Falling Deep

by Diana Gardin

  And now she regretted every single second of it.

  Because now, she wanted it all. She wanted this man. She wanted nights with him, she wanted days with him. She wanted vacations with him. She wanted to watch him sing at every single one of his shows.

  And none of it would ever happen. She hadn’t been honest with him. She gave herself to him, and she knew that he’d given himself totally to her. She suspected that wasn’t easy for Reed. That maybe he’d never done it before.

  But for some reason, he’d done it for her.

  Why? Why me?

  And even if he never found out on his own about Silk and what she did there, she could never go on like this with him without telling him the truth.

  She rose from the bed quietly and grabbed a hotel robe from the closet. She wandered over to a chair in front of the picture window and sat, pulling her knees up and tucking her feet underneath her. She was elated, brilliantly happy for the very first time in her life. Then she thought of Violet, and she was dumped right back into misery.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stared out the window at the glittering lights of the city when warm, strong arms wrapped around her from behind.

  “I fell asleep,” he murmured into her ear. “Before I got to find your other tattoos.”

  Her face broke into a devilish smile. “I’ll set up a scavenger hunt for you later. I do them for the kids all the time.”

  He leaned casually against the window in front of her. “Yeah? Hey, anybody else seen those tattoos?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

  His expression fell, and she smiled to herself. He was adorable when he was jealous. She’d seen jealous men before, more than once. But not one of them had ever made her feel like she was more important than the emotions jealousy stirred up inside them.

  “No,” he finally said. “Truth?”

  “Yes. Truth.”

  “I want to make you forget anyone who ever saw those tattoos, except for me.”

  “You already have,” she said honestly. “Since nobody has really mattered until you.”

  His expression softened to a level of sweetness that made her chest hurt. “Are we going to talk about where we are now?”

  She knew he wasn’t talking about their location, so she didn’t bother being a smart-ass about it. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “I’m hungry. Can we get a pizza?”

  He studied her, holding her gaze long enough to let her know that he knew she was avoiding an important conversation. She wished she could just fall into his arms and tell him that she was his.

  But she couldn’t do that, not without being a liar.

  “The universe has got to be shitting me. I’ve stumbled upon the only woman in a two-hundred-mile radius who gets hungry and asks for pizza?”

  She giggled. Reed had officially turned her into a giggler. God, what is happening to me?

  She had a fleeting, terrifying thought: she knew exactly what was happening to her. Oh, no. She’d never been the girl who dreamed about falling in love. She was the girl who dreamed about creating new, better circumstances for herself so that she could be free and independent. Stand on her own two feet.

  Where the hell had Reed come from?

  She pushed the three horrific little words out of her mind until she could pull them out later and really delve into what they might mean for her life. Or the sledgehammer they’d take to her plans.

  They lay on the bed in their robes, eating pepperoni pizza and watching cable TV until the wee hours, and then they were an unconscious tangle of arms and legs in the center of the plush, king-size bed. Hope drifted off to sleep to the sound of Reed’s steady heartbeat beneath her head, and the feel of his strong, secure arms surrounding her.

  She awoke to the memories of the previous night burning through her veins, and instinctively reached out to pull Reed closer. Frank’s voice and his ominous demand rang in her head, and she shivered. She wanted to feel Reed wrapped around her constantly until she had to finally set him free once and for all. But all she felt was cool sheets.

  Without opening her eyes, she listened. A soft thrum of something beautiful drifted toward her ears, a melancholy melody pouring from a guitar nearby.

  Reed was playing this morning, she immediately realized. She didn’t want him to stop, so she kept her eyes closed and just enjoyed waking up to the sound of his tune. She could get used to this in the mornings. She wouldn’t have to turn on a radio or a television. She’d barely need a cup of coffee if she could just wake up every day listening to Reed strumming away lovingly on his guitar.

  And then his voice echoed around her, and her eyes flew open.

  She hadn’t heard him sing since that first night at the club in Charleston. She’d thought he was good then, and that was before she knew him. Now, with his sandpaper-and-silk voice served up to her on a platter of very physical and intimate memories, she was completely spellbound.

  It was soft and hard simultaneously. He sang with a richness to his voice that suggested years of practiced tuning, yet there was a raw edge to it that told her he used his whole heart to pour out the meaning of the song.

  She sat up in bed and searched for him. He was sitting by the window, and the sunlight created a bright sparkle to bounce off of the glass-walled buildings surrounding them. He wore nothing but a pair of black jeans, and his bare foot was propped up on the window ledge before him as he stared down at his instrument. His sleep-disheveled hair wasn’t much of a departure from the messy look he usually sported, and his face was pensive, lips slightly pursed, eyelids heavy.

  He was beautiful.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and searched for her discarded robe. Putting it on, she padded over to the adjacent seat and perched on the edge of it. He looked up at her, his face breaking into a heart-shattering grin, and she gestured for him to keep playing. He did.

  When the final strains of his song faded away into the morning, Hope brushed a piece of his hair from his face. He leaned into her touch.

  “I missed you in bed right until I realized you were playing,” she said.

