When We Fall

by Marquita Valentine

  As soon as I spy Jase, I want to run to him, but he’s with a client and I can’t interrupt. Instead, I walk to the office and sit down at the desk, opening up the file that Emmett had downloaded to the desktop computer. I grab their bank statements to try to make heads or tails of all of it.

  Logic returns to my brain, soothing me with irrefutable facts that two plus two equals four. That deposits are written in black ink and withdrawals are written in red. The computer program takes everything I input and makes it orderly.

  Hands rub at my shoulders and I start, but then I relax when I see the familiar tattoos on the knuckles. The phrase HOLD FAST is inked in a faded blue, and I think of us, of our relationship. In the days, weeks…maybe even months to come, I know we’ll have to hold fast to each other so that no one comes between us.

  “How was your first day?” Jase asks, kissing the top of my head.

  “I love numbers,” I mumble. Yet another rule of Mother’s broken. Speak clearly so that others may hear you. Privately, I think that is one of her more practical rules, but a rule that I need to break just the same.

  “That good, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  He spins the office chair around and kneels in front of me. “Tell me about it?”

  Tilting my head to one side, I sigh. “Can’t. It’s confidential.”

  “Anything else I can do?” He runs his palms up the back of my legs, causing sensations of pleasure to spark to life. I can’t help but moan a little.

  “That. You can do that.”

  “Anything for you.” He rubs my calves until I’m a useless blob of a human. My eyes are shut and I’m half slumped into my chair. How did I ever go this long without this man touching me?

  I crack open one eye. “Is it bad that all I want to do is go home and sleep?”

  Leaning up, he presses a kiss to my cheek and stands, waving his hands as he does. “Magic hands. You can’t help that you’ve succumbed to them.”

  I snort so hard that I cough. “If you weren’t so good at relaxing me, I’d never talk to you again.”

  “Yeah, you would,” he says smugly.

  He’s right. I would, but still, it never hurts to tease him. “I don’t know…that line was super-cheesy.”

  He cocks a brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” I cross my legs primly and clasp my hands together, settling them in my lap. At the moment, I am the very picture of my mother’s version of what a southern belle should look like. “In fact, I’m very particular about who I talk to.”

  He rubs his thumb across his lower lip and I watch, fascinated by his movements. “Are you very particular about who you kiss?” he asks.

  I nod, feeling more powerful and turned on by the second.

  “Who you allow in your bed?”

  I find my voice. “Only the suavest of men.”

  “Suavest?” He rolls his eyes. “I was hoping for a little more than that.”

  With a giggle, I stand and grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him to me. I have to crane my neck back to look into his sexy blue eyes. “I only allow you to kiss me and to be in my bed.”

  “Give you orgasms.” His voice is husky with desire. “Suck on your nipples.”

  My nipples harden and desire pulses between my thighs. “Make me wet.”

  “Is that a request, Ms. Particular”—he dips his head and nips at my bottom lip—“or an order?”

  “Would you take an order from me?” I peer up at him from under my lashes.

  “Depends on the order.”

  “Then I’ll have to say both.” I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him with all the passion I feel for him. “I order you to make me wet…please.” His hand curves around my neck, cupping the back of my head. I fist my hands into his shirt even tighter.

  “Fuck, yes. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Get a room,” Emmett catcalls.

  I can feel my face heat, but I only pause for a second or two before I get lost in Jase’s kiss again.

  “My girl,” he says, breathing heavily. “No one else has ever gotten me going from a kiss like you do.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I smile coyly. I want to be flattered. I want to know that I’m treating him right, that I don’t suck when it comes to flirting or kissing or…anything that requires intimacy.

  He caresses my cheek. “A very good thing, kitten.”

  Jase

  I let Piper get back to work before I take action on the temptation to lock the office door and get my face between her thighs. The thought of her coming on my tongue again makes me grip the doorknob hard.

  “Jase?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Is there any place around here that does delivery cheap? I forgot to eat today.”

