The Harder You Fall (17 page)

“I'm not leaving without talking to my sister,” Jessie Kay said. “Or getting her money.”

“I'll pay her.” He showed his ID card to the valet, who'd just returned to the podium with keys.

The guy nodded, his gaze lingering on Jessie Kay just long enough to draw a growl from West.

“Today,” West roared.

Footsteps suddenly rang out.

“First,” Jessie Kay said, “I don't want your money, I want Monica's. Second, you weren't the one under attack. What's your rush? Let me go back and speak with—”

“You know your sister is packing up. As for the rush, I have many reasons. How many would you like to hear?”

She pursed her lips. “Start with three.”

“One, an escalation of violence would have landed us both in serious trouble. Two, if Monica had hit you back, I would have lost it. I'm like the Hulk, and people don't want to see me when I'm angry. Especially when it comes to your protection. You have somehow become my favorite person, and I will do bad, bad things to keep you safe.”

“That's only two reasons,” she said on a wispy catch of breath.

“Three, I want to get your hand on ice. Your knuckles are already swelling.”

Her features softened, the way he'd hoped. A second later, his car arrived, and he tipped the valet, who did his best to avoid glancing in Jessie Kay's direction. Only when West was on the road, the sprawling, five-star hotel nothing but a blur in his rearview mirror did he relax.

“I don't have an STD, you know,” she said quietly, peering out at the night sky. “I haven't been with anyone in months, since...you know, and I've been tested.”

“Good. I don't have one, either. And kitten,” he said, his voice just as quiet, “I don't consider you a slut.”

“You must.”

“Because a double standard is mandatory to be considered a man?”

“Yes!”

“Hardly. I'm no one's judge. You know my history, right? Besides, if I were a girl, I would have bagged and tagged Jase and Beck, too. They're hot.”

She smiled, but the amusement didn't last long. “You must hate that I've been with them.”

“I hate the thought of you with anyone else and for a while, I thought I'd grow to resent the two for putting their hands on my woman. But now I realize it simply doesn't matter. They are the past, and I am the present.”

“Your woman,” she whispered, as if she couldn't believe he'd said the words. “The future.” Gulping, she turned in her seat to fully face him. “How did Monica know you want to pretend I'm a human buffet?”

He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “I told her.”

A moment passed in silence. A moment he lacked any kind of heartbeat, the stupid organ waiting for a reason to beat.

“I want you, too,” she admitted. “You know I do. But I won't do anything about it because I expect long-term and you insist on two months.” A heavy pause. “Right?”

His body reacted to her words—
I want you, too
—growing hot and hungry, his heart now racing as an insatiable need for relief plagued him. “Right.” He couldn't overlook his reasons for keeping this particular schedule. Not even for Jessie Kay. It would be an insult to Jase and Tessa, even Beck. It would be an insult to the pain they'd suffered on his behalf.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you insist on two months? Tell me. Please.”

“Not yet.” He'd have to tell her sooner or later, he saw that now, but as for tonight, there'd been enough turmoil. “If we can't be together, you have to help me resist you. Tell me all the horrible things you'd do if we were involved. Cling? Demand to know every detail about my rotten childhood?”

For a long, silent moment, she peered at him with yearning and hope, and it tore him up inside. He didn't think there could be anything worse—until both emotions were eclipsed by resolve.

“I would cling
so hard
,” she finally said. “I would ask a million questions about not just your childhood but your day, every day, and if I thought, even for a second, you'd looked at another woman, I would punish you by refusing to sleep with you. For a week!”

“You mean you would punish
yourself
. But keep going. This is helping.” Was it though? He wasn't disturbed by the thought of her questions and her punishment. He was intrigued.

“I would take horrible advantage of you,” she said.

Again, he was intrigued. “Give me an example.”

“Well, for starters, I would expect you to trade cars with me.”

“Why?”

“Because any boyfriend of mine would
insist
I drive the safer vehicle.”

