The Harder You Fall

  She whimpered...and then she erupted. "You bastard!" Steam practically curled from her nostrils as she stomped her foot.

  Here comes the beast I read about online in three...two...

  "I mean something to you," she hissed, "you just don't know it yet. You don't remember me, damn you. I never wanted you to remember, only wanted you to fall for the woman I am. Now I don't see any other way."

  His brow furrowed with confusion. "You've lost me."

  "Add a hundred and twenty pounds to me. Any clue yet?" She laughed bitterly. "Four years ago, you dated Patience Ludwick, my roommate."

  Light bulb. Monica, the dark-haired girl who'd peered at him as if he were a god, who'd hung on his every word as if he were unveiling the secrets of the universe. She used to lament her lack of boyfriend, and he'd often complimented her to help build her self-esteem.

  "For two months, you came to our apartment almost every evening. While Patience slept, you spent hours talking with me. You were always so nice to me." She tightened her grip on his jacket. "I knew you would fall in love with me if I lost weight. I knew it! But one day, out of the blue, you dumped her, said you didn't love her, that you would never love her. You took off and never came back, breaking her heart. Breaking mine!"

  She'd just described every relationship he'd ever had since Tessa. "Patience knew how long the relationship would last before she ever agreed to be with me." He'd made sure of it. And there at the end, her heart hadn't been involved. He'd simply hurt her pride, because she'd thought--like so many others--that he would soften, change his mind. A critical mistake. He would never soften, and he would never change his mind. He'd set a schedule for reasons that hadn't changed, and he would stick to it. For better or worse.

  But Monica still had stars in her eyes. "I knew deep down you just needed to see the woman I was inside, the skinny one, so I dieted and worked out and kept tabs on you, watching you date other women for two months, once every year, before you walked away. Whether you realized it or not, you were waiting for me, West. And don't try to deny it. When you saw the new me, you picked me. Me! The one you love inside and now, outside. We can be happy together. You just have to give me a chance to prove it."

  He stepped away from her, severing contact. Shit. Shit! This wasn't his first boiling-bunny experience, but it would be his last. From now on, he would screen potentials more thoroughly. And yeah, okay, guilt welled up, spilling through him, hot enough to burn. He'd dated and dropped a lot of good women without any thought to their feelings, consoling himself with the knowledge that he'd been up-front and honest.

  "West. Please." Monica reached for him, but again he stepped back. "Let's blow the party. We'll go to my place, drink wine, talk like we used to and finally make love. By morning we'll laugh about the blonde, I swear."

  No, he would never laugh about his feelings for the blonde. "I'm sorry, Monica." He used his gentlest tone, not wanting to hurt her further but seeing no way around it. "I never should have asked you out. You and I never would have worked out. We want different things."

  She shook her head. "I saved myself for you. I want my first time to be with you."

  He'd been Tessa's first, and yes, it had been an honor, had made him feel as if he were king of the world. He'd experienced an extreme flood of triumph and had wanted to beat his chest like a gorilla--because of the girl, not her state.

  Jessie Kay wasn't a virgin, and yet, if ever he got inside that woman, he'd still want to beat his chest like a gorilla.

  He desired her more than he'd ever desired another.

  Oh...shit. He did. The boy he'd been had desired Tessa, but the man he'd become desired Jessie Kay. There was no comparison.

  "You and I would never work out," he repeated. "I'm interested in someone else."

  Monica's eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "You're interested in her, aren't you? She's a whore!"

  He took another step back, before he did something he would regret. "She's not a whore. And you and I...we won't be seeing each other again. Ever."

  "No. No!" Desperation tinged her voice. "Don't do this. Please, West. Remember how good we were together, all those years ago, how we talked and laughed. We can have that again."

  "I remember." She'd been sweet and shy and barely able to meet his gaze. "Now we want different things. I'm sorry," he repeated, and her desperation was instantly replaced by fury.

  "Bastard! You're such a bastard!" She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her. "I hate you."

  "Hate me all you want. It's deserved, and I accept it as my due. But make sure you keep it directed at me."

