The Harder You Fall (18 page)

In the living room, West stood in profile at the bay window, peering into the waning darkness, and oh, wow, he looked good. A black shirt hugged his biceps. He'd tucked a pair of roughed-up jeans into combat boots, the combination lethal to her resistance. A leather cuff circled one of his wrists, and two silver rings glinted on his fingers.

He was a bad boy in the flesh. A mountain she wanted so badly to climb. The desire only he was capable of summoning weakened her limbs. She trembled...overheated.

“I've never seen you so street,” she said. “I like.”

“Street?” He turned his head toward her. No surprise in his eyes, as if he'd always been aware of her presence. He gave her one of those startling, stunning once-overs and growled a sound more animal than human. “You are gorgeous, kitten.”

“I know, right?” She twirled, the hem of her skirt flirting with her thighs. “I am what's known as a hot tamale.”

His lips twitched at the corners. “Dinner and dessert, rolled into one.”

She snorted. “You'd never guess I made the dress from a tablecloth, right. Right?”

A flash of surprise. “You made the dress that will forever haunt my dreams? I'm impressed.”

Beaming at him, she said, “In high school, I tried to sell some of my designs to classmates, but no one showed any interest.”

“Probably for the best. Had the girls bought your dresses, teenage pregnancies would have become epidemic.”

Ha! “I wonder what would have happened if you and I had gone to high school together. What were you like?”

“Studious. Big fan of homework. Sometimes, when the teacher told us to take the weekend off, I would create my own assignments.”

“You were beat up a lot, weren't you?”

“Maybe.” He smiled. “What were you like?”

“Always a little rowdy. I considered homework a crime against humanity and even organized a few student protests. We probably would have been bitter enemies.”

“Not if I did your homework for you.”

“You would have broken the rules for me?”

“For a peek under that dress? I would have done
anything
for you.”

The words were a molten stroke of sin against her flesh, honey in her veins, tendrils of silk against her bones. “West—” What? What did she want from him?

Everything on that stupid list.

Things he wouldn't give her.

“You are amazingly talented, kitten. If you decide to try again, women all over the world will buy your designs. And on that note, why haven't you tried again?”

“Because...just because.” For starters, the only girls who'd ever complimented her designs were Brook Lynn and Kenna, but they loved her so they had to, right? “You truly believe I can be a success?”

“I do. And I'm always right.” He rocked back on his heels. “If it's something you're interested in pursuing, I can help. Creating killer websites is in my wheelhouse.”

“I... Thank you. I'll think about it.” Later. With the holiday, holiday party and Brook Lynn's wedding on the horizon, her sister needed more help than ever. There was no way Jessie Kay would let her sister down again.

West glanced at his wristwatch, a habit she still hoped to break—
going to teach him to enjoy the moment
.

“West.” She closed the distance and smoothed her hands over the width of his shoulders. As their gazes locked, the air between them sizzled. “I know we're not a couple, but we
have
admitted to a major case of the hots for each other and we've kissed. We should probably create a few ground rules for tonight.”

“Like?”

“Like no flirting with other women.”

He arched a brow. “You were planning to flirt with other women?”

“Ha-ha. Seriously. You do it, and I'll probably go nuclear.”

His pupils expanded, black spilling over gold. “The same applies to you and other men.”

Good. That was good. “And...well, I guess that's it. I can't think of anything else.” As his heat and scent enveloped her, she could barely think at all.

“I can.” He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “If you begin to ache for a man...for a kiss, a touch, fingers...anything...you come to me. You tell me. You get it from me. No one else.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
HE
MUSIC
BEAT
in tune to West's heart: hard, too fast and with an undertone of desperate need. He'd once thought there could be no greater torture than cocaine withdrawals. The chills, the aches, the tremors and the bone-deep physical pain. Days...weeks of it. Wondering if he'd survive, some nights praying he wouldn't. And when every symptom faded, the gut-wrenching cravings for the high he'd once loved.

But this...worrying about Jessie Kay, hungering for her and yet trying to keep her at a distance, was far worse. And it was
killing
him.

He didn't mean to worry, but how could he not wonder if he would lose her the way he'd lost Tessa? She'd be here one day and gone the next.

At least they were together in the madness. She hungered for him, too.

But to have her, he'd have to do a lot more than offer long term.

He'd read her list. See his future in her eyes? Done. Cuddle her just because? Pretty please with a cherry on top of her. Fight for her? With pleasure. To him, there
weren't
other women in the world.

And yes, he could fall in love with this girl.

An addiction? So what. No longer a problem. He would willingly deal with the consequences.

What he
couldn't
do? Stop hovering. His past still pulled his strings. He also couldn't offer forever. Not yet. And if he couldn't offer forever, he couldn't “always be there for her.”

For the next five years, he could only offer two months out of every twelve. After that, when the clock zeroed out, the game would change and he could be with anyone he wanted for however long he desired.

His hand tightened on his glass of water, causing the ice cubes to clink together. He just had to get through the next five years.

Would she wait for him?

Could he ask her to?

