Fall Guy (31 page)

"Today I broke a lot of my own rules. I pushed too far. And I'm scared that I'll just
keeping
doing that with you."

It's hard to get out a coherent thought with her body pressed tight against mine, sliding back and forth with soft little rocks of her hips.

She leans close and kisses my lips, pulling back before it gets too intense. I half want more, but I know, deep down, that it's better this way. I need her to keep on the other side of the line at least until I have time to get myself back under control.

"We've done more than this before, Winch. We've almost had sex." Her eyes puzzle over my face, and she licks her lips softly. It makes every raging ounce of testosterone buck and jump in me, and that's exactly what I'm afraid of. I try to sit up under her, but she pins me with all her strength. I could push past her hold easily, but I don't. "No. Explain why today's different. Explain why the first time we've had together alone
is all of a sudden not
going to work for you."

Her mouth folds small with stubborn determination, and I'm right back where I promised I wouldn't take her; I'm forging a shortcut to breaking her heart.

My arms are starting to lose feeling, but I've seen the exact look that's on her face right now before, most recently when she convinced me to let her come to the fight. I'm still in shock that she talked me into that. She's determined as hell, and she's not going to give up until I spill.

"The fight today?"
I stop, she nods, prodding me to go on. "I like to fight. I like it a lot. More than I should."

Pride marks her smile, and
it makes something hot and crazy
flash through me.
Because she's proud of me.
Of what I do.
Who I am.
Even the ugly parts.
"I know you liked it. I watched."

"I liked it, but I have to be careful. Anything that makes me
lose
my focus or lose control? It's no good." 

"Why?" she demands, her fingers digging into my wrists.

"I can't trust myself. I don't lose it. It's not my thing. So when I do...I just can't. Because I don't know what will happen when I do."

I replay my words in my brain, and they don't make an ounce of goddamn sense.

"I don't believe you'd ever hurt me." She kisses me on the side of the mouth, softly. "No one's ever protected me the way you do."

Her words tear me up and leave me feeling a swell of guilt. "You deserve better than what I've given you."

"I don't want anything but you." She flexes her hips against me, and I wonder if this is just lust talking. Like she can read my thoughts, she adds, "And I'm not just saying that because I want to get in your pants."

I can't hold the laugh back. "You're crazy." I kiss her back, softly, when she moves her lips
to mine. "Can I have a few minutes? Can I just get my head cleared?"

She lets go of my wrists and sits up, and her face is open, frank,
curious
.

"What do you think a few minutes will do to change how you feel about me? How we feel about each other? You can't control everything, Winch. Neither one of us can control what we feel. You've been trying to run away from this since day one. And it's not working anyway. So let go. You'll like it. I promise."

Her mouth comes back over mine, and I groan.

"I know I'll like it." I run my hands, tingling with the blood that's shooting back through them, up her thighs and rub my thumbs along the curves of her hips. "I'll love it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to leave you alone once I get a taste of this."

"Why would that be a bad thing again?" she asks, her smile sweet and wickedly sexy, tormenting me in ways I never imagined possible.

I put my hands up at her shoulders and drag my fingertips down along her body, brushing over her nipples, hard from the way I'm touching her, along her ribs, over the soft curve of her stomach, bumping over the waistband of her thong and running in at her thighs, to where I can bet she's slick and wet, ready for me.

Ready if I can stop being a damn coward and just let go.

"It would be a bad thing because I'm afraid to gamble with your heart, Evan. I'm afraid to hurt you." My voice catches on the words.

Her blink is lazy
. "But I love a risky bet. They're always the ones that feel the best when you win. And I have a really good feeling about you, Winch. Plus that, I'm tough as hell. You won't hurt me. I promise."

And then it's all her mouth, her skin, her hands unlocking, opening, loosening, freeing
every single thing I've held tight to for so long, and I spread my arms wide and free fall into her, not sure what either one of us is doing, but willing to take this gamble and put all my weight behind it.

Watching Winch open up is a like a cross between conducting a delicate science experiment and rereading the steamiest sex scene in my favorite romance novel with my hand pre
ssed low under my waistband. I've
had glimpses before, when we kissed, when we talked on my balcony and in my bed, stolen moments here and there when we've been together. But, for the most part, Winch was a closed book I always had a really hard time prying open.

Until tonight.
His arms are around me, his mouth crushes and sucks all over my body and, in the shadows of my room, in my bed, with the sound of the waves crashing outside the window, he kisses like kissing
my skin is essential to his very existence
.

He runs his hands over my body like he'll lose everything if his skin isn't moving over mine.

He whispers low, mixed things, some in a language that's foreign, but sounds a little like Russian to me. I don't need to know the language to get the drift of what he's saying. And sometimes he slides into English, and his words shock me and flood my body with the hot waves of a blush I can't control.

Eyes wide and lust-blackened, he grips my hips with strong, sure hands and flips me underneath him, covering my body with the long, muscled crush of his. I balance between wanting to press hard against him and yank him closer, and being careful with his damaged, bruised body.

But, if it hurts him, he's not letting it show. His kisses are hard and hungry, and I know some are going to mark my skin. His fingers bite into my hips, drag in lines that leave shallow imprints up my thighs, then dig in along my backside, up on either side of my spine, and stop only to grip my shoulders. He rocks hard and presses urgently against me.

