The Harder You Fall (23 page)

“No. Though I should probably admit I once told Brook Lynn I wanted to marry Jase.”

“No.” He gave a violent shake of his head as every cell in his body screamed in protest. “You shouldn't admit that. Not ever again.”

She shrugged, all
it is what it is
. “I craved security, that was all. An easy way to save Brook Lynn from the mess I'd made of our lives.”

“You didn't make her life a mess. You didn't make her decisions for her.”

“No, but I didn't make those decisions easy for her, either. Honestly, I was like a noose around her neck.”

“Now you're one of the lights of her life.”

The waiter arrived to take their order and West didn't appreciate the way the guy's gaze lingered on Jessie Kay. Anger hit, but he breathed through it—with the unwitting aid of Jessie Kay.

“I want to make it clear he's paying,” she told the guy, and pointed to West. “Right?”

“Of course,” West replied.

She brightened. “I'd like the double-lobster dinner, please, with extra butter. But nix the side of vegetables and add a side of lobster. Oh, and crab legs. And a skewer of shrimp.”

The waiter laughed as if she'd just told a joke, but she continued to stare at him expectantly, and he frowned. “Would you, uh, like a salad before your meal?”

“Rabbits eat lettuce. I am not a rabbit.” She actually shuddered. “I'll have the lobster bisque. With a side of lobster.”

Now the waiter appeared confused. “You'd like one of your lobsters brought out with your soup?”

“Don't talk crazy. I want an
additional
lobster. No one ever puts enough meat in the soup.”

West covered a laugh behind his hand. He ordered “the same” because why not? “I want to point out I remembered your desire for lobsters the day at the diner.”

“Patting yourself on the back to woo me?” In a stage whisper she said, “It's working.”

“Have to admit, I'm a little jealous of seafood right now.”

“You should be.” She took another sip of her whiskey. “If I could, I'd marry a Maine lobster and have little lobster babies. If the right Alaskan king crab came along, I could be convinced to have a torrid affair.”

He chuckled. “You're the first woman I've ever dated who isn't afraid to eat in front of me.”

“Well, I know what it's like to go hungry. As teenagers, Brook Lynn and I often survived on canned goods given to us by the church. Sometimes there were other families in worse shape, so we'd opt not to take anything. I'm
never
afraid to eat when given the opportunity.”

Though he ached for the kid she'd been and the trials she'd faced, he welcomed the peek into her past. It only strengthened his admiration for her. “Have you made a decision about us, Jessie Kay?”

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, the pale strands a lovely contrast to the bronze of her skin, and shook her head in negation. “You want the full truth?”

“Please.”

“Both choices seem right, but at the same time, both choices seem wrong. Either way, I know I'm going to get hurt. Just in different ways.”

Hurting her was exactly what he didn't want to do. He scrubbed a hand down his face.

The fix was simple. Pardon himself. Try for something real. Solid. Lasting.

Something more.

But could he? He would become responsible for Jessie Kay's happiness, yet he wasn't sure he could identify happiness if it bit him on the ass.

He asked, “Are you looking for a guarantee we'll last forever?”

“No, but I'd like a
chance
at forever.” She opened her mouth to say more, snapped it closed. Open, closed.

He regarded her from across the table, drinking in the flicker of candlelight across her skin. Gold twined with shadows, both licking at her. Since the moment he'd met her, his desire for her had only grown stronger day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. And, really, no matter how he crunched the numbers, relief didn't wait in his future—unless he gave her what she wanted.

What part of him wanted, too.

“Let's not talk about the future right now, okay?” she said. “Let's just enjoy each other.”

“All right.” Knowing her—and he was beginning to—she hoped to take the pressure off him, something he understood. He didn't want her feeling pressured, either.

“So...did you win your game today?”

“We did. Three to one.”

“I'm only surprised you didn't score a dozen more. The ball belongs to you.”

He winked at her. “My mind was on other things. The ball wasn't what I wanted.”