Guess who would soon be getting a new—safer—car all her own?

But she wasn't done. “And I hope you like your girlfriends in baggy shirts and sweatpants. The moment I have you nailed down, I'll stop putting any effort into my appearance.”

He gave a mock shudder.

“And despite your obvious aversion to gift-giving, I will expect a present for every anniversary. And, West? I believe every week together is a new anniversary.”

The thought utterly terrified him.

The one gift he'd given his mother, she'd pawned. The first gift he'd given to a foster mother hadn't compared to the gifts she'd received from her own children. She'd proudly displayed theirs, and his—a drawing he'd slaved over—had ended up in the trash with the wrapping paper.

“Your turn to help me.” Jessie Kay waved her hand at him. “Tell me the horrible things you'd do to me.”

He brought her hand to his mouth, and licked between her knuckles. One taste. Just one... “I'd have a schedule drilled into your head by the end of the first day.”

“Nothing new there.”

“If you were a minute late to anything, I would pencil in a lecture and a spanking.”

Her exaggerated gasp caused his lips to twitch at the corners. She placed her free hand over her throat, saying, “You're such a beast! Yes, I would deserve and welcome the spanking. But the lecture? Cruel and unusual. How long would it last?”

“Hours.”

She tsk-tsked. “I hate to break it to you, sugar bear, but I wouldn't hear a word. I'd be too busy daydreaming about the joys of single life.”

“Don't kid yourself, kitten. I'd deliver the lecture naked. You'd only want more of me, not less.”

Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “What else?”

“I would demand to be the center of your world.” He never had before, but with her, he was certain he'd make an exception. “Every minute of every day would belong to me. I would expect you in my bed every night and in my arms every morning. I would have you so often and so hard you wouldn't be able to breathe without thinking of me.”

Another moment passed in silence. Another moment without a heartbeat.

He reached the house, parked in the driveway.

“Horrible,” she finally said, her voice little more than smoke—smoke that drugged him...lured him deeper into her spell.

He shook as he got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. “I need another reason. Now.”

She stood before him, looking up at him with luminous eyes. “I would demand a hug at least ten times a day.”

He didn't have to fake a shudder this time. “I hate hugs. I never know how long or tight to hold on.”

“Well, I can fix that in a jiff.” She stepped closer to him, stepped
into
him, winding her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest, where his heart drummed a thousand beats a minute. “Hold on until I say stop.”

He obeyed without thought, wrapping his arms around her and clinging.

“Tighter,” she said. “Good. That's good.” A tension-laden pause. “Miserable yet?”

“Beyond,” he whispered.

“Good. Now run your fingers through my hair.”

It was a dangerous game, the most dangerous one they'd ever played, and it utterly defeated the purpose of what they were trying to do. Still he ran his fingers through the silken strands of her hair, and she sighed with contentment.

“Jessie Kay.” A heated rasp.

She looked up, pressed a gentle kiss into his lips.

The contact, even as brief as it was, obliterated whatever armor he'd had around his mind...his heart? His every hidden desire was suddenly on display, like exposed nerve endings, raw and sensitive.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, stealing
her
breath when she opened for him.

Their tongues rolled together, soft and slow, and the incredible taste of her nearly unmanned him: the sugar that was a steady part of her diet laced with a hint of cinnamon. Two flavors he would forever associate with home...home...for the first time in his life, he felt as if he was home.

“Jessie Kay.” As good as the kiss was, it had nothing to do with passion. Not in this stolen moment. Every stroke and thrust somehow deepened the
emotion
between them. She branded him. She took him to a place where the past no longer existed. There was only here and now, and they were the only two people alive.

“West,” she gasped—then she pushed him away.

They stood at arm's length, both of them panting.

Goal: get her back in his arms. Without her, he had no anchor. He was set adrift, the past threatening to intrude.

He reached for her, but she sidestepped him.
Can't let her get away.

He caged her against the car to prevent an escape, and as she trembled, he cursed. He wasn't this man. Needy and clingy—desperate.

