Catch Me Falling (9 page)

“We should get back for dinner,” he murmured into her ear, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. He kissed under her ear, making her shiver. Grazed her earlobe with his teeth, and she squeaked. He chuckled.

S
he hesitated
, not wanting to leave the magical place. Then her stomach rumbled, and she glared at it. It was misbehaving.

He laughed, leaned in and kissed her. There was a lightness to his behavior, a freedom in his movements that she hadn’t seen before. A heat in his eyes, unbridled, unrestrained. Maybe opening up to her had freed something in him. “Let’s go.”

I
saac followed
her into the guest bathroom and stood there, his eyes intent on her. There was that heat, that fire. That want. Alexa swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her body was reacting to him already, her skin feeling like it was on fire, aware of the lightest touch.

She turned around, lifting up her short ponytail so that he could see her neck, the zipper of the wet suit. She was offering herself to him, taking a chance. It would be the first time he had seen her out of the wet suit, out of anything long-sleeved. She shivered, out of nerves rather than arousal. He would see her scars. Some of them, anyway.

He had shared his scars, and she wanted to share hers. They were both broken.

Nerves thrummed along her skin. His finger on her neck was like a spark, and it felt like he left furrows of fire as he slid the zipper down her back. She closed her eyes, leaned into his touch. Waited until she felt the zipper at the bottom, at the base of her spine.

He leaned down and kissed the base of her neck. She bit back a gasp. She didn’t know why she wanted to be quiet, but she did.

“It’s okay to make noise,” he murmured, as if he had felt her self-restraint. He wrapped his arms around her, around her middle, and just held her. They breathed in and out, their hearts beating in sync. For a moment, they were the same. All they had was each other.

“Isaac?”

“Yes?” He kissed the side of her neck, shifted the wet suit a bit and kissed the crook of her neck.

“Hold on.”

He paused, his lips still on the side of her neck. Then he pulled back. She felt buzzed, full of adrenaline. It was freeing, sharing her body. It was sharing a part of herself that she had never shared with anyone else. It was trusting him. Taking a step towards whatever they had together, even if she didn’t know what that was.

She tugged the wetsuit off, her back towards him. She didn’t want to see his face, what he thought. Besides, the burns were visible from the back. Her swimsuit still hid the scars on her stomach, at least for now.

As she pulled the wet suit off, down her middle, she heard him inhale sharply behind her. Despite her best intentions, her trust, she tensed her muscles, prepared for the worst.

She felt his hands on her shoulder blades, felt them slide until his fingertips skimmed over the cigarette burns, the jagged scars from one too many falls. If he asked, she could tell him when Damien had given her each and every scar. She didn’t forget. She couldn’t forget. She had loved, she had trusted. And it had hurt her.

“Who hurt you?” he murmured, the tight control in his voice making her tense even more. Was he angry? Who was he angry at? He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her scars, to the dull scar tissue. It felt strange, having his mouth on her there. Strange and exciting.

“He doesn’t matter.” She shivered, tried not to squirm out from underneath him. No one had ever touched her scars with that sort of reverence before. She liked it.

“The man from the bar?” There was a dawning realization in his voice, an anger.

She crumpled inside. This was when he would laugh, would blame her. “Yes.”

He inhaled shakily, then his hands left her skin. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for –

He turned her around until she was facing him. His face was a beautiful, tortured mosaic of different feelings. Hatred, anguish, sorrow. “I’m sorry.” He reached out, gently pulled her close. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, burying her face in his chest. Breathing in his evergreen scent, the clean, crisp smell of him. He was amazing and, in a way, he was hers.

Two sad souls, bound together by pasts that neither wanted to remember or relive.

She leaned up to kiss him. He kissed her back, hunger and desperation mingling in that single kiss. He slid a hand up and cupped her breast, kissing her jawline, then under her ear. She moaned under his touch, heat flaring in her body. Wetness was gathering between her thighs. She wanted nothing more than to have him inside of her.

Then his hands were at the top of her one-piece, the straps. There was a question in his eyes. She pulled back, took a deep breath. He was asking her it was okay to continue. She glanced at the open door to the bathroom. Ellie was the only other person there, the only one who could walk in and see them. He saw her gaze and moved to shut the door. She took a deep breath and then nodded. She helped him slip off the straps, but she didn’t pull the swimsuit down. No, that was for him.