“Ha! I have no illusions. If you had to pick between a soccer ball and me, I'd have my ass handed to me in a hurry.”

He traced his finger over the rim of his water glass, imagining the fingertip trailing over different parts of her. “Kitten, the only hand on your ass will be mine. After I kick the ball out the door.”

She blushed the sweetest shade of rose and glanced away from him, suddenly—enchantingly—shy. “You have a talent. Making kind things sound dirty.”

He winked at her. “We should resume your soccer lessons.”

She arched a brow at him. “Will you actually work with me or Mr. Miyagi me?”

The grumble in her voice made him smile. “I'll be hands-on from this point forward. You have my word.”

“When I'm good enough, I want to play on your team.”

“No.” He could have sidestepped the issue, but he wanted no confusion between them.

“No?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that?”

“No.” His hard, flat tone left no room for argument. “Just like that.”

“Dang, that's so harsh.”

“I don't want you playing coed. You could be harmed.”

“How did I not realize you were a chauvinist?” She glared daggers at him. “I'm not some delicate Southern belle, you know. You've heard of my temper, right? It's infamous in twelve counties!”

“I've heard stories about your temper, yes,” he said, “but I've never actually seen an example.”

“Of course you haven't. You're still alive.”

He leveled her with a hard stare. “If your temper is bad, mine is worse. I'm not some tame house cat who will stand idly by while you're injured. If some guy shoves you, I will go for his throat. If some guy steals the ball from you, I will still go for his throat.”

Any other woman would have shrunk back in fear, might have even thrown down her napkin and walked away, afraid of such intense aggression. But not Jessie Kay.

She leaned back in her chair, eyeing him with something akin to awe. “You'd get in trouble.”

“I wouldn't care.”

The awe only magnified. “That's mighty possessive of you, sugar bear.”

“I protect what's mine.” He had to. As a kid, he'd had very little, allowed to take only what he could fit inside a single suitcase whenever he switched foster homes. A small suitcase, at that. He'd had to make a choice. Clothes or toys. Clothes had won, every time. Need before want. And if he'd wanted to keep the things that he'd needed, he'd had to defend them against other boys. “I want you to be mine.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, a nervous habit. Her teeth were adorable, the two in front set slightly ahead of the others.

The appetizers arrived. When the waiter wandered off, neither of them dug in. They continued to stare at each other, tension thick between them, making it difficult to breathe in a way he'd grown used to, even craved.

You know what you have to do...

Could he do it? He didn't have to like it. He just had to live with it.

Would he grow to resent her for forcing him to deny Jase and Tessa their due?

It didn't matter, he supposed, because he absolutely could not live without her.

“I'm going to be difficult to manage,” he told her. “I'll be obsessed with your whereabouts and safety. I'll hover.”

She went still, not even seeming to breathe. “You already are, and you already do.”

“You think I've been bad? Kitten, you've only had a taste. I've limited myself to a handful of calls and texts a day.” If they were together, he would stop counting and contact her whenever the urge struck. Just to make sure she was safe, that she wasn't upset with him or anyone else. “I'll insist you stick to a schedule, and I'll be pissed if ever you're late. Can you deal?”

“Again, I'm already dealing. But in the interest of full disclosure, I should probably confess I purposely screwed with your schedule.”

He frowned. “Explain.”

“Well, I've called and texted when I knew you had phone conferences.”

“And you did this...why?”

“To show you the joys of spontaneity.”

Had she said anything else, he might have gotten angry. But his marshmallow girl wanted everyone around her happy. How could he fault her?

“Just...don't do it again,” he said.

“I won't. Maybe. Okay, I probably will.”

Never try to change perfection. “Either way, I accept your terms.”

Her brow wrinkled with confusion...and hope. “I don't understand.”

“We'll be together,” he said. He would give her what she wanted—and fight any resentment—but in return, she would have to give him what
he
wanted. “You and me, Jessie Kay. Indefinitely. No time limit. I'm yours. And you...you are mine.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J
ESSIE
K
AY
THRUMMED
with excitement. West had just...he'd just agreed...

