The Harder You Fall

by Gena Showalter

  Okay, okay. Good. Only one left.

  "You can do it," West called. "They are more afraid of you than you are of them."

  "Liar!" But she took a tentative step toward the second minion.

  It wasn't afraid of her. It raced toward her.

  Playing chicken? He won! With a screech, she sprinted into the corner. The murderous creature veered at the last second, disappearing under the sink.

  She threw the jar at West, then threw herself into his arms.

  He wrapped those arms around her, holding her tight. "There, there, kitten. You survived all on your own. You're going to be okay, and I'm here to offer comfort."

  "You are such a jackass! We'll both be dead by morning. You want to know why? Because you set them loose, and now they're hiding, waiting for the perfect time to strike. While we're sleeping!"

  He chuckled. "You are so precious to me, kitten. You are the best part of my life, and for the first time, I'm grateful for my past. It brought me to you. It prepared me for you, shaped me into the man you needed me to be. I love you."

  She gasped up at him, the spiders momentarily forgotten. "You--what?"

  "I love you."

  This couldn't be happening. But the truth shined from him in so many ways. The way he held her. The way he touched her. The way he spoke to her. The way he looked at her. The way he took care of her. The way he refused to give up on her.

  "I love you more than any man has ever loved a woman."

  This was happening.

  "I love you, too," she whispered. The emotion swelled inside her, a beautiful deluge. "I love you and I like you, and I thank God you came along and showed me the pure, undiluted joy of being with a man who sees a future with me rather than a moment." A man who respected her and delighted in her. A man who held each of their encounters close to his heart.

  He went still, even seemed to stop breathing. "You love me?"

  "With all my heart. But the more amazing fact is that I still like you after you unleashed a horde of spiders."

  "There were only two."

  "Like a said, a horde."

  "We'll hunt them together."

  "No. You'll do it alone."

  He squeezed her tight and, with a whoop, spun her around. A laugh escaped him. A genuine, no-hint-of-misery laugh and oh, it was a lovely thing. "I like you, too. So much. I'm addicted to you. You are my drug of choice, kitten, and you have made me the happiest man in existence."

  Could life get any better? "What's your new schedule?"

  "To always do everything in my power to make you happy."

  "This, you diabolical fiend, is the perfect start."

  "And..." He dropped to one knee in front of her and held out a silver bolt that matched the bracelet he'd made her. "I want to marry you. I want to give you my last name and spend the rest of my days being happy with you."

  Her hands formed a steeple in front of her mouth. "Lincoln."

  "Say yes."

  She didn't need to think about it. "Yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I'm going to marry you and one day, I'll even have your babies."

  "I'm thinking four."

  "I'm thinking two."

  "Three."

  "Two. And I'm going to love and like you all the days of your life--but just not inside this house. Forget the spider hunt. We're burning this place to the ground!"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  BEST. NIGHT. EVER.

  Jessie Kay glanced at her ring for the millionth time. She hadn't stopped smiling since West slid the one of a kind beauty on her finger.

  To his chagrin, she'd opted to call her sister rather than jump into bed with him after he'd found and released the spiders into the wild. A girl had to prioritize.

  Brook Lynn had screamed louder than Jessie Kay had when the spiders rushed her. Then her sister had proceeded to invite everyone in town to the farmhouse for a New Year's slash engagement celebration.

  West, true to his vow to lighten up, had taken things in stride. He'd called Daniel, who would be patrolling the property with his crew all night, and let him know the change of plan. Now the spacious farmhouse overflowed with guests.

  Brook Lynn, Harlow and Kenna beamed at her from across the living room.

  Sunny Day gave her a shoulder bump. "Congrats, hooker. You suck for leaving me in the dust."

  Mr. Porter and Mr. Rodriquez gave her a thumbs-up. They even took a moment to pat West on the back.

  Mr. Porter said, "You got lucky, boy. Hope you know that."

  "I do, sir."

  "And if he ever forgets," Jessie Kay said, "I'll make sure to remind him."

  Pearl from the flower shop gave her a hug. "I knew that man was crazy about you the moment he put together your bouquet. Not many guys do that, you know."

