When I Fall

by Tamara Morgan

  He could have watched her for hours, not touching, not thinking, just admiring this woman he intended to keep forever. But when she was down to nothing but a pair of floral-sprigged panties and a bra, she made a move for the necklace that hung around her neck.

  He sat up. “What are you—”

  “Hands behind your head.” She spoke with a severity he’d never heard from her before. A rising panic filled his throat as he realized she meant to take it off and tuck it in the drawer beside her bed. He knew this moment was important, that what she was asking of him was more than a physical release, but he couldn’t help but feel tricked. What if this was nothing more than an elaborate ploy to avoid getting the ring resized? What if she meant to take it off and never put it back on, using sex as a pretext?

  And what if he’d fallen for it?

  “This wasn’t part of the deal,” he said desperately. “I like the way it looks on you.”

  “Good thing this isn’t about you. It’s about me. It’s about us.”

  She slammed the drawer shut, her movements jerky as she climbed onto the bed and on top of him. He would have been lying if he said the sight of her, angry as she straddled his legs, didn’t fire his blood. That was the tiger he’d fallen in love with. That was the tiger he never wanted to lose.

  “If I want to take off that ring, I’m going to take off that ring. And you can glare all you want, but it’s not going to change the fact that I decide when I want to wear it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly.

  She flicked the clasp of her bra open and shrugged out of it, unleashing the full power of her sex-starved nipples, pulled tight against the waiting air. “And if I want to touch your cock, I’m going to touch your cock without waiting for you to demand it.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  There was no mercy in her grasp as she pulled the most sensitive part of his body like it was a stick shift. Long neglected and desperate for her touch, his erection felt as if it might burst under her cruelty.

  She leaned forward, her mouth hovering over his own. “And if I want to kiss you, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I like the way you kiss, but I like the way I kiss too.”

  He allowed his lips to fall open as she teased herself forward, her hands not stopping their relentless up and down movement on his cock, her nipples just brushing his chest, sending jolts of awareness through him.

  Her lips touched his briefly before pulling away again, teasing and taunting. If she was trying to prove that she was the one who could command the pace of their lovemaking, she’d more than succeeded—and for naught. He could have told her weeks ago that the sight of her smile alone was enough to have him falling to the ground in thanks.

  He wasn’t in any physical pain as she lifted herself up on her knees and reached back into the drawer, this time to extricate a packet of condoms. But he felt the strain of keeping his hands behind his head in ways that were foreign to him. It would have been easier if she’d restrained him, if she’d pulled out a playful set of handcuffs or used a pair of silk stockings to secure each hand. At least then there’d be a physical force holding him in place. His passive acceptance would be less of a choice and more of a game.

  As it was, he had to bite on the tip of his tongue to stop himself from running his hands all over Becca’s body. He wanted to take her breasts in hand, feel her nipples harden under his thumbs, rock her hips over his until their bodies fit perfectly together.

  “Hard, isn’t it?” she said, laughing. She tore the condom package open using her teeth as leverage, that gleam of pearly white so ruthless as to elicit a groan from him. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far, to be honest.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  She stopped her movements, hands suspended in midair, condom dangling to one side. “So am I, Jake. That’s the one thing you’ve never been able to understand.”

  Before he could ask what she meant by that, she brought the condom to his tip. Without gentling her actions in the slightest, she rolled the latex over the length of his cock, rough and squeezing, a low hum escaping her throat as she worked.

  “Christ, Becca.” He rolled his head back, fingers tugging at his hair to redirect some of the sensation from his groin. “You mean to do this thing properly, don’t you?”

  “You have no idea.” With another flash of her teeth, she lifted her body, neatly pushing her panties aside to reveal the soft pink flesh of her cunt. It looked warm and gleaming and exactly where he wanted to be right now. “Because when I want to fuck you...”

  “Yeah, yeah—I get it. When you want to fuck me, that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” He spoke with gritted teeth. “Believe me. I get the point. You win.”

  “You don’t get the point at all. I’m not trying to beat you at anything. I’m trying to make you realize that any power you have over me, you have because I give it to you. I don’t submit meekly to your protection because I don’t know any better. I do it because I trust you.”

  He didn’t move as she brought her body down to his. Agonizingly slow and somehow so fast his head whirled, her slick pussy grabbed the tip of his cock and teased it with its beckoning heat.

  Her hands braced each of his thighs as she looked down at him. “I do it, Jake, because I—” Her words were lost in a gasp as she brought herself the rest of the way down. The sudden change from yearning to possession rocked through him in so powerful a jolt he didn’t have the time or brainpower to wonder at the rest of her statement.

  “Oh, sweet fuck,” she cried, biting her lip. “It’s been too long since I’ve done this.”

  All of his promises to keep his hands behind his head fled at the pain in her voice, and he brought his touch to the taper of her waist, prepared to lift her off. “Are you hurt? Can I help?”

  “Just—” She released a shaky laugh. “Just give me a second.”