They were going to be together? No limits?

“West,” she said, staggered to the depths of her soul. “I don't know what to say.”

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

See his future in your eyes.

Check and check.

“Say yes, kitten.”

“Yes.” He'd done the unexpected. He'd compromised. He'd set himself free of his self-imposed prison sentence—for her. To have a future with her. He'd placed value on her. A value he'd never placed on any of the others. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

Satisfaction flared in the dark eyes she saw every night in her dreams...then he picked up his spoon and began to eat his soup.

Her stomach curled into knots, and she only managed a few bites of the creamy indulgence before giving up. She had experience in the bedroom, and she shouldn't be nervous about what was to come but, yeah, she was nervous. She'd never been with a man like West. So devoted to time management. So OCD about his workspace. So...possessive and aggressive with her alone, and maybe even just a little twisted in the most delicious ways.

“Not hungry?” he asked.

Not even a little, not anymore. Not for the food in front of her. “I guess I expected you to carry me home and ravish me.” When she realized she'd grumbled the words, she blushed. “I didn't think we'd continue as if nothing had changed.”

“Who says I'm not ravishing you right this very second?”

The silk of his tone... She shivered. Heck, maybe he
was
ravishing her.

The waiter arrived with the rest of their meal, and as she picked at her food, West cleaned his plate, meticulous with every bite. She wondered...was he this meticulous in bed?

Great! Another shiver, this one strong enough to rattle the legs of her chair.

He motioned for the waiter and ordered dessert. Just to torture her, she was sure.

“If you try to feed me by hand,” she said, “I'll shove my fork in your eye. I swear I will.”

“Mmm. There's the temper I've been looking forward to seeing.”

“You don't sound afraid.” She regarded him over the rim of her whiskey glass. “I'll have to change that.”

“I'm only afraid of naked women,” he said, deadpan. “Terrified of them.”

Good try, funny man
. “Are you trying to tell me you don't know what to do with them?”

His smile was slow, but oh, so wicked. “Will you teach me?”

He was going to be the death of her, wasn't he?

She kicked off her shoe and ran her toes up...up...toward the holy grail. But he clasped onto her foot, stopping her, and began to massage the arch, using her tricks against her. She tried not to moan.

His dessert arrived an eternity later—a rich chocolate soufflé—but he paid it no heed, choosing instead to maintain his hold on her.

“Problem?” she asked.

“Yes. You're too sexy for your own good. The world would be a safer place if I locked you in my bedroom.”

She flattened her hand over her heart. “Not that. Anything but that.”

“Yes, that.” He released her and threw money on the table. “Starting now.”

He stood and helped her to her feet after she'd righted her shoe. His arm wrapped around her waist to hold her steady, his fingers curved over her hipbone. A protective, possessive clasp.

He led her outside, the cold air kissing her fever-hot skin. After he opened the car door for her, he walked to the other side.

Breathless, she withdrew her phone to fire off a quick text to him.

Guess what? I'm not wearing any panties.

Amusement glimmered in his eyes as he paused to pluck his phone from his pocket...but as he read the screen, his back went ramrod straight. His gaze flipped up to meet hers, narrowed and hot, and she slowly traced a fingertip along the seam of her lips—sucked that fingertip deep into her mouth.

He nearly wrenched his own door from its hinges. Seated, the engine purring, he said, “If we wreck, you're to blame.”

Reaching out, she traced the seam of
his
lips with her now-moist fingertip. A kiss by proxy. “If we survive the drive, what's going to happen when we get home?” She needed to know, to prepare. Would they go to her room or to his? Would they jump right into bed or spend time talking?

As the questions reverberated in her mind, her nerves kicked back up and she kind of wanted to puke.

Wouldn't
that
be a whole lot of sexy?