  His eyebrows lifted. “And then the missing me stopped?”

  She turned her face to a mask of stone, nodding solemnly. “Yes. I can survive mornings without you in my bed, but I clearly cannot survive mornings without your guitar from this day forward.”

  His jaw dropped open, and she laughed. “Okay. Maybe next time you should sit right next to me so that I can reach out and touch you while you serenade me.”

  He contemplated this, and she wanted to kiss the wrinkly spot created in the center of his forehead by his meeting brows. “Do you plan on spending many more mornings in my company, Miss Dawson?”

  She realized what she’d said then, and attempted to backpedal. “I mean…I don’t know. Not if you don’t want me to. We aren’t exactly next-door neighbors, so…I just meant—”

  His lips were suddenly on top of hers, shutting her up before she could continue her embarrassing stream of nonsense. All thoughts of the fact that she hadn’t yet brushed her teeth this morning, of the fact that she hadn’t even checked a mirror, about the fact that she should be a little self-conscious from all that they had done the night before, left her mind while his lips worked their magic on hers. He suggested, insisted really, that she open for his tongue, and she didn’t need much convincing. He plunged inside, sweeping across her teeth and lips, and she couldn’t stop the moan that cascaded out of her without much warning.

  His answering grunt as he reached inside her robe and pulled her closer nearly set her on fire. She was immediately slick with need, made more so when both of his hands found their first destination. He squeezed her breasts hard enough to coax a gasp from her, and then his nose was brushing the skin of her chest as he took one already-firm nipple into his mouth and sucked.

  “Oh, Reed.” Her voice was still raspy with sleep, and every muscle in her body tensed with desire for t
his man.

  He responded by letting his teeth graze her sensitive skin, and she dropped her head back against her chair, spreading her legs open wide as she released a loud cry.

  “Yes, baby,” he said, his voice rough while his hands dropped to her thighs. “That’s my girl.”

  His praise was strangely erotic; she wanted more and more of it. Tentatively, she scooted forward in the chair, perfectly aware that she was still wearing absolutely nothing beneath the plush white robe. She untied the belt and allowed the robe to fall open, exposing her body to him fully.

  “Ah, hell.” Reed licked his lips.

  Her pulse leaped while her lips curved into an excited smile.

  “Hope,” he said, his voice strained and firm. “You’re playing with fire this morning. Last night ruined me. You putting your body on display this morning is going to drive me insane. Are you saying you’re ready for more?”

  “Do I have to say it?” she said breathlessly, rubbing a hand up her bare stomach, past her little silver piercing, and up to cup her own breast.

  His eyes zeroed in on her hand, and he shot to his feet. Before she knew what was happening, he’d thrust her out of her seat and turned her around. Bracing one hand on her stomach and one hand on the windowpane in front of them, he murmured into her ear. His voice gave her a delicious shiver, and she could feel him, hard as a rock, against her backside.

  “You don’t have to say it,” he said. “But I want you to. I want you to say you want me to fuck you against this window, and then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Fuck me against this window, Reed.”

  He plunged into her so hard she cried out, and the intense feeling of him filling her up so deeply, so completely, had her legs trembling within seconds.

  Soft, gorgeous Reed sitting by the window strumming on his guitar had made her feel all warm and soft and cozy this morning when she awoke. But this Reed, this dark and slightly dangerous and bossy Reed made her want to do every dirty thing she’d ever thought about, slowly. To him, with him, for him.

  Oh, God.

  He eased out of her slowly, and then he pounded back inside, grabbing her hips and rocking them against his own with perfect precision.

  “Baby, do you wanna come?” he asked fiercely.

  “Oh, my God, yes!”

  It was more than the truth. She really did want to come. Her insides were pulsing and clenching, and a deep ache had settled in her depths that nothing was going to be able to soothe but Reed. She rocked back against him and he practically roared with his own blunt desire.

  He hissed through his teeth, and the sound sent a thrill of pleasure through her like she never thought she’d feel from hearing a man curse during sex. Everything about Reed and the way he made love to her was new, and scary, and invigorating. And damn sexy.

  His hand slid down her damp body until it was resting on her pelvic bone, and his middle finger found her sensitive clit. He rubbed firm circles around her hot center while she writhed and pleaded softly for him to stop, or continue, or something. But he was relentless, punishing her from behind and loving her from the front, and she couldn’t take it anymore. Her world fell, slid, crashed down around her and once again, their floor at the Four Seasons was introduced to Reed Hopewell in a big, loud way.

  “I love that,” he declared into her ear, softly now. He held her in place while she trembled all around him. “I fucking love it. My name falling from your mouth as you come is the best damn sound I’ve ever heard.”

  And then he crashed into her one last time, grunting with his own release and clinging to her with his strong arms circling her waist.

  They slowly sank to the floor in front of her chair. A wayward thought occurred to her, but she was far too exhausted and satisfied to bring herself to care.

  “I sure as hell hope those windows are tinted,” she murmured, spent.

  His chuckle tickled her ear. “I don’t.”

