Every Time I Fall (Orchid Valley 3)

She scoffs. “Nice of you to say, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s completely true. I knew it the first time I met him and he—” Shit. No need to rub salt in that wound.

“He what?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.”

She shoves my chest gently with her palms. “Don’t do that.”

“He was your boyfriend, but that time you brought him home over the summer and we all hung out at the lake, he wouldn’t stop checking out Stella.”

All the playfulness leaves her face.

“See? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

She shakes her head. “No. I already knew that. He actually made a move on her that visit.”

At first I’m outraged that Stella didn’t tell me, but it doesn’t take long for me to piece together why. It wouldn’t have been pretty. And it was Abbi’s business, not mine, so Stella told the only person who needed to know. “What a fucking dick.”

“Yeah. I guess he was, but in my defense, our first year together was really good. What about you? Who was your first love?”

“Do you remember Grace Lettinghouse?”

“Ah, yes, the first girl you brought home from college. I remember thinking she’d end up modeling.”

“She did. For a while, at least. Now I think she’s an acting coach in L.A.”

She searches my face. “You wonder why I’m so insecure when you’ve dated all of these beautiful women.”

“You can’t hold that against me,” I say. “I like beautiful women.” I drop a kiss on her lips, then her neck, then kiss my way down to her breasts. “As is evidenced by the fact that I’m in bed with you.” I flick my tongue over her nipple. “Tell me something else I don’t know about you.”

She arches under me. “Like what?”

“First kiss?”

“Eighth grade. Spin the bottle. It was awful. He spun his tongue around in my mouth like it was a propeller.” She shudders under me. “You?”

“Ninth grade. After a cross-country meet. Not awful, but not great. I remember thinking she smelled a little and that she probably needed to use a better deodorant.”

She laughs, making her breasts shake under my lips, and I swear I’d tell her all my most embarrassing stories if it meant hearing that laugh.

“First crush?” I ask.

This time when she smacks my chest with her palms, she does it with so much force that I roll off her.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

She grabs a pillow and smashes it over her face. When she speaks, her words are muffled. “You can’t ask me that. It’s not a fair question.”

For a moment, I struggle to remember what I asked, but then it clicks and I grin. “First crush?” I pull the pillow away, and she reaches for it, but I toss it onto the floor. “Why don’t you want me asking about your first crush?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and groans. “It’s so clichéd it’s obvious, and I can’t believe your ego is so desperate for attention that you’re going to make me say it.”

My grin grows. “Clichéd to have a crush on your big brother’s best friend?” I ask, grabbing her by the hip and turning her body toward mine. “It’s not a terrible cliché. So how old were you when you realized I was irresistible?”

“I take back every nice thing I ever said about you. You’re the worst.”

I press my smile to her lips. “Is that a nice thing to say to your first crush?”

She softens against me, and her hand tangles in my hair as she kisses me back.

She wasn’t my first crush. She was just a kid when I started really caring about girls, and I definitely had an eye for the more mature girls. But if she thinks she’s the only one in this relationship who had to deal with unrequited feelings, she’s got it all wrong.

“I love that we’re here now,” I say against her mouth. I kiss her, gently but deeply. It’s a promise of everything she is to me, and everything I want this to be. I can’t tell her, not with words, not yet, so I tell her with my kiss. I slip my hand between her legs, and she gasps. “I was an idiot for ever giving up.”

“Giving . . .?”

I slide two fingers inside her, and her question is lost on a gasp as I show her the first of a long list of reasons she should love this too.

* * *

Abbi

Two more orgasms and another condom later, I’m curled in bed beside Dean, the blankets pulled over us.

“You good?” I ask, because he’s been lying here staring at me for a long time.

He nods and then presses a gentle kiss to my mouth. I’ve never been with anyone who likes kissing as much as Dean does. I’m not sure I ever liked it this much with anyone else. “You?”