“N-now that we got that out of our systems,” she said, unable to look him in the eye, “the wanting should end.”

“Yes,” he croaked. “The wanting should end.”

Please. Let it end.

CHAPTER TWELVE

D
URING
THE
NEXT
WEEK
, Jessie Kay did her best to forget the earth-shattering kiss that had changed the very fabric of her being. A gentle kiss, the gentlest she'd ever experienced, more about emotion than physical desire. Though the desire had been there—was always there. No longer was she JKD. She was now JKD: Property of West. He
owned
her. Not that he knew it. Not that she would ever tell him.

We want different things.

But that didn't stop her from continuing to be his friend. Which meant Operation Collage was still a go. She managed to covertly take a million pictures of him and couldn't have been more pleased—unless he promised her the world, of course.

Why did he insist on the two-month expiration date? He'd never find happiness that way, and she wanted him happy. But...

She'd begun to suspect
he
didn't want to be happy.

When she suggested they relax and watch a movie, he turned her down because there was “cleaning” to do. Thing was, he didn't just clean the house, he
cleaned
the house within an inch of its miserable life. He scrubbed, polished, swept and vacuumed, and then he did it all over again.

A way to control his surroundings, maybe? Or did the reason go deeper?

Heck, maybe he just wanted to avoid her.

No, not that. He often called her just to check in. Though every conversation began with “Everything all right?” As if he expected something terrible to happen at any moment.

Didn't he know worry rotted your bones?

And so did OCD. Besides the cleaning thing, the different computer parts he continued to bring home were always lined up a certain way. Every so often she would find a bolt in the couch cushions, and she had to wonder if he put it there on purpose. He was too meticulous not to know.

A small rebellion against the order?

Once, she'd taped one of those spare bolts to the fridge next to a note that read, “YOU'RE TURNING THIS PLACE INTO A NERDATORY!”

The next day, she'd found her note replaced by another. “YOU'RE WELCOME.”

She'd also noticed he checked and double-checked every window and door before going to bed. Oh, and he refused to leave Jase and Beck—even Jessie Kay herself—if he thought they were upset with him. He stuck around until everyone was smiling.

She thought she understood that part, at least. The last time he'd seen Tessa, the girl had been pissed at him, had made a poor decision and lost her life. He felt responsible. The way Jessie Kay felt responsible for both her parents.

She wanted so badly to help him. And she was! Maybe. Hopefully. Every morning, he presented her with a new schedule as well as a copy of his own. She continued to interrupt him throughout the day, asking for help with this, telling him a funny story about that. Not once did he dismiss her, and more and more, he came home from work smiling.

And maybe that was why he did his best to start her day with a smile. He would place a cup of coffee beside her schedule. When he was home, he would make quips like,
Here's some sugar with a dash of coffee.

You do realize I'm your sugar daddy, right?

And,
No wonder you have such a sweet ass.

Yeah. He'd gone there.

If he was gone before she crawled out of bed, he left her a note with a bad pun.

“Drink me. I don't want you depresso today.”

“Time to get ready for the daily grind.”

And her personal favorite, “You've had a latte on your mind lately. Just enjoy the moment.”

In the evenings, he would teach her a new soccer drill. Not to pat herself on the back—she was totally going to pat herself on the back—she'd gotten pretty darn good at dribbling the ball. She'd even mastered that inside-hook thingie.

Dang it, why wouldn't he date her longer than two months?

The question was a poisoned seed inside her mind, growing poisoned branches and leaves until she almost couldn't see past the thick foliage.

Thankfully, she had a distraction. A few days ago, West, the beautiful bastard, had dumped responsibility for the WOH Christmas party on her, claiming, “We're best friends now. You can't say no.”

“But Brook Lynn—”

“Is busy planning her wedding.”

True, but Jessie Kay called her anyway. Usually her sister handled the menu, and Jessie Kay didn't want to take over something the girl enjoyed.

