Jacey crosses her legs and I stare at her ankle, then her calf, then her thigh. I follow the slender length of it all the way up to where it junctures into her crotch. That’s when I look away, before I start thinking about the fact that she’s not wearing panties.
When I look up, Jacey’s staring at me, watching me check her out.
“And what are your tastes now?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes probing mine. I smile what I imagine to be a wolfish smile.
Leaning toward her, I answer.
“Would you like to find out?”
I think back to the cooler incident, when my hand was buried between her legs, and I can see on her face that she’s thinking of it too. She sputters, leans back, then grabs her drink. Sucking on the straw, she regains her composure.
“How did you even get into acting?” she asks conversationally, ignoring my previous question and my wandering eyes.
“I went to the University of Chicago,” I tell her as I settle back into my seat. “While I was there, a talent scout liked my look, and he was searching for an unknown to work on Visceral Need. The rest is history.”
She raises her eyebrow. “So you weren’t even trying to be an actor?” she asks incredulously. “Do you know how many starving waiters are out there, just trying to get a break in the acting world?”
Yes, I do. But that’s not my problem.
I push my chair back.
“We’ve gotta go,” I tell her instead. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, standing up. “We don’t want to inconvenience the other passengers.”
She snorts and I lead the way, and once we’re out in the sun again, Jacey turns to me.
“For the record,” she says sassily, “I might have let you sign my boobs back then… back before you became cocky… when you were an ‘unknown’ normal person. It’s okay to be ‘normal,’ you know.” And with that, she flounces down the gangway and onto the bright yellow boat. I stare after her and she looks back over her shoulder with a grin.
“Coming?”
“Babe, when I come, you’ll know,” I spout back. She grins and I grin back, like we’re both normal people with dirty senses of humor, and I follow her onto the boat.
When we sit down, she slips her hand into mine, her fingers small and slender. I startle for a minute at the familiar and intimate gesture, but then the boat engine starts up and we rip across the bay with the wind in our faces. All of a sudden, it feels perfectly normal to sit with her like this, with her hand in my lap.
It’s a thought that scares the shit out of me, like literally scares me. My pulse beats faster, it’s hard to swallow, and my palms get clammy.
When I can, I pull my hand away and tuck it into my pocket instead.
I’m not normal, so there’s no way in hell I should pretend to be.
Chapter Twelve
Jacey
I fight not to roll my eyes at Dominic as we glide over the top of the lake in the speedboat. He yanks his hand away from mine so fast you’d have thought my palm was burning him. I was just being friendly. Jesus. And seriously. He’s the one who showed up at my house out of the blue. I didn’t ask him to come, and I certainly didn’t ask him to invite me here on this… date? Is this a date?
I don’t know what the hell this is, to be honest.
The tour guide speaks into his mic excitedly, probably just happy to have Dominic on his boat. He stands at the front while we lounge in the back. Since there are at least twenty empty seats in front of us, I feel kind of silly.
The driver of the boat races through the bay and out onto open water, spinning in huge circles and causing a spray of water to drench me.
“Did I mention that I’m glad you wore that T-shirt?” Dominic asks with a grin. My T-shirt is white. And wet. And perfectly transparent at this point. I sigh.
“You’re sort of a dog, you know that?” I ask him.
I’m just getting ready to ask about the girl he was with in the parking lot the other night, when suddenly the tour guide points toward another tour boat. Dominic and I turn to look and find it speeding up to get closer to us. All of the passengers are standing, craning their necks to see in our boat, cameras in hand.
“I think you’ve been spotted,” our tour guide says apologetically.
I look immediately at Dominic and his face has tightened. He looks pissed as he nods curtly.
“Can you take us back to the pier? If we don’t head back, they’ll chase us around the lake. We can get off this boat a lot faster than they can all get off theirs.”
The captain nods and whips the boat around, speeding once again toward the shore. I look over my shoulder to find the other boat chasing us. My stomach does a somersault. To me, it’s a little exhilarating because this isn’t something that happens to me all the time. They’re right on our tail and excitement snaps in the air around us.
I mean, someone is chasing us. Oh my god.
But as I look at Dominic, I can see that excitement is the very last thing he’s feeling. His chiseled features are twisted into a scowl and he just looks… tired. Beautiful, sexy… and tired. I swallow and feel guilty for being excited because this must be frustrating for him. It must happen everywhere he goes.
“When we dock, we’re going to have to run, okay?” Dominic tells me quietly, his dark eyes stormy and focused on my face. “Seriously. Just follow me.”
I nod, fascinated by this entire situation… by the novelty of it, by the annoyance Dominic feels, by the rush of wind over my face as our boats race toward the shore. We’re going so fast that we slam into the water as we crest each wave, jarring my teeth. But we’re back at the pier within a minute.