  Edna and Carol approached Jessie Kay and West with huge smiles.

  "I'm happy for you, but truth be told, I'm mostly happy for myself," Carol said, her cheeks flushed. She held a bottle of expensive champagne. That she guzzled. "I've had to fend off six advances tonight."

  "We've had to fend off six advances." Edna claimed the bottle and took a swig. The two women were adorably round but pushing the softer side of sixty.

  "Virgil is looking this way," Carol said, giggling behind her hand. "Do you think he'll pinch my bottom again and make it an even seven?"

  "Let's walk by him and find out!"

  And then the two were off.

  "When can we kick everyone out?" Jessie Kay asked West. Only two hours till midnight. She wanted her fiance--her fiance!--in bed and naked so they could ring in the New Year with more than a kiss.

  Start the way you want to end, Momma used to say.

  "How about we ditch and make out in my old room?" West nipped her ear and whispered, "I've got a private celebration penciled in our schedule."

  Shivers danced through her as he led her down the hall, unlocked his bedroom door--had to keep unwanted guests out somehow--and dragged her inside the room. Rather than throwing her onto the bed, he took her into the bathroom. The odor of smoke was gone, the walls brand-new, the black-and-white floor tiles gleaming.

  "I want you," she said.

  "You want, I procure. Always."

  "Well, it's no wonder I love you and like you so much."

  He turned on the shower--to mask the sounds they would make, she suspected--and picked her up to place her beside the sink. He parted her legs, pushed between them and had her jaw in his hands a moment later, his grip firm but gentle.

  "You were right before, you know. I let Monica come between us. I let fear destroy the good thing we had going, and I'm sorry."

  She combed her fingers through his hair. "I understood your caution. And I know I need a monster slayer at my side if there's a monster out to get me, but I also need my man."

  "I'm your man," he said, and smiled slowly.

  "You better be. I'm wearing your ring."

  He grinned at her. "Tomorrow I'll be wearing your name."

  "Seriously? You're going to get my name etched into your flesh?"

  "Why not? It's already etched into my heart." Then his lips were on hers, pressing firmly, demanding fiercely, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, taking up the reins of control.

  She moaned with satisfaction, with pleasure and need, his masculine taste teasing her, revving her desire for him higher. It wasn't long before the tether to her own control snapped. In seconds, she was flooded by all-consuming arousal and heat, desperate to have this man, this precious man, deep inside her. It didn't matter that a party raged just beyond the doors or that her sister or Harlow could be looking for her, or Jase and Beck could be looking for West. Or that, when they couldn't be found, everyone would know where they were and what they were doing.

  "Naked," she rasped out, pulling at the hem of his shirt. When the material cleared his head, she tossed it aside. "Now."

  He gave her shirt the same treatment, then unhooked her bra's center clasp, her breasts spilling free of the restraint. C
ool air kissed her nipples, making them pucker. The reaction drew his attention, and he swirled his thumbs over each distended tip, sending sharp lances of pleasure hurling through her.

  He yanked off her shoes. He tugged at her pants and when the button and zipper finally gave, he slid the material from her legs, along with her panties, leaving her totally bare while he still wore his jeans. There was something so very naughty about that.

  "Just how badly do you want me inside you, kitten?"

  "Enough to forgive you for the spiders," she confessed, breathless with longing.

  He smiled as he pushed open her legs, making him the picture of masculine aggression.

  "Look how pretty you are." He reached out, slid a finger deep, deep inside her. "How hot and tight. How wet. How mine."

  A cry split her lips as her back arched. "I need you. It's been too long. Days..."

  He continued to torment her, those naughty fingers working her, driving her into a mindless state where only pleasure mattered. She writhed. She tugged at his hair and bit at his lips, but whatever she did, it wasn't enough. More. She had to have more.

  "Yes, yes." No! Her orgasm was closing in way too fast. "I want to come with you. Please."

