Catch Me Falling (6 page)

“Lunch first, then lake.”

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and she sighed.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Follow me.”

“
H
ere’s a wet suit
.” Isaac handed it to her. She took it, tested the thick material, trying to stretch it. “It should be your size. If not, let me know and I’ll exchange it.”

She nodded, her swim bag in hand. “I’ll come downstairs when I’m done changing?”

“Sounds good.” He studied her for a moment, smiled, and then headed down the hall. What was down there? Probably his bedroom. He hadn’t said anything about taking her there, screwing her there, and she was glad. That was too much.

She headed to the guest bathroom, feeling the same exhilaration she had the first time she had been inside it. It was huge, twice the size of a walk-in closet. There was a large tub with more nozzles than she could count. Three sinks, a large linen closet, a full-length mirror, a stand-up shower with two showerheads, and all sorts of accoutrements. It was so grand, so large, and she felt so small.

She changed into her swimsuit, then pulled the wetsuit on, feeling more secure with her scars covered. She had sex with Isaac, but she didn’t let him see her. He didn’t need to see all of her for that. She didn’t want him to.

Looking in the mirror, Alexa couldn’t help but be impressed by the fit of the wet suit. Even with her taller height, five eight, the wet suit ended at her ankles, and went down to her wrists. Maybe a bit overkill in a warmer place, but given Washington’s penchant for random cold weather during the summer, it would keep them in the water longer than the temperature would otherwise allow.

She took a deep breath, then left her bag in the bathroom and headed downstairs.

He was standing there, dressed in a wetsuit of his own. She stared, distracted by the sight of him. The fabric was thick, yes, but it hugged the contours of his body in a way that sent arousal spiraling through her.

“Ready to go?” He smiled at her, his grin roguish and playful.

Her heart leaped in her chest, and her stomach did a somersault. “Yes.”

T
hey were floating
in the water, buoyed by life vests. Isaac’s neighbor, Mike, was driving the boat, giving Isaac the chance to teach Alexa. “It’ll only work a couple times,” he murmured into her ear. “We’re too big.”

She shivered despite the warmth of him against her. She was floating on top of him, his hard body pressed against hers even through the wet suit. Both of their feet were bound to the larger, tandem wakeboard, built for two people. It was amazing and exhilarating at the same time.

“Grab the triangle between my hands, okay?”

She nodded, her smaller hands squeezing in between his large ones.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She was nervous but excited, too. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She felt safe. It was a heady mixture.

“Good.” He kissed the side of her head and then straightened slightly. “Goal is to tighten your ab muscles and your legs so you can stand and stay standing.” He lifted his head to angle his mouth away from her. “Go, Mike!”

The engines roared and for a moment Alexa thought they were in trouble. The tension on the rope started slowly then increased, and they were forced through the water. She kept her feet up, felt him holding her effortlessly, cradling her in his arms as they moved through the water. Inch by inch they rose until they were standing, Mike driving the boat around as they rode.

It was even better than she had thought it would be. There was warmth behind her, Isaac’s hard chest melded against her back. There was the wind whipping at her hair, at her eyes, the spray of the water blasting her as they rode. She felt like she was flying, like she was flying away from all of her problems.

No wonder people considered this place an escape. It was magical.

All too soon the boat slowed down and they sank down into the water. The boat circled around, heading back towards the dock. “Next you’re going to ride solo,” Isaac said, his voice louder, to be heard over the noise. “And we’ll see if you can stand on your own.”

He grinned at her and she grinned back. For the first time in a long time, she felt free.

A
lexa led
the way out of the boat and onto the dock, her entire body aching. No wonder he had said she would be sore. They had only been on the lake two hours and she felt like she was dying.

Her arms were jelly, her abs ached, and she was throwing herself into the water more than she was standing up. She hadn’t even gotten past the basics.

“That was,” she panted, trying to get her breath back, “amazing.” It had gone a lot better than she’d expected, given her general lack of athleticism. She wasn’t unfit, but she definitely didn’t have core strength. When she glanced at him he was watching her, the warmth in his gaze heating her up despite the chill against her wet skin.

“Want to go again?” He winked, and for a second she couldn’t tell if he meant sex or wakeboarding.