“You proved yourself with the Bodies by Monica party, even with that He-Man punch,” her sister said. “Good form, by the way. You did exactly what I would have done, so I can't claim victory on our bet. Yet.”

“It
was
a good punch, wasn't it? If ever the zombie apocalypse kicks off—”

“When.”

“Right.
When
it kicks off, I want to borrow your sword. I'm one hundred percent positive that I'm sixty-three percent sure Monica will be one of the first infected, but I plan to take her head either way. It will be my trophy.”

Brook Lynn laughed. “Your enthusiasm and determination prove you can handle the WOH party, no problem. Besides, I trust you. West trusts you. And you really would be doing me a huge favor.”

That was all she'd needed to hear.

Since then, she'd spent the first half of every day making breakfast and lunch deliveries. After lunch, she would make calls and plans for the party. Yesterday Harlow had helped her. Today Daniel had helped her.

Both had asked about her relationship with West. Harlow, the sweetie, because she'd witnessed his alpha-tastic defense of her honor, and Daniel, the darling, because he was just plain nosy. Jessie Kay had given the two the same answer. “I don't know.”

Her desire to be in West's bed...to be wrapped in his arms...

More and more, she forgot her reasons for denying him a short-term affair—for denying them both. And, when she did remember, the reasons mattered less and less.

Sighing, she read over the list Brook Lynn had written at Two Farms—she'd taken a picture of it so that she wouldn't tear the paper by carting it everywhere—then fell against the pillows on her bed.

TO WIN JK FOREVER, WEST MUST:

—Watch a chick flick with you just to see you smile

—Cuddle you without sex because there's nothing he likes better than having you in his arms

—
Hold you with one hand, and defend you with the other
(Monica's party)

—Know you're worth fighting for no matter how hard things get

—Compromise with you because your wants are just as important to him as his own

—Never hover because he trusts you

—Prove he'll be there for you no matter the situation

—
Sometimes give you little gifts, just because you're always on his mind
(morning notes)

—Laugh with you, cry with you and dream about you

—See his future in your eyes

—Forget there are other women in the world

—Love you with all his heart

In stark black letters, she saw everything that had been missing from her life. Everything she'd never had and really wanted. How could she ever settle for less now?

She sent the photo of the list to Daniel, who'd left for work a few hours ago. Maybe his opinion about West or even guys in general would put her on the right track. At this point, she was just desperate enough to ask
anyone
.

Be honest, Danny Boy. Impossible for me to expect???

She waited one minute...two...but he never responded. Fine. Whatever. Deep down, she already knew the answer anyway. Only the last was impossible. How could a man love her, when she didn't even like herself?

Oh...crap. She
didn't
like herself, did she? And West had known it from the very beginning.

You need to start liking yourself. Only a crazy person would dislike you.

For years she'd only ever focused on her faults, never really seeing her value. And she
did
have value! Her worth wasn't dependent on other people's opinions.

Only
her
opinion mattered.

And I'm a pretty cool chick.
She had excellent taste in friends, and she would do anything for them. Absolutely anything! She could hold her own against someone of West's sexiness and intelligence. She could even talk circles around him.
Dude! Time is totally circular.
She enjoyed making other people happy and actively tried to help those in need.

I'm better than cool. I'm awesome!

Grinning, she jumped out of the bed and set the list on her dresser. She started a text to Brook Lynn to share her epiphany, only to hesitate. Her sister and Jase had driven into the city to shop for fabric so Jessie Kay could get started on the bridesmaid dresses. Why interrupt their time together?

But she had to talk to
someone
about this.

“West,” she shouted and raced from the room. “West! Guess what?”

His bedroom door opened just as she skidded to a halt. He loomed in front of her, his hair sticking out in spikes. He wasn't naked—boo! He was still sexy and masculine in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of low-riding sweatpants. And oh, good gravy, he was more dangerous to her peace of mind than ever, stealing her breath.

