Falling Hard

by Tina Wainscott

She stared out through the screen, seeing the road in the distance. Imagining herself running down it, screaming. “Yes.”

  “I liked hearing what you said. And I feel the same, if it helps any.”

  She turned slightly to look at him. “It does, and it doesn’t. But—”

  He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Don’t ‘but.’ I want to stay with that.”

  His hand felt warm and solid, his heartbeat a soft rhythm beneath her palm. She counted one, two, three, four, five. “I have a hard time trusting my judgment.”

  “I know.”

  “Trusting that I’m doing the right thing.”

  “You can trust that you’re safe with me. You can trust that you feel something waking up, and that I’m the right one to feel that with.” He gently slid his hands down her arms, pulling her closer. “And it will be great, I promise you that. When you’re ready. Until then, you decide what you want from me.” He lifted one hand to his mouth, where he pressed a devastatingly tender kiss to her palm. “This.” He kissed her wrist. “This. Or this.” He leaned forward and brushed a butterfly kiss to her lips that made her knees melt. “I can be as chaste as you want. And, when you’re ready, I can be as dirty as you need.”

  She could barely breathe. “What do you want from me?”

  “Let me love you, Gemma,” he whispered, drawing his finger down the column of her throat. “That’s what I want. Let’s not worry about the complications or the future right now. Or the whys of our feelings. Overthinking is overrated.”

  She couldn’t help the soft cry that came out of her mouth. “I want that, too. I’m tired of not feeling. Of stuffing things down. I just don’t want to make any more mistakes. I don’t want to be hurt again, and I don’t want your life to be screwed up because of me.”

  “You’re going to make mistakes, sweetheart. You’re going to hurt again. If you’re alive, it’s guaranteed. Unless you hide yourself away to be safe. Stuff all that sensuality and pretend you don’t want it.” His finger ran along her lower lip. “How’s that working for you?”

  She scoffed. “Not so great.”

  “I didn’t think so. All I can promise is that I will never hurt you.”

  She felt herself sliding, lost in his eyes that held sincerity. “You haven’t always shown the best judgment, either. You stole your father’s patrol car! Climbed up on roofs. Raced cars.”

  “And I’m still here. Since playing it safe hasn’t been working for you, how about you let yourself play. Reclaim your sensuality with someone you’re comfortable with.”

  This time her laugh was more genuine. “You think I’m comfortable with you?” That was so not one of the words she’d use to describe what she was around him.

  “Maybe ‘safe’ is a better word. You are completely safe with me, Gemma. I will never do anything to make you feel unsafe. You breathe the word ‘stop,’ and I will. You tell me it’s too much, and I pull back.” He stepped closer, all that male heat enveloping her. “You, however, have no limits. Do whatever you want with me.” He traced his finger back and forth along the seam of her lips. “Play. Experiment. You’re in control.”

  She actually dipped for a second, her legs unable to hold her up on those words. She had the compulsion to suck his finger into her mouth. To experiment with running her tongue along the length of it. As her sensual side woke, the practical side overpowered her. “I don’t…I’m not…” She stepped back, trying to breathe. “All these years, I wasn’t even interested in sex.”

  “But you are now. Don’t deny that. If you could have seen the fire in your eyes just now, right before your trepidation kicked in. The way you kissed me earlier, how you trailed your hand through my hair—you’re ready. What are you afraid of?”

  “Not you. It’s me. It’s totally me.”

  He gently turned her to face him, his finger to her chin. “Tell me, Gemma. Do you think you won’t enjoy it? That you’ll be numb?” He trailed his finger from her chin down the front of her neck. “I guarantee that if you relax you’ll enjoy it.”

  She shivered at his touch, wanting his finger to go lower than the hollow at her collarbone. Heat pooled deep inside her at the honey smoothness of his voice, his promise. “I know. But—”

  His hand slid around the back of her neck. “There’s that ‘but’ again. Look at the way your body is leaning toward me. Your pupils are huge. Your breath’s coming faster.”