She laughed, and then winced as her stomach muscles complained. “You're crazy.” There was no way she was doing any of that again anytime soon.

He chuckled but didn’t argue. “I recommend taking up jogging,” he said as they started their walk back to the house.

“Excuse you?” She raised her eyebrows.

“If you want to do more than the basics, the endurance that you can build from jogging would serve you well.” They were almost back to the house, almost inside. “Plus core exercises.”

“Are you trying to get onto my wakeboard again?” It wasn't a funny pun, probably not even in the realm of vaguely amusing. But she got a faint chuckle from him anyway.

“Of course.” He grinned. Then his hand brushed hers, so softly she thought it was an accident. The simple touch sent heat flooding through her body. The sun was lower in the sky, the wind starting to pick up, and when a breeze hit her she wrapped her arms around herself.

He picked up a towel by the door and wrapped it around her. Held it there, his arms wrapped around her, his chest pressed to her back. She wanted him, she did. Just him touching her even through the wetsuit turned her on. But there were other emotions, too. A warmth, a contentedness. She could have stood there for an hour, wrapped up in him, and she would have been happy.

She leaned into Damien, smiled at him. Ignored the bruise forming on her stomach, the half-healing cigarette burn on her shoulder. He loved her, didn’t he? He was just having a bad day. But love conquered all, and for now she could relax into him. Try to feel safe, protected.

Instead she just felt uneasy.

Suddenly Alexa felt like she wanted to throw up. Was Isaac really safe? Why was she feeling that? He was sex, nothing more. There was nothing between them. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that. “Let’s go inside,” she said, looking at the floor, at the cement porch underneath her bare feet.

“After you.” He let go of her, of the towel, and she wrapped it closer around her. Then he led her inside.

W
hen they made
it back to the house, Isaac led her back to the staircase that led to
her
bathroom. “Feel free to shower, change, and I’ll see you downstairs.” He winked, then disappeared out of the bathroom.

Once he left, she closed and locked the door. With shaking hands, she took her wet suit and then swimsuit off, patting herself dry with a nearby towel.

She looked herself over in the mirror, her quick, casual look-over. She had gained a bit of weight, looked more normal. Maybe not where she needed to be, but her clothes would fit her better. She got dressed, back in jeans and a blouse. Soon she would run out of shirts he could take off without having to show her shoulders. Then again, he probably wouldn’t notice if she wore the same shirt twice.

Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, like a teenager ready for a first date. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything like a date. So why was she so nervous? The day was almost over. It would be time to go home.

But she didn’t want to go home. She wanted him to take her again, to have her, possess her – and to keep her. She wanted to be his.

The realization hit her hard, like a brick over the head. She was feeling things for Isaac. Things she shouldn’t be feeling. Things she couldn’t be feeling. After she had left Damien, she swore off men. They were too much trouble. They were dangerous. Sex was okay. Feelings weren’t.

She could contain it. Separate herself from the sex. She ached for him. She wanted him. She could have him, for now, as long as she was careful. As long as she didn’t take things too far. She took a deep breath and then headed out of the bathroom.

She stopped to drop her bag in the foyer, then headed to the kitchen. She paused just inside, staring at the grandmotherly woman dressed in a bright pink apron who was chopping vegetables. “I'm sorry,” Alexa said, not quite sure why she was apologizing but apologizing nonetheless.

The woman looked up at her, smiled. “Not a problem,” she said. “You must be Ms. Matthews.”

“Alexa, please.” This wasn’t work, she didn’t need to be called by her last name. “Are you the housekeeper?” She searched her memory. “Ellie, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled at Alexa, her wrinkled face warm and inviting, then turned her attention went back to the vegetables she was chopping up.

Alexa looked passed her, saw that the dishes had already been done. Her spirits fell. Not that she particularly liked doing the dishes, but she wouldn’t turn down more time with Isaac.

“You look like a nice young lady,” Ellie said, yanking Alexa out of her thoughts.

Alexa blinked. Was that a compliment? Did Isaac bring a lot of women to the house? She didn’t want to think about that. “Thank you?” she said cautiously.

“Ellie, don't scare her off,” Isaac's voice sounded faintly amused as he came up behind Alexa and slid an arm around her middle, pulling her backwards against him.

