

  “I’m trying to treat you differently.” I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “What do you mean?” She takes a step closer, the scent of her coconut sunscreen filling my senses.

  “Look. I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. Most of the women I meet either want to be with me because of the whole fireman aspect or they want to be with me because of who my father is.”

  “I don’t care about either of those things, at least not when it comes to what I want from you,” she clarifies.

  “I know. That is why I’m doing my level best to get to know you before I fuck you. And believe me, I will, just as soon as you—”

  She drops the towel. Saylor drops the motherfucking towel and stands there, nothing on her luscious body but a strip of hair on her pussy.

  “Whoops.”

  My legs propel me forward. My hands go to her shoulders, pulling her to me until her cold skin hits mine. Her nipples scrape my chest, making me hard, making my board shorts so tight that I’ll probably have to rip them off.

  She tips up her chin, all at once a siren and seductive. “As soon as I do what?”

  I touch her face and she leans into me, rubbing against my hand as her lashes fall. “Say yes.”

  Her ey
es open. “Yes.”

  Chapter 12

  Saylor

  Hayden doesn’t move, so I repeat myself.

  “Yes.”

  His lips part. Then his big hands glide down my arms and encircle my wrists. Slowly, he lifts them high into the air, backs me against the cool glass of the sliding glass doors, and just looks at me.

  All of me.

  “Fucking perfect.” His gaze drifts down my body. “So fucking perfect.”

  The wind stirs, blowing my hair around and making my already puckered nipples tighten even more. Hayden leans in close, then stops.

  “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” I whisper.

  A wicked smile curves his lips. “Absolutely.” Letting go of my wrists, he drops to his haunches. “Spread your thighs, sunshine.”

  My body obeys him, knowing with absolute certainty what will come next—me. He presses his face against me, his mouth and his tongue sliding over my clit. I gasp his name, my arms dropping from their position so that I can run my fingers through his hair.

  When he did this before, he said he loved the feel of me gripping his hair, of pulling him as close as I can get him.

  He moans, the sound vibrating as his hands run up my inner thighs and spread them even wider. His fingers touch me, finding me slick, wet…wanting and needing more.

  “That’s not from the lake,” he says, a sexy arrogance lacing his voice.

  My reply is to pull him back to me, to feel his hair against my sensitive skin, and wait, utterly patient for him to resume his sweet torture.

  As if he’s reading my mind, he begins again, flattening his tongue at first to give me long strokes and then flicking it at my clit. The sensations are so overwhelming that I can barely keep up with his rhythm.

  His skills are so very good, so very precise, that I’m trembling by the time he slides a finger inside me. My hips jerk against him.

  A second finger joins the first. He leaves them there, unmoving, while my inner walls clench and unclench.

  “Please,” I whisper, moving my hips. “Please stop making me wait.”

  Both fingers slide almost all the way out of me, then he plunges them back in.

  I let out a startled gasp. I try to suck in air, but all I can do is pant and beg and plead and encourage him to go faster. To make me come. To—

 

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