  He was so close. How she wanted to lean forward that mere inch and touch his lips again. God, she must have seemed ungainly when she did it earlier.

  “Grace is right,” he said. “You’ve always had this sensuality about you. You’re hungry to unleash it. What’s holding you back?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That you’re a nasty, awful eavesdropper.”

  “Gemma, I could see everything you admitted to her myself.”

  She could do nothing but tell him the truth. Maybe that would instill sense into him. Or put him off. “I didn’t admit one thing. One fear. I’ll be terrible in bed. I don’t know how to touch a man, how to use my sensuality. When I was with the two guys I dated, well, it was boring. I was boring. I totally squashed that side of myself. Why are you laughing?”

  She tried to push him away, him and his grin, as though he were enjoying her discomfort. He gathered her in his arms instead and pulled her close in a loose hold. “Oh, baby, I’m not laughing at you.”

  Her face was buried in his hair, soft and scented. “Don’t tell me you were laughing with me, because I wasn’t laughing!”

  “I’m laughing in relief.” He leaned back, tilting his head. “If that’s what you’re afraid of, we have no problems. How did the way you felt about them compare with how you feel about me?”

  “There’s no comparison.”

  “Did you ever sling your arms around their necks and plant a hot kiss on them right out of the blue?”

  She blew out a breath. “No.”

  He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Follow that fire and you’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “You make a lot of promises, Mr. Sullivan.”

  “Only when I know I can keep them.”

  She wanted to trust him. Wanted to trust herself and the way she felt. Because she wanted him. The rush of desire was so much headier than the wine. She pulled his hand back to her mouth and ran his finger along her lips again. “When you were doing this, I wanted to do this.” She slipped his finger inside, sucking it gently.

  She swore Pax did the same knee-dip thing she’d just done. His eyes rolled up for a second. “You will have no problems, baby,” he said on a whisper.

  She moved up close, her thighs brushing his. And, yes, she could feel the effect she was having on him. She experienced a rush of female power. His body wouldn’t lie about his response to her tongue laving his finger. Because…of course! The finger was phallic. By extension, Pax was probably imagining her mouth on him. Yes, fire roared up the center of her being at the thought of such intimacy. Of pleasuring him so completely. She drew his finger out, knowing that heat was reflected in her eyes. “A good start?”

  “You tell me.”

  He took her finger and pushed it into his mouth. As the heat of his mouth enveloped her, she closed her eyes and sank into the sensation. His teeth lightly scraped along the surface, then his tongue dipped between her fingers. “Imagine my mouth on another part of your body,” he murmured.

  Her knees went to jelly. “I never…when I, with those other guys, we never did the oral thing. I wasn’t ready, didn’t even want to.” Until, she heard.

  “Ahem, given your reaction, I think you do want this on that sensual level you’ve been suppressing…until now.”

  “I really hate that you overheard all that.”

  “Don’t sweat it. There wasn’t one thing you said that you should be embarrassed about. I selfishly love that you haven’t experienced really good sex, that you hid in celibacy groups. I hate that some douchebag blamed you because he found yo
u sexually attractive, but it just means he wasn’t the right guy for you.” He planted a kiss on the tip of her finger. “I am.”

  Those two words vibrated through every cell of her body. You are…and you aren’t. “Grace thinks you care about me.”

  “I do.”

  She wanted to forget about the complications, just for now. She wanted Pax to love her. The words hung in her throat, then finally tumbled out: “Love me, Paxton.”

  He gathered her even closer and kissed her sweet and silly. She could feel him flush against her, from his chest all the way to his thighs, his erection in between. For the first time in years, she wanted to get naked with a man. To touch and be touched.

  “We should probably go up to your living quarters before the guests return,” he said between kisses.

  “Mmm, yes.”

  Excitement warred with anxiety as they gathered their glasses, the wine, and her camera case and made their way through the kitchen to the staircase. Harley followed, his nails ticking on the floor.

