This Is Falling Page 21

  Nate pulls on the front snap of my bra, pulling my chin up with his fingers to look me in the eyes, making sure I am okay with his every move. “Yes,” I whisper, my eyes falling hooded as my body tingles under his touch. He pulls the straps from my shoulders slowly, letting his fingers trail down the length of my arm. I’ve been this way in front of Nate before, when I showed him my scars. But this time is different. He doesn’t see my scars at all, he only sees me. And he wants me.

  I crawl onto my back, lying on his bed while he hovers above me, brushing my hair from my face and splaying it out on his pillow. “Can I just kiss you…for a while?” he asks, pressing his lips once to my forehead, and then my lips, and then my chin. I nod yes slowly and feel his breath against my neck, each tantalizing pause before he kisses me somewhere new. His tongue finds my jaw next, and when he runs it down the length of my neck to my collarbone, I can’t help but squirm. He looks at me again to make sure I’m okay, but I’m squirming because I want him to go farther, to touch me more.

  “I’m okay. I promise,” I say, and he smiles softly, looking down the length of my body to my breasts.

  I can’t help but watch in anticipation as he kisses each one slowly, circling around the peaks, but never fully taking them in. The want and need overwhelms me, and I let out a moan, arching my back, urging him to be more forceful.

  “What do you want, Rowe?” he teases, his lips blowing cold air across my nipples, bringing them to a painful point.

  “I want you to kiss me…there,” I say, barely able to get the words out through my panting.

  “Where?” he teases again, making my entire body blush. I pull his pillow from under my head and put it over my face; I’m so embarrassed. “Here?” he asks, grazing the tip of his tongue lightly over one nipple.

  “Oh god! Yes, there,” I say, biting down on his pillowcase to keep myself from saying more.

  Nate continues to circle and tease each peak for minutes, until my back is actually sore from arching into him and begging him to take them completely. When he finally pulls my nipple into his mouth, biting lightly at first with his teeth and then sucking it painfully hard, I groan.

  “You cannot make that noise if you want this to go on any longer,” he says, pulling the pillow from my face and smoothing my hair out once again.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, wishing I could hide the redness creeping up on my face.

  “Never be sorry. That sound, your sound, is so goddamned hot. It’s just going to take me some time before I can handle it without…” he pauses and smirks, and I smile, bashfully.

  Nate kisses me again, this time his lips rough against mine, and he works his body so he’s lying next to me. His hand grazes down my neck and shoulders, and his thumb circles each breast, pinching and pulling just long enough that I can feel the pressure building between my legs. He moves his hand lower, running the tips of his fingers under my waistband a few times, and I can tell he’s testing me, making sure I’m okay with him touching me…there.

  After his hand pauses flat, resting over my bellybutton, I lift my hips and reach down to unbutton the top of my pants, pulling them down with my thumbs until my legs can kick them free completely, and Nate just watches, his eyes moving from mine to my newly exposed hips and skin.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, swallowing loudly.

  “I’m so incredibly sure,” I say, looking him right in the eyes and holding his gaze until I know he believes me. Without pause, Nate moves his body so it’s resting totally on mine. His weight is immense, but the warmth of his skin against mine is the most amazing feeling I have ever had. Something as simple as his shoulder against mine sends shivers throughout my body.

  Cupping my face in his hands, Nate kisses me tenderly now, his elbows holding his chest up above mine. But all I can focus on is the hardness that’s digging into my center below, and the only barrier between us—two small layers of cotton. I wonder if I would look like a slut if I simply ripped them away.

  Nate backs away from me, until he’s straddling my knees, and he keeps his eyes on mine when he puts the tips of his fingers in the top of my panties, pulling them down the length of my legs, achingly slowly.

  “Can I kiss you…here?” he asks touching his finger to the very edge of my pubic bone, so very close to where I desperately want him, and need him. My eyes go wide at his question. I’ve never been kissed…there. And I can’t mask my worry on my face that I won’t be…good…down there. “Please?” he asks again, the most unbelievably sexy smile stretching over his face. Dimples. I nod yes, and once again pull the pillow over my eyes.