She jerked forward, an instinctual reaction, and broke out of his grip. She spun and covered her face with a hand, horrified. He had been so good to her, and she had – she had done that. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically, hating even more that she had done that in front of Ellie. What if he got angry? What if he was embarrassed?

“Are you okay?” He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound anything. It made her more nervous that he could shut himself off like that.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. “I don’t startle well.”

“I’m going to take your hand, okay?” He lifted his hand, showed it to her, before he twined his hand with hers, interlocking the fingers. “Come with me.” He nodded to Ellie, who was still focused on dinner, then led Alexa out of the room and back upstairs on the familiar path to the office.

Instead of the office he directed her to its sister room right next door. It had a similar view of the lake but there was a couch instead of a desk. The couch sat opposite a TV bigger than any Alexa had ever seen. “Sit.” He nodded to the couch and she sank into one side, him onto another.

“I’m sorry.” She hated that there were tears coming to her eyes. “It’s not your fault.” It was hers. Her body still did shit like that. It was so embarrassing.

“What happened to you?” His voice was gentle, his eyes soft.

She looked at her hands, twisted them. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

From someone else it would have sounded like a demand, like something that frightened her even more. But it didn’t. It sounded like a question, a request.

She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs. Thought about the scars that were underneath her long-sleeve shirt. “I just don’t startle well.”

“There’s a reason for that.” His gaze searched hers. “I don’t want to startle you again.”

“Just don’t grab me, or come up behind me, or…” She didn’t want to add ‘or hit me, or punch me’. If he was going to do that, he was going to do it whether she told him to or not.

“I will never hurt you.” There was a sincerity to his voice that surprised her, but she appreciated it, too.

She smiled shakily at him, ignoring the uneasiness that prickled across her skin. It felt so intimate, so – vulnerable. Part of her wanted to run away, but part of her wanted to stay. There was something about him that drew her to him, like a moth to a flame. Would he burn her? Or would she be saved? She turned to look at the curtains that covered the far window.

His gaze followed hers. “It's to reduce the glare,” he said. “I can open them if you want.”

She stepped forward, lifting the edge of the curtain so she could see underneath it. The lake looked even more beautiful as the sun started to go down, its orange-red-yellow rays gorgeous against the lake’s blue.

“Maybe later.” She realized what she had said, and looked at him. Had she presumed too much? “Any idea when we’re leaving?”

“After dinner.” He studied her from his side of the couch.

She wanted him closer, wanted to curl up against him. He could protect her from the memories that haunted her, from the fear that surged through her veins. It was intimate, it was vulnerable, but she didn’t care.

He shifted, stretching out on the couch. “Come here.”

I
t felt ridiculous
, being nervous about that. Alexa wasn’t a teenager. She wasn’t horrifically insecure. But curling up with Isaac on the couch felt like it was a dream. Like one little thing would make her wake up and realize that none of it was real. His arm was around her waist and she was laid out on top of him, her head tucked in the crook of his neck. She could smell even more of him, there. The evergreen scent was stronger, fresh after a shower. His skin was still damp.

She didn’t know how long they laid there, his arm over her middle, their bodies pressed together, just breathing. A phone that wasn’t hers buzzed and she felt Isaac reach for it. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, looking down at her. Reluctantly, she got up off him. Her limbs felt pleasantly warm and heavy, and it was more difficult to move. “I’ll bring it up. You stay here.”

She wanted to protest, but she liked being taken care of. It made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, a feeling she was starting to get more comfortable with. She crossed her legs, settling back on her side of the couch.

Isaac returned with two plates loaded full of food and handed one to her, settling on the other side of the couch. She missed being close to him, but eating and cuddling at the same time was more complicated.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He looked at her, his eyes questioning.

“Sure.” It was easier than small talk, especially when her brain felt fried. So much had happened in one day.

He picked up a remote with his non-plate hand, turning a movie on quietly in the background.

Alexa looked at her phone on her lap, and checked her text messages. There was one from Jill, with several question marks. Since there'd been no other texts, she guessed that was Jill’s way of asking how things were going. Someday she would teach Jill how to speak plain English.

