Falling Hard: The Blackhawk Boys, Book 4

by Lexi Ryan

  Mason’s jaw works as he watches her go. It’s not until the door clicks closed behind her that he drags in a long, slow breath and turns to me. “How would you know?”

  My gaze darts to the door and back to Mason. “So Bailey and Brogan were together, then?”

  “No,” Mia says. “My brother, Nic, also died in that accident.” She swirls her drink in her cup.

  “Bailey was in love with him,” Mason says, and the words seem to piss him off. He stands and gathers beer bottles and throws them into the recycling bin with more force than necessary.

  The complicated dynamic between Mason and Bailey makes more sense now. She was in love with someone else, and he died, leaving Mason to compete with a dead man. “It’s awful,” I say. “I really am so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Arrow says. “I’m never sorry to talk about Brogan and Nic. We should remember how quickly it can all be yanked away.”

  Heads bob in agreement around the fire, and Keegan reaches for my hand and squeezes.

  “Excuse me.” I stand. “I’m going to use the restroom. Can I get anyone a drink while I’m in there?”

  “You’re a saint,” Mia says, hoisting a bottle of wine into the air and flipping it upside down to show it’s empty. “We need a new bottle, if you don’t mind.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” I head into the house and to the guest bathroom Mia showed me shortly after we arrived. I’m still a little mortified that I brought up such a sad subject, and I can see my embarrassment in the mirror when I wash my hands. The thing is, even if it was something they didn’t want to talk about, I don’t think this group would hold it against me. That’s just not how they are.

  I shut off the light and step out of the bathroom, only to realize my path is blocked by a couple standing in the dark hall. I look away quickly, but not before I see him kissing her. Bailey’s back is against the wall, her arms around his neck.

  “Please, Bailey.” Mason’s voice, low and deep. “Don’t fucking do this anymore.”

  “What we did in Vegas…” She shakes her head and her voice trembles. “It was a mistake. If anyone finds out…”

  He leans his forehead against hers. “I told you we’d talk about it after the wedding.”

  I don’t think they have any idea that I’m here, so I turn back and clear my throat, embarrassed to catch them in such a private moment. “Excuse me.”

  They jump apart, as if I caught them doing something wrong.

  “Sorry,” Bailey mutters, and Mason steps aside to let me through.

  I grab the wine and head out back to give it to Mia.

  “Did you see Bailey in there?” she asks.

  Swallowing, I nod. I don’t want to betray anyone’s secrets. “I think she’s okay.”

  “I think we’re going to head out,” Keegan says before I can sit.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Mia says, and everyone stands as we say our goodbyes.

  Keegan’s quiet as we climb into the car and on the way home. I feel like I ruined the vibe of the evening when my questions led to talk about their friend Brogan.

  I don’t know if I should say anything to Keegan about what I saw in the hall or if Bailey would be upset if I told him, so I decide I’ll assume it’s a secret unless Bailey tells me otherwise. “Do you think Bailey and Mason will figure it out and end up together?”

  “I do,” he says. “Maybe it’s naïve, but there’s not one couple in that group who hasn’t had to work through some serious shit.” He cuts his eyes to me before looking back to the road. “Everyone has secrets. Everyone has made mistakes they have to overcome.” He reaches across the console and squeezes my thigh. “In the past I might not have believed that people could forgive some of the shit they have, but that crew makes me optimistic. They make me believe anything’s possible.”

  “I like that. I mean, it means more, doesn’t it? If you fought for the love you have?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” His voice is thick. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me? Every time I get to spend time around you and your friends, I feel like a different person.” I bite my lip. “I mean that in a good way. It’s nice to have a group like that. I don’t take for granted that everyone’s been so welcoming. Even Olivia took time to talk to me today.”

  His hand stills on my thigh. “What did you two talk about?”

  I study him, wishing there were lights along this dark country road so I could see his face. “She told me you were a player in college. That you slept around a lot and had a way of making women feel important but never letting them in.”

  I hear him swallow. “I’ve never been very good at letting people get close. That was Olivia’s biggest complaint about me.” He turns to me briefly before putting his attention back on the road. “I came to BHU with a broken heart and I didn’t ever want to go through that again.”

  I exhale slowly. “Does it make me a basic bitch that I want you to tell me I was different? That I wasn’t just the first in a long line of girls you made feel special?”

  His hand moves up my thigh and his fingertips slide under them hem of my dress. “Do you really doubt that?”

  My hips lift off the seat, instinctively arching closer to his touch. “I don’t want to, but the way she described it…”

  “You left me, Emma. Not the other way around.”

  I close my eyes. I can’t think when his hot hand is on my skin, moving ever so slightly. Making me want more.

  “Did you do what I told you to do?”

  “What?”

  “I told you I wanted you to spend the night thinking about me touching you.” His hand inches higher, and I exhale, my thighs clenching, my body aching for more and now.

  “I did,” I confess. “I thought about it a lot.”

  “Olivia’s staying at Sebastian and Alex’s place with Jazzy tonight.” He pulls into the garage and turns off the car before turning to me. His eyes are hot and searching and his hand inches higher still, his fingers curling and his fingertips brushing against my panties. “Stay in my bed again tonight.”

