Catch Me When I Fall

by Jackson, A. L.

  “I don’t deserve to be touching you,” he murmured, voice a rough abrasion in the night.

  “Aren’t I the one who gets to make that choice?”

  For a beat, his eyes slammed closed, and then he was on his feet, stealing my breath as he swept me off mine, gathering me into his arms. He carried me across his room and into the attached bathroom. Setting me on the counter, he grabbed a washcloth and wet it under the water.

  Softly, carefully, he ran it over my lips, like he was trying to erase the mark of him from my body.

  Not a chance of that.

  One of those big hands came up to tenderly cup one side of my face, thumb sweeping along the hollow of my eye, the action completely at odds with the weight of his words.

  “I want to protect you, Emily. I want to take every fucking bad thing that has ever happened to you and delete it. Purge it from your body and rip it from your spirit. I want to stand in the way of every goddamn thing that might hurt you in the future. Including myself.”

  “Is that what you see when you look at me? Someone who needs to be protected? Saved?”

  “I see someone who’s holding onto so much pain.”

  A huff of remorse and defiance left me. “I don’t want anyone to pity me. That’s not what I’m lookin’ for.”

  “Doesn’t everyone need someone to fight for them? To stand up for what’s right? To take care of them?” It looked as if he was the one in pain when he said it. As if maybe he was desperate for someone to come alongside him.

  His expression shifted through a million different emotions.

  I fought to keep up.

  To understand.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, so tight and hard that I wanted to reach out and ask who it was that had hurt him.

  To hold him the same way he wanted to hold me.

  “That’s good because I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe as when I’m with you,” I whispered, sure I’d never known a greater truth.

  I felt as if I might crumble and break apart and, when he picked me back up, I might be whole.

  Which was insane.

  I hadn’t known him for more than a handful of days, and the man was written in errors. Abrasive and curt and asking me to do the one thing that I was having the most difficult time forcing myself to do.

  But there was something in his eyes that I believed.

  Something about him that made me want to dig for more.

  Seek and discover.

  “That’s because you’re reckless.” His response was a caress.

  A lash.

  I let my fingertips fumble across his jaw. “I’m not a fool. You think I don’t know you’re hiding something underneath all that brash exterior, too? Maybe that’s what’s calling out for me. Maybe you need me the way I need you. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel this.”

  A smirk tweaked at one corner of his mouth. “You are asking for it, aren’t you?”

  “I think I made that plenty clear.”

  Affection flitted across his features as he stared at me through the vapors of dull, muted light, gone before I could be sure that it was real. “You should go. We have to be up in a few hours.”

  Wow.

  So that was how it was gonna be.

  That hollow space that screamed of abandonment flared in the middle of me, but I locked it down and tried to make sense of what he was really saying.

  I raked my nails across his chest, right over the black hawk he had tattooed there, the wings spread and trying to take flight. But one of its feet was shackled, locked by a manacle that dragged him down and kept him from soaring, chained him to faces and snapshots of memories I didn’t understand, a morbid story written in mystery across his ripped, packed abdomen.

  “Is that what you want, Royce? For me to leave?”

  He laughed out a disbelieving sound. “You really love to test me, don’t you, Precious?”

  “Isn’t that what life is . . . one big test?” It almost came out a tease.

  He scruffed a hand over his face. “Pretty sure I’m about to fail this one. Strike that. Clearly, I already did.”

  My belly twisted.

  “Didn’t feel like a failure to me,” I murmured in a low voice.

  I was trying to seduce him, and I didn’t have the first clue what I was doing.

  Being reckless, that was what.

  He shocked me by dragging me to the very edge of the counter, wedging his delicious body between my thighs, his hot hands cupping me by the bottom. “If I passed, then you got an A+.”

  A giggle slipped free, shyness breaking way. “You think so?”

  “Told me not to tell you lies, didn’t you?” It was a grunt, those fierce eyes aglow. “You just rocked my fucking world.”

  My heart expanded. I wanted to do it over and over again. “I’m glad.” I studied him, voice sincere. “And you made me feel alive in a way I haven’t in a long, long time.”

  Royce sighed and dropped his forehead to my chest. “You’re killing me, Emily. Fucking killing me. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be touching you at all, and I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

  “Then don’t.”

  My stomach took that very inopportune time to growl.

  Awesome.

  Royce looked up at me with a grin. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  Starving for him and this feeling and this insatiable need, but I guessed I could eat, too.

  He went right into protective mode. Demanding and brash.

  “Let me feed you.”

  It wasn’t a request.

  Still, I agreed, whispering, “I’d like that,” as I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip, wishing it was his doing the honors.

  He groaned again. “Little mind-wrecker.”

  I frowned at the unintelligible ramble that fell from his mouth, but he ignored that he’d said anything at all and helped me down. He gestured for me to use his things that were set out on the counter.

  “I’ll order us something.”

  “Thank you.”

  He started out the door, his bare back so delicious and on display, wearing tight ripped-up jeans, something I’d never seen him in before that made me wonder about the persona he fronted. But then I realized it didn’t matter what he was wearing. There wasn’t a thing that was fake about him.

