Falling for Love

by Vicki Green

  “So. Why’d you stop,” she blurts. No filter. That’s my girl.

  That kind of caught me off guard but yet looking into her eyes, it’s like she thinks she’s not good enough and it rips through me. So, I answer her straight up. “Because I want more from you than a one night stand.” Her brows raise and then lower just as quickly. She actually snorts when she laughs. Now my brows raise, giving her a questioning look. “You find that funny?”

  “You’re like a walking contradiction. You look like you’re nice and then – Wham! – you’re all sexy and then stand-offish. What the hell? You’re worse than a hormonal woman.” She folds her hands in her lap, a look of sadness overtaking her.

  I lean forward, take my feet off the bed, and put my hand over hers. “Look, Irish. We’ve had kind of a weird relationship from the start.” One of her eyebrows raises, and I have to keep myself in check from kissing her full lips. “I’ve had a kind of strange life up til now. Not gonna lie, I’ve had my fair share of women.” Now her eyes widen and that cocky brow of hers raises even further. “Yeah, well…. Anyway.” I clear my throat and remove my hand but place my arms on my legs, staying close. “I want more than that. I want you.” I watch as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, a surprise look on her beautiful face. I reach over and pull her lip from her mouth with my thumb. “That’s not helping.”

  A small smile graces her face. “What’s changed?” she whispers, the look on her face telling me she’s almost afraid to ask.

  I sit up and lean back into the chair, tilting my head as I look at her. “You.”

  Irish

  What? Is he kidding me again? How could I have changed him or his mind about what he wants from life? This must be another one of his jokes. At my expense, of course. I sit up straight, the room suddenly feeling small and crowding. “Me?” I whisper, not sure I’m wanting to know.

  “Irish. I’m afraid I’m having – feelings for you. I don’t want to rush this or want you to think all I want is a one night stand. That’s not what I want.”

  “It’s not?” My voice sounds foreign. Not like mine at all. I swallow hard with his words. He wants me? And not for a one night stand. That’s so not like him. Why me?

  He leans forward. His hand is on the side of my face, his fingers weaving into my hair. “No. It’s not. I know we don’t know each other that well. Well, not like we should. I want to change that. Take things slow. I want you to feel like I’m something you deserve. And you deserve so much.” Shit! We’re staring at each other, and I can feel his warm breath against my face. “I want you to be able to trust me, Irish. Know that I’m here for you and that I want you for more than your body.” I follow his eyes moving down my body then back up. I try to swallow again but suddenly my mouth is as dry as a desert and feels like there’s this huge cotton ball in my throat. He leans in further, my eyes moving from his to his mouth, back and forth. Then, his lips are pressed on mine. Chaste. Tender. Loving. I jump when a knock sounds on the door. He pulls back but only a breath away, his thumb rubbing over the skin on my cheek. His eyes burning into mine, like I’m the most precious thing in the world. “Hold that thought,” he whispers with a smile.

  I finally take a deep breath and watch him walk to the door. A man pushes a cart into the center of the room. A beautiful, white linen tablecloth covering it and full of covered plates. Caylan takes out a wad of cash from his pocket then shakes the man’s hand, depositing some bills there. Very comfortable. At ease. Graceful with every movement. Confident. He lets the man out, locking the door behind him, and walks over, pulling his chair up to the table then gets another for me. He stands, looks at me, and smiles. “Come. Let’s get some food in you.” He begins to uncover all the plates, stacking the lids in his hand. I stand and walk over to the table, unsure what to do. He stops and pulls out a chair for me then after I sit, he helps push me closer to the table. Such a gentleman. He sits down across from me and I watch him place his napkin on his lap. “Eat. You’re too skinny.” A grin spreads across his face and my heart flutters.

  I pick up my fork and look at him with wide eyes. No one has ever said that before. Well, except maybe Taren. I’ve always tried to stay fit, eating healthy and working out. I look at the food before me. Pizza. Chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. Salad with those yummy dinner rolls and butter. Lasagna with garlic bread. One dish is still covered but I’m afraid to look underneath. “Hey.” My eyes snap to his. “It’s just us here. It’s okay to have cheat meal, every now and then.” He winks and a laugh bursts from my mouth.