  With that, he released her and strode from the room.

  Her tearful cry followed him. "I didn't mean it, West. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I love you!"

  He had to circle the room twice before he caught sight of Jessie Kay--and of course, a swarm of drooling men surrounded her. He stalked forward, shoving his way to the center of the group.

  "--tap my butt again, and I'll give you a high five. In the face. With my tray," Jessie Kay was saying, her smile sweet.

  "I'm pretty sure it'd be worth it," the guy replied.

  A punch of fury in West's chest, a kick of possessiveness in his gut. No one touched this girl. "You put your hands on her again, and you'll lose them."

  The kid in question paled. The rest of the crowd backed up several steps.

  "West." Jessie Kay stiffened, though her voice lacked any kind of heat. "How dare you. Threatening the guests is unprofessional."

  "We're leaving." He did the smart thing--the only-way-to-survive-in-the-jungle thing--and kept the flaw in her admonition to himself as he confiscated her tray and handed it to the openmouthed kid. "Take this to the kitchen. Now."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Hey!" Jessie Kay placed her hands on her hips. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm trying to abscond with you."

  "Well, stop. You came with Monica. You can leave with Monica."

  He thought he detected jealousy, what he'd once hoped she'd feel. But not here, not now. Not anymore. Jessie Kay put on a good game face, but he saw the insecure girl lurking underneath. She had no idea of her worth, and as long as they were friends--or whatever they were to each other--she would need reassurance.

  High maintenance, some would say. But then, he was higher maintenance. They were actually kind of perfect together.

  "I want nothing to do with Monica." He tugged Jessie Kay away from the crowd, and this time she allowed it. Had he ever felt skin so soft? So warm?

  "West," she said, breathless.

  As he stopped to face her, he was hyperaware of her, locked in a world where only she existed. The sweetness of her natural perfume. The sudden hitch in her breath. The increasing velocity of her pulse. The way she leaned toward him, a subtle softening of her spine. The way her body readied itself for his possession, her breasts swelling and her nipples tightening.

  With his free hand, he traced his thumb over the rise of her cheekbone. "What are you doing to me?"

  She peered at him with eyes now heavy-lidded. "The same thing you're doing to me, I hope."

  A clench of need low in his gut. "Let's get out of here."

  "I want to, but I can't. Brook Lynn--"

  "Will understand. The party is anathema to us both, kitten."

  A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "There you go, using fancy words again."

  "Don't even think about protesting. I saved you from the clutches of a deadly spider, remember? You owe me."

  "West!" Monica screeched, and the rest of the world came crashing back into focus. He looked over at her. Black mascara streaked down her tearstained face. With no thought to the scene she was creating, she barreled toward them. "West!"

  "She looks... Wow." Jessie Kay's jaw dropped. "Did you murder her cat?"

  "Don't know if she has a cat. I broke things off, not that we were ever together." He tried to drag Jessie Kay away, but she dug in her heels.
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  "Slow your roll, sugar bear, and explain. I know you said you wanted nothing to do with her, but what do you mean by broke things off?"

  "I told her I didn't want to see her again, and now she's out for blood. Yours, to be precise. Let's go." He pulled.

  She resisted. "Why mine? What'd I do?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "You have the face I dream about and the smile I crave."

  "I what?" she squeaked.

  "You heard me. Now let's go."

  Too late.

  Monica reached them, hissing when she noticed their joined hands. "I was right. It's her. You have no idea what she's like. I asked around. She's trash! A slut! She'll sleep with anyone--and has."

  West felt as if he'd been swallowed by a fury so deep, so all-encompassing, he'd never find his way free of it.

  And she wasn't done. "I hope you enjoy the STDs she'll give you."

  "You mean my sexy table dances? Oh, he will," Jessie Kay snapped. "Trust me."

  West stepped between the two women, unsure what to do next, only knowing he could end up in jail if he handled things his way.

  "Did tearing me down make you feel good, little girl?" Jessie Kay lifted her head with regal authority. "I hope so, because this next part is going to hurt you." She pulled back her elbow and let her fist fly.