  Once they were upstairs, Pax gathered her in his arms and kissed her soundly. He pulled back and tilted his head thoughtfully. “You taste of adventurousness, courage, with notes of a little freaked out.”

  She took his hand and led him to her room. “But you know what they say about something you’re afraid of—dive right in.”

  “There’s that courage I was tasting.”

  His belief in her bolstered that courage even more than more wine could. The moment they were inside her bedroom, she kissed him. Her fingers dived into his hair. He said she could do whatever she wanted to him. Thrilling, that kind of freedom. And he would only do to her what she wanted. Heady, that kind of safety.

  Everything about him made her heady, giddy, and daring.

  He was tracing his fingers up and down her back as his tongue did delirious things to hers. Hunger curled through her, making her want to feel more of him. Skin. Heat. She kissed down his neck, to his chest, while she grasped the top button of his shirt. “Be brave,” she told herself, and pushed it through the buttonhole. Then the next, and the next, until his shirt was open. She kissed down the center of his chest. He smelled of soap, his skin soft and clean. His breath hitched, and yet she was doing so little to him. Much less than others had done, no doubt. His fingers rested atop her shoulders, squeezing gently.

  She brushed her lips across the ridges of his stomach, tasting as she went. His muscles trembled as her mouth passed over them. She moved up again, to his pectoral muscles, closing her lips over the nub of his nipple. He let out a soft sound, not quite a moan but more than a breath. He liked what she was doing. So far, so good. She toyed with him, flicking her tongue, tracing circles, and gently sucking on him. Before moving to the other nipple, she pushed his shirt over his shoulders and off.

  He was beautiful, all sculpted lines and elegant angles. Tanned, fit, and utterly perfect. She nudged him back until his legs hit the bed and then, with a palm to his chest, shoved him back onto the bed. He fell with little resistance, his arms out. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him. Talk about temptation.

  She wanted a bite of the apple. Maybe more. She also wanted to take his photograph to remember the way he looked right then. That was a temptation she would resist.

  He placed his hands on her thighs, stroking up and down. It amazed her how his thumbs grazing her knees could feel so good.

  “Follow your fire,” he said, a smile curving his mouth. His dimples flickered to life the same way the fire inside her did. Making her heart thump faster. Heating her to her core, licking between her legs. She saw it in his eyes, too, but she also saw his careful control of it.

  She tugged her shirt over her head. As she reached for the clasp between the bra cups, a tiny bit of trepidation kicked in at exposing herself to him. She pushed past it, unsnapping the clasp and freeing her breasts. The bra fell, and she caught it and tossed it to the side.

  His fingers tightened on her thighs, she guessed from restraining his desire to touch her. He let his gaze slowly roll down her, and she felt the heat of that, too. Would he notice how her nipples puckered? How her breath lifted her breasts?

  “You are simply beautiful,” he whispered, returning his hungry gaze to her eyes.

  All those thoughts of breast reduction, of feeling too large, disappeared like smoke.

  “You hide yourself,” he said.

  She nodded. Of course he’d noticed the bra, so tight that it flattened her breasts. Her own kind of reduction.

  He slid his hands up to her hips. “Thank you for not hiding from me.”

  His gratitude curled through her. She lay down atop him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her nose touching his. “Thank you for letting me feel safe.”

  “I’m glad you do.”

  She settled more fully over him, reveling in his reaction to her. “I feel a lot more than safe.”

  “Oh, you do, now, d’ya?” he drawled, a lazy grin on his face.

  She ran her fingers over the planes of his face, tracing his eyebrows, down the ridge of his nose, and over his cheekbones. “I feel hot and nervous and happy.”

  He ran his hand over her bare back, sliding his fingers just beneath her waistband. “Funny, that’s how I feel, too.”

  She pinched those cheeks now. “Yeah, right.”

  But he wasn’t smiling in an “I’m kidding” kind of way. His hands tightened on her waist, thumbs stroking the sides of her stomach. “Which part don’t you believe? Can’t you feel the heat coming off my body?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And you can certainly feel how, er, happy I am.”