  He teases me at first, kissing the inside of each knee, and then my thighs. When I feel his hands push my legs wider, I start to think about shutting them, but then I feel the pressure of his tongue on my very center, and oh my god! It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, the way he tastes me and teases in just the right spot. Once again, my hips arch into him, and he lets out a faint chuckle, pressing the warmth of his palm flat against my abdomen.

  When I feel his finger push into me, I pull the pillow from my head, reaching down to grab the strands of his hair, unable to stop the sensation taking over. I’m so full of need and want—I have become someone else entirely. As Nate stands back to his feet, I sit up at the edge of his bed and pull his boxers down completely, not wanting to wait any longer. I wrap my hand around him, and am bold enough to look. I want to know, no, I need to know how large he is, because I’m nervous, but not so scared that I want to stop. I. Never. Want. To. Stop.

  “Let me just get something,” Nate says, walking over to his dresser drawer and pulling out the small foil packet. I watch as he puts the condom on, and I shift back in his bed so my head is once again on his pillow. Nate climbs back on top of me quickly, his hand holding himself so he can guide things to just the right position.

  “I have to ask, one more time. Are you sure?”

  “Nate, for the love of God, if you don’t have sex with me right now, I’m going to take care of myself,” I say, slapping a hand over my mouth I’m so shocked at my boldness.

  Nate grins, and dips his head, kissing the top of my breast with his smile and laughter. “While I also wouldn’t mind watching that…I think I’d rather participate,” he says, kissing me gently as he pushes slowly inside me.

  The stretch hurts at first. My body isn’t used to this, and I wouldn’t say my last experience was long—or enjoyable—but I want it to be different this time. I want it to be more, to be the way it’s supposed to be when you’re almost nineteen and in college.

  Nate is slow and tender, never pushing into me completely. My eyes are closed tightly, and I’m sure I’m not making a pleasant face when he runs his fingers across my cheek, his lips brushing against the side of my face. “Are you okay?” he whispers, his forearms, biceps, shoulders—every muscle in his body fully flexed to hold himself back.

  I say, “Yes,” with a short, fast nod, parting my lips, taking in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold back,” I say, cupping his face in my hands and looking deeply into his eyes. “I just need to take things slowly. But I want this, you…all of it.”

  Nate’s eyes search mine, waiting for any hint of reservation as he lowers himself into me again, this time moving in deeper, until he reaches a point where he can no longer move inside me. The sensation makes him suck in a quick breath and close his eyes; my body ignites at the power I have over him. When he rocks back slowly and moves forward again, my hips circle with him, forcing him back in just as deep as he was before. “Jesus, Rowe,” he says, his teeth biting lightly at the skin on my shoulder.

  We continue to move together, our rhythm slow, but growing with comfort every time we connect, until I finally feel something begin to build—a pressure, the most pleasurable pressure I’ve ever experienced. It’s almost like an itch, and every time Nate moves back from me, I’m overcome with this fear that if I don’t chase it—it will be lost. Need takes over, and I have to satisfy it, so I pull my kn
ees up on either side of him and thrust my hips up to meet him. When I do, Nate pushes his hands deep into my hair and looks at me for approval.

  I kiss him so hard the roughness of his stubble scratches my lips raw as he continues to push into me faster. I guide his hand from my face down the side of my body until he reaches my hip and the side of my leg. When our eyes meet, I nod yes again, begging him to be rougher with me, and he digs his fingers into the side of my flesh, pulling my leg up into his body, wrapping me around him completely. That feeling—the feeling of falling—is so close, and I keep stepping over the cliff, wanting to fall into everything, completely. I hold my breath and run my hands down the length of his stomach, then sides and back, until I’m pushing him into me with force, no longer able to contain the small whimpers leaving my lips.