  Smack! Her knuckles went to war with Monica's nose, and the nose lost. Cartilage snapped. Blood spurted, and Monica howled with pain, stumbling back, losing her footing and falling.

  "Ow," Jessie Kay shouted, shaking her hand. "I didn't expect it to hurt me, too."

  West wanted to smile. He wanted to curse.

  "You'll pay for this," Monica rasped.

  "For defending myself? Not likely." Jessie Kay spun, meeting the gaze of everyone around her. "She came at me. Everyone saw. You know the truth. And someone tell my sister I did not lose my temper. I remained calm the entire time."

  West reclaimed Jessie Kay's hand--the uninjured one--as a tuxedo-clad Beck and Jase pushed their way through the crowd. Of course his friends had snuck in. Brook Lynn and Harlow were here.

  "I know Brook Lynn probably feels her professional reputation is at stake," he said to Jase, "so it's up to her whether she stays or goes, but I'm taking Jessie Kay home."

  "I know my girl," Jase said. "Her sister was insulted. She won't want to stay."

  Both guys stalked off to find their women.

  Outside the hotel, cars pulled up to the lamp-lit sidewalk, tainting the air with exhaust. Different valets rushed to climb inside different vehicles while guests meandered in and out, wearing everything from formal gowns to jeans and sweaters.

  "I'm not leaving without talking to my sister," Jessie Kay said. "Or getting her money."

  "I'll pay her." He showed his ID card to the valet, who'd just returned to the podium with keys.

  The guy nodded, his gaze lingering on Jessie Kay just long enough to draw a growl from West.

  "Today," West roared.

  Footsteps suddenly rang out.

  "First," Jessie Kay said, "I don't want your money, I want Monica's. Second, you weren't the one under attack. What's your rush? Let me go back and speak with--"

  "You know your sister is packing up. As for the rush, I have many reasons. How many would you like to hear?"

  She pursed her lips. "Start with three."

  "One, an escalation of violence would have landed us both in serious trouble. Two, if Monica had hit you back, I would have lost it. I'm like the Hulk, and people don't want to see me when I'm angry. Especially when it comes to your protection. You have somehow become my favorite person, and I will do bad, bad things to keep you safe."

  "That's only two reasons," she said on a wispy catch of breath.

  "Three, I want to get your hand on ice. Your knuckles are already swelling."

  Her features softened, the way he'd hoped. A second later, his car arrived, and he tipped the valet, who did his best to avoid glancing in Jessie Kay's direction. Only when West was on the road, the sprawling, five-star hotel nothing but a blur in his rearview mirror did he relax.

  "I don't have an STD, you know," she said quietly, peering out at the night sky. "I haven't been with anyone in months, since...you know, and I've been tested."

  "Good. I don't have one, either. And kitten," he said, his voice just as quiet, "I don't consider you a slut."

  "You must."

  "Because a double standard is mandatory to be considered a man?"

  "Yes!"

  "Hardly. I'm no one's judge. You know my history, right? Besides, if I were a girl, I would have bagged and tagged Jase and Beck, too. They're hot."

  She smiled, but the amusement didn't last long. "You must hate that I've been with them."

  "I hate the thought of you with anyone else and for a while, I thought I'd grow to resent the two for putting their hands on my woman. But now I realize it simply doesn't matter. They are the past, and I am the present."

  "Your woman," she whispered, as if she couldn't believe he'd said the words. "The future." Gulping, she turned in her seat to fully face him. "How did Monica know you want to pretend I'm a human buffet?"

  He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "I told her."

  A moment passed in silence. A moment he lacked any kind of heartbeat, the stupid organ waiting for a reason to beat.

  "I want you, too," she admitted. "You know I do. But I won't do anything about it because I expect long-term and you insist on two months." A heavy pause. "Right?"

  His body reacted to her words--I want you, too--growing hot and hungry, his heart now racing as an insatiable need for relief plagued him. "Right." He couldn't overlook his reasons for keeping this particular schedule. Not even for Jessie Kay. It would be an insult to Jase and Tessa, even Beck. It would be an insult to the pain they'd suffered on his behalf.