“A thousand dollars for your thoughts,” Beck said.

West snapped out of his head and into the present. He was at Black Cherry, a nightclub in the heart of Oklahoma City. He and his friends sat at the most coveted table in the upstairs VIP lounge, where music wasn't as loud and they could actually hear each other speak. Even better, they had an unobstructed view of the dance floor below, where Jessie Kay, Brook Lynn and Harlow danced with abandon.

“Most people would only pay a penny.” And they still wouldn't get their money's worth.

“Inflation,” Beck said with a shrug. “Plus, I'm like the devilishly handsome, filthy rich alpha tycoon in Harlow's favorite romance novel. I can afford it.”

“You're humble, too.” Jase drained his soda and frowned at West. “I can't believe I have to say this—again—but I don't like seeing you this way.”

“You mean unmanned?” Obsessed and possessed.

“So determined to cling to your misery.”

Not miserable. Not anymore. I'm tormented.
His gaze sought Jessie Kay. She lifted her arms above her head, her wrists crossing as she gyrated her hips. A highly sexual move, something she would do in bed with him. Sweat beaded on his forehead as blistering heat swept through him.

“You're still punishing yourself,” Jase said. “Why?”

“
Why
is the wrong question. You assume I'm like you, that I seek absolution and crave a pardon. I don't. I never have.”

“I assume nothing. And no,
why
is not the wrong question.” Jase leaned forward, anchoring his elbows on the table. “I didn't ask your objective, only your reason.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You know why. We've been over this.”

“You're right. We have. Unfortunately, I've never gotten through to you. What will it take to make you understand I've never blamed you and Beck for staying quiet while I was in prison? It's what I asked for. I've never blamed you for the things that happened to me behind bars. Never blamed you for losing your scholarship to MIT. You were screwed in the head. We all were. And if I don't blame you, why should you blame yourself?”

West ground his teeth. “I inflicted the most damage to Pax.” Tessa's rapist. An entitled prick with better looks than sense. “
I
picked you up and drove you to the scene.
I
threw the first punch.
I
threw the last. You fought him, yes, and you were punished. I deserve to be punished, too.” And so, that's exactly what he'd done: punished himself.

“What about me?” Beck asked. “Do I deserve to be punished? I was there. I hit Pax so many times I broke eleven bones in my hands.”

He shook his head. “Another crime to lay at my door. I should have gone to him alone. I should have—”

“We loved Tessa,” Jase interjected. “We had a right to avenge her.”

Beck, who rarely touched alcohol in front of West, traced the rim of his ginger ale. “Let's get to the heart of the matter, shall we? You want Jessie Kay, and she wants you, but you insist on being together for only two months, and she insists on a try for forever. Yeah. We know. You may not give us all the details, but the women do. You won't let yourself be happy. As Jase said, you actively seek misery.”

West drew in a sharp breath, slowly released it. “How would you feel if your actions led to Harlow's death? How would you feel, Jase, if your actions led to Brook Lynn's? Would you think you deserved a happy life? The life your woman will be forever denied?”

Both men paled.

Yeah. That's what he'd thought.

“I missed the last few months of Tessa's life,” Jase said, “but I remember the kindhearted girl she was. She would hate what you've done to yourself, would hate what you're
doing
. She would tell you to move on, to find and embrace happiness.”

The words were supposed to comfort him, but they failed. In that moment, more than any other, he missed the euphoria that came with a single hit of coke, when he wouldn't care about
anything
.

A horrifying image suddenly filled his mind. He was lying on a dirty bathroom floor, bits of vomit dried around his mouth and caked on his stained, wrinkled shirt. Jessie Kay straddled him, frantically trying to restart his savaged heart.

He physically recoiled, shaking his head. No. He would rather die.

Jase leaned over and patted his shoulder. “You need to talk to someone about your problems. Doesn't have to be a professional. You can give Jessie Kay a shot. Tell her everything, even my shit. It'll make a difference.”

Yes, but for better...or for worse?

“When I told Brook Lynn about my past,” Jase continued, “everything changed for me.

“Not for the best, not right away.” Brook Lynn had run from him, afraid of him.

“But look at me now. Look at
us
. We share an unbreakable bond.”

“Tessa would want you happy,” Beck said.

“It doesn't matter what Tessa would want. She's not here.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jessie Kay slid into the booth beside West and fanned her sweat-dampened cheeks. “If I died, I'd expect my guy to mourn me forever, and if he tried to hook up with someone else, I'd haunt him till he ended up in a crazy house. Then I'd haunt the girl.”

West leaned into her, experiencing instant peace and instant turmoil. Somehow, she'd become the eye of every storm.

Jase glared at her. “You're not helping.”

“Help shmelp. The truth is the truth,” she said and slitted her eyes. “You guys need to take a step back before I start pushing. This is supposed to be a night of fun, remember? And guess what? I consider myself the guardian of West's good time. Deal with it.”

Beck looked ready to slap a hand over her mouth.

“Be afraid,” West told the guys. “Be very afraid.”

“I think I liked it better when you two were always fighting,” Beck grumbled.

