Break My Fall (Falling #2)

by Jessica Scott

  "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so fucking sorry."

  I step to him then. The man beneath my hands is as hard as forged steel. Slowly, I slide my fingers over his cheeks until they slip around his neck. His hair is softer than any man's should be.

  He does not resist as I draw him closer, down until there is no space between us. No air, no light. No room even for the regrets that mark us both.

  It is a long moment before his arms slide around my waist. His fingers press into the small of my back and for a moment I feel utterly safe and protected.

  It is forever before either of us moves. If we live to be one hundred, I won't know. But there is a moment when everything shifts. When my arms around him cease being about comfort and morph into something more. Something dark and alive and pulsing with life.

  Heat floods me. I nuzzle the soft skin at the edge of his ear. His arms tighten around me and one of his hands drifts lower to squeeze my ass. I am aching and raw. This. This is need. This is want.

  He inhales sharply, then releases a quiet huff of breath on my neck a moment before his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin of my throat. I make a sound. It might be pleasure. It might be pain or a little bit of both. I arch against him–my hips to his, my neck exposed for his taking.

  I don't care that we are in public. I don't care that his hands are kneading and tight on my ass.

  All I care about is the tension in this man. The arousal pulsing through his body and into mine.

  "I want you naked," I whisper. Because I cannot be passive. Not even now.

  Whatever it takes.

  “You pick now to talk dirty to me?”

  I laugh and then I can no longer think. His body rocks slowly against mine. He cups my cheek and kisses me hard then, his tongue sliding against mine in a dark, sensuous caress. Telling me more in that moment than any words could ever hope to convey.

  I am lost in him. The fierceness of his kiss. The ragged need in every scrape of his teeth and stroke of his tongue.

  It is Josh who steps back. Who creates distance between us, a silence filled with rough breathing and the violent pounding of my heart.

  "We'll get arrested," he whispers against my mouth.

  "I can think of no one I'd rather have prison sex with."

  A laugh tears out of him. "We have got to work on your dirty talk."

  I cup his face and pull him close.

  Because after everything, I can't believe we are still standing.

  Chapter 26

  Josh

  Eli asks me to sit with Caleb for a while. For once, I am okay with it. I can't explain it. The dead space inside me feels a little less empty.

  The shame…the shame is not gone. I don't think it ever will go away completely.

  But there is something else crowding it out. Something pushing it away from the center of the space it occupies.

  Forgiveness. Tonight, in Abby's arms, I found a moment's peace.

  It won't last. It never does. Healing what ails me will take a lot more than getting hot and bothered in public.

  But hey, at least I got a little hot. That's always a plus.

  Caleb is fiddling with the tape holding the IV to his arm. He looks a hell of a lot better now that he's no longer dying. It always does something to the complexion, that whole not-dying thing.

  Finally he glances up at me. "So you and Abby, huh?"

  It's a desperate attempt at a normal conversation when we’ve never really had one before. I don’t even think to ask him how he knows her name.

  "Yeah."

  "She’s cute," he says quietly. I brace, waiting for him to comment about the color of her skin. Instead he says nothing.

  "Yeah, she is." I swallow the unexpected lump in my throat at the reminder of how I met her.

  "So what happened?" I finally ask.

  "I don't honestly fucking know." His words are sharp and biting. Not the defensiveness of a junkie hiding his latest fix. The anger of someone who screwed up and doesn't know how. "After we went out, I couldn't sleep. I kept drinking. And the next thing I know, I wake up here."

  My stomach twists. The memory is too fresh, too real, too close to a fucking disaster for me to pretend it doesn't matter. I rub my hands over my mouth. "Jesus."

  "Yeah. I fucked up." He rubs his hand over his face. His eyes are bleary and bloodshot.

  "I need a fucking drink," I mumble.

  "That makes you an alcoholic."

  "I'm only marginally less fucked up than you are." I flip him off.

  "I knew I liked you."