  Reed wanted to stay in the damn hotel room all day. He wanted to order room service and just give it to Hope over and over again until they fell asleep, and then he wanted to start over when they woke up.

  She was just that…addictive. He was crazily attracted to her before he’d actually had intercourse with her. He’d loved spending time in her presence, had damn near become a stalker just to be close to her and make sure she was okay.

  But now…now? Now that he knew how she tasted and what her ass looked like while he plunged inside of her from behind? Now that he’d memorized every curve of her naked body and knew how her flawless face looked while she screamed his name?

  Now he was gone. She could just go ahead and wrap him around her little finger, because he was completely hers. They had a little banter going, where one of them would say, “Truth?” and the other would respond in kind. And that was how he truly felt. He’d never been totally truthful with any female, especially not where feelings were concerned or about his family and his parents and the past.

  That was going to change. Now. Today. He owed it to Hope to be truthful about the baggage that he carried and the fact that he was fucked-up due to his mother cheating on his father more than once during their marriage. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust a woman completely, even one as perfect for him as Hope was. She deserved to know that he was broken inside, unable to commit because he was scared. Scared of what would happen when he finally decided to jump over that ledge with a woman and be her one and only. And claim her as his.

  Everything inside of him told him Hope was the one he could do it with, if there was one. He could share it with her, he could trust her. She wanted him, and only him. She wouldn’t betray him, and she’d understand where he was coming from because her upbringing definitely wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

  So he’d tell her, and he’d let her save him. Because it was time.

  He could see her from where he now stood in front of the microphone in the small, glass, soundproof booth. He wore large, black headphones and he sang with everything inside of him into the microphone as the producer outside the window gave him nods of encouragement and the occasional thumbs-up. He watched her while he sang, because he knew he’d never be singing to anyone but her ever again.

  “That was incredible, Reed,” said Phillip Castille as Reed took off the headphones and exited the sound booth. Phillip did something else with the board of switches and dials in front of him and nodded. “We got it, man. Three good cuts. You really wrote those yourself?”

  Reed nodded. He still hadn’t taken his eyes from the woman in the room, but he tore his gaze away and met Phillip’s grinning one. “I did. I’ve had a lot of inspiration lately.”

  “I can see that,” said Phillip with a knowing smile. “Keep her around, dude. You just killed it. There’s no way a label won’t want you.”

  Now Reed was incredulous. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely,” said Phillip. “I’m going to get these tracks packaged up and give ’em to the execs myself. They’ll probably kiss me for finding you.”

  Hope stood, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. “Congratulations, babe.”

  Babe. The first time she’d given him a term of endearment. Reed thought he could probably survive it if he jumped out the window right now. Surely he could fly if he tried.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He turned to Phillip. “So that’s it?”

  “Yeah, man. I’m going to send a car to your hotel in a few hours so y’all can experience ATL in style. You good with that?”

  Reed looked down at Hope, who nodded happily. “I think we’re good with that.”

  Twenty

  Hope stared down at herself, second-guessing letting Violet talk her into bringing the dress she now wore. She and Reed were going to go out in Atlanta tonight, and she just knew it was going to be all fancy clubs and velvet ropes. Violet had suggested she bring one of the dr
esses she normally saved for her weekend work for Silk. She agreed.

  But now she wasn’t so sure.

  The dress was black, and short, and tight. Ruching stretched across her hips and thighs, calling attention to the curvy lines. The dress was cut high, just at her collarbone, and had long, tight, lace sleeves. The entire back was open, dropping to her tailbone, and at the top of her shoulder blades a strip of lace fabric linked the two sides together. She tugged at the bottom, trying to create length where there was none. It stopped midthigh.

  “Thanks a lot, Violet,” she said softly into the mirror. “Let’s call attention to the fact that I’m practically a call girl.”

  She sighed. She hadn’t brought anything else suitable to wear. She was going to have to step out of this bathroom, and Reed would finally see straight through to the center of what she really was. Cheap. Easy. Wasn’t that how all men always saw her when she dressed this way?

  She opened the bathroom door, ready to face the music. Reed was sitting in his favorite chair by the window, staring out at the city while he spoke softly to Aston on his cell phone.

  “It was crazy, A,” he was saying. “Someone seriously thinks I’m good. Like…they might want me. On a record label.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  Hope stood there awkwardly, wanting desperately to turn and flee back into the safety of the bathroom. Or better yet, all the way back to the safely of Charleston. Where everyone already knew what she was.

  She cleared her throat involuntarily, and Reed turned his head.

  He rose out of the chair to a standing position, and snapped into his phone, “I gotta go.”

  He slid the phone into his pocket and stalked forward.

  “You can’t wear that. No fucking way, Hope.”

  “You….you don’t like it?”

  Of course he didn’t like it. He wouldn’t want to be seen with a woman who dressed this way. Reed could have anybody he wanted. She should have…

  “Really? You’re asking me that? Baby, I love the damn thing. All that black, your hair is up and all elegant and shit. Fuck-me heels. You can’t wear any of it outside of this room.”