Falling: A Sexy Alpha Romance Collection

“Jett. And you?”

“Vivienne. So, why have you been a dick to your girl?”

“Because she’s on my case to talk about my sister.”

“And why does that cause you to be a dick?”

“Wait.” I hold my hand up. “Don’t I get the next question?”

“Nope. You didn’t answer my question fully, so until we get to the bottom of that question, you don’t get anymore.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, quietly impressed at her balls and not so quietly annoyed at her being like a dog with a bone over this. “I might just leave now, I think.” I’ve got pens and paper back at the studio and it’d be a lot easier to go back there than keep putting up with this just so I can use hers here. I unfold my arms and push my chair back so I can stand.

Her hand lands on my wrist as she tries to halt me. When my eyes meet hers, I see genuine concern there and that is the thing that stops me. “Jett, I bet you’re going through a lot right now and I also bet you’re shutting down and trying to deal with it all by yourself. Most of the men I’ve already interviewed admit they hate to talk about their stuff. But you know the thing I’ve discovered throughout this whole research project? There’s a reason why we shut down. And it’s not just men who do it. I also do it, but only when there’s something holding me back, something that scares the absolute shit out of me and makes me not want to admit stuff.” She pauses for a moment, her hand still on my wrist, and my attention remains completely on her. “What is your greatest fear here? What is keeping you from letting your girlfriend in?”

My heart beats faster in my chest, my head buzzes with confusion, and all I can do is stare at her while her words sink in. Suddenly, it’s stiflingly hot in here and I rub my forehead with the back of my arm. I have to get out of here so I stand. “Sorry, but I’ve gotta go,” I mutter as I grab the paper with my two lines on it. I leave in such a blur that I don’t even know if she says anything as I leave.

What is your greatest fear?

Her words echo in my mind as I stride back to the studio.

I don’t even want to think about my greatest fear, let alone say it out loud.

Shit.

I double-check my watch to make sure I read it right, and, unfortunately, I did. It’s after seven at night, and I should have been home hours ago. I hadn’t made any promises but I can guess that Presley will be wondering where I am if she’s still at my place.

After my conversation with Vivienne, I spent a lot of the afternoon overthinking and overanalysing every damn thought in my head. I’m about ready to go insane. It completely threw me off track and as a result, I haven’t finished writing one song. Hell, I haven’t even finished half of it.

The taxi ride home takes less than twenty minutes, and as I ride the elevator up to my apartment, I briefly wonder if I want Presley to be there or not. On the one hand, I’m desperate to see her and touch her, but on the other hand, I’m not sure I can last through her questions much longer. I’m concerned I’m going to snap at her and that’s the last thing I want to do.

I unlock my door and step inside to find the apartment alive with light.

She’s here.

Closing the door softly, I hesitantly walk towards the kitchen, but when I get there, she’s nowhere to be seen. I search some more and find her r

eading on my bed. When she hears me approach, she lays her book on her chest and looks at me.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft, and I’m relieved not to hear any accusation or anger in it.

I give her a smile. “Hi, baby,” I say as I sit on the end of the bed and take my shoes off.

She doesn’t say anything else and I begin to feel sick to my stomach. She’s pissed at me. And rightly so. I was an asshole to her this morning. But fuck, to bring it up so I can apologise means opening a can of worms. And I don’t want to open that can of worms right now.

Instead, I turn to look at her and as my gaze skims her body, the need to be in her consumes me. I move up the bed so I’m over her. My breathing picks up as the anticipation of having her builds in me. Even the fucking t-shirt of mine she’s wearing turns me on. Seeing my woman in my shirt is one of the hottest things ever.

I run my finger over the exposed skin of her stomach where the shirt ends, and ask, “Have you got any idea how turned on I am right now?” My eyes are focused on hers and I fight the desire to rip the shirt and her panties off and thrust straight into her.

A look clouds her face, and I struggle to read it. Disappointment maybe. Or even annoyance. Her hands come to my chest and she pushes me off her and swiftly moves off the bed. Staring down at me, she says, “I may have fallen in love with you but I’m not loving the way you blow me off and then come home just to fuck me. God knows I’m all down for sex, but at the moment it’s beginning to feel like I only exist to you for that.”

Her words crawl all over me. Hurt, anger and disappointment prod at me and beg me to listen to what she’s saying, and I try, but my own anger and grief rear their heads and cause me to retaliate with awful words. Scooting off the bed, I stand in front of her and reply, “I think I deserve a little understanding this week, Presley. For fuck’s sake, my sister just died, and I’m trying to figure out how the hell to deal with that. You want to do all this talking about it, but did you ever stop and think about what I might want or need?”

This only serves to fire her up. “Don’t you realise that all I have been thinking about is what you want and need? I’m trying to be here for you, Jett, however you need me, but I think you’re avoiding me, and I’m not sure why.” Her eyes fill with a depth of hurt that whooshes through my stomach and makes me feel like the biggest bastard on Earth. Her voice cracks a little as she hugs herself and adds, “I don’t even care if you don’t talk to me about it, I just don’t want you to avoid me anymore. It makes me feel like shit.”

Fuck.

And then Vivienne’s words from today slap me in the face.