  I look around a smirk. “This is way more than one cheat meal, Caylan.”

  He laughs and I push my legs together. Damn. He even has a gorgeous laugh. Those feelings that have resonated at the pit of my stomach have returned with a vengeance. I watch his mouth cover his fork and have to rub my thighs together. Damn him. He looks at me, chews, and I watch his throat constrict as he swallows. “Eat. If you’re a good girl and eat everything on your plate, there’s a luscious dessert as a reward.” Now I swallow hard thinking of a double meaning. Quickly, I grab a slice of Lasagna, garlic bread, put some salad in my bowl, and get a couple of the delicious looking dinner rolls. I pick up a slice of pizza and take a huge bite.

  The only sounds in the room seem to be of me eating. In mid-bite, I look up and see him staring at me. “Wha….?” I ask, my mouth around the pizza.

  His stare is starting to make me a little uncomfortable. “If you don’t quit making those noises, I’m not liable for what I’m going to do.”

  What is he talking about? I finish taking the bite, close my eyes, and let out a moan. Oh!

  “Better stop.” He growls. I open my eyes and look into his. The hazel green has changed to a dark green — smoldering, darkened with desire. Oh, my!

  I chew my food and swallow hard. “Sorry,” I mumble. Am I? Something inside me wants to test his limits. See how far he’d let it go. Am I dealing with fire? Most likely. I can’t seem to stop myself though. We eat a few minutes in silence, all the while I watch him eat. He makes eating look so hot. Is it getting warm in here? Maybe it’s my hormones. Is it that time of the month already?

  I’m minding my own business, enjoying the hell out of one of the dinner rolls with tons of butter, when suddenly I’m lifted out of my seat. “What the….” My mouth is covered with his, my roll drops to the table, forgotten. I feel his hand on the back of my neck, the other around my bottom, holding me up. My legs wrap around his slim waist to hang on.

  “I told you to stop. Fuck!”

  I’d ask him what in the hell he’s talking about but his tongue is so far in my mouth, exploring, and my head is now foggy. I moan embarrassingly loud as I feel the mattress below me. My hands move into his short hair. My fingers move up until I find the longer hair on top and tug hard. He lets out the most amazing, sensual moan I’ve ever heard into my mouth. That makes me want him even more. To think that I elicited such a sound from this man makes me want him inside me so badly. I start wiggling below him. His weight on me presses me more into the mattress, making me feel cocooned in his warmth. I can feel the ridges of his sculpted body through our clothes which I’m trying to remedy by pulling his shirt out of his pants as he kisses me even deeper. The only sounds in the room are of our heavy panting and that’s spurring me on even more. Suddenly, everything stops. I open my eyes, my fingers still tight in his locks, and see him staring at me.

  I reluctantly release my grip on his hair as he moves off me, climbing off the bed and reaching his hand out to me. Maybe he wants to take this into the shower? God, I can only hope. The look on his face makes me feel like something’s not right. I place my hand in his and let him pull me up until I’m standing before him. He seems to look everywhere but at me. What the hell happened? “Let’s get you back to your room before….” He begins to walk towards the door, leaving me standing there in confusion. I feel like I’m about to do the walk of shame but we haven’t done anything and I’m not even out of his ro
om yet. Anger begins to swell inside me. I didn’t do anything wrong. He started that and stopped it. What the hell? Hot and cold much?

  He opens the door and I walk until I pass him then turn around and face him. “What’s going on, Caylan? What’s happening?” He looks into my eyes and they’re back to the hazel green. His face is full of sadness. I want to reach out and wipe the sadness from his face but I don’t know what put it there. “Did I do something wrong?” I ask, pleading.

  He grabs my hand, pulling me into him and wrapping his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “No. No, Irish. It’s not you.”

  I pull back and look up at him. “Oh.” Suddenly, everything’s clear. It’s the — it’s not you, it’s me speech. I step out of his warm embrace and cross my arms over my chest.