  The man raw.

  Real.

  A little bit terrifying.

  Pausing at the doorway, he shifted his attention back to me, expression written in stone. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “You keep sayin’ that.”

  “It keeps being the truth.”

  Then he turned back around and pulled the door shut behind him.

  I rinsed my mouth with his mouthwash, scrubbed my face under a cold spray from the faucet, and retied my hair up on my head considering it was looking like a rat or two had taken up residence in the locks.

  AKA Royce’s desperate hands.

  Sucking down a shiver, I stepped back out.

  He was at the hotel room door, the man so obscenely hot as he let in room service.

  The server rolled in the cart, and Royce dug out his wallet and gave him a tip, the man thanking him profusely.

  Following him back to the door, Royce shut it, then slowly turned around and eased out into the middle of the room.

  Everything trembled.

  God, I didn’t think I was ever gonna get used to the sight of him.

  “Come here,” he commanded, and I shuffled forward on bare feet, fiddling with the hem of my nightgown, all of a sudden feeling unsure.

  He pulled the lid off the tray to reveal a board of cheeses and meats. Crackers and jams. Berries and fruit.

  Grabbing the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, he expertly freed the cork. It popped, and my nerves leapt, my legs shaking as I stood there with the weight of those dark eyes watching me as he tipped the bottle over to fill a flute.

  He handed me the first
one and then filled another.

  “Sit,” he said, gesturing to his unmade, rumpled bed.

  God, he could be bossy, but I was all too happy to oblige.

  I climbed up on the edge near the end and tucked one leg under my body. He moved forward, lingering an inch over my face, noses close to touching.

  He tipped his glass to mine, his voice a rasp. “To sleepless nights.”

  Our glasses clinked, and my heart shivered.

  I took a sip, letting the cool, bubbling sweetness glide down my throat, not knowing exactly what to do with myself as he climbed onto the bed in front of me.

  My attention moved to the expanse of his bed where he’d clearly been tossing, just like I had been.

  I had to wonder if I hadn’t heard him in some sense. That feeling like I understood him on a different level. In some unfound way that should be impossible but somehow felt like the only thing that made any sense right then.

  “You couldn’t sleep?” I asked carefully.

  He took a sip of his champagne, those hawk’s wings flitting in distress as he swallowed heavily. “Me and the night aren’t the best of friends.”

  “And why’s that?”

  He grinned, though it was bleak. “Don’t you know that’s when the demons come out to play?”

  Didn’t I know it.

  “And why are they torturin’ you?” I asked.

  “Told you I’ve made more mistakes than I can count.”

  “Isn’t that what forgiveness is for?”

  He chuckled a menacing sound. “Not when you don’t deserve it.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “That’s because you don’t know the things I’ve done.”

  “Try me,” I challenged.

  He laughed low. “You looking for a reason for me to send you running tonight?”

  “No, Royce, I’m lookin’ for you to give me a reason to stay.”

  His throat bobbed again, his voice so hard and low I felt the words like a rough blade. “Fine. You want to know? I let someone hurt my baby sister. Hurt her so badly that I’m not sure she will ever recover.”

  “It couldn’t have been your fault.”

  “It was.”

  My face pinched. “I don’t believe that.”

  His laughter was dark. “Well, you should.”

  I chewed at my lip, averting my gaze before I warily looked back at him. “I’m sorry that she got hurt. It’s the worst feeling in the world when the ones we love are in pain.”

  He looked away, too, shaking his head. “Goddamn it, Emily. Why are you so sweet?”

  “I hate that you’re hurtin’, too, you know.”

  Need rumbled in his throat, and he set his flute aside and climbed to his hands and knees, crawling toward me.

  Predatory.

  Possessive.

  It pressed me onto my back, the man hovering a foot over me, my heart thundering as I struggled to breathe. I reached up and touched his face, fingertips moving across his full lips.

  “I have to admit, I’m happy you were havin’ trouble sleeping tonight.”

  He kissed across my fingertips, soft nibbles at the flesh. “Me, too. And I have to wonder what that makes me.”

  “A man.”

  A smirk took to his sexy mouth. “Oh, Precious, I’m all man.”

  Tingles spread, butterflies flapping up a storm.

  “I’m getting that, though I think I might need to experience it all to make a final judgement call.”

  Good lord.

  Did that just come out of my mouth?

  Power ripped across his flesh, and he let out a short laugh. “You really do love to test me, don’t you?”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I nodded my head against the mattress. “I . . . I want to live, Royce. Without the fears that have been chasing me. You’ve reminded me that I can.”

  He reached out and grabbed a raspberry from the tray. He slipped it between my lips. The sweet tartness hit my senses, and I moaned a little with the flavor of it and the champagne on my tongue.

  Royce growled and buried his face in my neck. “Kill me now.”

  When he pushed back up onto his hands, he was grinning. “Tempt me all you want, woman. You have no power over me.”

  A giggle broke free at the same time as I was slipping my free hand up to the side of his neck so I could hoist myself to sitting. “Is that so?”