He probably expected her to be the best lay in town. But if she rocked the mattress mambo, wouldn't someone have already locked her down?

What if she was the
worst
lay in town?

“I'm going to be on you, all over you,” he said in warning. “We're going to rid ourselves of months of frustration, no matter how long it takes us. That's what we're going to do.”

Unless, of course, she failed him.

“West.” Was it hot in here? When had the car become a sauna? She pulled at the bust line of her dress, saying, “I've got to tell you something you're not going to like hearing.

He stiffened, only to relax a second later. “It doesn't matter, whatever it is.”

“It does. What if I'm all talk? What if I suck at sex?”

He looked as if he was fighting a smile. “We'll practice. We'll practice
a lot
.”

Unless her fumbling caused a deflation.

Oh, crap!

When he reached the house, the tires squealed as he parked. He was eager to be with her. The poor guy was going to be hugely disappointed, wasn't he.

He ran around the car to open her door and help her out—only to shove his shoulder into her stomach and heft her up. “You aren't moving fast enough, kitten.”

She squealed, then laughed as amusement overshadowed nervousness, and she beat at his back. “Let me go, you beast! I'm a lady. I should be treated all proper and crap.”

“Beg for mercy.”

“No!”

He smacked her bottom. “Beg.”

“Never!”

One of her neighbors—Mrs. Brashear—rushed onto her porch to bellow “I heard shoutin'. Should I call Sheriff Lintz, Jessie Kay?”

“No, no,” she called. “I'm not gonna harm West, I swear!”

West snickered as he made his way inside the house. He kicked the door shut, saying, “You and I, we're different. Our relationship is different. So, we're going to proceed differently. I'm not using you, and I'm not rushing to the finish line. We'll take this a step at a time. Okay?”

“I—” She couldn't quite catch her breath. “Yes. Okay.”

“Good. Step one is making out in the living room.” He threw her onto the cushions. As she bounced, he loosened and removed his tie. “Tonight your only job is to feel good.”

She was one step ahead of him already, warm and wet, desire like a drug. “Are you planning to bind me with that tie?”

“No. I've never understood the appeal of bondage. I want your hands all over me.” He placed a knee on the couch, right beside her thigh and his other knee
between
her thighs.

She gasped a needy sound of encouragement.

He lifted the hem of her dress, cool air once again kissing her flushed skin as he peeked at what lay underneath.

“Panties,” he said. “Tiny, white and sexy.
Nice
. But someone told a fib.”

“Maybe the future Jessie Kay was the one who texted you, Mr. Smarty Pants. Ever think of that?”

“Impossible. Future Jessie Kay is too sated to move, which means present Jessie Kay has to be punished.” With a single tug, he ripped the sides of the panties. “Lesson learned?”

“No.” As she shivered, he grinned and tossed the ruined garment to the floor. “I still have the urge to do bad, naughty things.”

“I'll have to be hard on you, then. Very hard.”

She almost laughed. For her, sex had always been just that. Sex. The coming together of two bodies to sate a physical need. But West had already taken the experience to a whole new level—before he'd even gotten inside her! He teased and delighted her, meeting an emotional need she'd never known she had, affecting not just her body but her mind.

“Present Jessie Kay is confused. You're unwilling to bind me, but you're more than happy to punish me?” She rubbed her knee against his hip. “Contradictory? Maybe.” Sublime? Definitely.

“With your criminal history, kitten, someone has to keep you in line.”

“Isn't this a case of the bad leading the bad?”

His gaze glimmered with heat and need as he smoothed her dress back into place. “It is. But I'm your man, and I have a job to do, so I'll do it.”

Her man...quivers in her belly. “The destruction of my underwear was my punishment?”

“No. That was a reward. For myself. To teach you a lesson, I won't be buying you a new pair.”

“Oh, the horror!”