  I laugh and it silences the voice in my head for a moment. I notice him flexing his arm. I don't think he even realizes he's doing it.

  There's more to Caleb’s story; that's for damn sure. Then again, there's always more to our stories. At least, that's what I've always figured. The guys who won't talk about it are the ones who dealt with some shit.

  I tip my head toward Caleb. "I thought you were tied into the VA since you came home?"

  He shakes his head. "They keep canceling my appointments." But he looks down the street, away from where I'm standing.

  I don't push. Maybe I should. But I can't get past the noise in my head. And there's no room in my rucksack to carry any of the rocks from his.

  I've got my own wounds that are scabbing over.

  I grip his shoulder silently. There's really nothing I can say. Nothing appropriate, anyway.

  "You should talk to the doc."

  "I did. They gave me more meds." I can't take the pain away. But he can forget for a little while.

  "Sounds about right." He's waiting for a more extreme reaction from me. He's not going to get one. I'm all for whatever it takes to get by out here.

  "I can't function." He's braced. Waiting for judgment and condemnation. "I've been trying since I got home. I fucking can't do it."

  "So what's the problem? You're going to one of the top schools in the country and you're doing fine. I fail to see the problem here if you need a little help sleeping or managing the anxiety."

  Caleb doesn't answer. Not for a long moment. I'm not sure what rabbit hole he's gone down. All I can do is wait for him to come back up. No matter what. Because that's what we do. We stick. We don't fucking run out on people who matter to us. No matter how broken, how fucked up. We stand together. Shoulder to shoulder.

  I think that's the part I miss the most about being in. It's what I've been looking for since I got here.

  Caleb finally looks up at me. "I guess it's not okay if I have to spend the rest of my life liquored up just to go get out of bed every day." He pauses, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

  I look down at my hands. I can't help but wonder what I wouldn't trade to have a drinking problem and working dick.

  But I can't tell him that.

  Finally I glance up at him. "I can't tell you what the right thing to do is." I press my lips together, hoping I've got the right words. "But whatever you decide, me and Eli and the guys…we’ll be here."

  He nods. And yeah, I get it. People don't know what it's like to have a family like the one you get in the Army. The people who will drop everything and fly halfway around the world if you need them.

  Or who will sit in a hospital with you as you try to figure out if you're going to take the red pill or the blue pill.

  Abby

  The rain is falling outside, sparkling sheets of grey in the street lamps. I’m sitting with Graham in the waiting room…just waiting for whatever comes next.

  "What are you thinking?"

  I look up at Graham’s cautious question.

  "I don't know."

  "After all of this, Josh better be worth it." He pauses. "Or else I'll have to kill him."

  "I think he is." I swallow and look over at him. "But it hurts. And I don't think love is supposed to hurt like this." I lean against him, resting my cheek against his shoulder.

  "How the hell did I end up like this, Graham? I wanted a nice, normal, well-adjusted guy
and instead I end up with a former soldier. There's nothing I can do to fix things. There's nothing I can do to make it stop. I'm just stuck on a treadmill to nowhere with the men in my life."

  "He went to war, honey." He squeezes my hand. I can't believe Graham is defending him but there you go. "He's allowed to be a little messed up."

  "I love him," I whisper. "I want to keep loving him." I cover my mouth with my hand. "But what if that’s not enough?"

  He hugs me close. He can't protect me from this and he can't make my decisions for me. "I don’t know."

  I should be happy that Josh and I are talking. And I am. I really am.

  But I am terrified that I know how this story ends.

  Josh steps into the waiting room. He looks ragged and tired. There are dark bruises beneath his eyes. Shadows there, looking back at me. Graham squeezes my shoulder. “Go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  I am rooted to the floor as Graham steps out of the waiting room.

  It's far too easy to cross the small space to where Josh is standing. To slide my arms around his waist. To feel his arms tighten around my shoulders, and breathe in the warm smell of his skin.

