The Harder You Fall Page 24

  "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 diste
nded 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.

  "There's nothing wrong with a good sprint." She worked a hand between them and, with a hard yank, popped the buttons of his shirt the rest of the way. The material gaped open, exposing the sexiest chest on the planet--and the name of his only love. Jealousy flared, followed by sadness, but she tamped them down. He was with her. Here and now, he was with her, and that was all that mattered.

  Emboldened, she lifted her head to flick her tongue over his nipples.

  The tone of the kiss changed, once again rocketing into a wild frenzy of tongues and teeth and hard aggression. She writhed against him, dragged her nails down, down his spine before dabbling at the indentations in his lower back and cupping the tight globes of his ass. His pants stopped her from doing anything more.

  Criminals break and enter. It's expected.

  She tunneled her hands beneath the waist of the pants...under his boxer briefs. Keep me out? Not in this lifetime.

  "Jessie Kay." He gripped her behind the knee, lifted, forcing her leg to bend...until his hip pinned it to the side of the couch, leaving her open, more vulnerable than ever...ready. He released her, only to cup her between her legs. A second later, his finger speared deep into her hot, wet core.

  She cried out, back arching, head falling back. "Yes. Yes!"

  "You...are...incredible." He gritted the words as he lapped at the pulse hammering in her neck, his finger moving in and out of her...in and out...fast, faster, driving her pleasure high, higher, and oh...oh! He wedged another finger inside, stretching and burning her despite the wealth of her wetness, but it was good, so very good, because it was his fingers, his body poised over hers. This man who wanted more than one night with her--more than two months with her. This man who didn't think of her as disposable but as someone to covet.

  "Almost there...please." She bit into his collarbone, clawed at his back and might have shredded his skin. "Sorry, sorry." Need held her in a tight clasp, stealing her breath.

  "You're so luscious, kitten. I thought I could give everything tonight and take nothing for myself. Foolish." He drew the lobe of her ear between his teeth before he sat up and anchored his pants and underwear under his sac. "You're too great a temptation, and I can't resist. Lick your hand and put it on my length."

  Lick, lick, lick, she coated her palm and each of her fingers. Trembling, she gripped his long, thick shaft.

  "Yeah, kitten, like that. Now move with me."

  As his fingers surged deep, deep inside her, she stroked down his erection. As his fingers pulled out of her, she stroked up. He gave another of those animal growls, fueling her excitement, and she quickened her pace, forcing him to do the same.

  Their heated breaths intermingled, ensuring she inhaled his air and he inhaled hers. An intimacy as beautiful as it was necessary. She stroked him again, and again, and he continued to reward her. Pleas poured from her mouth, but they were incoherent, emerging as ragged gasps. Her head thrashed over the cushions, her hair tangling around her shoulders. Sweat slicked her skin, slicked his as well, and as they writhed together, their chests rubbed, rubbed so perfectly, her nipples gliding over the hard planes of his chest, the friction pouring fuel on the flames of her already blazing desire. She burned from the inside out. Sizzled. Liquefied.

  "Come, kitten. Give me your pleasure." As he spoke, he pressed the heel of his palm where she ached most.

  Like that, she soared over the edge of satisfaction. Muscles clenched and unclenched. A scream exploded from her lips. Her nails cut into his back, drawing blood as she arched into him, clinging to him. And she must have squeezed his length harder, must have set off a chain reaction inside him, because a second later, his roar echoed off the walls and his climax jetted onto her stomach.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WEST COULDN'T QUITE compute what had just happened. He was a grown-ass man who'd been with his fair share of beautiful women. As a rule, he wasn't governed by his body or his passions. But today, with Jessie Kay, he'd lost control. He'd come, he'd come fast, and he'd come fast because of a hand job.

  Any other time, he would have been embarrassed. Now? He was just too sated to care.

  He shrugged out of his ruined shirt--where had all the buttons gone?--and used it to clean Jessie Kay's belly before tossing the material in the direction of the kitchen to be disposed of later. As he rolled to his side, keeping his sweet little kitty in the strength and warmth of his embrace, his heartbeat began to slow at last. Contentment settled over him, a strange thing he almost didn't recognize. How many years had passed since he'd experienced it? Had he ever?

  "If you need proof of life," she muttered, "I'm afraid I can't give it to you."

  "Good." He reached back, opening a drawer on the side table, and nimbly plucked one of the caramels he'd hidden inside. As he unwrapped it, he said, "If you're dead, you can't steal my candy."

  "Such a rookie mistake." She snatched the treat from his hand and popped it into her mouth. "You should have checked for a pulse. You'd have known I was simply lying in wait, ready to attack."

