Fall With Me

by J. Lynn

  Making my way over to him, I sat down with what I considered was appropriate space between us. When I pulled my legs up and crossed them, there was at least an inch. Plus, if I leaned back, it would be against his arm.

  Why was I even thinking about this?

  “What are you watching?” I asked, picking at the hem of my pants.

  One shoulder rose in a shrug. “Looks like an infomercial for music of the eighties. Thinking about buying it.”

  I snorted. “I don’t even own a CD player.”

  He sent me a sideways glance. “You don’t own a DVD player either.”

  When I’d been in his apartment, he’d had an impressive collection of DVDs. Not that I got a chance to scope them out, but I bet he had every movie from the last two decades. “Why would I, when I have On Demand?”

  Shaking his head, he picked up his glass. “You don’t have a DVD collection and you still got your momma making tea for you. What am I doing here?”

  “Whatever!” I smacked his thigh—­his extremely hard thigh. Wow. My fingers tingled when I drew my hand back. “How do you know I didn’t make that tea?”

  “It tastes just like your mom’s tea,” he countered, blue eyes twinkling. “Plus, the last I remember, your sweet tea tastes like watered-­down engine fuel.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “It does not.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Okay. Fine. The ratio of tea to sugar always throws me off.”

  Reece chuckled. “You know, I was being serious about learning how to shoot a gun earlier. It’s just a smart thing to do.”

  “I don’t know. Guns . . . I don’t have a problem with them, but they scare me,” I admitted. “It’s having the power to end a life in your hands. All you have to do is pull a trigger.” I shook my head. “That’s just . . . that’s just too much power.”

  “Babe, you damn well know a rock in the hands of the wrong person can change lives, end them even. A gun is no different.”

  Unsettled, I had to admit that he was right. But guns were also a part of his life and they weren’t a part of mine. Growing up, Dad had hunting rifles, but I rarely ever saw them. He kept them locked up, and never once did it cross my mind to get one for myself.

  “You just have to be responsible,” he continued. “Just think about it. For me?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Smiling, I looked at the TV. Some dude with a Mohawk was waving a CD around. “So, what were you doing at your dad’s house?”

  Reece took a long drink and as he sat the glass down, the ice clinked around. A moment passed, and I wanted to kick myself. Reece . . . yeah, he was never a fan of talking about his dad. Shock rippled through me as he looked over at me and answered a second before I tried to change the subject.

  “Divorce Number Three.”

  I gaped at him. “What? When did this happen?” That was kind of a stupid question, because I hadn’t exactly been friendly with him for the last eleven months.

  “You know, I really don’t know. Everything was fine at the beginning of summer. He and Elaine were going on vacation in Florida.” He tipped his head back against the cushion, flipping his gaze to the ceiling. He barked out a short laugh. “Then again, Dad doesn’t know how to be up front about anything. So him telling me or Colton that things were good doesn’t mean shit. The man’s nothing but a liar.”

  I pressed my lips together for a moment. “Did he say what happened?”

  His gaze returned to me. “What do you think?”

  A sigh rose. “Did he cheat on her?”

  “Yep.” A second passed and then I felt his hand in my hair, causing me to suck in a short breath. The touch was light, as if he was just running his fingers over it, but every cell in my body became hyperaware. “With a younger woman he met on a business trip. Told me that it was only a one-­night thing and that Elaine was overreacting.”

  “Overreacting to being cheated on? How does one overreact to that?”

  “You know my dad. The man knows no wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “While I was there, he left his cell phone on the hood of his car. The thing rang. A woman’s name was on the screen. Never heard of her before. I’d bet my savings account it was the ‘one night stand’ chick. I’m not surprised his marriage is ending that way. By the time my mom wised up and left his ass, he’d been with five other women. And not a ‘wham, bam, thank ya ma’am’ kind of thing either. Five other relationships.”

