Fall to You Read online

  “You are such a good cook,” she says on a moan. She chews slowly, and when she swallows, she sighs and shrugs. “I don’t want to talk about Max. He screwed up, but he’s not a bad guy. In fact…” She pokes at her food again.

  “I promise it was dead before I put it in the pan.” That earns me a smile. I love washing the sadness from her face. More than I should.

  “Maggie took Asher home with her the first night they met.” She keeps her eyes on the table and smiles softly. “She stripped and told him she wanted him.”

  “Seems like that worked out for them.”

  She nods. “But I’m not like that. Maggie knows men want her. Knows it. I’ve never had that kind of confidence, and for months, I’ve been holding back with Max and…”

  “He broke up with you because you wouldn’t have sex with him?”

  Her head snaps up and her eyes meet mine. “No. I broke up with him.”

  I raise a brow. “And here I thought he broke your heart.”

  “That’s why I had to break up with him,” she whispers. Then her cheeks flush and she shakes her head. “I am officially the worst date. How many rules have I broken? The V-word—that was a bad call. Then talking about my boyfriend? Crying into my dinner?”

  “I’m sorry I freaked about the virgin thing.” I clear my throat. This isn’t exactly a conversation I’ve had to have before. “Your first time is kind of a big deal. Add that to the fact that you just broke up with your boyfriend and I’d be a total asshole to sleep with you now.”

  “I had to follow the sweet rocker back to his hotel room, huh?”

  “I’M NOT sweet,” Nate says, but even as he says it, he offers me another bite from his fork.

  I take it, watching his eyes flare hot as I chew. It’s almost like everything I do is sexual to him, and I love that feeling.

  “I’m a fucking no-good bastard. That’s why we have to put on the brakes. Don’t let the dorky shit fool you. I’m that guy who isn’t going to call you tomorrow. I’m that guy who isn’t going to return your texts. I’m that guy who’s going to fuck you silly and then act like it never happened. That’s who I am. That’s how I live.”

  “I have trouble believing that.”

  “Believe it, sweetheart. Damn it.” He drops his fork, takes a handful of my hair, and twirls his fingers in it. “I knew you were too sweet for me.”

  I run my fingertips over the stubble on his jaw. How would I feel if I slept with him tonight and he acted like it never happened? My body is so full of hormones and longing right now that it doesn’t seem like it matters.

  “I didn’t come here looking for forever. I came here looking for tonight.”

  “And tomorrow I’m just going to be this mistake you made once. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but you’re special.”

  “I’m not worried about tomorrow. Worrying about tomorrow never got me anywhere. The only thing that matters is here and now.”

  I scoot forward on my chair and kiss him tentatively. I don’t know if he wants to touch me anymore. I don’t know if I should stay back, but I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss me, rub his scruffy cheeks against my neck before he bites it.

  His hand loosens in my hair and he kisses me back gently, softer than he’s kissed me all night. I miss the frantic pace of our earlier kisses. I miss the rough way he tugged at my hair. But I’ll take this.

  As if reading my mind, he pulls back and studies me. “I was too rough with you earlier. Jesus. I—”

  I cut him off with a finger to his lips. “I liked it. Especially the part where you kind of pulled my hair while you were coming in my throat.”

  He groans. “You’re killing me, Hanna. You’re this angel who could tempt a saint, and I’m no saint.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say, tracing the blade tattoo on his side. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for us to have sex tonight.”

  “I know I’m right. And I’m showing an uncharacteristic amount of restraint, so I should probably take you back to your room before that fades.”

  His biceps flex under my fingers as I move to trace the Hulk tattoo on his left arm. God, he’s like this impossible combination of sexy-cool rocker and nerd.

  “You weren’t lying about the tattoo.”

  He raises a brow. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

  I snort. “You’re a pussy cat.”

