Before I Fall

by Jessica Scott

  I'm gone from this plane of existence, carried into a space where there is only Noah. Only me. And together we crash into the void.

  Noah

  I hold her close when it’s over. I don't know if the earth moved for her, but it damn near tilted on its axis for me.

  Little shudders vibrate through her every so often. I can't tell if she's dozing, or if the remnants of her climax are still rippling through her.

  It's endearing as nothing else is. I want her again. I want to keep her there in the cocoon of my bed and shelter her from the world. But I know she needs to get home.

  And just like that, reality is back, for me at least. I'm reluctant to let her go. I'm terrified that this will be just a dream. A great dream, but one that I will miss when I wake up. I kiss her shoulder gently.

  "I should get you home."

  She nods. Her hair is cool silk on my damaged shoulder. She hasn't noticed the scars and I'm anxious to get dressed. If we can avoid that conversation today, it would be the perfect ending to a perfect day.

  I'm not hiding exactly, but I'm not sure how to have the conversation yet. Not with someone who matters to me.

  She slips from my bed into the bathroom. I take that moment to pull a sweatshirt over my head. I'm pulling on pants as she steps back into the room, her body gloriously naked.

  "I want to remember you like this forever." She smiles as she steps into her clothing, piece by piece, reversing what I did earlier.

  It's more erotic to watch her dress than it was to undress her. And when she's back in that simple white blouse and black pants, my fantasies are already at a fevered pitch, creatively spinning different ways to enjoy her.

  I go to her now because it feels strange not to. I cup her face. "This isn't going to get awkward, is it?" I'm suddenly deeply insecure. It's supposed to be the girls that worry about this stuff, but I'm not so issue-free that the thought hasn't occurred to me. What if I read this entire situation wrong? What if this wasn't for her what it was for me?

  "Well, we're not doing naked stats if that's what you're asking." Her lips twist into a teasing grin. "But no, it's not going to get awkward." She brushes her lips against mine. I capture her, holding her close, sipping and savoring her lips for another impossibly long moment.

  "Will you be on campus tomorrow?"

  "We have class, so yes."

  "Can I see you?"

  Her lips are back in that smile of hers. "Seeing how we're in the same class, I think so."

  I pinch her butt for teasing. She yelps and ends up close enough that I can wrap my arms around her again. "I'll see you in ethics, Ms. Lamont."

  "I'll see you in ethics, Mr. Warren."

  I drive her home, my hands wandering over her thighs, her neck, her body. I can't keep them from wandering.

  I kiss her hard when we stop in front of the same address I've left her at each time before. "Think of me tonight?" she whispers.

  "I don't know how I wouldn’t."

  She disappears into the darkness up the steps. I head back to the quiet of my small house.

  I can smell her in my space now. On my sheets. Part of her is still with me.

  I'm tempted, so tempted not to take the sleeping pill tonight. So tempted to sink into my sheets and try, just once, to sleep with the memory of Beth's touch on my skin, the feel of her body pressed to mine.

  But I'm not a fool. I know what happens if I don't sleep with Princess Ambien. The dreams are bad, the nightmares worse.

  And I would hate to see Beth - something good and pure and right in my fucking world for once - dragged into my nightmares.

  My only escape is my nightly surrender to the sleeping pills. I pretend to sleep a dreamless sleep. I wake up, rinse and repeat, and hope that maybe the next day won't involve so many pills.

  But tonight, as the sleeping pill drags me down, I'm surrounded by Beth's scent. I pretend it's her body I'm folded around instead of the pillow. I imagine it’s still warm from her skin. I breathe in deeply, inhaling the memory of her touch, the sensation of her hands on my skin, instead of the clawing, burning memories that usually wait for me in the dark.

