Fall From India Place

by Samantha Young

  He looked up at me, his expression solemn. “I worry what I might end up doing if I stayed there. I had to leave.”

  “Marco,” I breathed, aching for him and wishing I could just wrap my arms around him.

  “I don’t want your sympathy. I never have,” he snapped.

  “Oh, get over yourself, you big baby. I’m allowed to be upset for you. It comes with the territory of caring about you.”

  He grunted. “Just say it how you feel it, Hannah.”

  As our eyes clashed the air felt suddenly electric between us. “Are you sure you mean that?”

  He knew where I was leading. He shook his head. “Don’t.”

  “Why?” I asked softly, trying to fight my frustration and failing. “You know I care about you, and you know… you know I want to be with you. You can’t keep avoiding that.” I sucked in a breath. “Why did you react the way you did to seeing me with Scott? Why did you say what you said to me in Douglas Gardens all those months ago? In fact, why have you looked out for me all these years if you didn’t feel the same way back?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut tight, pinching the bridge of his nose. With a groan, he hung his head.

  I almost laughed. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Hannah” – he sighed, still not meeting my eyes – “I looked out for you because you’re a good girl and I didn’t want scum like Jenks touching you. I said what I said in the gardens that night because I meant it. Because you’re important to me. You’re my friend and I don’t have a lot of those. As for Scott…” He shook his head. “Fuck knows.”

  I moved toward him, my pulse throbbing in my neck. “I think you know.”

  His eyes blazed. “It’s not what you think.”

  I closed the distance between us, my body brushing his as I tilted my head back to look into his face. He didn’t step back. I took that as a good sign. “It’s exactly what I think.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked and something powerful and perhaps dangerous emanated from him. “You need to leave.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Hannah, leave now.”

  “Marco —”

  “Hannah, leave!” he growled, his body heat burning me.

  I flinched, rejection and anger molten within me. “You are such a coward!”

  “You are such a pain in my ass!” he yelled back.

  “Fine! I’ll go out there and be a pain in someone else’s arse!” My breathing felt out of control. I felt out of control. “I don’t need this. There are guys out there who actually want to kiss and touch me.” I swung around on that grand, arrogant statement, intent on storming out of the room.

  Instead Marco’s viselike grip tightened around my upper arm and I was suddenly hauled back, my body crashing flush against his. I didn’t even have a second to compute what was happening before his hard mouth was on mine.

  I melted instantly into his kiss, relieved and lustful, my hands relaxing on his strong chest, my body leaning into his while my lips parted to let him devour me. The kiss was rough, desperate, and turned me on in a way I’d had no idea a kiss could. I loved the rich taste of him, the erotic feel of his tongue against mine, and the fact that I wasn’t just feeling his mouth on mine; I was feeling his strength all around me. His arms were steel bands holding me tight, his hands clenched the fabric at the back of my dress. I slid my hands up around his neck as his kiss slowed but deepened, and I thrilled at the feel of my breasts pressing against his muscled chest. I could smell him, taste him, feel his hot skin. He was everywhere, everything. It was sensational.

  I didn’t know how long we stood there kissing. It felt like forever. My mouth was swollen, and my body was screaming for more. In a bid for more I ran my hands down his chest, around his waist and then under his shirt, groaning into his mouth at the sensation of his smooth, hot skin beneath my touch.

  Abruptly, I was pushed away.

  Panting, Marco stared back at me as if he’d never seen me before. Shock seemed to immobilize him for a second and I was too busy trembling with unfulfilled lust to string a sentence together.

  I watched as he stumbled back against his bed and sank onto the mattress. He hung his head again while he tried to catch his breath.

  Knowing that he was berating himself for some stupid reason I had yet to work out, it occurred to me that if I didn’t escalate things between us now I wouldn’t get this moment back with him. So I took small steps toward him.

  I stopped, my legs almost touching his knees. My hand reached for him before I could stop myself and I stroked my fingers over his close-cropped dark hair. He lowered his hands at my touch, tilting his head back to look up at me. There was a warning in his eyes, his expression taut with restraint and perhaps a little anger.

  I ignored his warning. “I’ll make you a promise,” I said. “I’ll keep being your friend and I’ll never mention this again… if you can look me in the eyes after what just happened and tell me you don’t want me.”

  “Hannah.” His voice was thick as his eyes began to burn again.

  My breathing grew shallow. “We’ve always been honest with each other, right?”

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t… I can’t tell you I don’t want you.” His eyes studied my face before moving slowly down my body, and everywhere his gaze touched I came alive.

