Fighting the Fall (Fighting, #4)

I want to prove it to her, pay her back for showing up here tonight, pushing her way into my life, and, by making D’lilah laugh, further planting herself in my soul. Marking her spot in a permanent way.

This is happening. I’ve been denying it for weeks, avoiding the little voice in my head that keeps telling me this woman means something. I’ve made the argument with myself that twenty-one is too young, wrestled with the idea that we’re in two different stages of life, and listed the reasons why we’d never last. But here I am, mere yards from my bed with her and thinking the couple feet that separates us is way too much.

“So um . . . just so we’re straight, you’re thirty-eight, have an easily upset-able ex-wife, and a seventeen-year-old son. Is there anything else I should know?”

Yes. “Not really.”

“That’s a lot to digest.”

My gaze slides up her luscious body. “Too much?”

She rakes her teeth along her lower lip, and her eyes flare. “No.”

I take a step toward her and run my thumb along her lower lip to release it from her teeth. Those big eyes, flushed cheeks, full lips. “Missed touching you, doll.”

“After you found out how old I was, you never came by.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Is our age difference too much for you?”

“Yeah.”

Her head jerks a tiny bit.

“But only when we’re not together. I can justify staying away because of our age difference. But now . . .” I hold out my hand, and she presses her palm to mine. I run my thumb over the tender skin at the underside of her wrist. “Being so close to you, seeing you with Mason and hearing him call you his girl . . .” Fuck, even thinking about it now is making me crazy. “I want you.”

I thought it was what she wanted to hear, but her face twists with what looks like confusion. “So you see me with Mason and now you want to fuck me?”

Her words are like a blow to my gut. That’s not what I meant.

“Eve, I—”

She pulls her hand from mine. “That’s fine, Cameron.” Her voice is hard. “Honestly, I wish I could shut you down and turn you away, but I can’t. It sucks, it really does, but the truth is I’ll be whatever you want me to be. You want to show up at midnight for a quick fuck, spend the night, take me to breakfast, or not . . .” She shrugs; her big blue eyes are steely and set on mine. “That’s fine. I can’t say no to you, and if that makes me your slut, then I can live with that.”

“My slut.”

She nods. “You’ve been honest with me, and it’s only fair I do the same.” She runs her hands through her hair and gathers it over her shoulder. “I like you, more than I should and probably more than you like me. If a fuck buddy is what you’re looking for, I can be that.”

I cringe at the casualty of her words and how easily she dismisses her worth. “Stop talking.”

“You call me doll. I’m a toy to you.” She tilts her head, and I don’t see a hint of disgust as she speaks of her worth. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. Honestly, it’s better that I know where we stand, because the wondering is what’ll make me crazy and that’s—”

I hook her behind the neck and tug her to me, covering her lips with mine. Lucky for me I caught her off guard and mid-sentence so her mouth is open and my tongue slides in. She moans and leans her weight against my chest. My free hand moves down to cup her ass and hold her up and close.

Her breasts melt against my chest, and her tiny hands fist into my shirt. She thinks I’m using her for sex. I suppose I was, at first, but the night I left her place after The Blackout, I knew it was more than that. How much more, I didn’t know, but now with her in my arms, her ass in my hand, and my tongue in her mouth, I’m one hundred percent sure I’m making her mine.

I scoop her up by her ass and turn to place her on my clothes dresser. Standing between her legs, I slide my hands up the outside of her thighs to the hem of her dress. She’s convinced she’s nothing more than a place to bury my dick, but she’s wrong. And I’m going to prove it.

Pushing her dress up, she rocks from side to side so I can get it out from under her ass and to her hips. I look down to her soft thighs, which cradle me between them. They lead up to a pair of bright blue lace panties, and as hot as they are, I’m itching to see what’s underneath.

“The door.” She’s breathing hard, her words sputtering on panting breath. “Is it locked?”

I run my hands up and down her thighs, willing her to relax. “Don’t fuckin’ care.” Ryder and D’lilah are gone. Anyone else who walks in can watch or fuck off.

My fingers find their way beneath her panties.

“What if Mason—oh God . . .”

“Relax. He’s playing pool.” I lean in and suck her bottom lip into my mouth, allowing my teeth to scrape against it upon release. “What I have in mind won’t take long.”

Her legs lock around my hips, ankles hook behind the backs of my knees. “Don’t stop.” She braces her weight with her palms behind her, and her eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me.” I bury three fingers to my knuckles.

J.B. Salsbury's books