  “It’s not you, it’s me?” Well, okay then. I turn and open the door, forcefully. His hand is on the door stopping me from getting the hell outta here. Again!

  “Let me go, Caylan,” I growl.

  I’m whipped around, his strong hands holding my upper arms. “Irish, just let me….” I struggle and almost fall backward when he releases me. Concern mars his gorgeous face, but I don’t care. Wow! At least we didn’t get too far before he throws me away like garbage. I open the door and start to walk through. “Let me walk you to your room.”

  I turn my head over my shoulder, my brows lower in anger. “I think I can more than manage to walk back to my room. Don’t bother.” Anger overtakes me. My body begins to shake. I’m not sure if it’s all due to anger or embarrassment, maybe regret. Now I’m not sure if I’m angrier at him or me for allowing him to get to me like this. I make it through the door but am turned around abruptly by his hand on my arm.

  “Let me explain, Irish.” He looks pained as he pleads.

  “No. No need to explain. I’m fine,” I spit as I take a step, begging him with my eyes to let me go. “I’m really tired. Goodnight, Caylan.”

  His eyes search mine, but finally he releases my arm. I turn and start to walk down the hall to my room, realizing that we’re on the same floor. Tears swell in my eyes, but I refuse to allow them to fall. No way can I let him see me like this. I remove the key card from my back pocket and slam it into the door entry, pushing down on the handle and quickly walking inside. Leaning back on the door, I hear it click shut and finally allow my tears to release. Why me? Why can’t I be a normal woman? Why doesn’t anyone want me? After all this wasted time, wanting the one man I knew I couldn’t have, I finally found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. The one man who I thought I could give my heart to and trust him to take care of it. The one man I thought I could take the chance with, only to be crushed within a matter of hours. I stumble over to the bed, unable to clear my vision from the tears, remove my clothes and climb under the covers. I bury my face into the pillow and allow myself to release all the frustration, confusion, and anger. Never again. Never will I allow myself to dream that I will ever have the man of my dreams. Never.

  Chapter Four

  Caylan

  I watch her walk down the hallway, wanting to run after her. Explain. What the hell is wrong with me? One minute I couldn’t stop myself, engrossed in her sweet body, and the next my conscience beat me over the head, telling me to stop. Damn internal voice. Something inside me freaked out and told me I needed to slow down that she’d end up running. Another feeling I had is that there’s a possibility, after everything I’ve learned from Brock and Taren, and even Irish’s body language, that maybe she’s a virgin. I know! I can’t believe it either, and maybe I’m wrong but I just have this gut feeling. I don’t want to take the chance of having what’s between us be quick and not special for her. That made me stop in my tracks as soon as it hit me.

  Once she’s safely inside her room, I quietly walk down to her door and just stare at it. I raise my hand to knock, wanting to try to explain, but stop when I hear her crying. Shit! I did this to her. I rest my forehead against the door. Should I knock? I want to go in and hold her, tell her how sorry I am that I made her cry. I want to kiss all over her face, dry her tears with my lips. But maybe I’ve done enough damage for one night. I let out a sigh and walk away, back to my room. Once I’ve removed my clothes and have gotten into bed, I lay with my head on my arm and stare up at the ceiling. Memories of earlier invade my mind. Her soft skin. Full lips that tasted beyond anything I’ve ever tasted before. More than I could have dreamed. Her more than ample breasts that I wish I could have held in my hands, licked and nipped at what I’m sure is the most beautiful pink colored nipples. Fuck! I’m so horny for her. Sleep is not going to come anytime soon.

  The next morning, I took a long shower, hoping it would help waken me fully. I think I might have had two hours or so of sleep last night. I finally gave up at four a.m., tired of tossing and turning. My bed looked like I’d had sex, with the covers thrown all around. Maybe a good breakfast and a hot steamy cup of coffee will help. After a shower and dressing in my wife beater and jeans, I walk into the restaurant and am seated immediately. Once my coffee was poured, I ordered two egg whites, fruit, and yogurt, then happily took a sip of the delicious caffeine. The sound of her voice beacons from the table directly in front of me. I look up and her beauty catches my breath. She’s sitting with a few other people. One girl and two guys. I never did find out last night why she’s even here. Of course, thank God, she doesn’t know why I’m here either.

