Free Falling (Falling Novella Series Book 2)

by Shirl Rickman

  “Do you want to come up?” I ask, although I’m afraid of her answer. She nods, and we walk up the steps together. I don’t let her go until we get inside as if my hand on her wrist was keeping her from leaving me.

  We remain silent as we walk up the two flights to my loft, even as I unlock the door and push it open. Neither Rosie nor I says a word when I gesture for her to go in ahead of me, or when I close the door behind us. I watch her walk deeper into the light, airy one-room apartment. It’s about nine hundred square feet of open space. The colors are masculine, light gray and blue hues. The area I deem my bedroom is separated from the rest of the room by a large, wide-cubed bookshelf, filled with all of my favorite books and framed photos of my family and me. In all the months Rosie and I slept together, she never once stepped foot into my apartment. I always met her downstairs, but never brought her up. We always spent time in her apartment.

  Having her here feels right. Her eyes roam over every inch of the room; I regard her expression as she does this, noticing the way she pauses to gaze at certain things. I feel vulnerable because this isn’t just the first time Rosie has been here, but it’s the first time any woman has been here. She’s seeing a private side of me that only my family or close friends know.

  My eyes never leave her face as I try to determine if I can let myself trust her. She was on a date. A date. And although I know I have no right to be upset by this, I am. I’ve been missing her, and she was on a date.

  “You were on a date. With him,” I announce, my voice more accusing than I intended, but unable to help myself.

  She turns to face me, a sardonic smile on her face. “Are you serious?” Her hands go to her hips.

  Between the bitter look on her face and the disconcerted tone to her question, I feel myself go on the defensive. I know it’s irrational.

  Taking a step toward her, my voice raises a little. “Yes, I’m serious. You were on a date with that Travis guy.”

  Her face turns a pretty shade of red as she steps toward me. We’re almost toe to toe. “And…and you were on a date with that girl!” I’ve never heard Rosie raise her voice, but I can see her hands are shaking.

  “I wasn’t,” I retort. “I ran into her, and we sat down for no more than fifteen minutes catching up. She’s friends with my brother. But you were! You were on a date.”

  “You weren’t on a date?” she says, a little less force behind her words.

  “No. I wasn’t,” I repeat.

  “I was. Sort of,” she says. “He called and asked me to coffee. It was harmless. I…”

  I inch a little closer to her. “Rosie?” I say her name like a question. It’s barely a whisper from my lips. Her eyes gleam with a hint of moisture. I feel guilty all over again.

  “I saw you…and that girl. I couldn’t think, and I just left him. I left him and ran after you. I can’t think clearly anymore, Drew.” I’m standing so close to her now that she has no choice but to look up at me.

  “I miss you, Rosie, and it kills me to see you with someone else,” I confess. My hand goes up and cups her face. She closes her eyes and leans into my palm. Her skin is soft and cool to the touch. “I know I have no right, but I miss you.”

  Pivotal moment number two happened at the most unexpected time. Maybe I wasn’t prepared for it because I’ve never had one. A morning after. I almost didn’t leave. Part of me didn’t want to leave her lying there. Alone. But I did leave. The morning after…

  My eyes flash open, and I find myself staring up at an unfamiliar clock on the wall.

  Rosie.

  It’s six thirty in the morning. I stayed all night. I know I agreed to stay, but that was before…

  My heart races at the thought. I never stay. I resist the urge to jump out of bed because I know Rosie is asleep next to me. I can feel her curled up at my back. I can feel her warmth against my skin. Her scent and the smell of sex linger in the air around us.

  For a moment, I want nothing more than to stay here next to her in all the places I touched her only hours ago. But I can’t. I’m not that guy. I shouldn’t be here still. Slowly, I lift myself out of bed, then quickly gather my clothes, putting them on quietly so not to wake her, and heading for the door.

  When I touch the doorknob, I stop.

  Motionless.

  I take six deep breaths, fighting against these unwanted feelings Rosie has stirred within me. I know I’m an asshole for leaving like this, but she knew. She knows. I told her. It was part of our agreement.