Not dead, having fun. I know, I know,
she texted back, cutting off Jill’s evitable question about what sort of fun she was having. They would definitely take some time to chat on Monday when she was back from court.

Drinks Monday night?
Jill texted back.

Yes.
She sent the message and then put her phone back in her purse.

Her attention shifted to the movie, some sort of epic fantasy she had remembered seeing the summary for online. The food was delicious, meatloaf with mashed potatoes, and she ate it in no time at all.

“Let me get that.” He took her plate with the utensils on top of it and disappeared out of the room. He came back and settled back on the couch.

But still not right next to her.

Alexa was only halfway paying attention to the movie; Isaac was much more interesting to look at.

He yawned, stretched, and slid an arm around her shoulders.

She raised her eyebrows in his direction and rolled her eyes. How clichéd. Still, she leaned in, allowing him to pull her between the ‘V’ of his legs so she was leaning back against his chest.

Isaac slid his arm around her middle, holding her lightly but not trapping her. “Good meal?” he murmured into her ear.

She shivered as his breath ghosted over her skin. “Yes.”

“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes are her specialty.”

She wasn’t quite sure why they were talking about food when he was that close to her.

“What do you want, Alexa Matthews?” he asked, his voice soft, lazy.

She looked at him, ignoring the movie now. That was a good question. “I don’t know.”

He studied her for a moment longer, then his lips quirked up into a faint smile. “Me neither.” Isaac leaned down, kissed her. She kissed him back, heat surging through her. She wanted him. Emotions didn’t matter. She would take what she could for now, enjoy it.

And enjoy it she did.

A
lexa didn’t remember falling
asleep, but she did remember waking up. There was a soft moan, a louder one, a scream, and she was pushed off the couch and onto the floor. She jolted upright, her eyes scanning the room even as she waited for them to adjust to the dim light. The TV was still on, but only the credits were playing. Who was there? What was happening?

But when her eyes adjusted, she saw there was no one else. It was just Isaac sitting on the couch. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving with the force of his breath. He seemed to be awake, seemed to be aware, but he looked like he was somewhere else. Then he blinked, blinked again, and looked at her. He was staring at her, his gaze horrified. He looked as shocked as she did. As scared. What happened? Was he okay? Had something happened to him?

She watched out of the corner of her eyes as he took a deep breath. His face was like stone; blank, unmovable. Hatred flashed across it. Not at her, no. At himself. Without a word he stood and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Her heart was thudding loudly in her chest, her pulse so loud she could hear it. Adrenaline warred with panic and for a moment she wanted to run downstairs, run out of the lake house door, and keep running until she couldn’t run anymore. But that wouldn’t solve what had happened. It wouldn’t tell her why he had done that. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then another, and another, until slowly the adrenaline ebbed from her system. She was still on high alert, twitching at the faint noise the TV made as the credits finished.

But things were okay. She was okay. Damien wasn’t going to hurt her. Neither would Isaac.

She would get to the middle of this. Find out what happened.

She took another deep breath as she stood, ignoring the way her joints protested. She was sore from wakeboarding, from sex. From landing hard on the floor with no cushion beyond the carpet. Breathe. She walked downstairs, her body on high alert. There was a light on at the end of the hall. The kitchen. It had to be him.

Isaac was sitting there on a bar stool, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He didn’t turn to look at her when she entered, didn’t seem like he had noticed her at all. She walked into the kitchen, standing in his line of vision. Or what would be his line of vision if he looked up. “Isaac?” She started tentatively, waiting to see if he was willing to open up.

He gripped the glass tighter. “I don’t know if this is wise.”

She crossed her arms, not willing to take no for an answer. “Please talk to me.”

He took another drink. He turned to look at her, studied her with his dark blue eyes. Lifted a hand, beckoned her with a crooked finger.

“No.” She wasn’t going anywhere near him until he explained what was going on.

“Please.”

She stared at him, startled. He had never asked for anything. Never said please. “Why?”

