Page 45 of Catch Me When I Fall

Not to mention her fucking body.

From the second she walked inside the house, I’d been fighting my restraint, something dark and primal scratching beneath the surface, ready to be released—on her.

Before she was widow, she was skin and bone—borderline unhealthy—and now…now, she had curves that bounced when she walked, a little bit extra for a man like me to hold onto when I fucked her into her mattress, her screams muffled by the pillow. Her mid-section was soft, feminine, while her hips were wide, her legs strong, and her fucking chest…

Carrie Hale made my goddamn mouth water, and that was a fucking problem. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a woman so fucking stunning. Her beauty was endless, and I was fucking downing in it.

“Who hired you?” she asked, her soft voice pulling from my sinful thoughts.

I was surprised she hadn’t guessed it yet, but given the man her father was, and the note she’d received, it made sense that the street racers weren’t at the forefront of her mind. Like she said in her journal, she was trying to forget that part of her life—the good and the bad.

My eyes meet hers once more as I clenched my jaw, wanting this to be over. “Jeremy Jones.”

She jerked back, eyes wide. “Jer?”

“Your friends were worried about you, and Jeremy called me the night you disappeared,” I told her, giving her more than I should’ve.

She stumbled back, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make any sense…”

My brows came together.

Don’t ask.

Don’t ask.

Don’t ask.

Don’t ask.

Just get your shit and leave, Grayson.

“Why not?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

I watched as a new emotion flashed in her eyes—guilt. She looked down to her feet and tightened her arms around herself, and suddenly, all I wanted was to hold her, to know what she would feel like in my arms.

“I haven’t been a very good friend to them over the last few years,” she explained, looking back up at me and then towards the window again. “When I married Robert, he made it seem like he wanted me all to himself.”

Every muscle in my body tightened at the mention of her dead husband and reality splashed over me like ice cold rain, snapping me out of my whatever the fuck it was towards her. I waited for her to continue, not bothering to respond.

“Now, I’m starting to realize a lot of things,” she mumbled, almost to herself. “He didn’t want me to himself. He wanted me away from my friends. Because of my father.” Her eyes met mine once more. “I assume you know about my father?”

I nodded. Mayor Gelling was the worst kind of monster—the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

She shook her head, laughing quietly. “Great,” she muttered, shame lacing her voice.

My brows came together once more as I ticked my head to the side. “You aren’t your father,” I told her without a second thought. “What he did had nothing to do with you, you understand?”

She had to understand. She was innocent in all of this, blindsided by tragedy and then slammed with the horror-filled news about her father after his arrest. In her file, it was noted that she wasn’t told about her father until halfway through his trial.

“You don’t understand,” she said, a sense of urgency in her voice. “You’ll never understand.” Her plump, pink bottom lip began to tremble. “I can’t go back there. You have to tell Jer that. He has to understand.”

The last thing I wanted was to be her messenger boy. “You tell him that yourself,” I said, my voice level now.

She shook her head. “I can’t talk to them again.”

“Why the fuck not?” I clipped.

She didn’t flinch at my harshness, only blinking once. “Because when I left St. Louis, I left everything and everyone in it behind. I want nothing to do with that city.”

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