36
“W hoa, easy, Trouble.”
I laugh as Fallon stumbles over her boots when we walk through the front door. She’s drunk, but not her typical burn-the-world-to-the-ground self.
“Water,” she gasps, limping into the kitchen.
As she drinks directly from the faucet, I slide a hand over her shoulder. Press myself up against her. “Have fun tonight?”
Her hazel eyes flash as she spins around. Trapped between me and the counter. “I did.” She pouts prettily. “But I missed you.”
Fuck if that doesn’t sock me in the gut.
“Missed you, too,” I rasp. Hands gripping her ass, I lift her and settle her on the counter. Her legs are bare. The skirt she wore to the arcade rides up her muscled thighs.
My cock pulses, straining against the zipper of my jeans. I reach out to test her temperature, smoothing her wild hair away from her flushed face. “You look so damn beautiful right now.”
Cheeks darkening, she arches into me. “Because I’m happy. I’m happy with you.”
I swallow past my tight throat. “I’m happy with you, too.”
A crooked grin pulls at her mouth. “I’m happy I talked to my sister. I’m happy I apologized. I’m happy I have secrets.”
“Secrets, huh?” My hands roam up her tattooed thighs. “Care to let me in on it?”
“Nope,” she murmurs. “Later.”
“What if I can’t wait ’til later?”
“Tough.” She studies my face, tilts her head. Her dark lashes lower, almost shyly. Then, in the warm glow of the kitchen light, she says, “Kiss me.”
“Really?”
Fuck. That came out desperate as hell, but I don’t give a shit. Whatever Fallon wants, she gets.
“Yes.” She hesitates, bites her lip. “I want to see.”
“See what?”
Her hands yank at my shirt, lust-glazed eyes roaming my face. “How you feel. How you taste.”
I angle my head and crush my mouth to hers. Her kiss burns from the whiskey. Her tongue stroking over mine, I let her control the kiss. It’s hungry, heated. She bites my lip, and I groan, crazy with need for this girl.
I wish she didn’t taste this fuckin’ good. Wish she didn’t drive me wild.
When we pull back, Fallon trembles against me. “You taste like the rodeo,” she says hoarsely. “Wild. Raw.”
“You want raw, baby, that’s exactly how I’m gonna fuck you.” It’s already decided. Fuck self-control. Touching her, fucking her is all that matters. Time to strip my girl bare and make her come.
I scoot her hips forward, positioning her legs on either side of me. With shaking hands, I shove her skirt up around her hips. Drag her panties down to her knees. Taking my time, I slide a finger through her tight pink pussy. Fallon’s head falls back, a whimper escaping those ruby-red lips.
“Soaked,” I rasp. “Fuckin’ soaked for me.”
“Wyatt,” she whines.
I grin. I love this side of my girl. Letting me take charge. Aching for me like she damn well should.
I release my fly and pull out my cock. It throbs in my palm.
Her pupils dilate.
I step closer. “Grab the fuckin’ curtains, Trouble.”
She reaches behind her head and grabs at the curtain rod. I step into the apex of her thighs then slam inside of her.
Fallon cries out, eyes shuttering. Her rosy cheeks, her flushed breasts, are so fucking stunning I have to remind myself to breathe.
I stay there for a moment, soaking her in, then I begin to thrust. Harder and harder as she trembles against each slam of my hips.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps, arching her back and grinding her pussy against me. The curtain rod shakes. Her breaths are loud and fitful.
Gripping her thighs, I groan as I sink deeper. My voice strangles. “Fuck, baby.”
“I know, I know, it feels…” Her mouth opens, closes. “Perfect,” she finishes.
“Fucking perfect,” I rasp.
Our bond. This life. Perfect’s the only world to describe it. Everything else pales in comparison. Fallon’s my path in this fucked-up world. No doubt about her. No existence without her.
I step back, pulling out, then slam back into her. She releases a half-cry, half-moan. I fist a hand in her hair, let myself go, and thrust hard. Harder. Matching my movements to the slow circles of her hips, riding out the ripples of her pussy.
Fallon comes violently, shaking in my arms and screaming my name.
Bracing myself on the counter, I fall forward and detonate. Grunting and emptying myself into her. Each release only cements how much I love her.
Her slack legs, her arms fall around me. At the perfect time, too. The curtain rod finally comes unhinged, clattering to the counter.
“Well, fuck.” I laugh, stroking a hand through her wild hair. “Guess I’ll fix that tomorrow.”
Fallon laughs and buries her face in my chest.
I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bedroom.
“Kitchen sex at midnight,” she murmurs as I settle her on the bed. Her smile’s dreamy. Triumphant. “What a way to end the night.”
I give her a grin. “All you gotta do is ask.”
“Heathen.”
Bending down, I kiss her swollen lips. “I didn’t see you complainin’ when I fucked that pretty pink pussy of yours.”
Her luminous hazel eyes glitter in a challenge. “I’m pretty sure you’re a cocky asshole.”
“You like it.”
She smirks but doesn’t argue.
After cleaning her up, I hand her a pair of pajamas. I help her change, watching her wince as she lifts her left leg through the shorts. When she goes to stand, she sways slightly and sits back on the bed.
“Do you feel sick?”
“No.” She frowns. “My head feels funny.”
I test her temperature. Cool to the touch. “Migraine?”
She purrs and nuzzles into my palm. I smother a smile. I wonder if she knows how sweet and soft she’s being.
“No. I only had two drinks…well, three, but I didn’t finish it. Reese drank it.” Her lips thin. Her expression defiant. “I’m not drunk.”
She’s not. I know a drunk Fallon McGraw. She tipsy, buzzed, but not hammered.
She wrinkles her nose. “It feels like…the day of the ride.”
I turn away from her and flex my fist. I fucking hate that day.
“You know,” she says, puzzled. “I haven’t had a migraine this entire summer.”
She’s right. She hasn’t. Strange, since the doctor in Arizona said concussion migraines don’t just come and go.
A wave of worry crests over me. “You tell me if you feel bad.”
She nods. “I will.”
We finish getting ready for bed then crawl into cool sheets. Fallon stretches out beside me, in my arms. Our breathing steadies. Our hearts beat as one.
“I used to hate it,” she says softly.
I tuck her tight against me. “What?”
“My walker. But now my limp’s a part of me.” Her hands move to her stomach. “Just like my scars.”
I kiss her forehead, and she makes a little whimper of happiness.
“Can I tell you something else?”
I chuckle. “Talkin’ an awful lot for someone who ought to be sleepin’ right now.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “You know, whenever I got hurt when I was little, some stupid part of me thought it would bringmymomhome.”
I stroke a hand through her silky hair. “That ain’t stupid, baby.”
“I thought she’d come back. But she never did.” She inhales a breath. “But this time…after my accident, I didn’t think of her. I didn’t need her.” She locks her eyes with mine. “Because I have you, Wyatt. You make it easy to feel safe. To not feel so goddamn angry.”
“That’s a good thing,” I rasp, overwhelmed by her sweet confession.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I guess it is.”
Fallon shifts in the sheets, pulling me closer. “Do you feel that?” Her eyes search out mine in the dark. “Our heartbeats. They sync just like wild horses.”
No more words. I drop my lips to hers, a slow fire kindling between us. Our hearts beat as one. She trembles against me, the tattooed canvas of her hands framing my face.
And we fall asleep like that, just how I fell in love with her all those years ago.
Effortless.