  “That’s so sad,” I murmured, lowering my chin. Franklin—­his father—­was a habitual cheater. At least, that’s what I had heard his mom saying once. “I’m sorry. I know you’re older now, so is Colton, and maybe it doesn’t hurt as much as it did when you were younger, but it still sucks.”

  Instead of denying it, he smiled softly. “Yeah, it does.” His fingers had left my hair, but his arm was still there, warm and beckoning me to lean back. “I didn’t get too close to Elaine, but she seemed like a good woman. She didn’t deserve that. No one does.”

  Taking a deep breath, I leaned back. His arm was right behind my neck. Not a second seemed to pass before his hand found its way to my shoulder. “Do . . . do you think he’ll marry again?”

  “Probably.” He grabbed his glass, taking another drink. I’d completely forgotten about mine. “I think the worst thing, though, isn’t the fact that he’d stick his dick in anything that walked, but that he constantly lies about it, even when he’s caught. I don’t get that. Never will. Anyway,” he said, drawing out the word with a grin that didn’t reach the beautiful eyes I had such a hard time capturing. “So what have you painted lately?”

  Holy shit, was he a mind reader? Blood flooded my cheeks as I searched in my head for something that didn’t include his face. “Um, well I’ve been doing a lot of landscapes. Beaches. Gettysburg. That kind of stuff.”

  Good answer, Roxy!

  His gaze tracked over my face, almost like a physical caress. “You still painting for Charlie?”

  Of course, he’d remember that. Nodding, I wasn’t surprised when the familiar sadness washed over me as I thought of all those paintings hanging on his wall.

  The hand on my shoulder tightened. “So when are you going to paint something for me?”

  “When you become my official pool boy,” I retorted.

  He stared at me. “You don’t have a pool.”

  “I know. So it’s when I get a pool and you become my official pool boy.” I grinned. “You think I’m kidding.”

  Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply as he used the hand on my shoulder to tug me over to him. One second I was leaning into him, and the next I was on my back, my head resting in his lap, and all I could think as I stared up at him was that was one hell of a smooth move.

  “Did you learn that move while training to be a cop?” I asked, breathless.

  “Yeah, they teach that special kind of takedown in the academy.” His thick, dark lashes lowered as he settled a large hand on the curve of my hip farthest from him. “Couldn’t wait to use it on you.”

  I smiled up at him as my heart started jumping around in my chest. The hand on my hip seemed like an unconscious thing to him. “I feel honored.”

  “You should.” Using his other hand, he carefully brushed a strand of hair out of my face. Something about what seemed like an absent-­minded touch sent my heart careening. As his lashes lifted and all I could see were brilliant blue eyes, I knew in that moment that being satisfied with just a hookup here and there was going to be really hard.

  Before I could really dwell on that realization, he spoke. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” I wished he’d ask if he could kiss me. That would’ve been a resounding yes.

  The hand on my hip shifted and his thumb smoothed over the hem of my cami, and I shivered. “What were you thinking when you threw that book, Roxy?”

 
Whoa. Total change of subject I wasn’t prepared for. Here I was thinking about him kissing me. I opened my mouth, but it took me a few seconds to answer. “I really . . . really wasn’t thinking.”

  He picked up a strand of my hair, twisting it around his fingers. “Babe, I don’t think there’s ever truly a moment when we’re not thinking.”

  I averted my gaze as I chewed on my lower lip. Thinking back to the moment Henry had grabbed my arm, there was a lot in my head. So much that it felt like there was nothing. My chest tightened.

  Reece dropped my hair and ran his finger over my lower lip, startling a gasp out of me . . . and a response. “I hate him,” I blurted out, feeling the words swell inside me like a blood promise. “I seriously hate him, Reece. I never really hated someone before, but when I see him, I want . . . I want him to hurt like Charlie hurt. That’s what I was thinking when I threw the book.”

  The lines of his face softened. “Roxy . . .”

  “I know it’s wrong.” I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. “I know what I did wasn’t that much different than what Henry did.”