He unfastened one, two, three of the buttons on his shirt, giving her the barest glimpse at his chest, all bronzed skin and delicious muscle. “Here is what's going to happen. I'm going to kiss and touch you, and you're going to do whatever you want to me, whatever you want to yourself, while focusing only on sensation. You clear on your instructions?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

He flashed a grin, leaned forward until he loomed over her. He caged her against the couch, his big body surrounding her, and...he kissed her with such devastating passion she knew she'd never again be the same, his tongue sweeping in to roll against hers, to duel, to conquer, to give and to take. The sensations only he seemed able to ignite overwhelmed her, and with a moan, she melted into the cushions.

Needing him closer, as close as she could get him, she wrapped her arms around him and tugged until he just sort of fell on her. She felt deliciously pinned, reverent yet uncivilized, wild yet serene, desperate yet confident.

He cupped her breasts, kneaded them, and her nipples rose to greet him, seeking his attention.

“You're so responsive, kitten.”

“It's you,” she said on another moan. “Only you.” He drowned her in pleasure and agonized her with her own vulnerability.

“You doing your job?”

“Yes, yes.” Right? Enough! No thinking. No wondering. He wanted her to focus only on sensation; she would focus only on sensation.

Do whatever she wanted...

Instinct led her to hook her feet behind his knees and bow her back, pressing the softest part of her against the hardest part of him. She gasped. Bliss...rapture... Little infernos igniting in different parts of her, a greedy throb aching between her legs. Heady desire intoxicated her. As she arched up to rub against him a second time...a third, fourth...she lost what remained of her breath. Lost her sanity, too.

“Not sure I'll ever be able to get enough of you.” West placed kisses along her neck...between her breasts. He suckled at each of her nipples before continuing down the plane of her stomach, his tongue wetting the fabric of her dress.

Would he taste the hottest part of her? “West.” A rasp. A plea.

He went still...and then the rat bastard kissed his way back up, saying, “Uh-oh. You've distracted me. Made me lose track of what I was doing. Now I have to start over.”

“West.” A curse.

“You complaining, kitten?” He kissed her neck, between her breasts and once again suckled at her nipples, licking and nipping until she writhed against him. Then, oh, then, he began to kiss his way down her stomach again...yes, yes...he trailed his fingers lower, lower still, stopping at the hem of her dress. “You ready for me?”

“So ready. Don't stop. Please, don't stop.”

His laugh was nothing but evil and smoke. “Uh-oh. You've distracted me again.”

“I just answered
your
question!”

He showed no mercy. “Definitely distracted. I have to start over again.”

She whimpered.

Two could play this game. As he kissed and laved her neck, she slid her hands under his shirt, putting them skin to heated skin. She traced her fingertips along his spine and thrust up her hips, not just rubbing but grinding herself against his erection.

“I want to come, sugar bear. I
need
to come.”

“All in good time.” The words were strained, his tone no longer quite so teasing.

“Now.” She bit him on the chin. “Gimme.”

“Naughty, naughty kitten. You've earned another punishment. Sorry—not sorry—but you don't get to keep your dress.” He sat up just enough to pull the material over her head, leaving her completely exposed.

Covering herself wasn't even a thought. His gaze utterly
devoured
her, and she reveled it.

“You're even better than I imagined.” He cupped her breasts, ghosted his thumbs over her nipples. “I imagined you like this
a lot
.”

The tingles she'd experienced before? Nothing compared to the tempest beating through her now. The time for teasing was over. “West. Please. I've wanted you so long.”

He must have understood. His desperation—his absolute starvation—must have rivaled hers. He dove down and fed her a kiss that scorched, his tongue hard and hot, demanding its due...but all too soon he slowed the pace to languidly consume her.

“No,” he said. “No. I told you I'm not rushing this. You feel good, so good, so damn perfect, but I want our first make-out session to be a marathon, not a sprint.” One of his thumbs brushed over her distended nipple again and again, sending ripples of bliss speeding through her, while his other thumb drew circles on her inner thigh, tickling her skin. Soon the playful caresses became an addictive torment.