  He stiffens. “Don’t try to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

  With a deep breath, I remind myself of the look in his eyes after he surveyed my nude body. To this man, I’m as good as any of my gorgeous sisters. Better, maybe, though I’ll never understand why. It’s only with that in mind that I can muster the courage to slide off my chair and onto his lap. I straddle him. I’m so close that the stiff ridge of his dick presses between my thighs, only the soft cotton of his sleep shorts between us.

  “So maybe we shouldn’t have sex, but I was having an awfully good time doing all the not-exactly-sex stuff, and I think you were too.”

  “You think?”

  “I know,” I whisper. “Because I can still taste the evidence.”

  “Hanna.” There’s a warning in his voice that neither of us wants to listen to.

  “I could get turned on by the sound of your voice alone.” I lick my lips and slip my hand into his shorts, finding the slick head of his cock with my fingertips.

  “Fuck.” His hips jerk, and then my fingers are sliding around him.

  I look to the clock on the wall. Three in the morning, and I’m not the slightest bit tired. He’s already hard, but I feel the blood pumping into his dick, making him even harder, thicker, as I stroke.

  “Is it really your birthday?”

  He’s watching me with heavy-lidded eyes as I work him over with my hand. “Yes.”

  “And what if I told you I wanted to stay? What if I told you I wanted a second round of what we did in the bathroom?” My old insecurities sneak into my voice on the last question. I would elaborate, would tell him how turned on I am by the idea of his mouth between my legs, but I’ve already stretched my bravery to its limits.

  “I won’t take your virginity,” he warns.

  “I’m not asking you to.” My heart pounds in my throat as his eyes roam over my face, and I kiss him before he talks himself out of it.

  I sweep my lips over his and nip at his bottom lip. Slowly, his mouth opens over mine, and then he’s kissing me and his fingers curl into my hips, and I know the night’s just begun.

  I HAVEN’T slept all night with a woman next to me since before my son was born, yet here I am, holding her like I’m some closet romantic who doesn’t plan to send her on her way in a couple of hours. I loved every fucking minute of sleeping with her in my arms. I love how she reached for me in her sleep, how she rubbed her ass against my cock as if trying to wiggle a puzzle piece into place. And maybe a puzzle is the right analogy, because her body fits so damn perfectly against mine that I feel like something’s missing when she rolls away.

  She’s on her back now, a hand reaching out, fingers resting on my bicep as if she’s afraid I might escape. The women I take to my bed tend to react that way, but I know it has little to do with my mad bedroom skills. For them, it’s about status, a notch in their bedpost of celebrities. What’s it about for Hanna?

  The air conditioner cycles on, parting the curtains and bathing her in morning light that reminds me I should be urging her out of my bed. Only I don’t want her to go anywhere. I’m too enthralled by the dark smudge of her lashes against her cheeks and the soft parting of her full lips. She has these faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, another detail in this study in contrasts—the sweet, insecure virgin who doesn’t understand her own appeal and the wanton goddess who sucked me so hard and pulled my dick so deep she’s no doubt ruined me for all other blowjobs. And the way she responds when I touch her…

  Hanna’s a virgin, but she was made for sex. Damn, how I envy the man who will get to introduce her to
that pleasure. Will it be the ex? Max?

  Something flames in my gut at the thought, but I ignore the flare of jealousy. She still loves him. I’m nothing more than the rebound guy, and I should be glad for that because I can’t offer her more than this.

  “Mmm,” she moans, her eyes fluttering open and closed again as if she can’t quite convince them to greet the day. “What are you looking at?”

  “You.”

  She pats her hair before tugging the sheet up to cover her bare breasts. “Not much to look at before coffee. I’m probably a mess.”

  “A beautiful mess,” I growl, tugging the sheet back down. “Don’t interrupt me. I was trying to play connect-the-dots with your freckles.”

  She raises a brow but doesn’t try to re-cover herself. “How’s that work?”