  Since she wasn’t demanding he put his hands back yet, he brought one to her face and cupped her gently, loving the way the sweet curve of her cheek fit so naturally in his embrace. He could have stayed that way for as long as she needed, but she got a seductive glint in her eye and let her mouth fall open enough to pull his thumb in. Hot and wet, her mouth wrapped around the digit the same way her body wrapped around his cock, and she started moving against him in a way that left no room for anything else.

  There was only the two of them, reduced to nothing more than this moment. He forgot all about pain and promises, lost instead in the overwhelming feeling of rightness that being with Becca caused. This was no hard and fast fuck to pass the time and make a statement. This wasn’t about pleasing himself or even about pleasing her. Sex with Becca was so much a part of his soul that he cried out in ecstasy long before his body reached its climax. And when he was finally unable to take another second of her softly mewling cries, her body’s undulations, the flare of her hips over and over again as she brought herself onto him, he realized he’d done the unthinkable and come before her.

  Never, in all his years of meaningless sex and meaningful sex and everything in between, had he left his partner anything but sated. Furious with himself and overwhelmed with the sudden urge to prove he could do this as many times as Becca needed to finish, he almost didn’t notice that Becca smiled and said, “Finally,” before she brought herself down onto his semi-erect cock one more time and fell into a cry of pleasure.

  He felt every cresting wave of her orgasm, acutely aware of where their bodies fit together. The pleasure that rocked through her felt better than his own had been—something he hadn’t thought possible.

  He hadn’t thought a lot of things possible, including the fact that she’d waited for him. She’d planned on fucking him until he had no choice but to lose himself inside her, and then—and only then—did she plan on letting herself go.

  Because she was the one i
n charge. Because he would be given the opportunity to protect her only when she allowed it.

  He almost laughed at how foolish he’d been all this time. How had he ever thought this woman was the one who needed him? Nothing he did or said or planned would change her. Nothing he demanded would make a difference in her life. She was the snake in his path, a pair of shackles he had to willingly slip on his wrists. If he wanted her, he had to earn her.

  “How’s the rib holding up?” she asked, rolling carefully off him and settling her naked body lengthwise against his. She took a moment to take her panties off, allowing him the full nudity he’d been denied until this moment.

  “It hurts.”

  She frowned into the muscles of his shoulder, where she’d buried her head. “Too hurt to make me dinner?”

  He turned carefully over and held her body to his. After dropping a kiss on her forehead, and her nose, and her cheeks, and spending a good five minutes on her mouth, he decided it was a good time to recover some of his lost ground.

  With any luck, he’d be spending the rest of his life trying to keep up with this woman.

  “Oh, I’ll make you dinner,” he promised. “But not until you put that goddamned ring back around your neck. And we’re still stopping at Piers’s to get it resized on the way back to the Manor.”

  She looked up at him, a playful smile on her lips. “Yes, master. But you have to promise me something in return.”

  “Anything.”

  “You have to stop blindsiding me with chivalry. No more surprises. I appreciate you bringing Max out to the Manor, and I think the deal you struck with Greg was brilliant, but enough is enough. I know it goes against every Virgo fiber that thrums in your body, but you have to let me have a say in my own life.”

  She was right, of course. The Rebecca Clare he’d come to know made mistakes, lots of them, but she willingly paid full price afterward. Her life was a constant balance of staying true to herself while facing the collective judgment of the media, her family, her friends, the world. She faced each night with a quiver of fear and got up every morning with a smile on her face.

  She was twenty-four freaking years old, and somehow the wisest and most innocent person he’d ever met.

  “I reserve the right to one more surprise,” he said, his throat tight. Her eyes flashed a warning, but he refused to give this last one up. It was too important. They’d come too far and been through too much. “The engagement party. I just need until then.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “It’ll be the last one, I promise.” And he pulled her close before either of them made the mistake of saying more.

  She’d given him power over her. She’d given him her trust. She’d given him her body.

  The only thing he had to give her in return was his name. He desperately hoped it would be enough.

  * * *

  Becca ended up asking that the ring’s setting remain intact. Piers, every bit the wizened old man she’d hoped he would be, applauded her decision, saying that nothing became a sapphire so well as a bed of precious stones that, though flashy and secure, would never rival it for beauty.

  She made the mistake of glancing at Jake when Piers said that, and the affectionate way he smiled snagged her heart and tore her open. It would have been a great opportunity for him to drop to one knee and propose for real this time, to promise that she could keep the ring forever, that the diamonds would always be there to protect.

  But he didn’t.

  And even though she knew it was silly, she didn’t breathe the entire way over the Whitestone Bridge. Although they wouldn’t get the ring back for a few days, she desperately hoped he’d pull another jerky stop in the middle, lifting her to the trunk of the car and declaring that his desire to take care of her went further, extended deeper, meant more.

  But he didn’t.