He studied her with a strange expression on his face, one he'd never before projected at her, as if he didn't know whether to shake her or kiss her.

Guess which way she would vote?

Finally he said, “You've got a wild look in your eyes. Should I throw chocolate at you and run for cover?”

She ignored him, saying, “I like myself.” Practically bubbling over with excitement, she twirled. “I'm amazingly amazing!”

He leaned his shoulder against the frame and crossed his arms. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, kitten, but this isn't exactly news.”

“Well, it is to me.” She gripped the collar of his shirt. “How can you just stand there? This is clearly a Disney moment.”

His pupils flared. “You have me at a disadvantage. I have no idea what a Disney moment is.”

“No problem. I'll break it down in a way even your testosterone-rotted brain can understand. I'm the princess, and you're my faithful cleaning mouse. We have to sing and dance to express our feelings about the importance of my self-discovery.”

“First, I've heard you sing. I'll pay you not to do it again. Want to celebrate with a new car instead?”

“Yes!”

“Done. Second, why do I have to be the mouse? Why can't I be the prince?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I said this was a Disney moment, not a far-fetched fantasy.”

He snorted. “Well, your moment is going to have to wait. Beck texted me. Harlow wants to go out tonight, with
all
of us, and arguments will not be heeded.”

Ohhh. Maybe she planned to drop the baby bomb tonight.

“The limo will arrive at seven,” West continued, “and we're to be ready or we'll suffer—and I quote—the pain of a thousand deaths.”

Limo? “Sorry, but I have too much work to do. And what about your schedule?”

He hiked his shoulders in a shrug. “It's already shot. What's a little more damage?”

She examined him intently. He was irritated, but not stressed. Another reason to like herself—she had helped him.

“All right. We'll both go,” she said, “and we'll have a blast.”

“Are you going to ask me to dance?”

“I'm going to insist on it, sugar bear.”

“Even if I take away your new car?”

“Especially if you take away my new car. What kind are you buying me, anyway? Since it's a bribe, it should have all the bells and whistles.”

“It will.” His gaze slid over her and heated. “Make sure you wear something I can get my hands under.” As she reeled, he added, “Maybe we can watch a chick flick afterward. I do enjoy seeing you smile.”
He
smiled before shutting his door.

Why would he say—

Oh, crap. Crap, crap, crap. She clutched at her now churning stomach. She hadn't sent the text to him...she couldn't have...

Leaping into motion, she raced to her room and swiped up her phone, quickly tapping in her password. She opened her texts and—

Crap! She
had
sent it to West. She'd been thinking about him and must have blindly typed in his name, her stupid phone auto-filling his number. Moaning, she banged her head against the dresser.

She'd just learned to like herself—but at the moment, she really kind of hated herself.

* * *

J
ESSIE
K
AY
WAXED
, oiled, dolled up her hair and makeup and picked a killer outfit. The end result pleased her. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders in glimmering waves. Her eyes were smoky and framed by spiky black lashes, her cheeks painted the perfect shade of rose, and her lips bloodred. And her dress...or rather, her
sure thing
. A fit-and-flare in dark blue fabric to match her irises, with cupcakes scattered about. Innocent and flirty, with a schoolgirl pin-up vibe.

The first time she'd worn it, men had practically mauled her.

As she swiped another coat of gloss over her lips, a text came in from Daniel.

Dinner 2nite?

Her:
Sorry, I'm going clubbing w/ West!
J

Daniel:
Fine. I'll go on the date I had planned (yes, I was looking for a way out)

Her:
Here's an idea. Don't ask out girls if you don't like them

Daniel:
That's not an idea, that's a cruelty to all womankind

Ha! She grabbed a black clutch from her closet to fill with only the essentials: lipstick, breath mints, a small box cutter, a wine cork, a handful of business cards Brook Lynn had made for You've Got It Coming, a tiny tape measure, another shade of lipstick, a condom...no, no condom. It would only give her a reason to cave to temptation. She headed out.