  “No,” he argued, and when I opened my eyes, he was staring at me intently. “What you did was throw a book at a windshield, not at him. Henry picked up a rock and threw it at the back of Charlie’s head when you two walked away.”

  I flinched.

  “You never had any intentions of harming Henry,” he went on as he kept swiping his thumb along the hem of my cami. “And if Henry really didn’t mean to do the kind of damage he did to Charlie, he still made the conscious decision to throw that rock at him. Not at the ground or a nearby car. He threw it at another living being. You’d never do that.”

  Cold air whirled its way down my chest, into my stomach. The thing was, I wasn’t too sure of that. When I had tasted that anger, that red-­hot bitter anger, I knew I was capable of doing something heinous. Everyone was capable of it; some moral compass ingrained in me had prevented it, but would it always stop me? If I saw Henry again, there was a good chance I’d lose my cool once more, and really, how did that make me any better than him?

  “Deep thoughts,” I murmured, edgy from where my thoughts were heading.

  His lips quirked up at the corners as his thumb brushed against the thin sliver of skin exposed under the hem now. The touch was like an electric shot. “Yeah, too deep for four in the morning.”

  Reece’s tone was light, but everything in me was heavy. It was like a door being unlocked inside my head. Painful memories of the night with Charlie and Henry were unleashed. They stacked up inside me, like a tower about to topple over. They started with what I had done, the verbal rock I had thrown, that had started it all.

  And here I was, lying in the lap of the man I’d . . . well, I’d been lying to for eleven months. A man who hated nothing more than he did a liar. That wasn’t right.

  Pushing myself up, I started to roll onto my side so I could pretend to go to the bathroom, to give myself time to clear my head, but I didn’t make it.

  Reece curved his hand behind my neck and the hand on my hip slid up my waist, stopping just below my breast. My eyes popped wide as he held me there, my shoulder pressed against his chest.

  “Don’t,” he said, voice rough.

  That one word was like a lightning bolt. Sometimes I forgot how well he did know me. Even though we hadn’t spoken for almost a year, he still knew when I was getting cagey, recognized that my mood could flip as quickly as a coin spinning through the air.

  Our eyes locked as I placed my hand on his shoulder. I started to push off, but then he lowered his head. I looked up as his lips brushed mine. It was a slow sweep. He made the pass with his lips once and then twice. I couldn’t breathe as I felt the heat of his mouth increasing the most gentle pressure as he held me in place. There was an almost questioning feel to how his lips moved over mine, as if it were for the very first time. And it wasn’t, but the night at his place, he hadn’t kissed me like this—­not as tender, not so sweet that a ball of stupid emotion formed in the back of my throat. That kiss . . . it was like he cherished me.

  My fingers curled into his shoulder, bunching the thin cotton of his shirt as my heart raced. When I thought about him kissing me, I didn’t think it would be like this. No guy had ever kissed me like I was a treasure.

  “Reece,” I whispered against his mouth.

  Something about hearing his name snapped a part of him. The hand along the back of my neck tightened, as did the one at my waist, and the kiss . . . oh wow, the kiss deepened. I remembered this kind of kissing, but it was different, stronger and deeper. There was no hint of liquor on his tongue, just sugar and tea and 100 percent male. He nipped at my lower lip, wringing out a soft moan that echoed straight to my core, then he parted my lips, tasting me. The kiss was like touching fire, igniting a deep-­seated desire. I no longer needed the space to clear my thoughts. My head was an empty road with one destination in mind.

  Reece.

  Sitting up, I wiggled around until I managed to get a knee on either side of his legs. He watched me with heavy hooded eyes. “I like where this is going,” he said, grasping my hips. “I really fucking do, but I want—­”

  Done with talking and deep thoughts and well intentions, I cupped his cheeks and got down to business. I kissed him—­kissed him just as deeply and as hotly as he’d kissed me.