  She laughs, and her eyes snap to mine. I pick up my coffee and raise it in the air to her. She rolls her eyes slightly and looks over at the guy seated next to her. She laughs again, her eyes looking back at me quickly then back at him. That now familiar pang of jealousy hits me hard. I’m about to stand and go over there when the waitress brings my food. She blocks my view, and I try to be polite as she asks if there’s anything else I’d like. I thank her and as she walks away, my eyes snap back over at a now empty table. Shit! I need to find her and explain my actions last night. I need to change tactics and quick. She’s used to guys constantly hitting on her. All only wanting her body and not for her mind. She’s beautiful, yes. Has a knockout body. Definitely. But she’s funny, has a sharp mind. I want to know her. The real her. What’s inside that gorgeous head of hers.

  I quickly eat my breakfast knowing I have to be upstairs in the ballroom in twenty minutes. Once I’ve finished, I get back to my room and brush my teeth. The one thing I hate about these things is standing around waiting for someone to want a picture with me, or my autograph in Amanda’s book, or just to be ogled at, all day. Sometimes I curse having this body, these looks. I feel like a man at a meat market. Reluctantly, I make my way down to the ballroom. There’s so many women standing outside the doors waiting for them to be opened, I feel like I might be mobbed trying to get to the entrance. A woman rushes over to me, and I’m thinking I might need to duck into the men’s room around the corner.

  “Oh! Mr. Dorn. Please, come this way.” I take a step back when she smiles. “I’m an assistant. I’ll take you in the back way. Please follow me.” I see she does indeed have a badge on that says assistant so I end up following, figuring I can take on one woman better than I can hundreds anyway. She’s true to her word and soon I’m entering a back door into the ballroom. The room is fairly large. Tables set up all around the outside of the room and in the center is another group of them, forming a rectangle. I start walking around, watching the authors setting up their tables, getting ready for the doors to open and all those women will be cramming themselves in here. A shiver runs through me at the thought. I continue to walk, looking at things on the tables, smiling at the occasional woman. A few of them are authors and it looks like a few are assistants.

  “Hey, Caylan!” My head snaps up and I look across the room. There’s Amanda, standing by a table in the corner, waving at me. I walk a little faster and give her a hug when I reach her. “I’m so glad you’re here. So good to see you.” She’s a pretty woman, much shorter than me. I’ve read her book and I must say
it’s pretty good. No wonder she’s a bestselling author.

  “Glad to be here. Where do you want me?”

  And then it begins.

  “Oh, Caylan Dorn!”

  “Can we have a picture together?”

  “May I have your autograph?”

  “What a hunk!”

  Three hours later, I’ve been poked, prodded, and hugged to death. But it’s for a great cause. Amanda’s been good to me so I don’t mind returning the favor.

  “Hey, it’s lunch time.” I look up and see Amanda next to me as I finish autographing her book for a reader. I pick it up and hand it to the person in front of me and smile.

  “Here you go.”

  She smiles shyly, takes the book, but doesn’t move.

  “Would you like a picture?” She nods. I stand and she walks over to me so I put my arm around her.

  Amanda runs around the table, her hand outstretched. “Here. Let me take that for you.” She winks at me as the woman gives her the phone. Snap. I smile, thank her, and she leaves. “Wow. You’ve certainly been busy.” I sit back down and let out a big sigh. She follows and sits down beside me. “At least we get a break for lunch.” She gives me her pretty smile.

  “You’ve done really well already.” I look around the table. “You don’t have many books left for people to buy. Congrats!”

  We both look up when an assistant sets down a boxed lunch and bottled waters for us. I immediately take the water and chug it down. “I’ll get you a few more of those,” she says, blushing. I smile, wink at her, and thank her.