  No strings.

  No commitment.

  No sleepovers.

  Just sex. This is the deal she made. The problem is I can’t seem to walk away.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I turn back to where I left Rosie sleeping soundly. As I quietly approach her, I see the soft rise and fall of her chest. It sends a chill over my skin. Unable to resist the need, I reach out and lightly brush the hair from her face. She’s beautiful. I’m so damn scared of screwing up and hurting her.

  Again, the uneasy feeling I had before fills my chest until I’m nearly gasping for breath. I take three quick steps back. I turn and leave without another glance.

  This.

  Was.

  The.

  Deal.

  Opening her eyes, she looks into mine. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  Those words, her sweet scent, and her soft skin are all it takes me to forget everything else I had planned for when I had her standing before me again. All thoughts other than touching her, kissing her, leave my mind.

  Sliding my hand from her cheek and into her hair, I tug gently, tilting her face up to align with mine before my lips crash against hers. She tastes just as I remember. It’s everything I’ve longed for over the last few weeks.

  Rosie doesn’t resist me; she opens to me, and I pull her closer, deepening our kiss.

  Her hands move around my waist and under my shirt, clawing their way up my back. She holds on to me so tightly, it’s impossible for us to get any closer. I pull my mouth away from hers and search her eyes for any sign she doesn’t want this too. There isn’t anything there other than pure desire. Joy surges through me, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Then it’s gone because I only want to touch her, and it seems she only can think of touching me. Our movements become more frantic, each of us pulling at the other’s clothes until every piece is lying on the floor.

  We’re kissing again, my mouth devouring hers, making up for every day I haven’t kissed her.

  Rosie wraps her legs around me as I lift her by the waist and walk us around the bookcase to my bed, never breaking our kiss. My hands cup her round, tight ass as she plunges her tongue deeper into my mouth. Her eyes open and look into mine. Normally, I’d feel uncomfortable with the way she’s watching me, but instead, I savor the familiarity of the trust I see there. It’s something I thought I had completely lost.

  When we reach the edge of the bed, I set Rosie on her feet.

  Her eyes trail down my body. Taking her time, she moves her fingertips along every plain, every muscle of my torso until she reaches my thighs. A chill runs over my skin, her touch is enough to bring me to my knees. She’s just about to take me into her hands, but I stop her.

  “My turn,” I whisper. “I won’t be using my hands, though.”

  Leaning forward, I press my lips to the soft skin of her collarbone and slowly pepper kisses across her skin, between the cleft of her perfect breast, to the opposite shoulder, then continue my way down. When I reach the flat area of her stomach around her belly button, Rosie releases a low moan, letting me know it’s affecting her just as much as it is me to have my lips on her. I don’t stop, placing my lips on the inside of both of her inner thighs, my tongue leaving a trail to her most sensitive area. Just before I reach her core, I hear her release another soft sigh, full of anticipation. My mouth invades her wetness, her thighs clenching around my head as I push my tongue deeper. She tastes so good; I have a hard time staying still from t
he throbbing hardness between my legs. Satisfying her brings me so close to the edge, I nearly explode. When she starts screaming my name and pulling me close, I almost can’t take it. Then she gasps my name one more time.

  I place one last kiss there before standing up; her eyes are closed.

  “Open your eyes, Rosie,” I demand gently. She acquiesces my request. Her eyes shine with a want that mirrors my own. “I’ve missed you.” I know I’ve already told her this more than once, but I’ve never told a woman this before. And I haven’t felt this way in ten years. It means something.

  Dipping my head, I kiss her—a gentle, deliberate touch of my lip—before taking it deeper as I lay her back onto the bed and move over her.

  When I look down into her eyes, she’s gazing back at me. “Drew, I’ve missed you too,” she tells me, her voice quiet. Timid. Maybe even a little scared, but I’m going to show her what she means to me and hopefully take that fear away.