  “Well, they obviously start here,” I murmur, touching the bridge of her nose. “Then they pick up again here…” I drag my finger down her nose, over her soft lips, and to her collarbone, where a few more freckles are sprinkled.

  “Not much of a treasure hunt.”

  “Oh, you see, the amateur might think that’s the end of the trail, but I am an expert at connect-the-dots, and I don’t give up so easily.”

  “Oh. Good. I was worried.”

  I shake my head and press a quick kiss to her lips. “I won’t let you down. But are you ready for the next part?”

  “I don’t know? Is it hangman? I’m not sure I want you playing hangman with my freckles.” Her smile damn near bowls me over.

  “Still connecting the dots, but you see, it’s about intuition when the going gets tough like this, and for my intuition to work at its best, I need to stop searching with my fingers and take over with my tongue.”

  She giggles. “Oh really?”

  I climb on top of her, resting on my elbows, and she instinctively draws up her knees so my torso rests between her thighs. My cock aches, demanding that I slide up her body and get closer. Fuck. It wants more than to be close. It wants inside her. Tight and hot and deep. But I ignore it and lower my mouth to the freckles on her collarbone.

  The taste of her skin on my tongue makes me hungry for more. I want to lick her clit again, to slide my tongue inside her until she loses control and rocks her hips in that sweet rhythm of fucking.

  Instead, I trail my tongue down between her breasts and to the lone freckle beneath her sternum. “Found it,” I murmur before gently nipping her skin.

  She arches toward my mouth. “Your tongue has a rather impressive intuition.”

  “Oh, and it’s not even done yet.”

  I sweep my mouth lower, nipping at each hipbone before pressing my face right between her thighs and finally finding what I’m craving. Licking her clit, I slide my hands under her ass and lift her toward my face.

  She moans and her hips buck. I want more than that. I want crazy, needy, desperate. So I draw back and blow softly. She gasps, and I follow my breath with my mouth and taste her with my smile.

  “Nate,” she says, arching off the bed. “Aren’t you bored with… Oh, God…”

  I wrap my lips around her swollen clit and suck, and she grabs a fistful of my hair and starts that desperate movement I’ve been after, but I can’t stand not seeing her face. I want to know how she looks when she comes, so I reposition myself next to her and slide two fingers inside.

  “Nate.” Her eyes glossy as she turns to me. “I—”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Her slick heat squeezes around my fingers. “I’ll get back to tasting you later, but right now, I want to see what you look like when you come.”

  Her lips part and her eyes flutter shut. Then a phone rings.

  She stills. “That’s probably Maggie.” She sinks her teeth into her lip.

  “Let it go.”

  She shakes her head and slides away from my touch. “I’m sure she’s worried about me if she’s gone to my room and I wasn’t there.” She finds her purse and pulls out her phone. “Hello?” Her face falls and her body language changes. “It was good… Yeah… I’m sorry. I’m not up for that…” Her gaze flicks to mine then back to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it right now… I love you too,” she whispers, and then she ends the call. Covering her mouth with her hand, she squeezes her eyes shut and draws into herself.

  “The boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she corrects, still not looking at me.

  “You regularly tell your exes you love them?” I’m not the jealous type. You wouldn’t fucking know it by the tone of my voice.

  She meets my gaze. “Love doesn’t go away just because you realize you can’t be with someone.”

  Don’t I know it.

  She finds my T-shirt on the floor and pulls it on over her head. “Listen, could we keep what happened here between us? I really don’t need my sister freaking out about it.”

  “And you don’t want it getting back to Max,” I say flatly.

  She shrugs. “It would only hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him.”

  I nod, ignoring the knot in my stomach. “It’s our secret,” I promise.

  “I should get dressed.”

  I’m not ready for her to shut me out. I’m not ready for this time together to end. I’m trying to come up with an excuse—any excuse—to get her to stay.

  And for that reason, more than any, I say, “I’ll walk you to your room.”

