No Falling Allowed (No Kissing Allowed)

by Melissa West

  I knew I should leave it—just turn around and let her get back to her friends. But I couldn’t seem to walk away.

  “I think you know the answer. But why don’t we test it. We’ll treat this like a date. I’ll hang out with you in between helping around the bar. Talk. Flirt. I’ll tell you about my job, you tell me about yours. We’ll talk about our educations, because yes, City, I’ve got one. And then I’ll walk you home.” I leaned in once more, my breath on her face, before I whispered, “Kiss your cheek.”

  Her breath whooshed out as her cheeks flushed. “And then what?”

  “I guess that’ll be up to you.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to think.” We don’t have to think. The freedom of it flowed over me, drugging me, everything in me attuned to this woman like she’d cast a spell, but she wasn’t even trying. The magic was just a part of her.

  Her perfect green eyes found mine, and I was gone, hooked. Never in my life had I wanted a girl to say yes so badly.

  “But maybe—”

  “If you’re scared, just say it. Wouldn’t be the first woman intimidated by my charm.”

  A small smile played at her lips, and I knew I was close. “I’m not scared.”

  Once more our eyes locked. “So prove it.”

  “You are trouble, you know that?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Charlie shouted for me from the other side of the bar, and I pulled away to go see what he needed, wishing I could stay to help her work through all the reasons she should say yes. Then I thought of Jonah and wondered what the hell I was doing. I didn’t fuck around. I didn’t do irresponsible. My hookups were quick and neat, with no mess to clean up the next day, no calls or random chicks stopping by to confuse him. And besides, nothing about this girl read as hookup material. She was a commitment girl all the way, likely with a giant list of disappointed men in her back pocket, all hoping for something she would never give them. But I didn’t want forever with her. I wanted a moment. What was it Sam Hunt said in that song? Something about wanting the girl’s time and nothing more? Well, damn if I didn’t want a little bit of this one’s.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie asked as I neared. He poured a round of shots, half the alcohol hitting the bar, which did little more than piss him off further. Somehow in the small amount of time I’d spent with City, I’d missed the bar growing even more packed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t invite you up here to hang out with some chick all night. The bar’s overloaded and people are leaving as fast as they’re coming because nobody’s pouring drinks. Can you focus on getting in her pants after midnight? Or better yet, after one.” He craned his neck to peer at the crowd pushing their way inside. “Make that two.”

  “You just remember I’m doing you a favor here.”

  “Right. You came up here to do me a favor. Keep telling yourself that. You came up here to catch your breath, and hell, you deserve it. But with Marc at home sick, I need ya in the game.”

  I started to argue, but pulled back at the look Charlie shot me, because he was right. I came to New York because my life had become so consumed with Jonah and all that it took to keep him going that I no longer recognized myself.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” Charlie glanced past me before returning to the beer in his hand. He popped the cap, tossed it in the trash below the bar, and then pushed the bottle toward the dude in front of him. “She’s watching you. Doesn’t seem to want to, but she is all the same. She’s cute.”

  That brought on a smile and a surge of pride that I had no reason to feel. “She’s different.”

  “They’re all different. Until they aren’t.”

  Before fear of what would happen next could make me stop, I turned away from Charlie and started toward her. For one night, I was me again—Noah Hunter, the man who knew what a woman needed—and hell if I wasn’t eager to give this one every single thing she’d ever wanted and more.

  “So…?” I drawled as I returned, simultaneously mixing new drinks and passing them out to a fresh round of women around the bar, my body hyperaware of City even when my focus was elsewhere. The way she never slouched, yet fidgeted with her drink. The way she looked around, like she was waiting on someone to walk in and drag her away. I wanted to know more about this girl, despite all the reasons I should turn away.

  “She’ll do it!” a group of girls exclaimed from beside her, all of them bouncing with excitement. One said her name—Grace—and I thought maybe no name had ever matched a person more perfectly.

  “Is that right?”

  Grace licked her lips and leaned in closer. “You should know, this isn’t likely to go the way you’re hoping.”

  I matched her lean, my mouth so close to hers that a tiny bump would have us touching, kissing. “It already has.”

  Chapter Three

  Grace

  “You know, you weren’t supposed to make it this far.” I glanced over at Hunter as we stopped in front of my apartment building. The air felt cool against my face, the wind picking up. It was chilly for a spring night.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and ran my hands up and down to try to warm them. Lauren had told me to buy a coat, one with true wind protection or whatever, but I’d always hated them. Plus, my mother was of the opinion that your outfit needed a coat that worked with it, not against it. Forever my mother’s daughter, I had accepted that philosophy, and it had worked out just fine. I wasn’t that cold anyway.

  A shiver worked through me, and I clamped my teeth to keep them from chattering. Okay, so maybe I was delusional.

  “You’re cold.” Hunter stepped toward me, and my eyes lifted to his, the energy changing between us.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but is fine really what you want to be?”

  Without asking permission, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to him, his coat sensible and as basic as basic came, and yet…

  I drew a breath, and a mix of earth and soap washed over me. Immediately, I thought of my summers at Grandmother’s, running in the field behind her house, nothing but laughter in the air. No worry or expectations. No need to hold back, remain quiet, avoid doing or saying the wrong thing. At Grandmother’s, I was just me…Grace.