  That takes me by surprise. “Not even breakfast?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t bring that many groceries with me, and I’m out of bread.”

  “My pantry is full—you can take what you want out of there and cook what you want.”

  A pained look covers her face. “I don’t…I don’t know how to cook, and I don’t have enough money to pay you back unless you can wait until payday.” She swallows. “When’s payday?”

  When I got out of prison, it felt like I didn’t know the basics of life anymore. The sun was too bright, the open spaces too big, and eating alone made me depressed. Yeah, I self-medicated with sex, alcohol, and drugs that flashed through my system, but I eventually remembered how to cook, how to interact, how to pay bills, how to do all the things I used to….Basically, I remembered how to be me again. However, for Piper not to know basic skills of living on her own…it astounds me.

  “You didn’t cook the casserole you brought to me when I first got out?”

  She shakes her head, her cheeks heating. “Our—my parents’ cook did.”

  “Did you ask Rowan for help when y’all lived together?”

  “She likes to cook, so I just did all the prep work.” She gives me a sad smile. “I’m spoiled and helpless, aren’t I?”

  She is, but to tell her that wouldn’t help in the least. Besides, I plan on spoiling her myself—not with expensive jewelry and exotic trips, but in time spent with her, touching her, and giving her my undivided attention. It’s obvious she’s starved for attention—always has been. I’m not much different. I went for seven years without a woman’s touch, and God only knows how long I’ve ached for Piper’s touch.

  According to Rowan, Piper’s parents were never big fans of hugs or kisses. She said that Piper’s nannies—plural because her mother would fire the old one and hire a new one every year—would tuck her in at night.

  “We could take some classes together, or I could teach you.” Growing up with a junkie for a mother who eventually overdosed, I had to learn a lot really fast. Or starve. Or not have clean clothes. I had Rowan to take care of, too.

  “Teach me,” she says firmly. “I’d rather not be in a crowd with everyone staring.”

  “We’ll start tomorrow night.” Cooking with her would be a welcome distraction. I’ve seen what her beautiful body looks like, and I want to get her out of her clothes again, but I can’t, not until we go to see her doctor. “But in the meantime, I’ll get dinner—you like Indian or Thai food?”

  “Thai…no, Indian.” Her nose wrinkles. “Surprise me. I’m not a picky eater.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I turn to leave the office, letting go of the door and pulling out my cell.

  “Jase?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for being so patient with me. I know it can’t be easy when you’re used to…people who are self-sufficient and independent.”

  I give her a smile. “You’re welcome.”

  —

  That night while we’re lying on the couch in my sanctuary, I click through channel after channel of nothing. Piper has been asleep for an hour now. It amuses me to no end that she can’t keep her eyes open past ten thirty.

  Smoo
thing her hair back, I feel a tender smile kick up the corners of my mouth as I stare at her profile. She’s so fucking beautiful to me, and I know that’s due in part to her inner beauty.

  A small sigh leaves her and she scoots closer to me, her knee coming up to hit me in the junk. I’m prepared, though, and jerk up my leg just in time.

  “Dangerous woman,” I whisper.

  “I don’t want to get my eyes fixed. I like my glasses,” she says.

  So that’s why she doesn’t wear glasses anymore. “I liked them, too.”

  “Garden gnomes are creepy, Rowan. Why would you want them in your flower beds?”

  “Because my sister is demented.”

  Piper begins to flail around again, and I wonder if it’s because she’s dreaming about doing battle with garden gnomes.

  I roll to my back and pull her on top of me. She sort of melts into my body. In no time at all, she stops trying to beat me up and talking about random things in her sleep. Her full breasts press against me, making it hard to concentrate on finding something to watch.

  Finally, I settle on Lip Sync Battle. Beyond the host, I have no idea who the celebrities are—something that I can thank seven years of prison for, but I enjoy the show anyway.