  CANDLES. MUSIC. Rose petals.

  Am I in the wrong house? But my key hanging from the door confirms I’m at the right place. Maybe I’m interrupting some romantic evening of Lizzy’s—she’s overdue for one of those. But then Max is walking toward me, his face serious, his eyes soft.

  From the living room speakers, Jason Mraz croons about not giving up.

  “What is this?” I ask stupidly. Maggie just dropped me off. I’m still buzzed on another man’s kisses, can still feel the beard burn between my thighs when I walk, and here’s Max setting this romantic scene.

  He drops to one knee and—

  “Holy shit.” The ring in his fingers sparkles in the candlelight as he lifts it toward me.

  “Hanna Thompson,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I didn’t have any idea that love could be like this. That it could make me a better man in every way. You showed me that. And I’m so sorry that I hurt you. You’re the only one I want. From now until forever.”

  I can’t breathe. Can’t think or process his words. This is a dream, right? Because I’d effing swear to you that Max Hallowell is in my living room proposing. And that can’t be. Can it?

  He draws in a ragged breath. “When I picture my life, when I imagine waking up next to someone, when I imagine my children in their mother’s arms, I picture you. I’ve known for months now that you’re all I want. All I need. And maybe I don’t deserve you, but I’m selfish enough to ask for you anyway. Marry me, Hanna. I want to make a life with you. I want to be by your side while your dreams come true.”

  I manage a breath, but it enters my lungs in a thick and ragged gulp. My limbs are so heavy that it’s hard to move.

  “Say something,” he whispers, still looking up at me, his gorgeous blue eyes wet with unshed tears.

  “I…” What do I say? Last night, I was begging another man to take my virginity, and now Max—gorgeous, amazing, all-I-ever-wanted Max—is on one knee, promising me forever. “I can’t,” I whisper.

  His shoulders sag and he drops his head. I stand there and watch his chest rise and fall with his breath. Pain rolls off him in such intense waves that it threatens to bowl me over.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, but what I really mean is that I wish he had done this before Meredith and those texts. Before he broke my heart and became desperate to win me back. Before I stopped believing in him.

  He shakes his head and stands. “You don’t owe me any apologies. I’m the one who fucked up.” He lifts his hand to my face, and just before his fingers touch my cheek, he drops it.


  “I don’t want to say no,” I admit. “I want to believe you really mean it, but, Max… Part of me will always believe you proposed out of guilt. Part of me will always believe this is all a charade to you. Some sacrifice you’re making to help the fat girl feel good about herself.” Part of me would always believe he was marrying me for my money.

  “Hanna. You’re beautiful.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them again, they’re soft and sad. “I don’t know how to make you believe how beautiful you are. You hardly let me touch you, and I was okay with that because not touching you is one thousand times better than losing you. But don’t think for a second that means I didn’t want to touch you.”

  I keep my hands at my sides, clenching my fists because I really just want to reach for him, to curl into him. But I can’t.

  He rests his forehead on my shoulder. “I was an idiot, and I am so sorry.”

  “Me too,” I whisper, and suddenly, hot tears are rolling down my cheeks. Because I love this man, and I want everything he’s offering. “But your timing is terrible.”

  He takes my hand and presses the ring into my palm, curling my fingers around it. “Keep it. That’s how much I want this, Hanna. Keep it. I’ll wait.”

  WHEN HANNA’S door closes behind me, I feel like I’ve been gutted, and I’m leaving here without my heart. I have to stop on the steps. I close my eyes and try to remember how to breathe, how to take a step and live without the only thing that matters.

  I’ll give her the space she needs. God willing, she’ll find her way back to me.

  The sound of someone crying pulls me from my thoughts, and when I turn to the street, I see a figure leaning against an old maple a few houses down. Her face is hidden in the shadows of the night, but her shoulders are shaking and there’s no mistaking the sound of sobs.

  I approach slowly. “Are you okay?”