Page 35 of When We Are Falling

Her words hit me hard, and I turn to face her fully, our knees pressed together. The connection feels grounding, essential. “How did you get through it?”

She looks down at our joined hands, her thumb tracing circles on my skin, the gesture both soothing and intimate. “It was just time. One day I woke up, and it didn’t hurt to take every breath. And it got a little better the next day. Sometimes I went backward, felt like I’d just stop breathing all together and I’d never wake up, stuck in this sticky, awful darkness, but eventually I started to heal.”

“I had no idea. I knew you were hurting, but you always seemed so resilient.”

Blake’s gaze drops again. “We all wear masks. Some of us are just better at hiding the cracks when they appear.”

I tighten my grip on her hand, hoping that I can give her as much comfort as her touch alone gives me, and wait until she looks up. When she does, I hold her gaze, looking into the deep perfect of her eyes. I could get lost in those eyes, searching for all the answers to my questions, clear pools of emerald water reflecting the beauty of the world.

“I don’t want you to think you need to wear a mask around me, or hide anything, ever.”

She starts to pull back, like maybe she thinks she revealed too much, that I’m seeing too much, her eyes darting away.

“Don’t shut me out. Not now. I’m not trying to rescue you or cross any boundaries.”

Her eyes meet mine again, conflicted. The air between us is charged, every moment elongating, stretching out as if time itself is holding its breath. Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in and kiss her. There’s almost a desperation in the kiss, andit’s filled with all the longing and pain we’ve both been holding back.

Her mouth is soft, and after a brief hesitation, she opens her lips, welcoming me. For a moment, there’s only us, connected by our shared grief and the undeniable chemistry that’s been building between us.

She tastes so sweet, and she’s kissing me back with equal intensity, her hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer, and the world outside the bar ceases to exist. All I can think about is the way she feels against me, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body.

She slides off her stool, coming to stand between my legs, and something shifts as her hands skim my belt, tugging, loosening. As her delicate fingers trace the contours of my buckle, a primal urge surges through me.

Our eyes lock, and the realization hits me: I’m not going to be able to stop myself this time.

It’s like we’re both possessed as we pull each other’s clothes off. She unbuttons my shirt, yanking at the material in her impatience, while I pull off her tank top, lifting it over her head, her arms, before throwing it on the bar.

Standing, I get the buckle undone and my jeans fall. Both our hands are yanking down her jeans, leaving her in nothing but a matching pair of pale blue cotton panties and a bra. Her body is perfection, slim and strong, flawless sun-kissed skin.

Forcing myself to slow, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her panties, sliding them slowly down her legs until she steps out of them, then I reach around and unclip her bra. It joins the panties in a soft pile on the floor. The red of her hair cascades over her shoulders. Her breasts are what dreams are made of. She’s beautiful, every inch of her.

I slide a hand between her legs, and she moans. She’s so wet, hot and slick against my fingers. I slide a finger inside her, and she gasps, her walls tight around me.

Adding another finger, pumping them in and out, tracing her clit before sliding back in, a steady rhythm that makes her hips buck and her breath hitch. She reached up, hand around the back of my neck, her mouth finding mine, pulling me down toward her.

Our lips meet in a searing kiss as I continued to work her with my fingers. My other hand guides her back gently until she’s leaning against the bar, then I grab her right thigh, lifting it so it presses against the outside of my leg, opening her to me. My thumb moves to her clit, rubbing in small circles as her body tenses, her muscles coiling as she inches closer and closer to release.

My mouth hovering beside her ear: “Come for me, princess.”

One hand still on her sensitive bud, I moved down to her neck, nipping and sucking at the spot just below her ear. She moans and arches her back, giving me better access to her breasts. Letting go of her thigh, I cup one, thumbing her nipple until it’s hard and peaked.

The wet heat of my mouth moves to her other breast, taking the pebbled nipple between my lips and sucking hard, the other hand still working between the slick heat of her.

She cries out, leaning back against the bar as she gets closer to the edge. There’s nothing hotter than the sight of Blake Summerton coming undone under my hands, my mouth. My cock is straining against my boxers, but I keep going, my mouth moving between her breasts, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clutches at my shoulders.

“Oh my God, Ethan.”

She pushes up on the balls of her feet, nails digging into my skin. Then her walls tighten around my fingers, pulsing as shecomes, her head tossed back exposing the soft skin at her throat, a cry of pleasure that hits me right in the chest. I’m so desperate to be inside her, I don’t think I can hold back anymore.

I quickly shed my boxers, my cock springing free. There’s hunger in her eyes as she looks at me, and I know she wants me just as bad. Picking her up, her legs wrapping around me, our hungry mouths lashing against one another. I take a few steps and lay her on one of the round black tables behind us, stepping back and drinking in the sight of her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She grins at me. “Less talking.”

Grabbing at my jeans on the floor, searching for my wallet before ripping open a foil packet, moving to stand between her legs and sliding on a condom. I’m so fucking hard for her.

“Are you ready, princess?”

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