  I gasp. “Yes.”

  Suddenly his hand, so close to where I wanted it a breath ago, is gone, and he’s out of the car and opening my door. I climb out, and he closes the door behind me then presses me against it, kissing me hard and hungry, hands in my hair, tongue sliding and demanding. Gasping, I respond in kind, showing him this is what I want, what I’ve been thinking about, what I’ve been waiting for.

  I cling to him and we stumble, kissing and touching as we make our way into the house.

  He kicks the door closed behind us, and when his hands leave my hair, I moan in protest, but then I feel cool air against my back, and when he steps away, my dress falls to the floor. He flips a switch, and light floods the hallway.

  The air in the house is cool, leaving trails of goosebumps over my skin, but his eyes are hot as he inspects every inch of me. It’s as if I can feel each inch his eyes skim over, as if each moment that he looks is a promise of something he wants to do. He takes in my black lace bra and panties.

  He cups one breast in his hand and skims a thumb over the lace. “Are these new?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. My breasts grow heavier under his inspection, my nipples hardening and aching for his touch. His gaze drifts down over my belly and over the triangle of lace between my legs.

  “Were you hoping I’d see them?”

  I feel like I’m tied together by a thin string and I’ll scatter on the breeze with his slightest touch. “Yes.”

  “Take them off.” His voice comes out rough and tight in a way I don’t recognize. As if maybe, just maybe, he’s spent as much time thinking about this as I have.

  My hands tremble as I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra. It falls to the floor, and his nostrils flare, his eyes darkening. I peel my panties from my hips and step out of them, and suddenly this is all too scary—what I’m about to do and how vulnerable my heart feels. Th
is isn’t like Vegas. Then, I was drunk and lying to myself about my future. Tonight, I’m too sober to ignore the possibility that this might not mean anything to Keegan, that I lost my chance to be his, that all the talk about his friends fighting to make their relationships work wasn’t code for us doing the same.

  But then he’s touching me. His mouth is on mine and his hands are everywhere at once, and all the panic in my mind drains away.

  He slides his hands down my back as he leads me down the hall. In the next moment, we’re in the kitchen and I’m pressed against the cool granite of the island, then he lifts me onto it as if I weigh nothing. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. “Do you know this is all I’ve thought about since you showed up here? Do you know how many times I had to stop myself from coming to you or how hard it was to be around everyone else tonight when I wanted to be here with you?” He dips his head and flicks my nipple with his tongue. “Doing this.” My body shakes—loving the attention and needing more. He does it again, then treats the other to the same teasing torment. I arch my back, silently begging for his whole mouth, his tongue, for more.

  “Patience, baby. I’m just getting started.” With those words, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me so tenderly that I nearly melt. He takes that same tenderness as he moves his mouth down my neck, exploring the hollow of my collarbone with his soft lips.

  When he cups my breasts in each hand, he’s the one who moans this time. He opens his mouth against my nipple and, with a suction that’s neither gentle nor cautious, draws me into his mouth. My moan echoes off the vaulted ceilings, and he groans before treating the other side to the same torture.

  “I’ve always loved your breasts,” he says. “Not just because they’re perfect, which they are, but because I love how much you get off on having them touched.” He hesitates. “Or maybe you don’t anymore.” He pinches my nipple between his finger and thumb and tugs gently. “Maybe you’ve changed.”

  I gasp. I’m trying not to beg but hanging on by a thread. “You should find out.”

  He parts my legs, spreading my thighs to stand between them, then circles my nipple with his tongue, teasing and tasting in alternate measure, and when he finally draws me into his mouth again, I gasp and arch toward him. My thighs clench, my legs tightening around his waist. I roll my hips, giving my body the friction it needs. He squeezes my breasts in his hands, toys with me using lips and teeth and sometimes nothing more than the scruff on his jaw.

  “Please, Keegan. Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for. I’m not sure what I want. Forgiveness? A second chance? His mouth to never leave me?

  “I’ll give you everything you want, Em. You just have to give me the chance.” He sinks lower and slides his hands under my ass, pulling forward as he presses his mouth between my legs. I prop myself up on my elbows and close my eyes. “Look at me,” he demands. “Watch me.”

  I obey, fighting the urge to close my eyes as he kisses, sucks, and strokes. And when I come, it’s with his words tied up in my mind with everything I could dream they might mean.

  “I’ll give you everything you want, Em. You just have to give me the chance.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Keegan

  She’s so beautiful when she comes. I want to memorize every inch of her like this. The shape of her mouth, the arch of her neck, the flush on her skin.

  She slides off the counter and unbuttons my shirt, tugging it down my arms. When she reaches for the hem of my tank, I lift my arms over my head and let her undress me. Next, she releases the button on my jeans and peels them off my hips so I’m standing before her in nothing but a pair of blue boxer briefs. She stares at my hard-on like she’s a virgin who’s never seen one before. But, of course, she’s not. I know that personally. Our first night together in her condo in Laguna was a night I enjoyed more than I’ve ever enjoyed anything else in my life. Until tonight. Tonight trumps even that memory.