  "Come home with me?" A simple, loaded question. One that I may regret. One that I can't resist.

  "I'm afraid." His voice is a quiet rumble beneath my cheek.

  "I know."

  I tip my chin up and draw his mouth down to mine. I don't care that we are in a public place. I need to feel his mouth on mine, to remember what it's like to feel his touch, his taste. I need to feel alive and Josh is the only one who can do that for me.

  His tongue slides against mine as his fingers curl around my neck. My belly tightens. I press against him, needing, wanting. He lowers his forehead to mine. "I'm sorry. So goddamned sorry."

  I breathe deeply, trying to keep my heart from breaking in my chest. "Me too."

  We stand there a moment, until a nurse asks us to move. He twists his fingers in mine and we step out of the light and into the darkness.

  But we are together.

  And that makes all the difference in the world.

  Chapter 27

  Josh

  I shouldn't have come home with her. I should walk away and leave her and never look back.

  I stand there in the entrance to her apartment. I will only hurt her. It's what I do.

  But I cannot walk away. Not tonight.

  Because I am afraid to be alone.

  I can't breathe. I can't see.

  "Josh."

  I stop. It hurts. Christ this hurts.

  She wraps her arms around my waist and simply holds me. She is strong and solid and real, more real than the pain squeezing my heart and threatening to cut off air to my lungs.

  I want to turn and wrap my arms around her but I am frozen. She is all I can feel, the center of my world. Her hands rest over my heart and for a moment, I am whole again.

  When I can move, I rest my cheek against her hair, reveling in the soft, cool curls against my skin. She smells warm and sweet and like the brief moment of sunlight in the darkness of my world. I need this. I need her and I cannot muster the words I need to tell her that. To beg her not to turn away from me.

  Not to leave me alone.

  Not tonight. Not when the demons are circling, reminding me of everything that I've done and failed to do in this life.

  If there is a hell, I'm living in it.

  Because now I can remember what it felt like to get hard. To feel aroused by the beautiful woman in front of me.

  And now there is nothing again. No signs of life between my legs.

  She reaches for me, penetrating the loneliness that blankets my skin like a shield. Her fingers slide beneath my shirt. They're warm, stroking over my skin.

  Promising something that can never be.

  I grab her wrists. Gently, so gently. "There's nothing there, Abby."

  She twists her wrists free, her fingers tracing over my abdomen. I shiver beneath her touch. She arches into me, rubbing her hips against mine in a forgotten rhythm. "I want to feel you," she whispers against my lips. "Skin to skin." She brushes her lips over my mouth, nipping my bottom lip. "Lie with me?"

  Fear is a powerful thing. But the idea of curling around her, pulling her body flush against mine, the softness of her skin against mine…it's a powerful temptation.

  And it's harmless.

  I cup her face in my hands and kiss her then, pouring everything I cannot say into that kiss. Slowly, she pulls me toward her bedroom. It is her space and I am filling it, taking it over.

  She is consuming me. Her fingers slide my t-shirt over my head. I stand there, exposed and vulnerable. I can't remember the last time I removed all of my clothing in front of a woman. My gut clenches tight as her fingers flip open the button of my jeans. She nibbles on my bottom lip as she drags her nails across my hips, pushing my pants down with the back of her hands.

  I close my eyes as the air kisses my cock. She presses her lips to my hip bone. I fight the urge to thread my fingers through her soft, curly hair. God, but the idea of her on her knees in front of me drives me a little bit insane.

  Instead, I fist my hands by my sides. Letting her take the lead. Letting her do what she likes.

  I step from my pants. I am naked. And she steps away from me. Light filters in through the blinds. Light slices over her skin, an erotic dance as she slowly, so slowly, slides her hands up her own hips. Over her ribs where she catches the hem of her blouse and slides it up, slowly, over her skin.

  Inch by glorious inch, she exposes herself. Her skin is bathed in soft shadows and light, a dark, dusky softness I want to taste.

