The Harder You Fall (19 page)

He ran her plump bottom lip between his teeth, combed his fingers through her hair to angle her head and take her ever deeper. A sound more animal than human, part war cry, part victory shout—one only she could elicit—rose from deep within him, heralding a change he couldn't stop...didn't want to stop.

“You're mine, kitten.”
All mine.
If she denied him...

“Yes, yes. Yours.”

He melted against her, his tongue meeting hers in a new kiss, brutal and savage, his world careening out of control, revolving only around this woman.
Will make her scream, gasp and beg
.

Beyond them, the tempo of the music slowed. A love song. A languid melody, seductive and sultry, but West didn't slow the kiss. He couldn't, his need far too great. He devoured his woman with teeth and tongue, taking more, giving more. Demanding everything.

She gripped his shirt, pulling him as close as she could get him. “West.” She whispered his name, a benediction so sweet he knew there was no obstacle he wouldn't destroy just to hear her say it one more time. “Wanted you so long...more...give me more.”

More. Yes. Now.
As rainbow-colored lights rained from the strobes above, flashing over them, he kissed her harder, nipped and licked his way to her jawline...to the pulse hammering at the base of her neck. The silk of her skin...the heat she radiated...the perfume that had fused with her every cell...

He cupped and kneaded her breasts, brushing his thumb over the points of her nipples...the softness of her curves, a delicious contrast to the hardness of his...the way her breath hitched every time his fingers moved...he couldn't get enough, wasn't sure he would ever get enough.

“West...don't...please, don't stop,” she gasped out.

“Never.” A crazed madness had overtaken him. He'd been stripped down to the studs yet again, was nothing but hunger and thirst and reckless need, burning from the inside out. “I want my hands all over you—and before we leave this club, I want them in your panties.”

“Anyone could see,” she whispered.

It wasn't dread he heard in her tone but scandalized excitement. “It's dark, and you're the only one I see.” He nudged the neckline of her dress with his chin, baring her breasts, taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking. “Are you wet for me, kitten?”

“Soaked,” she said on a moan.

He continued to suck, and he wasn't gentle about it. When she quivered, when she began to gasp incoherently, he gripped her under her thighs and lifted her off her feet, pinning her to the wall with his weight. She wound her long legs around him, clinging to him, creating an irresistible cradle. Irresistible...so why even try to restrain himself?

He grunted as her nails sank into his back; she might have even sliced through his shirt, but he loved it. How easy it would be to bunch her dress at her waist, rip through her panties, tear open his fly and sink inside paradise...nirvana...elysium. Not just touch, but own.

“I have to taste you. Let me.”

“West—”

He ground his shaft into the sweetest part of her, the action as instinctual and as necessary as breathing. “Please.” He'd beg. For her, only ever her, he'd beg.

He'd take her here. An appetizer. He'd take her in the limo and then again at home. The meal. He'd have her on the bed in the dark hours of the night...he'd have her on the floor in the bright light of the morning. He'd have her in the shower, on the kitchen counter.

“You've ruined me for everyone else. I should punish you for it, but I only want to pleasure you. I'll make you feel—” Something—someone—bumped into his side, and he nearly lost his footing. West snarled with the kind of white-hot rage he had not experienced since his days with Tessa.

“Sorry, man. Sorry,” a slurred, unfamiliar voice announced. A guy tripped past them, muttering about needing a bathroom before he puked all over his shoes.

West would
not
take this precious woman next to a puddle of vomit.

His heart raced toward an invisible finish line as he set Jessie Kay's feet on the floor and stepped away from her. He was trembling, panting. She had somehow burrowed under his skin and become an itch, and from this moment on, he knew there was no point during any given day that he wouldn't be aware of her, or of his desire for her. Her taste had changed the chemical makeup of his brain. He was no longer West; he was Jessie Kay's man.