  She wiggled her hips over the hard length of him. “Just checking,” she said, giving him a coy smile. “I meant the nervous part. You can’t be nervous.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re—” She traced his lips the way he’d done to her earlier. “Well, let’s just say this isn’t your first rodeo.”

  “Maybe not, but this is the first time it matters.”

  She swallowed hard on those words, at the sincerity in his green eyes. “Really?”

  “Gemma, when I saw you at the races that night I had a reaction I’d never had before. Or since. My heart stopped beating. I couldn’t swallow. Then our eyes met, and I couldn’t breathe. Which was going to pose a whole lot of trouble when you started walking over to me.”

  Now she couldn’t breathe, and yet she was afraid to believe it had meant that much. “It was just the goth-candy look.”

  “I was definitely intrigued by that, but it was more about the girl brave enough to wear the look. Her smile, a mix of shy and flirty. You did have this aura of sensuality, but I saw even then that it was fresh and untapped. That you didn’t have command over it yet. Because I felt exactly the same, I wanted to explore that with you.”

  “And then I messed—”

  “Shh.” He pressed his finger over her mouth. “No regrets. Maybe we’d have been too young for something like that.”

  “Like…?”

  “Like this.” He flipped her over, half covering her body with his. He pressed his hand to her cheek as he seduced her mouth with long, slow strokes.

  Her heart both ached and soared at what he’d said. She had missed so much by passing him over to be a good girl and please her parents. She took his hand and slid it down her neck, over her collarbone to her breast. Once she gave him permission, he took control. He stroked and kneaded gently, rubbing his thumb over her sensitive nipple. She arched into his touch, desperate, begging for more. It felt so…good. Why had she waited so long? She imagined throwing herself at him while he changed her tire and laughed.

  “Ticklish?” he teased, tracing circles around her nipples.

  She was having trouble catching her breath. “I was imagining coming on to you while you were helping me with the spare tire.”

  He chuckled. “Mmm, that would have been interesting.” He moved to her other breast, lingering in the valley between
them for a moment.

  “You would have probably tossed me in the ditch.”

  “Truth is, I found you attractive even when I was supposed to hate you. Your cute little ass sticking out as you were digging in the trunk.” He shook his head. “Mmm.”

  “You didn’t know it was me then.”

  “True enough, but even when I did, I thought you were too damned gorgeous for my own good.”

  “I was…thinking…the same.” She rocked her head back. “Speaking of too good—” She twined her fingers into his thick hair as the sensation curled down right between her legs. “What you’re doing—”

  “There’s no such thing as too good when it comes to touching you. Now, I could make it even better, if you’re ready for that.” He started kissing her bare stomach. Oh, those soft, slow kisses were killing her. “Hands are all well and good,” he said between kisses, “but mouths are even better. You can add heat.” He breathed out on her skin, making her shiver. “You can nibble.” She squeaked when he nipped softly. “You can suck.” And he did, right over her belly button. “And you can lick.” He circled her belly button with his hot, wet tongue, driving liquid heat right through her veins. He continued stroking her breasts. “Imagine what that would feel like, my mouth where my hand is.”

  “I…can,” she said on the barest of breath. She didn’t even realize she’d tangled her fingers in his hair.

  His fingers gently pinched her nipple. “Would you like to do more than imagine?”

  “God, yes.” She wanted his mouth on her. Hot. Wet. Arousing.

  His mouth closed over her nipple and stole her breath away. He laved her with his tongue, flicking and teasing and making her fingers curl. She had no idea how what he was doing to her breasts could shoot unexplainable heat to her core.

  His other hand slid down to her stomach, his fingers slipping just beneath her waistband. Knocking at the door? Or just teasing? He had to know the effect he was having on her, had to hear the way her breathing grew deep and uneven. Yes, she was feeling the fire, all right. She had never felt this before, never been taken so gently and yet feverishly down the path to the flames.