  “I had fun today,” she said as the car’s wheels left the bridge and returned to solid ground. “Too much fun. It’s going to be hard to get back to life as usual at the Manor. Pictures with Greg, an engagement party with all our friends in attendance...”

  He didn’t take the bait. “It’s only for another week, and then I think we can make our discreet exit.” He slipped his arm over the seat and rubbed the back of her neck, weakening her knees and her resolve. “Think you can make it that long, Love Muffin?”

  If you promise to never stop touching me like that? She could make it forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The entire week before the engagement party found Montgomery Manor full of guests, brimming with excitement and luggage and so much free-flowing alcohol Becca had to wonder if there was a distillery somewhere on the grounds.

  The high level of activity was exactly what she needed. While she was busy entertaining guests and helping friends find their way through the massive house, it was easy to pretend that everything was as it should be. She was floating on a sea of love and champagne, buoyed by the secret smiles Jake threw her way when she caught his eye across a crowded room. The only thing missing was a declaration of love and a ring.

  Mere details, really.

  And if she found herself sometimes wondering why they didn’t speak again about what happened in New York, she wasn’t selfish enough to bring it up. There weren’t very many things she’d been able to give Jake thus far in their relationship. Temporary lodging, a fledging love for the theater, a cracked rib. Allowing him the playing field—a chance to do things on his own, tightly wound Virgo terms—seemed the least she could do.

  She just wished she knew exactly what his tightly wound Virgo terms were.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have much longer to wait. The day of the engagement party had dawned clear and bright, and even her horoscope prophesized a good turnout.

  Aries (March 21–April 19): Today is one of those rare days in which your hard work becomes evident in a big way. Surround yourself with family and friends to make the most of it. Remember that alcohol has calories too.

  Madame Pernaud never told her to just sit back and enjoy herself. It almost felt like an omen.

  She blew out a long breath and examined the contents of the closet in Jake’s bedroom, where her clothes took up exactly half the space. For the first time in days, she was entirely alone, left to her own devices as she got ready for the evening. Her dress code requirements included nothing more than to look put together and happy, with an added bonus of hopefully driving her mother crazy.

  But it was so quiet in here. So empty. It was the first time in days she hadn’t been surrounded by other people, and she wasn’t so sure she cared for it. Her doubts had taken on a sonorous clang at the base of her skull, another one of those sneaky headaches she rarely saw coming.

  “There you are, you little bitch. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  The door to the bedroom flew open. Becca glanced up, only momentarily startled. She’d know that voice anywhere.

  “Livvie!” She tossed aside the dress she’d been considering and rushed to hug her friend. Her timing couldn’t have been better. “I didn’t know you were coming. We didn’t get an RSVP.”

  “Are you kidding?” she exclaimed, smiling widely. “I wouldn’t miss your engagement party for all the money in the world. I even got up at seven this morning to fly out here. That’s how dedicated I am.”

  Becca took a step back and glanced over her friend, taking in the short silver dress, smudged eyes and still-gloriously-waterfall-like hair. “Liar. You haven’t gone to bed yet.”

  She laughed. “Not true. I napped on the plane.”

  They fell into companionable chatter as Becca returned her attention to the closet. It was a familiar feeling, getting dressed and hearing about Livvie’s latest photo shoot, a pair of women unconcerned with anything but enjoying one another’s company. The ent
ire thing would have been perfectly normal if not for the sly looks and lengthy pauses Livvie tossed in every few minutes, as if waiting for Becca to fold.

  “So,” she finally said, once Becca had narrowed down her choices, her discarded dresses not quite tossed on the floor but piled semi-neatly on the bed. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Becca lied.

  “Good try, darling. This is either the most realistic fake engagement I’ve ever seen in my life, or you’ve been playing a deeper game than you let on. The papers have had nothing but nauseatingly sweet photos of you and Jake for weeks.”

  “You’re the one who told me to ride the positive publicity wave.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not pinning this on me. I meant for you to go to a few parties and get free shit. I didn’t tell you to go hang out with your families and wear matching sweaters on a hayride.” She took a dress from out of Becca’s hand. “And don’t wear this shade of pink. It washes you out.”

  “I know, but it’s the twenty-third. I received some advice that pink was my color for tonight, and I don’t dare contradict it.” She tugged the dress back and held it to her chest. If a girl couldn’t be superstitious on the day of her engagement party, when could she? She’d defied Madame Pernaud far too many times over the past few weeks. It seemed dangerous to push things any further.

  She stepped out of her yoga pants and slipped the fabric over her head. The dress was demurely cut across the top and flared in the skirt, fifties-style, though the cutaways on either side of her waist saved it from being too sedate. A Montgomery party this might be, but her name was still on the invitation.

  She only got as far as putting her arms through the sleeves before she lost it. “Oh, Livvie. What if I’m wrong about everything?”

  Livvie rose and came to her aid, tugging on the zipper and securing the fabric snugly into place. “It is still a fake engagement, then?”