  "A fact you should know about me?" He rolled on top of her and anchored her arms above her head...then kissed her until she melted into the cushions, the sweetness of the candy only making the chemistry that burned between them better--or worse.

  How was this possible? He was hard as a rock again, the idea of taking things slow suddenly abhorrent. Want. Now.

  He lifted his head before he lost all sense. "I believe in tit for tat," he finished and returned to her side.

  Goose bumps broke out over her flesh, and she licked her lips, the action pure, wanton seduction. "Sugar bear, if the best things come in small packages, you're the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

  As he barked out a laugh, she leaned over him to reach for her clothes. He snatched the fabric from her hand and tossed it beside his shirt.

  "You lost all rights to the garments. Your punishment, remember?" As she sputtered in indignation, he anchored her to his chest with a gentle headlock. "This is the part where you say, 'Thank you, West. I appreciate your taking the time to teach me manners.'"

  "Never! This is the part where you say, 'Thank you, Jessie Kay. Thank you for allowing my testicles to remain attached to my body.'"

  He shuddered and placed a hand protectively over his junk.

  She laughed. "I'll let you keep your testicles if you tell me you penciled in pillow talk."

  "I did."

  "Really? Seriously?"

  "You sound surprised."

  "I am. I'm not used to anyone sticking around after the main event."

  He almost asked the unthinkable--Not even with Jase and Beck? But he swallowed the question because, now more than ever, he hated the thought of his friends with her. Mine. I won't share.

  "You stiffened," she said, worry dripping from her tone. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong." He kissed her temple. "It's fine."

  "We're gonna lie when the truth is hard? That's how this relationship is going to work? All righty, then."

  One of the pitfalls of being with a perceptive, stubborn woman: she knew your bullshit and wasn't afraid to call you on it. "I thought of you with Jase and Beck," he admitted. "I didn't like it."

  Her nails dug into his chest hard enough to leave a mark. "I can't change my past, West."

  "I know." Things were new between them, tentative, and he had to tread carefully. But he was new to this--how did he tread carefully?

  For the first time since Tessa, there was time to figure it out. He actually had months...years to work through any issues that came up.

  "I don't want to change your past, kitten. I like who it's made you. But I know the truth now. Once a man has touched these--" he cupped her breasts, and rolled her nipples between his fingers "--and this--" he slid a finger into the white-hot wetness betwe
en her legs, the new center of his world "--he will never be the same. He can never forget. I don't know how my boys can look at you and not jump you."

  "For starters, we already know they're wackadoodle because they let me go."

  "This is true. You're catnip."

  "You mean man-nip." She rubbed her knee up and down his leg, a contented little kitty. "I'm probably the best in the world."

  He hid a grin. She'd tried to sound unaffected and confident just then, but there'd been too much pleasure in her voice, revealing a vulnerability that squeezed at his chest.

  "Probably," he agreed.

  A mock gasp of outrage. "How dare you!" Her claws returned to his chest. "I think you want to rephrase that."

  "Definitely. But we both know you need my goods and services more than I do, so be kind to them." He pried her fingers loose and nipped her knuckles. "To answer your earlier question, yes, I really did pencil in pillow talk. Having no idea what you'd decide at dinner, I made a schedule for every possible outcome."

  "Even one where we're a couple indefinitely?"

  "All right, not every possible outcome."

  "Well, color me intrigued." Pale hair spilled over his chest as she ran his nipple between her teeth, and he marveled at her beauty, at the flawless, sun-kissed skin now touched with a strawberries-and-cream glow of satisfaction--satisfaction he'd given her. "What's the longest amount of pillow talk in your vast array of choices?"

  "Twelve hours."

  "The shortest?"

  "Eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes."

  She grinned at him. "Why the minute-long discrepancy?"

  "If you rode me into a satisfied coma, I figured I'd need time to recover."

  She giggled--a sound that enchanted him--before kissing him just over his inked heart--an action that threatened to destroy him. "Do you remember when I told you I'd ask a million questions if ever we got together? Well, good news. The inquisition starts today. When did you get the tattoo? And why did you pick such a gruesome image?"

  Sharing with her was instinctual, something he did without thought. "I'd been clean about a year, and I decided to honor Tessa with an outward expression, not just talk a big game inside my head. When I told the artist I wanted a heart, he showed me these neat and tidy designs, but to me, love wasn't--isn't--neat and tidy. It can be ugly and messy, so that's what I asked for."

  "Well. It's official." She sat up, her hip pressed against his, and hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. "That tattoo is now my favorite thing about you."