  Turning to my nightstand, I pull the drawer open, taking out a condom. As I put it on, I glance over at her lying on the bed. She’s peering at me beneath her lashes, her breathing becoming more erratic as I roll the condom down my shaft. When I’m hovering over her once more, our mouths are pulled together again by some magnetic force between us. I can’t get enough of her, and I know she’s ready for me.

  As I position myself between her legs, I wait until she opens her eyes. She looks up, putting her hands on my ass, suddenly pulling me forward at the same time I push into her. We both gasp the other’s name at the connection, a desperation to be as close to one another as possible. Once we’re fully connected, we pause, panting with need but unwilling to move, savoring this moment when we’re one.

  When it’s impossible to wait any longer, we both begin to move, her tightness clenching around me, building the pleasure with each movement. I try to take everything she has to offer and give her the same in return. I’m panting her name over and over until I’m unsure I’m still speaking out loud.

  Without pulling out of her, I roll us over until Rosie is positioned above me.

  Giving her control, Rosie never misses a beat. She moves slowly at first then faster until we’re both coming apart and she’s falling against my chest. My name leaves her lips in an almost incoherent sigh against my chest.

  After a few minutes, and once our breathing returns to normal, Rosie moves off of me and to my side. I reach the side of the bed, discarding the condom in the wastebasket next to my nightstand.

  Rolling back over, I notice Rosie hasn’t moved, so I put an arm around her and pull her against me. I place a kiss on the side of her head. “Rosie, I know I keep saying it, but I mean it…I missed you so much,” I tell her again.

  She pulls my hand from her midsection up to her mouth and places a kiss on my palm. “Me too, Drew,” she reveals again. “So much. But I’m still scared.”

  God, I don’t want her to be afraid of us. Of me. Can’t she see it? Feel it?

  Instead of saying anything, I place another kiss to her temple and pull her tighter against my chest. I don’t know how long it is before we’re both sound asleep.

  Without opening my eyes, I inhale deeply, smelling the aftermath of our lovemaking. It surrounds me, and I feel the excitement moving through me all over again. A wide, toothy grin spreads across my face as I reach over to pull Rosie over to me.

  I come up empty. I quickly sit up in bed, looking around.

  I’m scanning the single open room of my loft. The only room I haven’t checked is the bathroom, but I know without looking she’s gone. Rosie left. I left her once. Is this what it felt like? It’s like someone punched me in the gut, knocking the breath from me. Walking to the window, I look out, catching a glimpse of the few early risers on the streets through the light, foggy morning.

  I feel sick. Not only because of the ache in my heart, but also over the idea I have done this to Rosie. More than once. I hurt her and now I’m hurting. I’m going to have to live with it, just as she did. But, before I do that, I’m going to need a minute.

  One minute. Damn. One minute won’t be enough, but it will have to do. For now.

  I place my hand against the cool glass and try pushing the hurt I feel out. Forty-five seconds to remember I made this bed so I have to lie in it. I said no strings. Thirty seconds to accept the fact I pushed her away. To understand I’m the reason she is scared. Is hurting still. Fifteen seconds to recognize that I’m the only one who can fix this mess I put us in. It’s not up to Rosie or anyone else to fix it. Just me. Five seconds to wallow in the fact for one night I thought maybe she’d accepted I care about her, and we could move forward. To accept it isn’t and shouldn’t be that easy for the two of us to move forward. It will take more than a few “I missed yous” and incredible sex for her to know without a doubt I’m hers. It’s going to take a whole hell of a lot more. With no acceptance seconds left, I back away from the window, wipe my eyes, and head for the shower.

  I’m not the Drew I thought I wanted to be. I’m not capable of letting Rosie slip away from me. She deserves more. I deserve more.

  Although there’s no one to hear me, my voice echoes through the room when I say, “I’m not that Drew anymore. I’ll prove it.”

  Walking up to the front door, there’s only one person I want to speak to right now. When I called earlier, Dad said he’d be leaving, but Mom would be home.