  “What are you thinking about?” Her hand skims over my jaw, grazing the rough beard I’ve let grow since she showed up in my bar. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

  What happened five years ago? Why did you push me away? “I’m thinking about how much I want to come in your mouth.” The words are meant to cover my thoughts, but as soon as I say them, as soon as I see her eyes go dark and her mouth form that sexy O of surprise, I want it.

  She drops to her knees without hesitating, hooks her fingers into the waistband of my boxer briefs, and pulls them down my hips. She’s fast, and her mouth is on me before I have the chance to brace myself. Hot and wet, her lips and tongue slide over me, testing the way I fit in her mouth.

  My hands go to her hair, and I guide her back and forth over my length. When she draws her cheeks in and sucks, I have to squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate to keep myself from jutting my hips and shoving my cock into the back of her throat. Because fuck, this feels good. The heat, the wet, her sounds—they’re enough to make me lose my control.

  But then she releases me without a word.

  I open my eyes and see her on her knees before me, her lips already swollen, her eyes questioning. She’s so beautiful that my gut knots with a need that’s so much bigger than a blow job or an orgasm.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shakes her head and licks her lips. “Was I doing something wrong?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You stopped moving. Like it didn’t feel good anymore.” She stands and drags her bottom lip between her teeth as she studies me.

  Jesus. “I was trying not to fuck your mouth, Em.”

  The corner of her mouth hitches up in a nervous grin. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

  Lust surges through me so hard and hot that I’m consumed by the image of spinning her around and fucking her against the island without a condom. I narrowly resist. “I changed my mind.”

  I lead her to my room and guide her onto my bed, never taking my eyes off her as I find an unopened box of condoms in my bedside table and roll one on as she watches me. I want a picture of her like this—in my bed, stretched out and waiting for me, her skin flushed, her swollen lips parted, her body ready.

  I climb onto the bed and settle over her, positioning myself between her legs, and she stills.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nods. “I don’t remember Vegas.” She searches my face, and I wonder what she’s looking for. A promise from me? Details of a drunken night neither of us remembers? “I know what happened, but without the memory, it feels like it’s been a long time.”

  I frame her face with my hands and look into her eyes. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

  She swallows. “I want you.” She lifts her hips and rubs herself along my length. “Please.”

  Fuck. I cannot deny this beautiful woman. Slowly, I slide into her, giving her the chance to adjust to me with even, steady strokes that leave me aching to drive fast and deep.

  She draws up her knees and curls her nails into my shoulder blades, then whispers, “Please.”

  I thrust my hips, dragging out with all my restraint before driving back in, once, twice, and again until she’s arching into me, her hips moving against mine and demanding more.

  I lock my eyes on hers. This isn’t like Vegas. This isn’t a drunken search for release that even then I knew was a mistake. And perhaps tomorrow this decision will prove to be foolish, but it’s not careless. This is the reunion of lovers. This is two people clinging to something precious they once had and lost.

  I lower my mouth to hers and kiss her softly. And as she tightens around me, squeezing me tighter as she approaches her release, I suck on her bottom lip and trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck. There’s too much I can’t say, and I let my body do the talking. I’ve missed you. I’ve never gotten over you.

  My heart will always be yours and yours alone.

  * * *

  Emma

&n
bsp; One night with Keegan could never be enough, and I selfishly hoped our night of greedy hands and bodies might pick up this morning. But when I wake up, the bed is empty and I can hear Keegan out in the kitchen.

  I pull on his robe, tie it at the waist, and pad out to the kitchen, stopping when I see him with Olivia and Jazzy. They must have been here awhile, because I can see the remnants of breakfast in the sink. Keegan’s already showered, his hair still wet at the temples.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Olivia says. Her smile is forced, her jaw tight. “Must be nice to sleep the day away.”

  “Liv,” Keegan says, warning in his tone. “Don’t.”

  I look at the clock on the stove. It’s nine thirty. She must think I’m some lazy, entitled rich bitch, but this isn’t my typical life. Normally, I’m up by seven for a workout and breakfast before heading to the women’s shelter in Savannah where I volunteer my mornings. My afternoons are typically spent on the phone, raising money and organizing fundraisers for any one of the not-for-profits for which I’m a board member. But Olivia doesn’t know any of that. All she’s seen is this out-of-character fragment of my life, and I can’t blame her if the conclusions she’s drawn about me are less than flattering.

  “I’m just saying…” she mutters.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” Keegan says. “Jazzy and I are going to the park with my dad this morning.”

  His dad. I’d forgotten he was in town. Keegan seemed to shoo him out the door the other night and hasn’t mentioned him since. For a beat, I wonder if his dad ever told him about our agreement, but then I push the thought away. Keegan would have said something to me. He wouldn’t have liked knowing his dad cornered me into giving him money.

  “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” I pour myself a cup of coffee and stay behind the island so as to not interrupt their family time at the table.

  Keegan takes Jazzy from Olivia and comes into the kitchen. “Call me if you need anything.” He kisses me softly, and Jazzy giggles. “Are you still up for joining us for the rehearsal tonight?”