  “So…” Hunter said, bringing me back to the present. “Should I kiss your cheek now or at your door?”

  I held his stare. He was so close, a strong gust of wind could have us kissing, and in spite of all the reasons I should back away, I prayed that something would close the distance between us. Maybe a passerby on the street could bump into us. Or one of those dogs that always seemed to break loose from its walker. But then it was almost one in the morning, so—

  “City?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Not everything has to be so hard. Sometimes you can just live.”

  I shook my head slowly, feeling more and more out of my element. “I don’t know what that’s like.”

  “What?”

  “Living.”

  A moment passed, and then he leaned in closer, his nose grazing my cheek, his breath so, so warm before he whispered, “So maybe you start today.”

  I smiled, and he pulled back to look at me, patiently waiting. Suddenly, my willpower crumbled, all the reasons to say no turning to yes as the thrill of it rose up inside me. “All right.”

  “All right?”

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

  His mouth crooked into the sexiest grin I’d ever seen. “You did.”

  We didn’t speak the entire walk inside my building, didn’t stop to say hello to the bellman, didn’t look at each other as we stepped into the mirrored elevator. He didn’t comment on the smell of baked goods from our lobby because Mrs. Addison had once again had muffins delivered earlier and the smell still hung in the air. And he didn’t say a word as we stepped off the elevator
and stopped in front of my door, where it was very apparent that I lived in one of the nicest buildings in the city.

  A part of me wanted to warn him before entering, to shrug off the expensive furnishings inside, the wealth that oozed from every knickknack my decorator had placed inside my two-bedroom apartment, the rent on which was more than most people’s mortgage. But I didn’t know what to say or how to bring it up. I had never cared about these things. They were a part of me, the very essence of the Soaring name, yet Hunter was so real and genuine that I found myself wishing I lived in a simple studio, nothing grand, so he would feel we were on an even playing field. Somehow I knew that would impress him more than the reality—he’d come home with one of the wealthiest people in New York—hell, all of America.

  I started to open the door, then paused and spun around, causing Hunter to bump into me. My body burned with embarrassment, and I wondered why I was so nervous. I’d hooked up with guys before, so what was so different about this?

  I took in the stubble on his face, his buzzed hair, the waffle-knit shirt, worn jeans, all of it so unlike any other guy who’d been to my apartment. And that was when I had my answer—everything. Everything about this was different.

  “My apartment…”

  “Grace?” He bent forward, closing the small space between us, his hand covering mine over the doorknob, twisting. It was the first time he’d said my name, and I was surprised by how much it soothed me. I wished he’d say it again and again. The accent that had grated on my nerves mere hours before now sounded like slow, warm syrup, coating me in a caress I never knew I craved.

  His breath hit my neck, and I lost my mind, all sense of reality. “Grace?” he repeated.

  “Hmm…?”

  “We don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

  “I want to, I just…this…I’m…”

  Hunter’s lips gently touched mine, ending my rambling midsentence, and the small spark in my stomach roared to life, spreading out through me in tingles that could warm me even in the coldest of winters. Apparently, I didn’t need a coat after all; I just needed Hunter.

  “This is on you, City. Your choice. But I’m in. I’m so in.”

  For once, just once, I didn’t want to think. I turned the knob and walked inside, listening as Hunter shut the door behind us and turned the deadbolt, then there was only silence all around us—no lights, no sounds to distract us.

  Hunter took my hand, his eyes on me, and slowly kissed each of my fingers then tugged me toward him. His lips found mine, this time rougher, taking a deep inhale instead of a breath, nothing about it calm or pretty. I knew then and there that this, whatever it was, would be unlike any night I’d experienced before.

  I led him to my room, my pulse hammering in my ears, my body unbelievably keyed up. I couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t relax.

  “Don’t do that.”

  I turned in his arms, lifted my chin. “What?”

  “Hide in here.” He kissed my forehead, then trailed slow kisses down the side of my face, heat hitting my ear as he whispered, “Let me take the worry away. For one night, just be you.”

  “One night?”

  “One mind-blowing night.” Hunter’s hands dropped to my waist, his gaze following his hands, igniting my insides all over again. “What are you afraid of? Me…or yourself?”

  I wanted to laugh off what he was suggesting, to feel the confidence I’d oozed earlier, but somehow this man had slipped under my skin, exposing the truth—I was a fraud. I was a fat girl in a thin body, unable to ever see myself as anything else. I was a failure in a designer suit. An ugly face hidden behind expensive makeup and even more expensive facials. And not once had I ever shown my doubts to anyone, including Cameron and Lauren, my two best friends. But this guy had somehow pushed all the BS that was my life away and left behind the teen girl I still felt I was deep inside.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Then before I could delay the moment any longer, Hunter’s lips crashed against mine, and my worries drifted away as his tongue swept inside my mouth in slow, delicious strokes, tasting and feeling and sampling in a way I’d never been sampled before. His hands glided down my back, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He gripped my ass, then hooked my leg around his waist, all evidence of his need pressing against my stomach, sending any hope of self-preservation and dignity out the window.