Her tremors matched his own as she smoothed her tangled hair into place. She could do nothing about the red, swollen lips just begging for another kiss.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “That was certainly...interesting.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets before he reached for her again. “Interesting isn't the word I'd use.” Spectacular. Sublime.
Necessary
. “Do you want to do it again?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
HE
KISS
HAD
utterly
wrecked
Jessie Kay. Even more than the last one! West had owned her mouth. Heck, he'd owned her body. Whatever he'd wanted, she would have given him. Whatever he'd demanded, she would have done. For him or to him or with him. Time and place had ceased to matter. Consequences had seemed insignificant. An audience? So what. Enjoy the show.

Only two things had held any importance to her.
More.
And
now
.

She'd been a live wire of sensation—was
still
a live wire of sensation. She ached. She tingled. She burned. And despite their separation, things were only getting worse. She was shaking, fighting for breath and light-headed, desperate for any kind of relief.

He'd asked a question.
Do you want to do it again?

It. The kiss. Yes, yes, pleeease yes, and thank you. But nothing had been settled between them. And really, now that she'd proven the first kiss hadn't been a fluke, that passion really did burn white-hot between them, she was scared out of her ever-loving mind.

Don't just want long term...want forever.

“Right now,” she said on a wispy catch of breath, “I think we should put a pin in the conversation and dance.”

“If I put my arms around you, we'll be arrested for lewd acts in public. Let's go back to the table.” He tugged her out of the shadows, putting an end to the moment, the stolen minutes when his kiss had created a wall between past and present, when what she'd done once upon a time had no bearing on what she did here and now.

“Just so you know, if we end up in jail, Brook Lynn will bail us out. She knows the routine.”

“Been arrested before, have you?” He had to speak louder to be heard over the music.

“Only four times.”

He arched a brow, all
wow, only four?
“Your crimes?” There was a thread of amusement in his voice.

“Thrice for public intoxication, once for reckless driving.”

“Naughty girl. I've never kissed a criminal.”

If she'd lived in any other town with any other sheriff, the reckless driving charge would have come with time behind bars. As Harlow once reminded her, she'd driven her rust bucket into her boyfriend's house. But then, the bastard had secretly recorded them having sex. She'd found out only because he'd shown his friends and they couldn't resist taunting her.

Where'd you learn to ride like that?

I thought you'd be a screamer.

Horrified and humiliated, she snuck into the guy's house, found and confiscated the video, then destroyed his freaking house with her car. It was only later, after she'd watched the recording so that she'd know what, exactly, the others had seen that she discovered the boyfriend had cheated on her with citiots. Bimbos living in the city, eager to slum it with a small-town prick.

She should have wised up afterward, should have been more careful about the men she picked, but nooo. Her choices had only declined from there. Until now. Until West.

“Was it different?” she asked, unable to hide her uncertainty. “Kissing a criminal, I mean.”

He flicked her a glance loaded with heat and sizzle. “Different in the best ways. I'm dying to do it again.”

Shivers cascaded through her, decadent and heady. “Me, too,” she admitted at last.

He stopped to stare at her. Was he going to kiss her again, right here and now? Maybe, if Brook Lynn and Harlow hadn't joined them.

“Hurry! I'm thirsty,” Brook Lynn said.

Resignation in his eyes.

When they reached the table, the girls cuddled their men as if a twenty-minute separation had been
harrowing
. Soon, the foursome was talking and laughing while West and Jessie Kay sat across from each other, silent, brooding—still staring hungrily.

He knew her taste, the shape of her breasts, the feel of her nipples as they puckered for him and the cradle of her body as she rubbed against him. And oh, crap, the aches were back, breathing a little more difficult.

He licked his lips. Low and quiet, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Why lie? Matching his tone, she whispered, “The things you did to me.”
Everything I want you to do again...

The tension between them thickened exponentially.

“Share with the rest of the class.” Beck wiggled his brows at her. “What'd he do to you?”

“Yes,” Brook Lynn said, clearly trying not to laugh. “Do tell.”