  I’d never done much more than kiss a boy, not because I wasn’t ready to explore sex, but because I didn’t want to explore sex with anyone but Marco. I’d heard Ellie, Joss, Jo, and Liv’s crappy losing-their-virginity stories and I’d promised myself that the moment I let someone truly inside me, I’d make sure that someone was someone I loved.

  And I loved Marco.

  I’d been in love with him since the day he rescued me when I was fourteen years old.

  Excited, thrilled, I forced bravery upon myself and reached for the hem of my dress. I pulled it up slowly, revealing my body to him bit by bit until it was up over my head. I shook my hair out and dropped the dress on his floor.

  I stood there in front of him in nothing but cute turquoise underwear and a pair of heels. I’d never felt more vulnerable in my whole life.

  And then he touched me. His fingers skimmed my belly and I felt a bolt of desire hit me between the legs as he caressed my skin. Suddenly he gripped my hips in both his large hands and I tottered toward him on my heels.

  Our eyes met and the expression on his face made me feel more beautiful and desired than I’d ever known I could feel.

  “Look at you,” he whispered hoarsely, almost reverently. “Look at you.”

  “Marco…” I reached out, cupping his face in my hand.

  His eyes closed at my touch, his expression so tender I wanted to melt all over again. I sighed as he pulled me closer to press sweet kisses against my stomach. His kisses went lower, following the waistband of my underwear, and I shivered at the touch of his fingertips coasting along my lower back.

  I braced my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

  Seconds later I felt a tug on my bra and it parted, falling down my arms. Heat suffused me. No one had seen me naked before.

  One look into Marco’s eyes, though, and all embarrassment fled.

  Marco groaned, his eyes ravishing me, and I found myself guided toward him until I had to put my knees on the bed on either side of him to straddle him. Lowering my bottom to his lap, I felt his large erection through his jeans and a rush of overwhelming sexual awareness crashed over me. My breasts swelled, my nipples tightened, and Marco took it as an invitation.

  His mouth wrapped around my nipple and the feeling… the tingles, the sudden urgency that made me rock my hips against his… I wanted more. I wanted so much more…

  I whimpered his name as I burned.

  Marco pulled back, his heavy-lidded gaze on my face, his strong arms holding me tight. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  I took his face in my hands and looked deep i
n his eyes. “Would you rather some other guy was?”

  And that was when I saw it. The dark flicker of anger, of possessiveness that had made him kiss me in the first place. Triumphant, I pressed my lips to his, moaning in pleasure as he kissed me back. Hard. Our tongues touched, sending sparks of growing arousal through me. The kiss turned searching – months, years even, of longing in it. We broke apart briefly so I could yank his T-shirt over his head, my hands roaming and memorizing every hard contour of his beautiful torso.

  Suddenly I was flipped, my back on the bed, and Marco pulled away.

  I stared up at him, panting, praying he wasn’t going to stop this.

  My prayers were answered.

  He towered over me, a fantasy come to life. His beautiful caramel-toned skin, the powerful shoulders, the abs that made my mouth water. I felt a flush of heat at the sight of the sexy definition in his hips and the way his hard-on strained against the zipper on his jeans.

  There was an intensity in his blue-green eyes that made me shiver all over.

  He reached for my foot, gently pulling my shoe off. And then the other one. His eyes followed the length of my legs as he stroked my calf. “I’ve thought about this,” he admitted quietly. “A million times more than I ever should have.”

  Before I could respond, he put a hand on the mattress by my knee and leaned over me, his other hand hooking into my underwear. His eyes asked the question and I nodded, lifting my hips to help him.

  He tugged my underwear down my legs and then took a minute to gaze at me.

  I felt my cheeks flush under his hot gaze.

  “Marco…?”

  He pressed a kiss to my ankle and then nudged my legs apart. My lower belly fluttered wildly, but I moved my legs, anticipation making me slick.

  His breath fanned warmly over my skin as he crawled between my legs. He lifted one over his shoulder and kissed the inside of my thigh. Then he kissed me there.

  I arched my back, groaning at the sensation of his mouth on my sex, his tongue circling my clit for a time before moving south and licking inside me. I pushed up against him for more, my cries of pleasure drowned out by the party outside the little bubble of private heaven we’d created in his room.

  Marco tormented me with his tongue, his own growl of pleasure vibrating through me in the most delicious way.

  I felt it build, my body stiffening as the tension grew and grew and grew… and then shattered.

  My first orgasm.

  Delight and a weird sense of liberation flowed through my limbs as they melted in relaxation against Marco’s mattress. I opened my eyes on a soft smile to watch Marco divest himself of his jeans.

  I froze at the sight of his erection.

  It was huge.

  How would that…?

  “Ssh.” He hushed me reassuringly, urgently, as he caressed my hip. He kissed me as his body came down over mine and I wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him closer.