Jase nodded his agreement.

“Also,” she said with a sunny smile, “y'all need to lighten up. You look like the harbingers of doom.” She winked at West. “Did you hear that? I used a fancy word.”

His gaze lowered to her chest. “Unfortunately, you don't seem to have the same reaction—I spoke too soon.” Her nipples pressed against her dress...and his erection pressed against his zipper.

As a waitress walked by, Jessie Kay snagged her pen with a gleeful “Thank you!” Grinning, she rolled up one of West's shirtsleeves. “You need help relaxing, and I know just the thing.” She began to write on him.

The tip of the pen glided over his skin. The warmth of her breath wafted against him. The pecans-and-cinnamon scent so familiar yet so unique to her intoxicated him. He closed his eyes to hide the dark, dangerous desire that flooded him, uncontrollable as it warred and conquered more ground...until nothing else remained of him. She'd broken him down to the studs, remade him into sensation rather than flesh.

I am Desire.

“What do you think?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

He opened his eyes to find her straight white teeth nibbling on her plump bottom lip. Looking away required Herculean effort, but he managed it. As he read what she'd written, something long dead inside him came to vibrant life.

10:30—slap Jase

10:31—slap Beck

10:32—take victory pic w/ JK

10:33—dance the night away!

A schedule. A schedule she'd given him.

She got him. Despite her own hang-ups—or maybe because of them—she understood him in a way even his friends did not, and West...he reeled. He laughed inside, a little manic.

And then the walls came tumbling down
.

He had to have her. Resisting had been futile.

He would talk to her. He would explain the reasons for his dating schedule. She would understand. She had to understand. She would agree to the terms he set. She had to agree. She would be his for the next two months...and two months every year for the next five.

After that, their relationship could be whatever she wanted it to be.

Jessie Kay leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Check the time.”

He had to kiss her, craved it more than anything, but he glanced at his wristwatch as requested. 10:30. He reached across the table and gave Jase a solid pop on the jaw.

“Hey! What was that for?” Jase demanded, rubbing the pink spot.

Jessie Kay laughed and clapped. “Take it like a girl, Jaslyn—FYI girls take it better than boys. You deserved it, and you know it.”

Beck chuckled—until 10:31 rolled around and West popped
him
on the jaw.

Fist-pumping the ceiling, Jessie Kay called, “Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!”

“Thank you.” West dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. He knew the code, had watched her plug it in countless times. 1, 2, 3, 4. He'd tried to talk her into changing it, but of course, she'd refused.

So simple, no one will ever think to try it
, she'd said.
But more important, I won't forget it.

He smashed his cheek against hers, snapped a string of photos while making different faces, and returned the phone to its rightful place.

“One last item on your schedule, kitten.” He clasped her hand, stood and helped her to her feet, unwilling to release her as they headed downstairs.

He glanced back at her and smiled. Jase had wanted him happy—
I'm happy
.

She blew West a kiss, and as his blood quickened, inspiration hit him. He hadn't designed his own video game in quite some time. Instead, he'd designed for others who'd lacked the technical skill. Suddenly a new game began to take shape. One man, two versions of him—good versus evil—one heart up for grabs. The prize? A tall, seductive blonde.

“What a great day.” Jessie Kay rested her head on his shoulder. “I learned my every wish is your command, even if I tell you to betray your closest friends, as long as I put those commands in a schedule.”

“This is true. But kitten? There's a slight problem with your timeline.”

“No way.” The ends of her pale hair brushed over his arm, a sensual caress. “I meticulously planned every detail.”

“Another fancy word,” he said, squeezing her hand in approval—pausing to watch as her nipples beaded for him. “But you're wrong. You did mess up.” He led her past the dance floor, into the hallway leading to the bathrooms, then tugged her in front of him, only to back her into a shadowed corner.

Her eyes widened as he cupped her cheeks. “Wait. What's happening right now? What are you doing?”

“To thank you properly, I'll need at least an hour.” He lowered his head slowly, slow enough she could stop him with a single word while he prayed she wouldn't. “All you have to do is say yes.”

A second. An endless second.

“Say yes. I'm here with you,” he said. “No one else. You're my date. You're the one I want.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He fell into her, pressing his mouth into hers, drinking in his second taste of Jessica Kay Dillon. And this time, there was no hint of gentleness. He devoured, two words screaming inside his mind.
Take. Now
.

Yes. Yes. She was paradise. Nirvana. Elysium. Every dream. Every wish. Every fantasy he'd ever had. He kissed her with abandon and learned her with determination, every second more than pleasure—every second bliss. He was utterly overcome.

He took and he took and he took, then he gave—how could he deny this woman anything? He poured into her all the passion she'd stirred within him.

She breathed his name as if it were a prayer, melting against him, meeting his tongue thrust for wanton thrust. Nerve endings thrummed with new life as electric pulses rode the waves rushing through his veins. Need devolved into endless desperation, a white-hot burn from which he would never recover, would never want to recover, pushing him to the razor's edge of pleasure...and the most exquisite agony.