"Evan, Evan." My name tears out of his mouth over and over. "Evan, you feel so damn
good."

His right hand pulls down my body, brushing a rough palm over my nipple, rubbing along the skin of my hip, and grabs onto the waistband of my tiny thong. He winds the elastic around his hand once, twice, a third time,
then
gives a yank. I gasp when the cloth bites against my skin for a second before it shreds off, and I feel the familiar shake and pulse low down in my body when I sit up enough to see the ragged fabric laying, frayed, against my leg. His hand rubs roughly along the smooth skin and his moan is loud and appreciative.

"Tell me to touch you."

I'm surpr
ised by the way his voice sounds, almost like a command
. I whip my head up to look at him, but his eyes are still gentle, still Winch, still protecting me, even while we're walking down this unknown path together. Even when he's showing a side of himself I've never seen, because I've never known him to let go like this.

To let go like I asked him to, because he trusts me.

"I want your hands on me.
Now.
I want your fingers in me," I say, my voice barely a whisper. I can feel the hot burn of a blush prickling down my body.

He rubs his thumbs in slow, steady circles on my thighs. "Open your legs."

The dark blue of his eyes is barely visible behind the black of his pupil and his mouth is set, straight and tense.

I let my knees fall apart, and he runs his fingers all the way down my
inner thigh and higher
, just the slightest tickle of a touch. My skin tingles in response to his fingers' gentle movement
s
, but he increases the pr
essure and his fingers play against the slick, wet, needy center of me
. I arch my back and feel his fingers slide inside,
then
he pulls out with a quick jerk of his hand that leaves me panting and desperate before he slides back in.

"Do you like it?" His voice is low and cracked with the effort of trying to keep calm.

"Yes." My voice hisses between my clenched teeth.

His free hand roams all over my skin, and its rough press leaves a trail of
goosebumps
in its wake. His hand curls around the back of my neck and pulls my face close, kissing me with almost bruising force as his fingers slide against me in a rhythm that follows the cues of my pantin
g
breathing and bucking hips. That
persistent rhythm
uncoils a
tight need burrowed deep in me.

"Winch," I
moan
,
my body so close to the shaking, shuddery release I've wanted for weeks every time I looked his way.

I clamp a hand around his wrist, and he slows down, drawing all the perfect,
tremors
out until they’re
teasing me right to the edge of
torture.

He presses his mouth close to my ear, kissing the outer edge. I squeeze my eyes shut, and all my senses hone in on the touch of his fingers and the rough grate of his voice.

"Come for me," he orders.

I shake right at the edge of where I need to be.

The next few words out of his mouth are the trip and twist of a language I don't know, punctuated by a low, long moan.

He switches into English, and once I can comprehend what he's saying, his words rush me toward a total, complete, delicious loss.

"Evan, you are the sexiest girl I've ever been with. I think about you...every day.
All day.
I can't stop. I've imagined doing this...being with you...doing this to you a thousand times. You're so wet. You're so tight. Co
me for me. Come," he coaxes,
his voice
thready
and rough.

His hand moves against me, fast and insistent, setting the exact rhythm I'm hoping will never end, but is driving me crazy. My back arches, I twist my hips,
I
grab his biceps and press my
face into the salty skin of his chest.

"Winch!
Winch!"

I can't say anything but his name. I can't think anything but his name and him and the way he touches me. And then the tiny, focused place where he's touc
hing my body and making me spin loose
has had all it can take, and I shake with a fierce jerk of my body, once, twice, and a third long, gripping time. Then I go limp against him.

He pulls his hand away and drags me close, kissing my face, down my neck, sucking and kissing down my shoulders and arms, and moving in to pull at my nipples with his hot mouth and tongue.

For a few seconds, I feel liquid-boned against him, like I could close my eyes and snuggle into sleep. But the fevered sweep of his hands and the insistent lick of his tongue
unleashes
the coil of a new build-up, and I find myself ready all over again for him, for whatever he wants and wherever he's going to take this.

Take us.

Completely take us both.

Foreign words slip off his tongue and make my body move against his as if I can actually grasp any of what he's saying. My hands work down to his waist, suddenly irritated beyond words at the clothing still covering him.

I want him out, I want him naked, I want
him exposed and with me and
mine. All mine.

I flick the button open and drag the zipper down, the metallic zip an instant, frenzied turn-on. His hard-on strains against the thin cotton of his boxer briefs, and his jeans are barely hanging on his narrow hips. I push with my hands, and he moves his
hands
down to help. It's a tangle of rough and soft cloth, rough and soft hands, our frenzied need to get his clothes off, and
the distracting, amazing feel of his skin suddenly there for my greedy taking.

I press his jeans off with my hands, then my feet, and he kicks and peels away until we're both hot and naked, our bodies pressed so close, it's right on the cusp of where we both want to be so badly.

But there's the amazing, mind-blowing feel of these few moments of skin-to-skin perfection buzzing through us
, and it’s something we both slow down and savor for a minute
. Winch pulls up and looks down the length of our bodies. I follow his gaze, and feel the dizzying, possessive pleasure of seeing his tan skin pressed against mine, the two of us alone and nothing to interrupt us, nothing to worry us, for at least this one magic night.