The large boat nudges the bumpers against the dock, and almost before it stops moving, Dom has leapt from the boat, grabbing my hand and helping me climb out. And then we run.
Ducking through the crowds, we weave in and out of people until we’ve made our way to the iconic Ferris wheel that stands proudly against the Navy Pier horizon. Dom glances at it, then heads straight for it. Throwing some money at the guy manning the line, Dominic utters, “Tell them we went the other direction.”
The guy stares at Dominic in surprise, but then recognition and understanding quickly flood his face and he nods, ushering us through the little gate, and we drop onto the seat of a gondola.
As the large covered gondola lifts into the air, I peer over the edge, my face pressed against the glass. I can see a couple of passengers from the tour boat running around, looking about, but the gondola operator comes through for us. He points in the other direction and the fans take off, hunting for any sign of Dominic.
It seems that we made our escape. I settle into the seat and stare at Dominic.
“And I really wanted to take that tour, too.” I smirk, but he grimaces.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me seriously. “And I’m sorry that you had to run in those shoes.”
I glance down at my feet. Honestly, it hadn’t bothered me. I’m a chick who wears five-inch heels all of the time. I can run in flat sandals.
“Not a problem,” I tell him. “And I’m fine with ditching the boat. No biggie. I’m sorry for you—I know you were looking forward to your fast boat ride.”
He shrugs, then grins. “That’s all right. I’ve still got a shot with a fast woman.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “I don’t know what you think about me, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got it wrong. I’m not a slut. Do I like sex? Yeah. Of course I do. Do I fuck everyone I come into contact with? Of course not.”
He slides around the seats of the gondola until he’s sitting next to me. Even though the gondola is large, having all of our weight balanced on one side tips the car a little and I grab the edge, panicked.
Dominic laughs. “Afraid of heights?”
I shake my head, staring over the edge again. “No. I’m afraid of falling to an early death.”
“Oh, I won’t let anything hurt you,” he says smoothl
y and slides his arm around my shoulders. For a minute, the mood changes and I believe him. I can feel the muscle of his arm pulled taut against my back, and I know that if he wanted, he could protect me from all harm.
But it’s hard to say what Dominic wants… his mood changes with the wind.
“Why did you come to my house?” I ask him curiously, staring up at him, still nestled in the crook of his arm. He’s mere inches away, which makes it hard to concentrate. His thigh is pressed firmly against mine, sexiness exuding from every pore. I try seriously hard not to be impressed with him, but shit. He’s Dominic fucking Kinkaide. And he’s here with me.
Right now.
If I think about it, it’s daunting. So I try not to think about it.
He stares at me, laughter in his green eyes. “Why? Can’t I be spontaneous every once in a while?”
“Of course you can.” I sniff. “But you don’t even like me. You think that I got you into trouble with that pot and I’m the whole reason that you’re stuck in Chicago. I didn’t, by the way.”
“It doesn’t really matter anymore what happened,” he answers easily. “It could’ve been Sin, for all I know. All that matters is that I’m stuck here. And since I am, I felt like making the most of it this afternoon. I was in the mood to have a little fun.”
“And has your mood changed?” I ask curiously. Getting chased by a boatful of rabid fans could understandably do that to a person.
He levels a gaze at me, one full of dark and naughty things, and I take a quick breath.
“No.”
With that, he reaches his other arm around me, his fingers playing with the hem of my frayed denim shorts, his skin on mine. “I’ve been wanting to do this since you bent over in front of me in your bedroom,” he whispers. “Your ass was bare and tight and I just wanted to plunge my dick into it.”
The world freezes and I inhale sharply as I stare into his eyes. Did he really just say that?
“Into my ass?” I ask breathlessly.
He nods. “You’d like it,” he answers knowingly, reaching around to slide his fingers under my leg, cupping my ass as he pulls me closer to him.
His fingers are strong, and long and for a minute I think about the naughtiness of what he’s suggesting. Why I’m not moving away from him, I don’t know. But I’m planted firmly in this seat and I don’t want to go anywhere.
I swallow hard. “I’ve… um, never done that.”
He laughs, a velvety sound. “Babe, I could show you a bunch of things you’ve never done. And I guarantee you’d like every one of them.”
For some reason, I have no doubt of that. It’s an exciting thought.
He bends his head and nips at my neck, then soothes the bite with a soft suck. His lips, so soft and smooth, ease the pain of the bite away. His nearness is intoxicating, and everything about him screams that he is capable of so many things… things that would please me… things that would embarrass me in the light of day.
But still, I don’t move. I stay right with him, my gaze frozen on his.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he slowly dips his head and plunges his tongue into my mouth, completely plundering it, consuming me yet again. It’s like he can’t kiss me without devastating all of my senses at once, annihilating my thoughts and causing my blood to throb as it all races toward one destination… the V between my legs.