Jessie Kay looked to West for help, but he merely repeated Brook Lynn's words. “Yes. Do tell.”

Warmth bloomed in Jessie Kay's cheeks.

“Wait. Are you
blushing
?” Harlow demanded, incredulous.

“West must have a magic...touch,” Brook Lynn said with a snicker

“I think you girls are forgetting I'm privy to your secrets.” Jessie Kay smirked. “Shall I share with the rest of the class?”

Harlow shrank back, her hand flying to her belly. A little more rounded now.

“Go for it. I don't have any secrets.” Total confidence, Brook Lynn flipped her hair over her shoulder.

The action delighted Jessie Kay. At one time, the girl had been so self-conscious about the devices in her ears that she'd constantly reached up to make sure they were hidden.

Smiling evilly, Jessie Kay focused on Jase. “The night Brook Lynn gave up her V-card, I heard her tell the guy to let her know when she had an orgasm—”

“Oh, my gosh! Shut up!” Brook Lynn blurted out. “And everyone leave my sister alone, stop tormenting her.”

Jase pulled at his earlobe. “You weren't sure...what, angel? That you'd be able to figure it out?”

“Happy place, happy place,” Brook Lynn said, her own cheeks glowing.

“Speaking of happy places...” Beck kissed Harlow's temple. “I think it's time to head home. My boo bear gets cranky when she doesn't get her beauty Zs.”

“Agreed.” Jessie Kay faked a yawn. “Beauty Zs are important.”

“
Very
important,” West said.

Soon we'll be alone...

“I'm not saying a word about your obvious urgency,” Brook Lynn said to her.

“What? I'm tired.”

“Yes. Tired of wearing your dress.”

Chuckles abounded as the group walked to the back of the lot, where the limo waited. The night was thick and dark, perfect for lovers, the moon a golden hook in the sky.

Soon...

Jessie Kay peered out the window the entire drive home, her mind racing. Would West want to pick up where they'd left off? Would he prefer to talk about what had happened? Or would he do what she feared most and ask, again, for a two-month affair?

Finally the limo stopped. West climbed out, extended a hand to help her stand, then held her steady when her knees wobbled. Her mind began another race. How did
she
want the night to proceed? Sex? But what then? And how would she feel in the morning?

“You guys are sooo going to get it on.” Brook Lynn laughed, clearly determined to have her revenge. “West, be sure to give her a very strong paddling first.”

“Don't worry. I'd already penciled a paddling into my schedule.” He shut the car door and with his arm draped around Jessie Kay's waist, led her forward. Only when they were sealed inside did he release her, and only to move in front of her and press her against the door.

“I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. I want to strip you down and fill you up. I want my mouth and hands on you, and I want your mouth and hands on me.”

Tingles. Heat.

Surrender...

But he wasn't done. “I can only offer you two months out of a year for the next five years.”

This again.
Disappointment threatened to crush her even as hope sparked. He hadn't offered a chance at forever, but he
had
offered more than the standard arrangement.

“Tell me why there's a limit,” she said gently.

A muscle ticked beneath his eye. “When Jase received a ten-year sentence,
I
received a ten-year sentence.”

“By whom?”

“I am my judge, jury and executioner, and I decided on ten years of misery. Then, when Tessa died, I tacked on another five years.”

Everything finally clicked into place. “You punish yourself.”

“Someone has to.”

“What about time off for good behavior?”

“No.”

“But...you got clean. Surely that counts for something.”

“I never should have gotten high in the first place. My mom was an addict and I'd seen firsthand the price she paid. I knew better. And what's worse, I didn't get clean in time.”

“In time for what?”

He pushed out a ragged breath. “So many things. I was high the day Tessa died. Later I overdosed and missed a visit with Jase. Beck returned, pale and shaky, told me Jase had been... I'm sure you can guess.”

Yes. Her stomach churned with acid. “Tell me anyway. Purge.”