  “Please, Nate. I need to…I don’t know, just please. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I repeat over and over until it’s barely audible, and my eyes are literally rolling back in my head. My grip on him loosens, and I let my arms fall above me—over my head—feeling every nerve ending inside me fire and pulse and squeeze to the point of pure exhaustion. My body is covered in a sheen of sweat as Nate continues to move into me, his hands roaming up the sides of my body, roughly over my breasts and neck until he finds my arms above my head. He holds them together, his fingers woven with mine, and his strength pushing me deeper and deeper into the mattress. I’m unable to move—not that I want to—and I stare at his face until he finally thrusts one last time, letting out the sexiest breath I’ve ever heard.

  We’re a pile of arms and legs and chests and bare skin, tangled in a pink Barbie sheet; I’ve never felt more alive. My hair is damp with sweat, and Nate looks like he just walked off the baseball field. He’s so beautiful, and I’m lost looking at the line of muscles and tendons that begin at his neck and run down his body to his inner thigh. My god, I can’t believe this is my boyfriend. The thought makes me giggle inside, and eventually I let it out.

  “Hey, you know that being scared thing you don’t like?” I nod, still laughing lightly. “Yeah, well, guys don’t really like laughing after sex.”

  I suck my lips in and shrug my shoulders quickly. Oh god! I didn’t mean that. “Sorry, I was just…happy,” I say, letting a full smile take over my face, and I bury it in the crook of his neck to hide, my cheeks once again burning.

  “Okay, well…be happy. Just don’t laugh at a naked man. It hurts our feelings,” he says, nudging his nose against my jaw.

  “Nate, that was…oh. Don’t freak out, but I’ve never fully, oh god…” I tuck my face back into him.

  “Was that your first orgasm?” he teases, but sweetly. I nod yes again quickly, keeping my face hidden—I’m so goddamned embarrassed. “Wow. I’m…honored. You know what, you laugh all you want. I feel like I just won an award. I might even make up a T-shirt that says I gave Rowe Stanton her first orgasm.”

  “Nate! Don’t even joke…” I start, but stop when he starts to tickle my sides, making me laugh uncontrollably.

  “Oh no. I’m doing it. And I’m making hats, too. And…oh yeah! I’m going to make one for Ty that says ‘My brother gave Rowe Stanton her first orgasm!’”

  “Not funny!” I laugh, knowing he’s just teasing me for fun. This is our thing; we’ve been comfortable with each other like this since the moment we met. And my heart is soaring knowing nothing has changed. Even though everything has changed.

  “Hang on, I need to log onto that website, where you can make your own shirts. I’m doing this today,” he says, trying to sit back up before I pull him back down on top of me.

  “You know what, that’s a good idea. You can wear it when you meet my dad tomorrow. In fact, I’ll tell him you ordered him one, too!” And…checkmate. Nate’s smile falls flat; he lies down next to me, pulling the blanket up over us and tucking me deep within his arms.

  “Okay, point made. You win with the dad-move. Now I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to look him in the eyes after what I’ve done,” he says, and I can detect the truth behind his joking.

  “He’s going to love you. So is my mom,” I say, squeezing him tightly before I get him with one last zinger. “And when I tell them you gave me my first orgasm—”

  “Okay! I get it!” he says, kissing me just to shut me up.

  Chapter 24

  Nate

  Maybe I would have been nervous anyway, but ever since Rowe made the joke about me giving her…that…and telling her father, well? I’ve been sweating a lot today, and I haven’t taken the field at all yet. Her parents are in the stands sitting with her. Ty sent me a text—with a picture. They look nice.

  “Hitting cleanup today, Preet,” coach yells over the sound of the balls cracking off bats. There’s something therapeutic about being in here, in the cages, with five or six guys all hitting at once. The noise is constant, distracting—I guess that’s why some people like wind chimes. I tip my helmet and nod, then take another swing, careful to watch my shoulder and my follow-through. It makes me smile every time.