She inhaled sharply, nervous. There were scars on her stomach, too. Some looked even worse than the cigarette burns. Jagged white scars from a blunt knife, scars that had never been treated, never been stitched.

Slowly, torturously, he dragged the wet fabric down. She bit back a moan. His fingers left trails of fire on her skin.

Then her breasts were bared to the air and he was looking at her, reaching out to touch her. She hissed at the touch, at how gentle his fingers were as he skimmed his thumbs across her nipples. Already they were hard, stiff peaks that he rolled between his fingers. He seemed to study them, study her. He was so gentle that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. It was stupid, and she knew it, but it made a difference.

He looked at her like he was going to take her apart, bit by bit, until he had to put her back together and build her up again. He leaned down, kissed her neck, kissed back up her jaw. He hadn’t pulled it down far enough to see her stomach scars, not really. She groaned, feeling arousal coil between her legs. She was wet, oh so wet, and she ached for relief.

“I like you like this,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “You look nice.”

She looked at him, frowned. “It'd be nice if you were naked, too.”

“Next time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well –” She was cut off by him kissing her again, holding her so close that she felt fused to him. He was hard, she could tell, even through the thick wetsuit. He ground his hard cock against her slick heat, fingers tugging at her nipple as their kiss turned messy, hot and heavy. She could barely stand. She could barely breathe.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured, breaking away from the kiss.

He paused, then pressed a kiss to her lips. “Do what?”

She took a deep breath and then met his eyes. “Stay overnight.”

He cupped her face with a large hand, stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I can take you home if you want.” His gaze flickered to her scars, then back to her face. Gently he tugged her close, letting her rest against him. She liked it like that, having his solid body to rest against. She breathed in his scent, the evergreen mingling with the funkiness of the lake. It was a strange combination.

“You need a shower,” she said.

He chuckled. “So do you.”

She closed her eyes, ignoring the fact she was half-naked against him. Both were still damp, and she was starting to shiver a little bit.

He lifted her head with his fingers, looked at him, his head tilted to the side. Then his eyes shifted to the shower, then back to her.

She swallowed, the ache between her legs intensifying. Then she nodded.

He stepped back, reaching behind him and pulling his wet suit off as quickly as he could. He was just wearing close-fitting trunks underneath, and those were gone as quickly as the wetsuit. “Turn it on.” He nodded to the shower.

Her cheeks flushed, then she did what he asked, fumbling a bit with the controls. Once the water was spraying she looked back at him, no longer surprised to find him so close. He kissed her, his mouth moving against hers, sending pleasure surging through her, curling her toes. He was so good at that.

“You don’t need this,” he murmured against her lips, his hands on her half-off swim suit.

“Take it off, then,” she said with as much sass as she could muster.

He chuckled, nipped at her lower lip. “Fine.” Sliding his hands under the stretchy fabric, he rolled it down bit by bit, exposing all of her. It was the first time she had ever been naked in front of him. Completely, truly naked. Not just physically.

His fingers traced the scars on her stomach, and he looked at her, questioning.

She looked away, her cheeks heating from shame, embarrassment. She had loved the wrong man. She hoped she wasn’t making that mistake again.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He took a deep, shaky breath and then pulled her flush against him, letting her step out of the swimsuit. His cock was hard against her, and not enough.

“Please,” she whispered.

He groaned, taking her hand and tugging her into the shower. The water was blissfully warm, steam surrounding them as the droplets pounded into her skin. He kissed her, blocked the stream of water from hitting her face. He protected her, even as his tongue, his mouth, consumed her.

Then he picked her up, putting her back against the tile. She felt dizzy from the arousal surging through her veins, light headed. She hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected him to hold her. He kissed her again and again, even as he thrust into her, holding her steady. The kiss was messy, sloppy, heated. Lust and sadness and sorrow and fear, all conveyed the best they could.

Tears mingled with the water that washed them away, and she wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Happiness, sadness, sorrow and pain. He was gentle with her, so gentle, even as he filled her, as he took her. She wanted to give all of herself up to him, wanted to be consumed by him.

She cried out when her orgasm overtook her, when the crescendo of pleasure got to be too much. A few quick thrusts and he came into her, groaning as ecstasy overtook him. For a moment they just rested there, breathing in tandem. Him inside her, surrounding her. Possessing her.

She wanted to stay there forever.