His mask broke a tiny bit, enough that she could see the pain hidden in his eyes. “It’s easier to talk about with you in my arms.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to take him in her arms, hug him close. Help him. But the adrenaline flooding through her system made taking that step forward almost impossible. “I –”

“I’m sorry.” The words were an almost imperceptible whisper. He looked away from her, shame on his face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Some of her panic faded, receded. Damien had only apologized when he wanted something. Isaac wasn’t him. Isaac was different. He had to be. Taking a deep breath, Alexa walked into his arms, letting him wrap them around her. Sitting on the stool he was at the right height to rest his chin on the top of her head, something she found oddly endearing. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, trying to relax into his embrace. She could smell some of the scotch he had been drinking. How much of that had he drank before she had gotten to him?

“It was a nightmare.” His voice was soft.

She pressed herself closer to him. If they were anything like some of the nightmares she’d had in college, she could understand.

“I didn't mean to fall asleep with you.” He played idly with a strand of her hair.

She frowned at his chest but didn’t pull away. He twined his other hand into hers, like she was a lifeline he was afraid to let go of. “What?”

“On the couch.” He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head and then released her. She leaned back a bit but didn’t let him go.

“Because of - those?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly. She had a feeling she knew the answer and, as much as she wanted to know, she wasn’t going to push. If whatever had happened was bad enough to leave him with nightmares that left him that upset, then she didn’t want to make him relive it unless he wanted to.

“No.”

She nodded, understanding. She let herself rest against him, thinking. “My Dad beat my mother,” she said after a moment. She could feel his arms tense around her, hold her a bit closer. “Everyone knew about it. I grew up in a small town.” She inhaled, breathing in his scent. It gave her strength. “Everyone talked behind my back.”

He stroked a hand up and down her back.

“I’m sorry.” There was a heartbreak, a sorrow in his words.

She took a deep breath, felt something shift in her. She trusted him. He had a bad past, too. “I used to have nightmares, too.”

He kissed the top of her head but didn’t speak.

Which was good, because she wasn’t done. “I was raped when I was fifteen. He was popular, and I was – well, my family was what they were. No one believed me.” She shrugged. It didn’t bother her as much anymore. It was a long time ago, a world ago. “But I left my siblings behind. Naomi was twelve, Eric nine. Sometimes I wonder what happened to them.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “All I’m saying is, you’re not the only one who’s had nightmares.”

He tipped her chin up, looked at her. Kissed her softly, slow and sweet. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

She smiled faintly at him. For all that had happened, his loss of control, she felt safe, protected. Standing on her tip toes, she kissed him softly. “I still don’t think we should sleep together.”

He chuckled. “I agree. Now, sex on the other hand…”

She snorted.

He kissed her again, sighed against her lips. “I should take you home.”

They kissed lazily for a long minute. She loved being with him like this, the lazy, gentle movements heightening her senses. The adrenaline had faded, leaving her tired, worn. Trusting. Maybe too trusting.

“Let’s get you home.” He took her hand and together they went to make sure everything was packed.

T
he car ride
home was quiet except for the radio playing in the background. It was late, and Alexa was both tired and sore. Her abs still hurt, from the wakeboarding more than the sex, and her elbow had been jarred when she had fallen off the couch. She would ache all over tomorrow. She stifled a yawn, rubbed her eyes. Overall it had been a good day. Most of her work was done. She just had to prepare for court tomorrow. Not that she was thinking about it. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She leaned against the window, staring out at the trees as they passed. She was so tired it was hard to keep her eyes open. Would she fall asleep in his car? Did she trust him that much, after the nightmare?

“You look exhausted.” His voice was low and soft and she liked it. It sent butterflies flying through her stomach. She was loopy, that was the problem. She was tired and loopy.

“Fun is exhausting.” She turned and smiled at him, light hearted.

He chuckled, then reached out and put a hand on her thigh.

It should have scared her. It should have startled her. But she had watched him do it and, instead of nerves, she felt comforted. His thumb stroked her thigh, gentle and reassuring, and he made no move to tilt it inwards, no move to initiate anything. It was for her.

Alexa felt like she was drowning, like all of her feelings would surround her and suffocate her. She had never felt this way for anyone, never wanted so much. But she wanted him. And she didn’t know what to do with it. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. Then she put her hand on his, felt him shift and twine her fingers with his.

She was drowning, and she didn’t know whether he would be her savior or her ruin.