  I was seconds away from begging him to undress me, when, as though he heard my request, he let go of my thigh and trailed his fingertips over the hem of my blouse, dipping underneath to skim across my stomach, up my back, securing me to him as the kiss of all kisses continued. Red-hot heat spread over every inch of my skin, my mind fuzzy and lost, and God if it wasn’t the best sensation I’d ever felt in my life.

  “I’m going to take this off now,” he said, thumbing the shirt, his gaze darkened as he stared down at me. I nodded, and he lifted my shirt over my head then dropped it to the ground beside us. “And this,” he added, tracing the strap of my black bra, then the cup, before unfastening the hook between my breasts. His mouth went to one nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he released a slow, guttural groan. I gripped his head, ready to lose it right there, and he sucked harder, his other hand on my back, holding me in place. Dear God above.

  “Hunter…”

  He tugged off his shirt and then pulled me against his chest, his lips back on mine, like all he wanted was to feel my body against his. Like he needed my warmth as much as I needed his.

  I melted into him, desperate for him to be deep inside me, giving me the satisfaction my body craved.

  “Please.”

  All at once, he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked us to my bed and lay me down. “You’re perfect. So perfect.” His lips touched my neck, my collarbone, then my stomach, gliding down the curve of my waist, each kiss so precise it was as though he was memorizing my body.

  Right as his mouth hit the skin just below my breasts, his hands went to my jeans, and I bucked against him. As he unfastened them and slowly tugged down the zipper, I lifted my hips to help him slip them off.

  Taking a step back, Hunter dropped my jeans at the foot of the bed and stared down at me. He shook his head and mumbled something I couldn’t hear before pushing out of his own jeans and boxers. He grabbed a condom from his wallet, and I watched as he slowly rolled it down his long, thick shaft. My body hummed with anticipation as he climbed back over me, and then his mouth came down over mine like he needed me for his next breath, our tongues tangling in delicious strokes, drugging me as he pulled me deeper and deeper under his trance.

  He released my mouth, and I wanted to whimper for him to come back to me. Instead, he pressed his lips to the swell of my breasts and then sucked my left nipple into his mouth, nothing gentle about it as he twirled his tongue around the sensitive bud then sucked still harder. I cried out, my fingers digging into his back. I wrapped my legs around him, locking him to me, his hardness against my mound, and I knew I had to be soaked, my body begging for him to give it the relief it craved.

  Instead of giving me what I so desperately wanted, he switched to my other nipple and gently bit down as he balanced on one arm and snaked his free hand to my heat, cupping me. He released a low groan as he slipped a finger, then two, inside me, the moves slow and in sharp contrast to how quickly he tongued my nipple.

  My brain turned to mush as I closed my eyes and clamped my teeth down on my bottom lip, desperate to hold out, to not lose myself so soon, but Hunter was—this was—

  “Not yet,” he said, pulling his fingers out, leaving me cold and so damn gone I wanted to cry. But then he pressed a hot kiss to the spot his fingers had been moments before, sucking me into his mouth, and I. Completely. Lost. My. Mind. All sense, all control, all care for anything but this man and this moment—gone.

  “Hunter…please…please…”

  Before I could finish my thought, his mouth
covered mine again, my taste on his lips as he drove deep inside me. He cursed as he thrust still harder, his fingers laced through mine, gripping tightly as our bodies found a rhythm. I climbed higher and higher and higher until I came hard and fast around him, my body tweaking in small spasms of satisfaction. I opened my eyes, eager to watch him, everything in me melting into this man. My breath and blood, muscles and bones. All of it, his. I had never felt so content—so alive.

  Which was why when he finished and pulled me against him, my head buried in his neck, it took all of five seconds for me to peer up at him and say, “Again.”

  Chapter Four

  Noah

  For a moment I thought I was dreaming. The smell of lavender and vanilla in the air, a warm body pressed against me. Then the memories came rushing back—Grace and her long black hair all around me, her full lips on mine, as desperate for me as I was for her, unable to get enough, until finally exhaustion took over. I never intended to stay. I shouldn’t have stayed. It complicated things, and my life was complicated enough.

  I eyed my watch to find it was still the middle of the night and had just decided to settle against her again, when that intense, jarring sensation I hated most overcame me—panic. I’d felt it a thousand times since the accident, and everything was always fine. Doc said I had anxiety issues resulting from post-traumatic stress or some bullshit. Normally, I would go check on Jonah, see he was fine, and my heart would settle down. But I couldn’t do that, couldn’t see him, and it was the middle of the night. I couldn’t very well call Aunt Sandy.

  I slipped out of Grace’s bed and went for my jeans, fumbling around until I found my phone, telling myself I’d just double-check that there were no messages. But when my gaze landed on the screen, my heart jumped into my throat. Five missed calls, three text messages, all from Aunt Sandy.

  Call me.

  Call ASAP.

  Where are you? Jonah fell, we’re at the ER. He wants you.

  It took me five minutes flat to throw on my clothes and rush out the door, my thoughts on one thing and one thing alone—Jonah needed me…and I wasn’t there.