  A deep growl rumbled up and I felt it in his chest as the grip on my hips tightened, sending a wave of hot shivers through me. His mouth opened immediately, and I tilted my head, tasting him. My fingers made their way to the soft brush of hair clipped closer to the sides and then into the longer strands. He made another sound that sparked a fresh wave of desire through me.

  His hands slid up my back, following the line of my spine before tangling in my hair for a few precious moments. There wasn’t a second that we stopped devouring one another with long, wet kisses and shorter ones that sent heat flooding my body.

  Reece glided those hands back down, over the small of my back, and then he cupped my rear, squeezing until I was gasping for breath. The kiss turned hungry as he guided me down on his lap. Another wave of lust slammed into me at the feel of him, straining against the denim jeans. From the brief moments spent together before, I knew he was long and thick, but I had forgotten just how good he felt.

  I rocked my hips, pressing myself down on him, and was immediately rewarded with a blast of sensual pleasure. Resting my forehead against his, I moaned as I tugged on the short strands of hair.

  “God, you’re going to drive me insane.” His voice was thick, raw. He pulled my hips down as he grinded up, hitting the right spot through the thin yoga pants. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy until you do.”

  Panting, I let my hands slip down the sides of his neck, to his shoulders. “I want you insane for me,” I admitted, biting down on my lip as he brought our hips together again.

  “Baby, I’m already insane for you.” He captured my lips in another scorching kiss before breaking away, trailing a hot, shivery stream up along my jaw. “I think you know that.”

  Tipping my head back, I held on tight. “Nuh-­uh.”

  He moved those kisses down my throat, stopping to nip above my pulse. He soothed the erotic burn with a soft kiss. “Every time I saw you this past year, I wanted you here. Right here.” To punctuate what he said, he rolled his hips, pressing the bulge in his jeans against my core. “And every time you turned and walked away from me, I wanted to give chase.”

  I shook as he brought his hot mouth to the line of my collarbone. He drew his hands up, letting them roam over my stomach and then farther up, over the swell of my breasts. My back arched as exquisite sensations rippled through me.

  “You have no idea how many times I thought about throwing you over my shoulder and taking you back to the stockroom.” His thumbs swept over the tips of my breasts, and they were already hard and
aching. “I’m thinking I should’ve just done that. Then we could’ve left all this bullshit behind us earlier.”

  My head was swimming, lost in the pleasure he was drawing out of me. “Sounds like . . .” I gasped as his tongue flicked over my pulse. “Sounds like it would’ve . . . been a good plan.”

  He lifted his head as he brought his hands to my shoulders, slipping his fingers under the thin, delicate straps. His eyes snared mine. “May I?”

  God, he could be asking for anything at this point and I’d hand it over. I nodded, beyond words.

  One side of his mouth curved up, and again, there was a pang deep in my chest as he grinned at me, all boyish charm and sensuality, and I knew I’d fallen for him all those years ago. There was no changing that, even though I knew he hadn’t fallen with me, maybe never would, it didn’t undo that he was already under my skin, a part of me.

  With his burning gaze locked with mine, he slid the straps of my cami down to my elbows. I didn’t hesitate. Dropping my arms, I slipped them out, allowing the material to settle around my waist.

  Reece kissed me softly and then he pulled back. His lashes lowered and I knew he was staring at me, and a bit of the haze lifted from my thoughts. Did he remember what I looked like from the alcohol-­filled night? Vulnerability slipped over my skin like an itchy sweater. I was barely a B cup and that was probably stretching it.

  But he shuddered as he wrapped his hands around my bare breasts, touching me almost reverently. I looked down, breathless as he held me, his skin a darker tone against the pale and pinkness of mine.

  “You’re beautiful,” he growled, grazing the pads of his thumbs over the hard nubs. I jerked as his lips kicked back into that grin. “You like that?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, and then nodded just in case he didn’t get the message.

  “I don’t remember what makes you move,” he said, catching my tip between agile fingers. “I don’t remember what drives you crazy.” He tugged gently, and I cried out. His lashes lifted, eyes full of hunger. “You’re sensitive.”