Then he let her down, and she stood on shaky legs. “Where are your toiletries?” he asked, looking down at her.

“In that bag.” She pointed to a small black bag that was just outside of the shower door.

He stepped out and grabbed them, ignoring the water that flew everywhere. Opening the bag he pulled out what he wanted and stepped back in. She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Turn around,” he said, his voice soft.

She did, ignoring the way it made her heart beat faster, made her breath catch in her throat. Trust. She trusted him.

She heard a shampoo bottle snick open, heard the faint sound of him putting some in his hand. Then she felt his long, thick fingers on her head, massaging it into her wet hair. She let out a soft moan, tilting back into his touch. His fingers scraped over her scalp, massaged, teased. Little shocks of pleasure zinged across her skin.

I want you
, his fingers said.
I need you
, he didn’t say. A million words hung in the air as he pulled down the showerhead, rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. Was ever so careful to make sure no water got in her eyes.

Conditioner. Bodywash. He took care of her, and she took care of him.

It was give and take, equal power.

She felt like she could rule the world, and he would be by her side. She had never had someone treat her like he did, and she wanted more of it.

“Let’s go get dinner,” he murmured, kissing her briefly. She smiled at him, giddiness in her insides. Yes.

D
inner felt
like it had lasted forever. Alexa sat with her dinner on her side of the couch, her feet tucked underneath her. Isaac had picked out a movie, although she couldn’t have told anyone what they watched or what she ate. All of her attention was on Isaac. She snuck glances at him, then back at the movie. Back and forth. She wondered what he was thinking. What he was feeling. Was he looking forward to, uh, post-dinner too?

There was that enigmatic, pleased smile on his face. He turned to her, raised an eyebrow. He knew what he was doing. She settled onto his lap, liking the way she felt as she pressed against him. She had shown him some of the worst parts of herself, her scars, and he had accepted her without judgment.

It was strange, being in the honeymoon stage again. Not having to worry about somebody doing – something. About being stupid, or incompetent, and upsetting him. Isaac leaned in closer and his closeness made goosebumps form on her skin. She wanted him closer, wanted him all over her. He kissed the side of her head, affectionate. Teasing. She inhaled sharply, leaned closer. Begging, in a way. She wanted more of his touch, more of the way his fingers set her on fire. Already she was getting warmer, wet.

He looked at her, his eyes smoldering. She swallowed. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff, like she’d come to an ultimatum. She was going to give him a chance, she thought. She would jump over that cliff, for him.

His lips pressed against hers and he kissed her, slowly, carefully. She felt the world move, like molten rock. It felt like a heat was burning within her, something that would never be quenched. She wanted him to touch her, to hold her. She kissed him back, almost overwhelmed by having him so close. She felt dizzy, like she couldn't breathe.

Isaac kissed her again, lingered, then helped her stand and offered her a hand. She looked at him, surprised. But part of her was excited, too. Was that a step forward? A sign of something new? She took it and walked with him to the bedroom. Down the stairs, through two hallways, second door to the right. Well, she presumed the room was his bedroom.

Then they were there, the door locked behind them. Alexa’s breath was coming faster, and Isaac was standing in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, not even to look at the room. He was distracting, he was everything. His fingertips danced across her skin, leaving little trails of fire before they slid under her shirt.

Isaac leaned in and gently kissed her again and again. “I want you,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

She shivered.

“What do you want?” he asked. His voice was low, raspy, and it made her ache between her legs. His body was pressed against hers. She was wet now, soaking her underwear.

“I don't know,” she answered. Honesty had never served her well, when it came to sex. She had ended up with a black eye more often than not. But she wanted to try. And it was the truth. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. What he wanted. How far she was willing to go, any of that.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay.” He kissed her again, deeper and deeper. As he kissed her he moved her, step by step, smooth and rhythmic, until her knees touched the back of the bed. She could smell his evergreen, the crisp scent of him. He didn’t smell like the lake anymore.

He pulled back, kissed his way up her jawline. Brushed her earlobe with his breath, then nipped at it.

Alexa bit back a moan. Her breath was coming too fast, her heart thudding in her chest. He was intoxicating, being so close. And it felt so right, having him kiss her like that. Felt like her world had settled into place. The fear was still there, simmering, but want had taken its place. He was taking her apart, and she would have to trust him to put her back together.