  Chapter 16

  Beth

  I deliberately sit away from him in ethics class. I see him the moment I walk in. He's in the back against the wall, just like he was on that first day in stats. It feels like a lifetime ago. His eyes darken to deep brown as he watches me cross the classroom away from him. I feel provocative and aroused again. It's going to be hell to pay attention to moral decision-making knowing he's in the back of the class. I wonder if he'll be as distracted as I am.

  I take a seat near the front on the opposite edge of the room. I know he can see me, but I'll be forced to pay attention because it would be too obvious if I turn around to ogle him in the crisp white shirt he is wearing today. It's harder now because I know the feeling of his skin against mine, the hard body that can bring so much heat and pleasure with the faintest touch.

  The professor comes in and hands out an unexpected quiz on ontologies. I write furiously, grateful for the distraction behind me. It only works for a moment and then I'm finished, listening to the sound of my classmates' pens scratching on their papers.

  I sneak a quick glance over my shoulder.

  He lifts one brow in that way he does. Heat floods between my thighs again as I remember his mouth on me. Holy hell, I'm going to go up in flames. I shift in my seat again and face the front of the class.

  I barely hear the lecture over the blood roaring through my veins. This is probably a good reason why I shouldn't date. It's hard as hell to pay attention when all the blood that's supposed to be in my brain is turning my body into a raging hormone.

  "If I call your name, I need to see you after class," Professor Earl says.

  That's unusual. Someone must have been caught cheating again. Sadly, it's an all too common a thing these days. Copying and pasting off the Internet simply isn’t a smart tactic for passing classes, but time and again, people attempt it and invariably get caught.

  "Ms. Lamont. Mr. Warren."

  I catch Noah's gaze across the room as Professor Earl calls three more names. He is as confused as I am.

  I hate being put on the spot. My stomach pitches, and I lift my bag onto my shoulder. I'm almost sick in two minutes flat.

  Professor Earl hands me a small envelope of heavy card stock. That's the kind of thing I wouldn't have ever noticed had Abby not pointed out the difference in paper thickness to me. Heavy card stock meant quality. It means money.

  "Morgan Banking and Trust wants to hire a paid intern. This is an invitation-only black tie event. I strongly suggest you treat this event as a prospective interview."

  Leave it to Professor Earl to drop a bombshell like that in our laps and leave. He isn't exactly Mr. Personality but then again I suppose that's why he's in academia. Academics are known for their neuroses. Another thing I didn't know until Abby enlightened me.

  My hands are shaking as I step into the hall. I feel, rather than see, Noah fall into step with me.

  "Why don't you seem happy about this?" he asks as we step outside.

  It must have started raining while we were in class. I'm in a daze. I barely feel the cool water hitting my skin.

  And then it stops.

  Noah's holding a large black umbrella. I can't help but smile. "You're always prepared, aren't you?"

  I'm aware of everything about him. The white shirt that has turned slightly transparent from the rain. The smell of his soap. My heartbeat centers in the space between my thighs. I'm aching for him once more. I want to let the world fall away, to ignore the flips my stomach is doing. I want to be wild for once.

  "I try." His voice is throaty and warm. Heavy.

  I step into his space. I need the contact to convince myself that this is real. That he's standing here in the rain with me. My fingers run over the hard line of his stomach.

  "What are you doing?" His throat moves as he swallows hard. I lean in and p
ress my lips to the spot where his pulse beats visibly beneath his skin. I'm vaguely aware that he's lowered the umbrella, shielding us from the rain and the view of passersby.

  "Living dangerously," I whisper. "I would very much like to sneak off with you somewhere for a few minutes."

  His free arm comes around my waist and I lean into him. Until then, I haven't realized how much I need the human contact. The touch of another body against mine. The feeling of his hand at the small of my back.

  "You know this place better than I do."

  I smile at the raw need in his voice. My fingers spasm against his chest a little.

  "We're not going to get caught by the campus police or anything?" He sounds completely unworried.

  "I hope not," I say. "I'm not exactly in tune with the criminal element around here." I run my fingers down the line of his throat. "But I've got an idea."

