Every Time I Fall (Orchid Valley 3)

I have to trust him when he says he wants this. I have to trust when he says he’s been thinking about this—as hard as that is.

He flicks his tongue over my lips, and I gasp and open under him. He groans, slanting his mouth over mine and turning the kiss deeper, fuller.

Some men kiss like they’re asking a favor, but Dean kisses like he’s making a claim. He kisses the way he lives his life—by going after exactly what he wants and pursuing it relentlessly—and I let him. I glory in being the object of his pursuit, in the way his tongue sweeps into my mouth and his hand plunges into my hair. I revel in the tug of the strands between his fingers and the soft grunt he releases as his other hand pulls my body close.

I want to memorize this moment. The taste of whiskey on his tongue, the smell of his cologne, the hot crush of his mouth on mine.

I’m not ready for it when he tears his mouth away. I don’t think I’d ever be ready for it. But he straightens, tips his face up to the sky, and gasps for air.

“Holy shit,” he says.

Why? I want to ask. Why did you stop? Why aren’t you kissing me forever? But I don’t. There’s obviously a reason, or he wouldn’t have done it.

“It’s your turn,” he says, looking at me. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m . . .” I need to find some courage if I’m going to do this. It’s the only way forward. “I didn’t want you to stop,” I say softly, and I force a smile even though I feel like I’m seconds away from rejection, seconds away from this all falling apart, or from waking up and finding out that every bit of it, down to our Halloween almost-kiss, was a dream.

His eyes scan my face, as if he’s looking for the lie. “I didn’t want to stop.”

“Then why did you?”

He grins down at me. “That was the kind of kiss that makes a man want to fuck you against his car, Abbi, and given what we’re after here, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”

That liquid heat in my belly goes deeper and hotter and feels like it’s flooding my system. My thighs clench. I am ready for that. Quite literally ready.

Dean cups my jaw, and his eyes are tender as he studies me. “I’m going to head out.”

I swallow my disappointment. “Okay.”

“Don’t drive,” he says. “Take an Uber.”

I nod. “That was the plan.”

“Take it to my place.”

My pulse skips then speeds up to triple time. His place. This is happening. “Okay.”

“Holy shit.” His grin grows. “I swear you won’t regret this.”

But I’m afraid I might, and as his taillights become red spots in the distance, I already know I don’t have the courage to follow through.

* * *

Dean

Abbi: I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m afraid this is a mistake.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I kind of assumed as much an hour ago.” I collapse onto my couch and lean my head back against the cushions. Trixie hops up beside me, nuzzling my hand to get me to pet her. I scratch her behind the ears until she settles her head into my lap.

I feel like an idiot. This is Abbi. Did I really think she’d go from “I’m scared” to “let’s get naked” in the span of an hour?

I’m trying to figure out the perfect reply—something that conveys my disappointment while also letting her off the hook—when my phone buzzes again.

Amy: I keep thinking about what you said. I don’t want to mislead you. I’m not ready for any sort of commitment. But I also hate that giving you up now might mean losing you forever.

Shit. Two weeks. We made it two weeks without texting or talking, and, frankly, it was good for me. I did it wrong the first time. She broke up with me, but I didn’t ever let go of the hope that our separation was temporary. I won’t make that same mistake this time, so I tap back to my thread with Abbi and reread her message.

My phone buzzes again.

Amy: You’re just going to ignore me now?

I shake my head and tap out a reply.

Dean: Don’t do this. You’re only saying any of this because it’s late and you get lonely when you can’t sleep.

Amy: See? How dumb am I to move on from a guy who knows me so well?

I start to reply and stop myself. I know how this goes. Amy slowly pulls me into a conversation with little bits of flattery, with breadcrumbs that make me think that maybe—just maybe—she’ll give me what I want if I just stick around. I don’t want us to be buddies right now. It’s easier to keep my distance when I’m a little pissed at her.