  “It’s so.” He dipped down and pecked his lips to mine.

  So sweet.

  I hadn’t even thought it was possible.

  “Very so. Now come on, let’s eat.”

  He smacked me on the thigh, a love tap that had me gasping.

  “Bossy.”

  He quirked an eye at me as he moved to rest against the headboard. “You have no idea.”

  “I think I’m gettin’ one.”

  “Eat.”

  “See.” I widened my eyes at him. Playfully.

  He took a sip of his champagne and popped a blueberry into his mouth.

  “Tell me why you weren’t sleeping.” He cut me a glance as he reached for a slice of cheese.

  I peeked over at him, nibbling at a cracker. “Sleeping isn’t the problem. It’s the dreams that are waiting for me when I do fall asleep that are.”

  A frisson of rage sizzled across his skin. Every muscle in his glorious body flexed. “How long?”

  I shifted in unease, but I couldn’t help but open up a little more. “I guess you could say my life has been a spiral for the last six months.”

  Loss after loss.

  One tragedy piled on top of the other.

  Pain lanced through my being, and I tried to hold it back, the visible effects. But Royce saw it. He shifted, angling around to set a big hand on my face. “If I could take part of it away, would you let me?”

  Intensity blazed.

  I struggled to inhale.

  “I feel like you already are.”

  His head shook. “No. I mean more, Emily. Would you let me go after whoever it was that hurt you? The one who put this look on your face?”

  Panic flooded me. The idea of him knowing. Of my having to step up and step out. The words vibrated on my tongue, vying for release. But I wasn’t ready.

  I blinked at him. “I think you know what I need, Royce. Know what I’m missing. The lyrics I can’t find. I found your offering under my door when I got up this last morning.”

  Emotion raced across his face. “It was nothing. I was just scribbling words.”

  “Then how is it that they fit so perfectly?”

  My mind immediately went back to finding him strumming his guitar, the mournful, wistful strains that had permeated the sky.

  “I guess you inspire me.”

  Soft laughter rippled out. “Maybe it’s you who’s inspiring me. I hadn’t written a single word in three months, Royce. Three months. It was like . . .” I struggled to find the right explanation. “It was like there was a void inside of me where nothing lived. Nothing breathed. And one minute of you, and there was a flicker of life. A spark.”

  He grabbed my hand and splayed it over the phrase inscribed on his chest. “Like you sparked something here. Shouldn’t be possible, Emily.”

  He said it as if it caused him regret. That he truly believed he shouldn’t be allowed to feel a thing for me.

  I rolled over, making him angle farther back. I pressed my hand harder against the pounding that raged. Over the statement that made me want to weep. “Who is she? Who does this belong to?”

  Torment seized his expression, and the name that groaned from his mouth came on a torrent of pain. “Anna.”

  Anna.

  I tried to picture her face. Wondered if she was anything like me. Why she would leave this beautiful man broken and scarred. My heart felt as if it’d become a hundred-mile-wide crater. “You told me last night that the only thing that mattered was my happiness. I want you to know that yours matters, too. It matters to me.”

  He threaded his
fingers loosely in the fall of my hair. “I shouldn’t want you, Emily.”

  It was a warning. This boy’s heart was unavailable.

  I wanted it anyway.

  “Sometimes we need the very thing we think we shouldn’t.”

  “Emily,” he groaned.

  Heat lapped in the bare space that separated us.

  No words needed for this understanding.

  He just watched me with those eyes.

  Learned me while I learned him.

  And I was lost.

  Lost to this man who was sucking me under.

  I got the distinct sense that I was falling. That whooshing feeling when your heart got unstable, cracking open to make room for something that hadn’t been there before.

  I knew I shouldn’t welcome him there, in that patchy, uneven ground that still hadn’t healed, especially when his seemed to be fortified by bricks and chains.

  But I couldn’t seem to stop it.

  There was something about him that made me want to fade right into him.

  Melt under those hands and come alive under those eyes.

  “I think you’re wonderful,” I whispered down at him.

  For a beat, everything felt too heavy. The moment too intense.

  Then he grinned, like he was shaking the severity off, and he tossed me onto my back on his bed. I bounced, my face breaking into a tender smile when he climbed over me.

  Warmth spreading wide.

  “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, a hand tucking into my hair.

  That was right before he dipped down and pressed his mouth to mine.

  Magic.

  Kissing Royce Reilly was nothing short of magic.

  The soft pull of his lips. The decadent caress of his tongue. The drug of his scent.

  I whimpered, then sighed when he pulled back far too soon.

  “Tell me, Emily Ramsey . . . did you know it the second you were born that you were a star?”

  Light laughter pulled up my throat. “My mama said I was a diva from day one. Throwing tantrums like nobody’s business.”

  He grinned down at me. “I don’t believe it. You? Throwing tantrums?”

  I swatted at his shoulder. “Are you mocking me?”

  A tease widened his eyes. “Never.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His grin widened. “You’re all fire, Precious, but the best kind. A star bursting on the stage.”