  It's half-baked as ideas go. A place that I remember from freshman year: the basement of the old science building. Dark and silent, it was a place we'd been dared to run through as part of an initiation that the school didn't officially know about or sanction.

  But it is the only place I can think of that would be abandoned at this time of day. And I don’t want to wait.

  Because I don’t know how long I have before life pulls me back in, away from Noah and the glorious reprieve I have with him. And I am determined to enjoy it for as long as I can.

  Noah

  She surprises me. Then again, everything about Beth is surprising to me. She leads me away from the business school and toward the science building, a structure that looks like something out of a dark gothic movie like The Crow. Stone gargoyles watch us from their perches as she slips us through a side door.

  We're in a wide open study area. Couches and chairs and a small coffee kiosk fill the space. It's sparsely populated, but she leads me down behind a small auditorium to an old door with an Exit Only sign above it.

  I'm tight with anticipation as I follow her down the narrow staircase and into the dark. My heart slams against my ribs and I remember how much I fucking hate stairs like this. I'm ready to bolt, to flee back into the light and out of the fatal funnel when she turns to me, sliding her body against mine.

  Just like that, the panic morphs into a different kind of arousal. One where I'm hot and tight and tense, but it’s pleasure running through my veins instead of fear.

  She's fumbling with my pants. I hate that I'm wearing a belt in some vague attempt to pass as a respectable member of the business school. There's one exit light penetrating the darkness. It's shadows and sounds and the brush of fabric against skin.

  I feel the cool kiss of air against my erection. Only for a moment and then her hand is circling me, squeezing gently. I close my eyes and let her do what she wants with me. I'm her slave. At that moment, I'd do anything she asked me to.

  I want to drop to my knees and worship her. I want to turn her around and pin her to the wall. My thoughts are a tumbled erotic mess.

  My brain short-circuits a little when she slides down my body.

  "Holy shit."

  She's on her knees in front of me. Her mouth is there, just there. She places a teasing kiss on my hip bone. She doesn't notice the scar. Or maybe she does and simply doesn't care. Her hand slips down my length again. I'm enthralled, watching her with the shadows and the light dancing over her face.

  My breath locks in my throat. I fall forward, my arms braced on the cold cement to keep myself upright. She's teasing me. Her eyes sparkle in the dim light.

  Then it happens. The gentlest kiss against the tip of my cock.

  I'm going to die. That's all there is to it. Slowly, so slowly, she takes me into her mouth, sucking me hard enough that I damn near collapse. Light enough to leave me wanting more.

  I'm frozen, rooted to the spot as she uses her mouth to drive me over the edge and into a place that is nothing but sensation and pleasure and darkness. I want to move, to thrust into her warm, moist mouth but I don't. I'm terrified of hurting her. Of ending the most blindingly brilliant pleasure I've ever felt.

  I'm ready to come. Fuck, I'm right there. I manage to grip her shoulders and pull her upright. I'm tearing at her pants, struggling to get them down over her hips.

  My hands are shaking as I try to get the condom on.

  She's facing the concrete wall now, her arms over her head, her back arched. A silent, gorgeous offering. I touch her bare, swollen skin. She makes that sound for me as I stroke her where she's soaked for me.

  I want to go slow. To draw out the pleasure. But the minute I sink into her, she arches against me. Urging me deeper. Rocking against me and trying to set her own pace.

  "Hurry." A breathless command.

  I'm lost in her. I reach between her thighs, stroking her. She's so fucking tight and wet and hot. It's a torment to pull out, only to find the sweetest pleasure again as I sink into her. Again. Over and over the pleasure builds.

  And then she's shattering around me. Pulsing and squeezing my body, riding my hand with quiet gasps. There's no other sounds between us. The sensual, erotic slide of bodies. The slick heat melting the air around us. She's coming, and I'm losing my mind as I pump harder, harder.