  After a really solid round, I grab my gear and head over to the bullpen to suit up. When I’m done, I walk over to the entrance and look to get a handle on where they’re sitting. Rowe’s waving at me to come over, her parents standing on either side of her, so I prop the mask up on my head and jog over, the entire time reminding myself not to make an ass out of myself in front of her father.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice warm and perfect and God I want to kiss her mouth. But I don’t, because her father is right there, looking at me, like fathers do. And he should. Because I am the guy—the one who did things to his daughter last night. I’m so going to fuck this up.

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” I say, catching her in an awkward hug as she leans over the wall to kiss me. We end up in some weird half-embrace, kissing each other’s cheeks like we’re French. I feel pretty lame, and it just gets worse when I catch her mom chuckling.

  “Nate, nice to meet you son. I’m Tom Stanton, and this is my wife, Karen,” her dad reaches out to shake my hand. I’m sure to grip him hard, but not too hard, and after we shake, I feel relief that at least I passed one tiny stupid test. Only a million more to go.

  “Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming out today.” I’m squinting a little because the morning sun is behind them still. It’s hot for late October—and I’m already feeling the weight of the gear.

  “Pleasure’s all ours, Nate. I’m excited to see what you can do out here. I’ve heard great things about you,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about things he’s heard from Rowe or just baseball in general. I’m just glad he used the word great, though, so I move on.

  “I hope I can deliver. I’ll try to hit you a foul ball,” I laugh, lightly and nervously, while inside I kick myself for being such an idiot.

  “Oh, that’d be exciting. Do we get to keep those?” Rowe’s mom says, and I smile, stifling my laugh, when I notice Rowe rolling her eyes behind her.

  “Yes, ma’am. Part of the payoff for getting hit with a ball, I suppose.” Karen just nods, and I stand there while the rest of the conversation dives into a really uncomfortable silence.

  “Right, well, I better get back to the bullpen. I’ve got a pitcher to warm,” I say, turning to look at Rowe and give her a look that hopefully conveys I’m sorry I’m such a tool wagon.

  “Pitchers are prima donnas, Nate. You walk slowly. It’s good for them to realize they can’t throw until someone’s there to make them look good.” I like Rowe’s dad. “We’ll see you again for dinner, okay?”

  I turn around to walk backward to answer him, doing my best to fall somewhere between fast and slow with my walk because, hell, I don’t want my pitchers hating me. “Looking forward to it, Tom. I’ll see you at sex.”

  Motherfucker. I just said sex. I said sex…to Rowe’s dad! And there is no mistaking it, and he knows it’s what I said, and Rowe’s eyebrows could not possibly be any higher on her forehead. Shit,
shit, shit, shit, shit. I pull the mask down—thank god I’m a catcher—and turn around like I did nothing wrong. Maybe he’ll think it’s all in his head. Either way, that was easily the worst win-over-the-dad move ever. I better play well today for this man, otherwise I might as well just hand over the bat and let him hit me with it at our sex-o’clock dinner.

  One walk and three doubles against one of the best teams in the country is a pretty decent showing—I just hope it was good enough to erase my blunder. We lost by two, but Florida State is coming off of a College World Series year, so I feel pretty satisfied.

  I shower and pack up my stuff, then head out to catch up with Ty. My only saving grace is the fact that he wasn’t there to witness while I put my foot in my mouth.

  “Nice game, yo. Burgers? Sally’s?” he asks.

  I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time and notice a message from Rowe. “Yeah, that works. I wanna eat light though. I’m going to dinner with Rowe’s parents tonight,” I say, keeping my phone in my hand so I can remember to read Rowe’s text.

  “So, what does light mean? You gonna order some salad or shit?” Ty asks; his brow all furrowed like I just told him I wanted to eat dirt.

  “No, I’m just saying let’s eat now, early. And I’ll skip the fries,” I say, shaking my head at him.

  “Ah, okay. Order fries anyway. I’ll eat your fries,” he says, pushing ahead of me to the crosswalk. “Oh, and hey. What’s this shit?”

  Ty hands me his phone while we cross the street, and I swipe the message screen open to see a picture of Cookie with a ransom message. I almost bust a gut with laughter right then and there, but I manage to hold it together.