  "Why?" she asked. "Why do you insist on two months? Tell me. Please."

  "Not yet." He'd have to tell her sooner or later, he saw that now, but as for tonight, there'd been enough turmoil. "If we can't be together, you have to help me resist you. Tell me all the horrible things you'd do if we were involved. Cling? Demand to know every detail about my rotten childhood?"

  For a long, silent moment, she peered at him with yearning and hope, and it tore him up inside. He didn't think there could be anything worse--until both emotions were eclipsed by resolve.

  "I would cling so hard," she finally said. "I would ask a million questions about not just your childhood but your day, every day, and if I thought, even for a second, you'd looked at another woman, I would punish you by refusing to sleep with you. For a week!"

  "You mean you would punish yourself. But keep going. This is helping." Was it though? He wasn't disturbed by the thought of her questions and her punishment. He was intrigued.

  "I would take horrible advantage of you," she said.

  Again, he was intrigued. "Give me an example."

  "Well, for starters, I would expect you to trade cars with me."

  "Why?"

  "Because any boyfriend of mine would insist I drive the safer vehicle."

  Guess who would soon be getting a new--safer--car all her own?

  But she wasn't done. "And I hope you like your girlfriends in baggy shirts and sweatpants. The moment I have you nailed down, I'll stop putting any effort into my appearance."

  He gave a mock shudder.

  "And despite your obvious aversion to gift-giving, I will expect a present for every anniversary. And, West? I believe every week together is a new anniversary."

  The thought utterly terrified him.

  The one gift he'd given his mother, she'd pawned. The first gift he'd given to a foster mother hadn't compared to the gifts she'd received from her own children. She'd proudly displayed theirs, and his--a drawing he'd slaved over--had ended up in the trash with the wrapping paper.

  "Your turn to help me." Jessie Kay waved her hand at him. "Tell me the horrible things you'd do to me." r />
  He brought her hand to his mouth, and licked between her knuckles. One taste. Just one... "I'd have a schedule drilled into your head by the end of the first day."

  "Nothing new there."

  "If you were a minute late to anything, I would pencil in a lecture and a spanking."

  Her exaggerated gasp caused his lips to twitch at the corners. She placed her free hand over her throat, saying, "You're such a beast! Yes, I would deserve and welcome the spanking. But the lecture? Cruel and unusual. How long would it last?"

  "Hours."

  She tsk-tsked. "I hate to break it to you, sugar bear, but I wouldn't hear a word. I'd be too busy daydreaming about the joys of single life."

  "Don't kid yourself, kitten. I'd deliver the lecture naked. You'd only want more of me, not less."

  Goose bumps broke out over her skin. "What else?"

  "I would demand to be the center of your world." He never had before, but with her, he was certain he'd make an exception. "Every minute of every day would belong to me. I would expect you in my bed every night and in my arms every morning. I would have you so often and so hard you wouldn't be able to breathe without thinking of me."

  Another moment passed in silence. Another moment without a heartbeat.

  He reached the house, parked in the driveway.

  "Horrible," she finally said, her voice little more than smoke--smoke that drugged him...lured him deeper into her spell.

  He shook as he got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. "I need another reason. Now."

  She stood before him, looking up at him with luminous eyes. "I would demand a hug at least ten times a day."

  He didn't have to fake a shudder this time. "I hate hugs. I never know how long or tight to hold on."

  "Well, I can fix that in a jiff." She stepped closer to him, stepped into him, winding her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest, where his heart drummed a thousand beats a minute. "Hold on until I say stop."

  He obeyed without thought, wrapping his arms around her and clinging.

  "Tighter," she said. "Good. That's good." A tension-laden pause. "Miserable yet?"

  "Beyond," he whispered.

  "Good. Now run your fingers through my hair."

  It was a dangerous game, the most dangerous one they'd ever played, and it utterly defeated the purpose of what they were trying to do. Still he ran his fingers through the silken strands of her hair, and she sighed with contentment.

  "Jessie Kay." A heated rasp.