  Thinking about prison and all it’s taken away from me makes me wonder if Piper and I would have ever gotten together without the interruption in my life. I’d like to say yes, we would have eventually, but I know the truth. My former path was set on raising hell and screwing fast women. Actually, I had no path in life before I went to prison. No goal other than to eat, fuck, race cars, and party.

  I frown.

  Seven years have passed and I still don’t have a goal. Yeah, I own half of the shop, but Emmett’s dad sold it to me with the contingency that I have to pay him back until he gets at least forty thousand out of it. Since the bank isn’t about loaning money to people without any credit, I have a monthly payment to make for the next five years or so to Mr. Dunning.

  Sure, the house I’m living in is paid for, and I have my bike. The Mustang I used to drive is sitting in the detached garage, just waiting for me. Other than a few bills, I’m debt free. However, I wasn’t in debt when I went to prison, so it’s not like that’s something new.

  What is new—I want more, and not only because of the woman sprawled on top of me, but because I’m tired of the status quo. I’m tired of being known only for parties and women and good times. Oh, and for being a former juvenile delinquent turned ex-convict.

  Hiring Piper to work at the shop was a step in the right direction in terms of finances, but it’s not enough. There’s something more for me to do, for me to become.

  I just have to figure out what that is.

  Chapter 9

  Jase

  Over the next few days, I immerse myself in work and teaching Piper how to cook. Honestly, I can’t believe how enjoyable it is—not the part about spending time with Piper, because I knew that would be amazing, but actually doing something so domestic.

  It’s the night before her doctor’s appointment and I’m doing everything I can to stay focused. To not be a horny bastard.

  But fuck, it’s hard. Pun intended.

  “I planned for stir-fry tonight. You up for that?”

  She nods happily. “Yes.”

  “Turn around, please,” I say and she presents me with her back. “Always wear one of these so your pretty clothes don’t get messed up.”

  “Hey. That wasn’t my fault. I didn’t realize the bag of flour was open,” she protests.

  Cutest thing I’d ever seen, I think. Piper covered from head to toe with flour. The kitchen, too. I think it took us two hours to clean it, and in the end, I ended up ordering a pizza.

  “Sure you didn’t. I think you just wanted a visual of me mopping floors.” Tying the apron around Piper’s small waist, I step back and admire her. “Spin around, gorgeous. I want the full effect.”

  Slowly, Piper spins around for me, making her yellow skirt flare out. She’s like a fifties housewife in her puffed-out skirt and fitted blue top. Her hair is pulled up at the temples with sparkly barrettes, and diamonds flash in her ears.

  All that’s missing is a pair of heels and red lipstick. Probably her mother told her that only whores and sluts wear red lipstick. Mrs. Ross is classy like that.

  “First things first. I want to see how handy you are with a knife.” I hold out the knife, handle first.

  With a smile, Piper takes it from me and begins to expertly chop up the vegetables for our dinner. While I might be more of an expert at cooking, I have no idea if she’s dicing, slicing, or julienning them. As long as they’re cut up in small enough pieces to cook in the wok, they’re perfect.

  “Done,” she calls out.

  I move closer to inspect her work. “That was fast.”

  She wriggles her brows at me. “Told you I am an expert food preparer.”

  “You certainly are.” I scoop up the veggies and add them to the wok. “See how I turned on the flame to medium-high heat? There’s a tablespoon of oil at the bottom, too. You want to make sure that doesn’t start smoking before you add the food.”

  “Smoking is bad,” she says soberly. “Who knew?”

  “Witch,” I tease. Yeah, I’m about one hundred percent sure her doctor is going to say that I need to quit smoking. Worth it, though. “Next I’m going to add an egg and scramble it up with the veggies. We good so far?”

  “Yep!”

  I finish going over the instructions and Piper helps me cook. Because I love torture, I have her stand in front of me while I direct her. I’m so tall that I can see the tops of her breasts, and when she breathes, I get a glimpse of the lacy bra she’s wearing. The woman has amazing taste in lingerie and shoes—when she wears them.