A stiff nod. “Beck told me another inmate—a big guy, older—was in the visiting room and he winked at Jase multiple times, blew him kisses. On the guy's way out, he even thanked Jase for the happy ending.”

The sickness spread through the rest of her. “Rape.”

“Yes. I wasn't there for Jase, just like I wasn't there for Tessa, and that day, that minute, that very second, I decided to get clean. But you know what? I didn't succeed the first attempt, or even the fourth.”

And the failures had agonized him. Clearly. Even after all these years, he hadn't forgiven himself. Didn't
want
to forgive himself. He preferred to wallow—probably thought all he deserved was despair.

You can't help the ones who won't help themselves
, Momma used to say.

“If you seek misery,” she said, proceeding gently, “why date at all?”

“Even the condemned are allowed conjugal visits.” He cupped her cheeks. “Every year, for the two months we're together, I will devote myself to you. You have my word.”

“What happens the rest of the year?”

“We remain friends.”

Impossible. “What if I date other men while we're just friends? Because, according to your reasoning, I would be punishing myself if I remained single.”

The muscle
really
ticked, but he offered no response. What could he say, though, without sounding like a total dick? He didn't want her to see other people—how selfish of him. He expected her to remain devoted to him while he punished himself—how wrong of him.

No doubt about it, he hoped to have his prison cake and eat it, too.

In the past, she would have tried to talk him around, and failing that, she would have tried to work him around, would have placed her hope in her ability to succeed, to make him see things her way: if she gave it her all, she could overcome anything, right? She would have dreamed of the battle he would wage against his feelings—the battle she would convince herself he would lose, slowly ceding his heart to her. But she was wiser now, and she knew she could give her all to no avail. Just like she knew a relationship couldn't last if she was the only one making an effort.

“I want to be with you, West, but not like that. I won't help you hurt yourself. I won't help you hurt your friends...me.”

“Jessie Kay—”

“No. I'm worth more. And so are you.”

Torment ravaged his features.

“Just think about what I said. Okay?” she asked softly.

A crackling pause. A clipped nod.

She did her best to lighten the mood. “You should be thrilled I'm giving you a pass right now. Valentine's Day is closing in quick, and I would insist on taking thousands of pictures together. Then I would cut those photos into heart shapes and make a poster board detailing our grand romance.”

Disappointment, remorse, longing, acceptance and amusement—each flashed through his eyes. “You would demand I hang the poster on my wall, wouldn't you?”

She fluttered her lashes at him, all
bless your dear heart
. “Only after I'd forced you to show it to every single one of your friends.”

“Evil.” He relaxed a little. “I'd most likely forget the holiday.”

“Most likely? Ha! You would. You're a guy. You're missing half your brain cells.”

“I would scramble to find you a gift at the last minute, finally deciding lingerie is the perfect choice.”

“Such a pig,” she said, nodding her approval. “I would insist that what is mine is mine and what is yours is mine.”

“So...if I had thirty dollars and you had ten...”

“I'd have forty.”

“Good girl. I'm properly horrified.”

“Good boy. I am, too.”

He stared at her, what little amusement he'd gained quickly fading, and she stared right back, her will wavering. He wanted her. He'd said so. They could have ten months together, parsed out over the next five years. It was something. More than they currently had, more than he'd given another. What could it hurt?

Danger! Danger! She cleared her throat. “Well. I guess this is good night.” She walked away, then, and the sad thing, the part of the evening that sucked the biggest donkey balls? He didn't try to stop her.

If she gave him what he thought he wanted, she really would be participating in his punishment. So, yeah. Saying yes would hurt them both. Badly.

She barricaded herself in her bedroom, showered off the night—the imprint West had left on her skin—and crawled into bed. Since meeting him, tossing and turning had become the norm, and by morning her eyes were dry and gritty, her body a mess of aches. Her resolve was stronger, at least.

Until he pardoned himself, they were stymied.

She brushed her teeth and hair, dressed in a red sweater and black leggings, and was just tying her boots when a knock sounded at the door.