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her neck. His hands went underneath her shirt, tugging it up over her head. They got caught for a moment, with the long sleeves, and she couldn't help but giggle. She looked ridiculous, arms caught over her head. And then she finished tugging it off, tossed it aside, and she was standing in her bra and jeans.

Isaac’s gaze was on her stomach, on the seven white scars that dotted her abdomen. She wanted to cover herself, wanted to hide the scars from his prying eyes. But she didn’t. He had seen them in the shower, touched them, but this time was different. This was intimate. This was just for him, not for her.

He reached out a hand, stroked his fingertips across the scars. She shivered. Not from any pain - scar tissue wasn’t that sensitive - but his touch left trails of fire burning across her skin. He didn’t judge her. He didn’t hurt her. Instead he leaned down and kissed her, his lips gentle. She looked away, wiped away tears that were starting to form in her eyes. It wasn’t the time or the place to get that emotional.

“Hey.” He tilted her head with a finger, and she looked up at him.

“Sorry.” She sank onto the bed, sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

He settled down next to her, an arm around her. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.” She wiped her eyes again, frustration growing inside of her. “Sorry.”

“The fact you’ve said sorry three times hasn’t convinced me that you’re okay.” He kissed the side of her head.

“It’s just...” She wrung her hands, looked down at them, not looking at him. It was so hard to say, so hard to put into words. “You’re gentle.” He inhaled sharply and she tensed, preparing for that façade to drop, for him to laugh, to hit her.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her shoulder, to the scars there. She bit her lip when he tasted her skin. “You taste good,” he murmured.

She felt like she would combust on the spot with the way he talked.

“Lay down.”

She glanced down at her clothes, hesitated.

“I’ll take them off for you.” He winked at her.

Her breath hitched and heat flooded her veins. The ache between her legs was close to unbearable. “Okay.”

She pushed herself back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. He stood, his gaze on her, appreciative. Then he pulled his shirt and jeans off, standing there clad just in his boxers. She could see the bulge of his cock. She shifted, pressed her thighs together. She was impatient now.

“All the way,” he chuckled.

She took a deep breath and laid down, her head against the pile of pillows at the top of the big bed. She felt dwarfed by it, by him. By everything. She felt so small. Then his body settled on top of her, a warm, comforting pressure. He angled their hips together, ground into her and she moaned. He leaned down and kissed her. “You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, kissing down her jawline, down her neck. She was still wearing her bra, her jeans. She felt overdressed.

Her fingers skimmed across his chest, across his muscles. His lickable abs. He felt like velvety steel underneath her hands. She kissed him, arching her body to press her breasts into his naked chest.

“Lean up for me.”

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but she obliged. He slid one of his big hands underneath her, undid her bra. Then he gently tugged it off. She helped as much as she could, given he was still laying on top of her. She was naked from the waist up now. Completely bared for him.

He looked at her, eyes appreciative. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze. Then he leaned down, kissed his way down between her breasts. She whimpered, arched her back again. She wanted his mouth on her, kissing her, sucking her.

He drew one of her nipples into his mouth, the warm, wet heat making her moan.

She arched her back even further, her hand seeking and finding his hair. He grazed her nipple with his teeth, bit lightly, and she jerked. Her panties were soaked now, and her body was as hot as a volcano. “God,” she gasped, her breathing ragged already. She was going to come soon if he kept doing that.

He chuckled. “Not quite.”

She tugged on his hair gently, a lighthearted scold. He retaliated by pinching her nipple. She hissed, heat pulsing between her legs. She looked at him, surprised at how good that had felt.

“You liked it.” He kissed her on her sternum, then kissed down her stomach. She whimpered, her knees tilting together out of habit. It was harder with him between them. But she tried. She wasn’t sure why sex felt so different in a bed. So much more intimate.

It did. It felt like he could see all of her. Not just the scars on her body, but the ones on her heart, too. He was a balm to her, soothing and healing her again. Making her whole.

He undid the button on her jeans, tugged them off. She shimmied her hips, trying to help. Then she was left in just her panties, and he was looking at her as if she was the best present he had ever gotten. It sent a thrill through her body, made heat coil between her legs. She wanted him. She wanted this.