  When I reach the door, I raise my hand to knock, but the door swings open before I even touch it.

  “Andrew, honey. What’s going on?” My mom doesn’t even wait for me to get in the house. She just cuts right to the chase. She has always had a way of knowing when something is bothering one of us. It’s the reason I’ve avoided her and my dad for the most part since Parker’s birthday party.

  She has perspective. A keen ability to stand on the outside of the situation and guide you to make the decision you’re meant to make. All without insinuating her feelings on the matter—it’s her specialty.

  I lean in to hug her, and she pulls me tight against her. It’s been a while since I let her hold me like this, reminiscent of when I was a kid. “Mom. How are you?” I say, my voice muffled against her.

  Pulling back, she looks at me like I’m insane and slaps me on the shoulder as she closes the door behind us. “Andrew Nallen, you did not come here to talk about me, so let’s quit avoiding what you obviously need to talk about with me.” Right to the point as usual.

  She leads me into the kitchen, setting a coffee cup on the bar, in front of one of the stools. I take a seat when she turns, pouring coffee into my cup, then into the one she pulled out for herself.

  “So what’s happening, honey? Parker didn’t want to say anything when I questioned him, although he led me to believe it has something to do with a girl.” She takes a sip of coffee then continues, “I worry about you.”

  “Mom, you can stop worrying. It’s nothing that bad, I just…” I tell her, but then she interrupts.

  “Don’t tell me to stop worrying. I’m your mother, and I’ll always worry. You just never been the same since La—”

  This time, I interrupt her. “Don’t. This situation with Rosie has nothing to do with her.” I can’t even say her name. A rush of memories fills my mind.

  “I’m Laura,” she introduces herself. Her voice is nice, soft.

  “I’m Drew,” I respond. I look her over. She’s pretty. Sweet. I’ve been talking to her for the last five minutes, and we’re only just now getting around to introducing ourselves, the crowd of the party around us. It’s the first party I’ve attended so far during my sophomore year at UCSC. I’ve been trying to stay focused on my grades.

  Laura smiles. It brightens her eyes. She reaches her hand out and runs it down my chest.

  She’s a little more forward than I’m comfortable with, but I’m a guy, and it does something to me when she smiles.

  I see Parker making his way across the room toward me. He has that irritated look like someone pissed him off,
so I think fast because I know he’s going to be ready to leave.

  “Well, Laura, my brother is headed this way and looks like he’s ready to leave. So I’m going to ask you out. Do you want to go out with me sometime?” I ask her, Parker only five feet from me.

  She grabs me and presses her mouth against mine in a quick, passionate kiss.

  “Yeah, I think I’d like that, Drew,” Laura replies, licking her bottom lip.

  After we exchange numbers and I walk away, two voices are talking to me, one with a real brain warning me to be careful, and the other telling me to enjoy myself.

  My mom lays her hand over mine. “Andrew, every action and decision you’ve made when it comes to your personal life since you were nineteen years old has had to do with Laura.”

  “Mom…” I start to disagree.

  “No, Andrew. It’s true. We’ve all watched you detach from the person we’ve always known. Of course, not toward us. We recognize in this aspect you’ve remained the same, but in your personal life and decisions, Andrew, you changed. It has been a struggle to mind my own business because you’ve always been the one out of all your brothers with the biggest capacity to love. Instead, I left you alone. We all left you alone, hoping one day you’d stop being a game boy.”

  “A game boy?” I question, laughter leaving me on the end of my question.

  “Yeah, you know, Kelsea always calls you a game boy. A guy who won’t commit to one girl and is a serial dater,” she explains, taking another sip of her coffee.

  A loud, boisterous laugh escapes me. I laugh so hard my insides hurt.

  “I don’t know why you’re laughing; I didn’t say it. Kelsea did, and it wasn’t a compliment.” She sounds a little offended I’m laughing at her.

  Finally, I gain a little composure. “Mom, I love you. It’s called a playboy. Kelsea calls me a playboy, not a game boy.”