  I move to her. Drop to my knees. Her skin is soft and warm beneath my touch. I press my lips to her belly. Lick her a little, all while watching her. Her golden eyes darken a little. Her lips part. I love watching her. Doing this to her.

  It doesn't matter that nothing works for me. It only matters that she feels. That she arches beneath my mouth, my tongue. Her fingers slide over my scalp.

  I rest my head against her belly for a moment. Just a moment. I savor the feel of her pulse beneath my cheek. I drag her slacks down over her hips and legs and then she is as naked as I am.

  "You're so beautiful." I draw her down against me.

  She is soft where I am hard, smooth where I'm rough. I feel the heavy weight of her breasts against my chest, her belly against mine. Her neck is warm beneath my lips, her pulse hammering against my lips. "Lie down," I whisper.

  She tries to draw me down with her. I shake my head. "On your belly."

  She arches one eyebrow. I kiss her softly. "Trust me."

  She swallows, then turns slowly, so slowly, away from me. Watching me as she crawls onto the bed, her body exposed and open for me.

  She lowers her shoulders, leaving her hips arched high. For a moment I can imagine standing behind her, sliding into her where she is warm and tight. I can almost feel her body pulsing around my cock as I slip deeper inside her.

  It is a fantasy I would kill to fulfill.

  Instead, I run my hands over the smooth curve of her ass, then urge her down, lower, until her hips are pressed into the bed.

  I want to hold her. To savor her.

  But that will never be enough.

  I lean forward and press my lips to the small of her back at the center of her spine.

  And shatter a little more.

  Abby

  I shiver the moment his lips touch my spine. I can't help it. There is something illicit about his hands caressing my hips and his mouth just there in the small of my back.

  His breath is warm against my skin, a stark contrast to the comforter that suddenly feels too rough. I don't usually notice the air, but tonight, I can feel every stir of it against my flesh.

  His legs have trapped me. Rough and hard, they're pressed to the outside of my thighs. I press mine against his, trying to spread them, a silent offering.

  He makes a noise, deep in his throat. His pa
lm is hard on the curve of my ass, sliding down over my skin, achingly close to the place I want him to touch me. To fill me.

  He urges my thighs apart, just a little. The cool air kisses me where I'm wet and hot. His hands slide over my inner thighs, closer, closer. I arch a little more, begging silently. He brushes a single fingertip over the seam of my body. I can feel the slickness there and I want him, any part of him, inside me.

  I make a sound, a whisper. A plea. I don't know any more. I can't say. I am lost in sensation as he teases me. His lips, his fingers. He's driving me closer to the edge. Closer to coming, all without touching me where I need him to touch me.

  "Please." I'm not above begging now.

  But he simply makes that noise again, his palm sliding closer then further away. Close again, a single finger teasing me, just along the edge. My thighs are wet now, my entire body alive with sensation. Pleasure.

  My fingers twist in the comforter.

  And all the while, he simply slides his fingers closer, away. His lips trace small bites over my shoulders, the blades of my back, while his fingers tease me. He nuzzles my hair out of the way.

  And then he moves. All at once. He bites down on the edge of my neck where I am soft and sensitive while he fills me. Two fingers slide inside my body–finally, finally.

  I shatter. I come apart at the edges, rocking against his fingers as he moves them inside me, touching me where I need him so desperately. The orgasm rockets through me again and again, twisting me apart, dragging me under until I forget everything–all the hurt, all the pain, everything but Josh. Josh's lips. Josh's fingers. His big body surrounding me until I am lost.

  Drifting and silent, my body hums. His fingers are inside me, moving slowly, guiding me slowly, slowly back to earth. To my bedroom.

  To him.

  When I am no longer vibrating, when my body no longer shudders as his fingers fill me, he slips them gently from my body. I try not to notice the emptiness now.

  And then he pulls me against him, his chest to my back, his thighs cradling mine, his arms surrounding me.