  "That word on your lips is priceless." He pulled back, tugged her from the counter until her feet hit the floor. He grabbed her by the hips and spun her around, forcing her to face the mirror. Her wild, wanton expression stared back at her. Pale hair in complete disarray, tangled around her shoulders. Her skin was flushed with the fever of passion and scraped by the shadow of his beard. Her pupils overshadowed her irises, glazed with the greatest hunger she'd ever known.

  He drew her gaze, held it captive. "Look at us. See how good we are together."

  Her breath caught. He was so beautiful behind her, his hair as tangled as hers, his skin just as flushed. Tension branched around his mouth, pulling his lips taut. His shoulders were so wide, so strong, he practically engulfed her. He slid his hands around to cup her breasts, and what a contrast they made. The warrior protecting the damsel. His strength a shield for her vulnerability.

  "I see."

  "You are so beautiful it almost hurts to look at you," he said as he kneaded her breasts.

  Her nipples peeked out from between his fingers, like little pink rosebuds. "It's you. You make me that way."

  He ran her lobe between his teeth, and the muscles in her lower abdomen quivered. "I don't care how many came before me, Jessie Kay. I care that no one will come after. You are mine, now and forever. Do you understand? You are mine."

  His words affected her as potently as his touch, and she whimpered.

  Down, down his fingers traveled. He tormented her between her legs, rubbing, circling, spreading her moisture...thrusting in deep. Her head fell back, resting on his shoulder, exposing the length of her neck. He took advantage, kissing his way to the pulse that pounded at the base, then he sucked, hard, leaving a mark behind. His mark. Sensation rocked her.

  "I want to brand you in every way possible," he rasped.

  Reaching over her head, she scraped her nails along his scalp. "You have. You already have."

  A low growl rumbled from him as he kicked her legs apart. He kicked off his shoes, tore at the waist of his pants. He eased those pants to the ground rather than chucking them aside, and she heard a thunk. She frowned...until he flattened his palm on the back of her head, and with a slight pressure, eased her forward. Her belly rested against cold marble and she shivered with anticipation.

  "Going to take you hard, kitten." It was the only warning he gave her before he positioned himself and slammed in, filling her, stretching her the way she loved, making her scream at the rightness, the pleasure, the absolute perfection of the moment.

  True to his word, he rode her hard, a jackhammer moving in and out of her. All the while her gaze remained fixed on the mirror...on the beauty of him. He had her pinned, spread and vulnerable. Damp strands of hair were plastered to his forehead. His eyes were on her reflection as if transfixed. His lips were pulled back, his teeth bared as if he longed to bite her. He was raw sex and pure masculine instinct and--

  Oh! Oh! He angled his hips, hitting her deeper and she cried out as she was propelled over the edge, satisfaction utterly consuming her in seconds, setting her entire body ablaze. His lids flipped up, his gaze meeting hers. She saw animal aggression and wicked savagery. Whatever he saw in her must have pushed him over the edge, because he roared, shoving into her one...two...three more times before pouring into her.

  She wasn't sure how much time passed before her heart rate slowed and the fever cooled from her skin. Finally, though, he pulled out of her and cleaned both their bodies. He was trembling, and the sight of it delighted her in a way she couldn't articulate. She dressed, watched as he dressed--and realized the thunk she'd heard came from the gun he had sheathed at the back of his waist.

  Dude. Why was that so sexy?

  She threw her arms around him, saying, "That blew my circuits. Thank you."

  A corner of his mouth twitched. "When did you become a computer?"

  "When you rebuilt and rewired me."

  He squeezed her tight, placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Do we have to go back to the party?"

  "Heck no. You're my property, and I'm keeping you to myself."

  He smiled at her. "Your words are poetry, kitten."

  She gave his chest a little push and stood on shaky legs. "Just one of my many tal--"

  The sound of shattering glass registered. A mighty wind slammed into her, knocking her forward. She would have landed on her face, but West caught her, keeping her on her feet. Only he didn't release her. He eased her to the floor, laying her on her side rather than her back. His features were pale and agonized, even horrified.

  Was he hurt?

  She tried to ask, but even though she moved her lips, no sound escaped. Then sharp pains exploded in her left shoulder and spread through the rest of her. Wave after wave of warmth--blood?--poured out of her, leaving her cold and trembling.