Right where I ache for him.
He’s like a drug… and one taste just isn’t enough.
I open up my mouth and breathe around his lips, sucking in air, grasping at his back and pulling him closer. He reaches back and grabs my hands, holding them together at my wrists and pinning them over my head against the Plexiglas gondola cage. I’m trapped here with him, yet there’s no place I’d rather be.
The energy around us now is primal and raw… and it’s exhilarating too, because we’re out in public. Every time the gondola swoops along the ground before it begins its upward ascent, anyone could look in and see what we’re doing. They could see Dominic pinning me against the wall, and his other hand buried in my crotch, if only they looked closely.
Honestly, I think he might like that idea.
“What are you doing?” I finally manage to whisper, pulling away just ever so slightly.
His eyes are a little unfocused, his pupils dilated. “What would you like for me to do, Jacey?”
He knows. Oh, god, he knows. He knows exactly what I’d like for him to do. I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it in his hands as he releases my wrists and slides both of his hands down, over every curve and plane of my body.
He takes his time, sliding his palms down, down, down… everywhere at once, slow and leisurely. He palms my curves, savoring them. He’s firm, slow, and purposeful… someone who knows what he’s doing and what he wants.
I twitch when he passes over my nipples. They’re hypersensitive in my cold, wet shirt. He barely brushes them before he trails further down, down my sides, over the swell of my hips. I want to buck against him when his hands cup my breasts as he pulls me toward him.
I don’t need to, though. He slips his fingers under my shorts because he knows I’m not wearing underwear. He slips those long fingers in, all the way in, into me.
Into where I’m waiting for him.
I moan long and low. He’s feeding the fire he slowly built inside of me and I don’t ever want him to stop.
I glance up and everything around is a blur. We swoop past the ride operator on the ground, past the crowds, past the food smells and the sunshine, past the sidewalks and the shops. All of it is a blur and none of it matters.
The only thing that matters is what shouldn’t.
Him.
He shoves up my shirt and pulls one cup of my bra down, licking at my nipple, teasing it until it’s standing up at full attention, as erect as his dick is. I can feel him, hard and rigid, pushing into my leg. But he doesn’t rub against me. He doesn’t act feverish, like me; he acts calm and controlled, slow and easy. He’s not asking for anything in return, he just plays with me with his mouth.
His tongue is wet against my skin, against my nipple, against me. It’s hot and moist, and just when I’m ready to beg him to fuck me in this very public place—suspended 150 feet in the air—he stops.
Just like that.
“We should go,” he says quietly, his arms collapsing casually back into his lap. Like we’re just sitting here, taking a normal ride on the Ferris wheel.
I yank my head up and realize that we’re coming to a stop on the ground. The ride is over. I pull my shirt down and stare at him, trying to focus my blurry eyes.
Seriously?
He’s unaffected as he climbs from the gondola and holds his hand out to me, waiting for me to let him help me from the car. I pointedly ignore his hand, choosing to dismount all on my own with my rubbery legs that feel like jelly.
Oh my god, I’ve never felt so humiliated, because I’m so affected and he’s so… not. It’s so easy for him to turn it on and off, to stay so fucking detached. My cheeks burn as I follow him down the sidewalks of the pier, as I focus on his broad shoulders swaying through the crowd, at the back of his neck, at his hips.
Everything about him is unfazed.
And I’m an idiot.
I totally just let him play with me. In public. And for what purpose? So that he’d have a fun distraction from the people that were chasing us in the streets?
Fuck that. I’m no one’s distraction and I should’ve known better.
We get into the car without speaking and we drive silently down the streets of Chicago. Several minutes pass before he even glances at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks innocently, as if he doesn’t know.
I glare at him.
“What the fuck was that about?” I demand, although I’m madder at myself than him. I let him do that. I let him fuck with me. After all of the lectures I’ve given myself over the past few months about having more self-respect, I let him finger-fuck me on a Ferris whe
el. I’m pathetic.
“What was what?” he asks, staring sideways at me. “It was just… having a good time. You seemed to enjoy yourself.”
I glance at his crotch, remembering the way his hardness had strained into me just moments before.
“You seemed to, as well,” I remind him. “But why? I don’t understand you at all. The entire world isn’t your plaything, Dominic. I’m not your plaything.”
“I never said you were,” he answers easily as he turns onto my street. “You didn’t say no. If you didn’t want to participate, all you had to do was say the word.”
And that’s what pisses me off. I didn’t say the word. I didn’t say the word because I wanted him.
I want him still.
That’s why I’m so pissed. I want a man who couldn’t care less if he’s
Before We Fall Page 13