  Until my own release damn near kills me. I'm frozen, pulsing into her, losing a piece of my soul. Surrendering another piece of my heart.

  Chapter 17

  Beth

  He walks me to work. We're both more than a little unsteady after the basement. I'm not sure who is more off kilter. His hands are shaking as he kisses me.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  He's edgy now, and I'm not sure why. "Yeah." He tries to grin to hide it, but I'm not fooled. I'm pretty good at reading people. "You?"

  "Very much so." He brushes his nose against mine. "I'll pick you up after work?"

  I squeeze his fingers. I like this new normal we've established. "I'd like that."

  "Let me know if I need to beat anybody up for getting too handsy." He tries to make a joke but it falls awkward and flat. I step closer to him. Press near enough that I can feel the heat of his body. "What's wrong?"

  He swallows hard. Blinks rapidly a few times. His hand trembles against my waist. "I'll tell you some other time." He brushes his lips against mine. "Promise."

  And then he's gone, leaving me with the echo of our pleasure tainted with a new worry.

  I didn't think my heart was big enough to make room for another worry. I was wrong.

  I don't have time, though, as I meet Abby in the staff room. "We're getting slammed tonight. Some big production by Morgan Banking Company."

  I remember the invitation in my bag. "They're hiring an intern, apparently, but why are they here tonight?" I pull out the card and barely open it before Abby snatches it from me. Her eyes light up.

  “Because they can be,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She’s not wrong. She hands me back the invitation. "You realize this is a very big deal, right?"

  "I can't go."

  She’s more scandalized than the time I told her I didn't own any makeup beyond Cherry ChapStick.

  "Of course you're going. This is invitation only. One of the professors had to put in a word for you to get this. You're going."

  "I don't have anything even remotely close to black tie. And I damn sure don't have the money to spring for something in the next three days."

  Abby's face lights up even more. She's devious, sometimes, and when she gets like this, it's hazardous to your health to get in her way. "Oh, we can fix all of those things."

  "Abby, I love you, but I've seen your closet."

  "My closet is filled with stylish, affordable designs that I find on sale. Yours, on the other hand, is a borderline tragedy despite my best efforts. But I'm not talking about raiding my closet. I know someone who can help us out."

  "What? You've got three magic mice that are going to turn into coachmen?"

  She smiles, and it's positively blinding. I cannot for the life
of me understand why she hasn't found someone since she broke up with Robert. She's beautiful, smart, and strong and has a wicked sense of humor.

  Maybe guys are intimidated by her. I know I was the first time I met her.

  "What do you mean, you know someone?" I ask her again as we pass in the hall.

  But she managed to get sucked into work and I didn’t have a chance to ask her again how she was going to make me fit to present at the event. We are slammed busy. Which means it will hopefully be a good night for tips. When the alcohol flows at these events, so does the money. I hate being so mercenary about it, but there it is. It’s easy to be cavalier about how money doesn’t matter, but when your father's ability to walk hinges from one day to the next on whether you make good tips, it’s not so simple.

  I smile as an older gentleman hands me his empty scotch glass, and I take his order for another. Top shelf, too.

  The tab is going to be steep on this one.

  Abby leans into me. "That guy whose drink order you just took is the CEO of Morgan Banking. He's the Morgan in the name. Alistair. Very blue blood, if you get me. His family goes back to the first settlement here in the state."

  "Nice."

  "He's known for being a hard-ass. Pay attention to him tonight and take notes. There will be a quiz at the event on Friday."

  It amazes me that Abby can even think that far ahead. I've got no idea how she's going to make me presentable, but hey, if she wants to play fairy godmother again, then who am I to argue? She’s never been wrong before.

  But now that she's pointed out Alistair, I'm watching more closely. Paying attention to the conversation as I collect glasses and deliver fresh drinks.

  "The current interns are a bunch of spoiled brats." This from a shorter man standing to Alistair's right. "I swear if I hear Kiki giggle one more time, I'm going to commit hari-kari."