  “Like the view?” she asks, turning her head a little to glance up at me.

  “Very much.” I rub the back of my knuckles over each swell, and goosebumps appear on her soft skin. She doesn’t push me away or make a coy remark about the food burning. Oh no. Instead, she leans back and lets out the sexiest little moan, encouraging me to cup both breasts in my hands.

  Dipping my head, I nibble on her ear and kiss a path down the curve of her neck. “Mmmm. I think I’ll have you for dessert first.”

  “I-I think I’d l-like that,” she says, her stutter reappearing suddenly.

  Her breaths come faster and my desire for her turns to panic. Are they too fast? Is this the beginning of an attack? Should I get her meds? Call 9-1-1?

  Stay calm, Jase. Focus. Ask her first.

  Panic rises as I let go of her and take a step back. “Are you okay? You feeling okay?”

  Piper sets the wooden spatula down and turns to me, a questioning look on her face. “I’m fine. Actually, I was more than fine.”

  “You’re not having an attack?”

  Wordlessly she shakes her head.

  “I thought…I thought with the way you were breathing and your stutter…fuck.” I start to pace, then begin to open and close cabinets with a little more force than necessary. I hate not knowing what to do and I hate that what’s impacting her life doesn’t have an easy fix.

  “Jase,” Piper says quietly, and I stop to look at her. She crosses the room to me and wraps her arms around my waist, looking up. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I was excited and breathing hard, not wheezing. I enjoy—no, I love—when you touch me. Please don’t stop because you’re afraid for me.”

  “It’s my job to protect you, not hurt you,” I say gruffly. “I assumed you were about to…” I swallow. “When you didn’t, I felt…overwhelmed. You overwhelm me.”

  “I still stutter when I get really nervous or excited about something, or someone.” She gives me a blinding smile. “I know the feeling. You overwhelm me.”

  We stand there in the middle of the kitchen, holding on to each other so long that when I finally remember the food, I practically shove her out of the way.

  “Have to get dinner off th
e stove.”

  “Sure you weren’t meant to be a fireman?”

  “Hard to be a fireman when you’ve been sent to juvie for setting fire to the chemistry lab at school.”

  Piper slaps a hand over her mouth and giggles. The tension finally leaves the room.

  “You were so bad,” she says as I start spooning out the meat and veggies into a serving bowl.

  Were? “You like bad boys, kitten?” I glance at her over my shoulder, raising a brow.

  “I like you.” She gives me a meaningful look. “You’re not bad anymore, just misunderstood.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Is that how you reconcile yourself with being with me?”

  “No. If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble—never mind.” Taking a deep breath, she walks to me and wraps her arms around me, her full breasts pressing against my back. “Jase, if you could only see yourself through my eyes, then you’d know exactly why I’m with you.”

  That’s the problem. I do know how she sees me, but in my mind I’ll never be a hero. Heroes don’t go to jail for attempted murder. “Set the table and I’ll take care of this,” I say gruffly, grabbing the pot of rice. Luckily, it didn’t burn. Burned rice is not a good smell, and it takes hours to scrub it out of a pot.

  “On it,” she chirps, slowly letting go of me.

  I feed her bits of cooked meat and veggies while she gets out plates and makes drinks for the two of us.

  After we sit down, Piper holds up her glass. “I think a toast is in order.”

  I pick up my glass as well. “Let’s hear it.”

  “To the future…to new beginnings.”

  I take a drink.

  “And all of the orgasms a woman could possibly want.”

  I almost choke on my sweet tea but somehow manage not to make a complete ass of myself.

  “I think we should say that before every meal.” Winking at her, I start to eat. “Man, this is good. You did an awesome job with supper.”

  A pleased smile curves her lips. “I had a really good teacher.”

  As she eats, I can’t help but think that as soon as her doctor gives the all clear, then I’ll be teaching her a hell of a lot more.