Isaac’s eyes were blazing and she shivered, heat flooding her core. He gently nudged her thighs apart, kept her underwear on. She had soaked them, and it was his fault. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. He could tell how much he wanted her. How she was hot for him. She swallowed, her throat dry, and she shivered as his fingers grazed across the crotch of her panties. He was taking it slow, tentatively. Heightening the anticipation. It wasn’t their first time together but it felt like it.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his breath ghost between her legs. His finger gently traced her lower lips, light caresses that left her shivering with lust. He really would take her apart, bit by bit, until there was nothing left. The light, barely-there pressure made her crave more of his touch. When his touch vanished she glared down at him, wanting something, anything, down there.

His grin was wicked as he licked the wet spot in her underwear, keeping that barrier between him and her. She groaned, tossing her head back and bucking her hips. He put his arm across her hips, stopped her from moving. Rude. It was torturous, and she wanted to wiggle out of his grip, wanted to grab his hair and move him where she wanted him. “Please,” she begged.

He merely smiled. “Bit by bit,” he said mildly, as if he was entirely unaffected by what he was doing. By the way he was tasting her, feeling her.

She groaned, for there was nothing mild about what he was doing. He had set all of her nerves on fire, and this wasn't even the main act. He kept his eyes on hers as he slid a finger into the crotch of her panties, pulling them to the side. She wanted to look away, wanted to look anywhere but at him as he bared her, but she couldn’t. His dark blue eyes saw her. Saw all of her.

Her heart was beating fast, fear and hope and like and lust flowing through her. Her legs were spread with him between them, wide enough that he had access. The fact that he kept her underwear on, kept her from being totally exposed, made her feel even naughtier. She had never done anything like that before, never had anyone treat her like he did. Every little thing he did felt like it was multiplied by a thousand, sending little shock waves through her nerve endings. She could feel his breath on her and she was shivering now. Soft little noises escaped her as she felt his fingers slide down her thighs and towards her center.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god.

He slowly parted her, licked a tentative stripe up her middle. She gasped, and it was only his hand on her hips that kept her from bucking up into him. He licked her again, and again. He had been tentative, had started slowly, but now it seemed like he was going to drive her crazy. He flicked his tongue across her clit, circled it slowly, torturously, and then moved to lick and suck again.

Unintelligible noises spilled from her lips. All she could focus on was what this wonderful, wonderful man was doing between her legs.

He slid a finger inside her and she groaned. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. She wanted to be filled, to have him inside of her. She didn't know when wanting that had become a thing, but it was now. He circled her clit with his tongue, slid a second finger in and out. Oh God, she was so close already. He sucked hard on her clit and jerked his fingers.

She cried out as she came, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers, her toes curling in the bed as she lifted her hips up into his mouth. He circled her clit slowly, teasingly, drawing out the aftershocks until she laid limp on the bed. Hypersensitive, she whimpered under his touch, the way he moved his two fingers in and out. Slowly. Torturously.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pausing to kiss her thigh.

“Please,” she said, her voice more begging than she would like.

“Please what?” he asked, his voice patient.

Alexa’s cheeks were red, her body trembling. “Please take me.” She was naked in more ways than one, but he handled all of her so gently. Her heart, her soul.

She didn’t want to think about it, but she thought she might love him.

“Not yet.” Instead, he circled her clit again with his tongue, picked up the pace, licking, sucking, overwhelming her. It was a haze of pleasure and pain, the hypersensitization of her body from her last orgasm heightening every sensation until she felt lost in what was happening. She tossed her head back, tried to lift her hips, tried to press herself further onto his tongue, but she couldn’t. Then he twisted his fingers, curving them to hit the right spot, sucked hard, and she came again.

The second time was even more devastating than the first, and her body was wracked with shudders for what felt like forever. It felt like she didn’t know where she ended and he began, like they had melded and become one person.

“Still okay?” He laid next to her, apparently deciding to let her get her breath back.

She was rather grateful for that. “Getting there.” No one had ever made her come like he did, but she couldn’t think about it or she would start crying again and she didn’t want to interrupt what they were doing.

For a moment they just laid there, Isaac pressed against her side and his warm, affectionate eyes on hers. She didn’t know what to do with that. She’d never done that. Cuddling? Was that what it was called? It made her a bit nervous, if she was honest. What did he want from her? Was he waiting for her to do something? He hadn’t gotten any attention yet. Maybe that was a sign? “Here, let me -” She reached out and waved at his boxers, at his hard cock she could see straining at the fabric.