  West's gaze was wild as it met hers. "It's okay, kitten. It's going to be okay. Just don't look down. All right? Don't look down and stay still." He reached out with a shaky hand to grab a towel. As he pressed the material against her chest, sending even more sharp pains exploding through her, he withdrew his phone and dialed three numbers.

  911?

  And what did he mean, don't look down? She looked down--of course she looked down.

  The shaft of an arrow protruded from her chest.

  Oh...crap. "I've been... I have a... There's a..." Darkness swallowed her whole, and she knew nothing more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  WHEN JESSIE KAY'S eyes closed, West almost lost it. He trembled as he felt for a pulse. Thumpthump...thumpthump... Pause...thumpthump. Too fast, even skipping a beat, but there. Thank God!

  His own heart thudding against his ribs, he stayed close to the ground as he gathered her into his arms and crawled out of the bathroom, not wanting Monica able to fire off another shot, not wanting to push the arrow in deeper or pull it out farther.

  Once he cleared the bathroom, he kicked the door shut, blocking any view from outside, but still he remained as low as possible as he barreled into the hallway. He wanted to shut down, to let his mind go somewhere else, and if not that, to hurl accusations at him--my fault, never should have relaxed my guard, not for a minute, not for a second--but he refused to give in to old fears and forced himself to carry on. Jessie Kay needed him to keep his shit together, so he would keep his shit together.

  "Jase! Beck!" People spotted him with the unconscious, bloody Jessie Kay and gasped, some scrambling to get away, some trying to get closer. He scanned the farmhouse to ensure he avoided the windows. When he was certain Monica couldn't spot Jessie Kay through curtains or glass, he stopped and shouted, "An ambulance and the police are on the way, but she needs a doctor now."

  "I'm Dr. Chastain." A man who looked to be in his late thirties, early fortie
s pushed through the crowd. West had never met him, but he was suddenly glad the party had expanded to include the entire town. This might have happened regardless of the crowd--probably would have.

  Jase and Beck were right behind the guy, Brook Lynn and Harlow right behind them. Brook Lynn took one look at her sister and screamed.

  She rushed forward, gasping out, "Jessie Kay, Jessie Kay, I'm here. I'm here. Stay with me, okay?"

  "Lay her across the coffee table," Dr. Chastain said. "Make sure the arrow doesn't touch it or the floor."

  West obeyed, even though setting Jessie Kay down violated every instinct he possessed. Hold on. Keep her. Protect her.

  "She's bleeding so much," someone muttered.

  "How did this happen?"

  "Our poor Jessie Kay."

  Making everything worse.

  West met Jase's gaze. "Get everyone out. Now."

  The man immediately began herding the guests out the door. Mr. Porter and Mr. Rodriguez proved stubborn, planting themselves at the far wall, refusing to budge.

  "My son is out there." Mr. Porter rested his hand on the hilt of the gun peeking from the waist of his pants. "I'm staying."

  Daniel must have warned him about the danger.

  "Scissors," Dr. Chastain demanded and a frantic Harlow rushed off. She returned what seemed an eternity later, and the doctor cut away Jessie Kay's blood-soaked shirt. Crimson smeared her skin, saturated her bra.

  West's stomach twisted at the sight of the arrow protruding from her chest. "Tell me she's going to be okay." People had survived worse.

  "Please," Brook Lynn said, her voice trembling. "Tell him."

  "I don't know," the doctor admitted, his features strained. "If the arrow nicked her heart..."

  West shook his head in denial. "No. It didn't. It didn't."

  Brook Lynn's knees buckled. Jase raced to her side and gathered her close. A sob left her as she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder.

  "There has to be something you can do." West pointed at the doctor. "So you do it. You hear me? You do it."

  The front door flew open, and Daniel came stomping inside, a crossbow in one hand and a protesting Monica in the other. He tossed the weapon on the couch, out of reaching distance, spotted Jessie Kay and cursed. A curse West echoed at the bitch who'd just tried to kill the love of his life. She'd slathered on mud to camouflage her presence.