Gena Showalter - The Harder You Fall

And she didn’t want him happy just because he’d had a crappy childhood, she realized. He was a part of her family, for better or worse. A girl made exceptions for family. Even the douche bags.

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “We’re going to speak privately, Jessie Kay, whether you agree or not. The only decision you need to make is whether or not you’ll walk out of this room. I’m more than willing to carry you.”

A girl also had the right to smack family. “You’re just going to tell me to change my hideous dress, and I’m going to tell you I’m fixing to cancel your birth certificate.”

When Harlow had told her to wear whatever she wanted, Jessie Kay had done just that, creating a blood red, off-the-shoulder, pencil-skirt dress that molded to her curves like a second skin...made from leftover material for drapes.

Scarlett O’Hara has nothing on me!

Jessie Kay was proud of her work, but she wasn’t blind to its flaws. Years had passed since she’d sewn anything, and her skills were rusty.

West gave her another once—twice—over as fire smoldered in his eyes. “Why would I tell you to change?” His voice dipped, nothing but smoke and gravel as he added, “You and that dress are a fantasy come true.”

Uh, what the what now? Had Lincoln West just called her a fantasy?

Almost can’t process...

“Maybe you should take me to the ER. I’m pretty sure I just had a brain aneurism.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m hallucinating.”

“Hallucinating isn’t a symptom, funny girl.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, snatched her hand and while Monica called his name, dragged Jessie Kay to a small room in back. A cleaning closet, the air sharp with antiseptic. What little space was available was consumed by overstuffed shelves.

“When did you decide to switch careers and become a caveman?” she asked.

“When you decided to switch careers and become a femme fatale.”

Have mercy on my soul.

He released her to run his fingers through his hair, leaving the strands in sexy spikes around his head. “Listen. I owe you an apology for the way I’ve treated you in the past. Even the way I’ve acted today. I shouldn’t have manhandled you, and I’m very sorry.”

Her eyes widened. Seriously, what the heck had happened to this man? In five minutes, he’d upended everything she’d come to expect from him.

And he wasn’t done! “I’m sorry for every hurtful thing I’ve ever said to you. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about who you are and what you’ve done. I’m sorry—”

“Stop. Just stop.” She placed her hands over her ears in case he failed to heed her order. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He gently removed her hands and held on tight to her wrists. “What’s happening? I’m owning my mistakes and hoping you’re in a forgiving mood.”

“You want to be my friend?” The words squeaked from her.

“Yes, I think I do.”

He thinks? “Here’s the problem. You’re a dog and I’m a cat, and we’re never going to get along.”

One corner of his mouth quirked with lazy amusement, causing a flutter in her pulse. “I think you’re wrong...kitten.”

Kitten. A freakishly adorable nickname, and absolutely perfect for her while also absolutely unexpected.

Oh, she’d known he’d give her one sooner or later. He and his friends were old school and enjoyed renaming the women in their lives. Jase always called Brook Lynn “angel” and Beck called Harlow everything from “beauty” to “hag,” her initials. Well, HAG prewedding. But Jessie Kay had prepared herself for “demoness” or the always classic “bitch.”

“Dogs and cats can be friends,” he said, “especially when the dog minds his manners. I promise you, things will be different from now on.”

“Well.” Reeling, she could come up with no witty reply. “We could try, I guess.”

“Good.” His gaze dropped to her lips, heated a few more degrees. “Now all we have to do is decide what kind of friends we should be.”

Her heart started kicking up a fuss again, breath abandoning her lungs. “What do you mean?”

“Text frequently? Call each other occasionally? Only speak when we’re with our other friends?” He backed her into a shelf and cans rattled, threatening to fall. “Or should we be friends with benefits?”

Aaand the tingles returned, sweeping over her skin and sinking deep, deep into bone. Her entire body ached with need so powerful it nearly felled her. How long since a man had focused the full scope of his masculinity on her? Too long and never like this. West took everything to the next level. Somehow he reduced her to a quivering mess of femininity and whoremones.

“I vote...we only speak when we’re with our other friends,” she said, embarrassed by the breathless tremor in her voice.

“What if I want all of it?” He placed his hands at her temples and several of the cans rolled to the floor. “The texts, the calls...and the benefits.”

“No?” A question? Really? “No to the last.” Better. “You have a date.”

He scowled at her as if she’d done something wrong. “See, that’s the real problem, kitten. I don’t want her. I want you.”

* * *

WEST CALLED HIMSELF a thousand kinds of fool. He’d planned to apologize, return to the sanctuary, witness his friend’s wedding and start the countdown with Monica. The moment he’d gotten Jessie Kay inside the closet, her pecans-and-cinnamon scent in his nose, those plans burned to ash. Only one thing mattered.

Getting his hands on her.

From day one, she’d been a vertical g-force too strong to deny, pulling, pulling, pulling him into a bottomless vortex. He’d fought it every minute of every day since meeting her, and he’d gotten nowhere fast. Why not give in? Stop the madness?

Just once...

“We’ve been dancing around this for months,” he said. “I’m scum for picking here and now to hash this out with you, and I’ll care tomorrow. Right now, I think it’s time we did something about our feelings.”

“I don’t...” She began to soften against him, only to snap to attention. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t.”

“You won’t.” But I can change your mind...

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

Something he would kill to do. So he did it. He leaned into her, caught her bottom lip between his teeth and ran the plump morsel through. “Do you want me, Jessie Kay?”

Her eyes closed for a moment, a shiver rocking her. “You say you’ll care tomorrow, so I’ll give you an answer then. As for today, I... I... I’m leaving.” But she made no effort to move away, and he knew. She did want him. As badly as he wanted her. “Yes. Leaving. Any moment now...”

Acting without thought—purely on instinct—he placed his hands on her waist and pressed her against the hard line of his body. “I want you to stay. I want you, period.”

“West.” The new tremor in her voice injected his every masculine instinct with adrenaline, jacking him up. “You said it yourself. You’re scum. This is wrong.”

Anticipation raced denial to the tip of his tongue, and won by a photo finish. “Do you care?” He caressed his way to her ass and cupped the perfect globes, then urged her forward to rub her against the long length of his erection. The woman who’d tormented his days and invaded his dreams moaned a decadent sound of satisfaction, and it did something to him. Made his need for her worse.

She wasn’t what he should want, but somehow she’d become everything he could not resist, and he was tired, so damn tired, of walking, hell, running away from her.

“Do you?” he insisted. “Say yes, and I’ll be the one to leave. I don’t want you to regret this.” He wanted her desperate for more.