  Nothing had ever felt more perfect than feeling his hard body against my soft one. I wanted to be inside him and I wanted him inside of me. In every way two people could be.

  He touched me, two fingers sliding into me.

  His breath hitched. “So ready. So tight.” He groaned and buried his head against my neck, kissing me there.

  I jerked my hips up toward his, suddenly feeling very impatient. “Marco, please.”

  He lifted his head and our eyes met.

  There it was. That tether. That connection.

  He moved, hips gliding against mine and I felt the hot throb of him nudge between my legs. I clutched his hips with my thighs, bracing myself. He surged forward, pushing into my tight, resisting body.

  I tried to catch my breath at the overwhelming feeling of fullness.

  Marco gritted his teeth, grasping me by the back of the thigh. It changed his angle and he pushed harder.

  I cried out at the burn of pain, my whole body tensing.

  “Hannah,” Marco panted, his concern breaking through my shock.

  My eyes opened. He watched me, something like guilt on his face.

  That buried the pain.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged, not wanting him to ever regret this.

  He shook his head. “You’re so tight.”

  “Keep going.” I pulled his head down to kiss him, the kiss desperate and deep.

  This hot, rumbling sound growled from the back of his throat as he began to move his hips against mine.

  There was some residual pain, but the discomfort eased as all my awareness focused on the thrusts of his throbbing cock inside me. His grip on my thigh tightened, his lust-filled eyes on mine the whole time as he began to move faster, pumping in and out of me, creating the tension again.

  “I can’t wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “I’m sorry…” He gritted his teeth again, the muscles in his neck straining as his hips stilled against mine seconds before he shuddered his release inside me.

  Marco collapsed against me, his face buried in my neck, and as I stroked his back I felt the wonder of that moment cascade over me, leaving me absolutely content.

  I smiled, tears pricking my eyes. “I love you,” I whispered.

  The muscles in his back tensed.

  Wariness moved through my chest, ugly and dark, and I waited, holding my breath.

  He pushed up off of me, staring at me incredulously. “What the…” He scrambled off me as though I’d burned him. “We didn’t. What…” He hurried to dress.

  “Marco?” I sat up, my lips trembling with vulnerability.

  His eyes moved over me, and whatever he saw made him squeeze his own shut in despair. Despair!

  My tears fell.

  “We shouldn’t have.”

  “Marco.”

  “I shouldn’t have.” He yanked his T-shirt on and quickly stuffed his feet into his trainers. He looked back at me as he turned the lock on the door. “I’m sorry, Hannah. God, I’m sorry.”

  And then he left me there.

  Crying, I stumbled around the room through blurred vision, pulling on my clothes before someone came in. Dressed, I stared back at the bed, my eyes zeroing in on the spot of blood on the blanket.

  Despair? Despair in this moment was mine, not his.

  I never saw him again. Not until a few hours ago at a random wedding. My first love. My first time.

  My first heartbreak.

  The tears shimmered in my eyes, but I didn’t let them loose. I’d shed all those tears years ago.

  CHAPTER 7

  I

  think more than anything I was angry. Not just at what Marco had done to me by leaving, but at what his reappearance was doing to me. I’d felt lost for a long time after he left. It had taken me a while to find my strength and independence again. It had meant hardening my heart and creating little locked doors in my soul so that only the people I trusted implicitly could ever make it inside to touch it.

  Standing opposite him, staring into his handsome face and those eyes that seemed even more soulful than before, I was that seventeen-year-old girl again. Totally lost.

  That pissed me off.

  How dare he walk back into my life and make me feel that way? I wasn’t that person. I was my own person and I knew who I was, I knew what I was about. I had family and friends and students and colleagues who knew and respected me.

  This person, this aching, bruised, lost person… that wasn’t the person they knew.

  That enraged me.

  Twisting and turning through the night, the anger eating away at me, I knew when I finally slid out of bed that Sunday that I couldn’t face my family. They’d take one look at me and know something was going on. Cole was already too suspicious. So I texted Mum and told her I was bogged down with work and couldn’t make Sunday lunch. In truth, I needed time to cool down, reflect, to get back to being me again.

  To do that I set myself up in my living room, surrounded with schoolwork, and spent the entire day catching up on my marking. Somewhere along the
way the anger began to cool.

  I was so caught up in my marking I almost jumped off my couch when the doorbell rang. It was past six o’clock, the sky was darkening outside, and I’d had to switch my lamps on to see my work. I couldn’t think who would be visiting me. With my crazy, overprotective crew it could have been anyone. I didn’t know why I was surprised. This would be the fourth time I’d missed Sunday lunch in as many months. I should have known it would start to concern someone.