Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book) by Reinhardt, Liz (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

Every wall is down, every stake has been pulled out, and we're both tumbling into something we couldn't even imagine controlling.

I want to be with him in every way that matters.

Even if it's impossible.

And, if I can't, I want to have as much of him as I can while I can.

But I also want this to never end.

His racing, pleading words transition into English. "Evan, I want you." His mouth and hands are everywhere, covering me with goosebumps and smoothing them back out, whipping me into a passionate frenzy and massaging me back to baited anticipation. "Say you want me."

He slides up and I feel the long, hot press of him, so close but not nearly close enough.

I open my eyes wide and look at his, wild and black with lust for me, and, maybe, love, too.

But that's too much right now. I've always been happy to take what I can get, and what I have my hands wrapped around right now is Winch; wild, on-the-edge-of-his-control Winch.

"I want you," I whimper, ready and sure.

I reach over and find the basket with my iPod and hairbrush, fishing underneath for the condoms that I've always kept ready. They used to be for anyone who I brought here, but I know when I grab the packet that they're only ever going to be for Winch.

Winch and no one else.

Because this time with him proved exactly what I was excited about and terrified of; once I was with him, once I fell for him, even the remote possibility of anyone else would just cease to be a reality for me.

He takes the packet out of my hand, rips it open, and rolls the condom on. We both glance down, and his chest rises and falls with the rapid breaths he's pulling in and out of his lungs.

"You want this?"

I swallow hard. I do. I want it all, every single thing he's willing to give me. And I want everything I know he can't give me.

But I'm willing to take whatever I can get.

I wrap my hand around the hard length of him and fit him against my body. "I want this. I want you. I want it now."

He braces his arms on either side of me. He closes his eyes, his bruised face so handsome and so wild all at once. For a split second, everything is still and tense. Then he presses into me, and I suck my breath through my teeth and bite my lower lip.

He goes perfectly still for one long second, then pulls back slightly and presses against me again.

I've had sex before. This is nothing new for me. But when I'm with Winch, he fills me in a way that is only partly physical. It's like he's inside my pores, like his taste is imprinted on my tongue, like our bodies forgot to exist as two separate entities and are now one.

I've had sex before, but it's a completely new experience with Winch.

I'm stretched around him, and I wrap my legs around his waist, look him in the eyes, and instruct him the way I've fantasized a thousand times. "Faster," I whisper.

His mouth compresses, and he pumps into me with quicker, sharper thrusts. Unlike the guys I've been with before, Winch watches me, pays attention. He moves my body under his, repositioning my hips until we click in just the right way for his body to jolt mine on a straight slide down to that perfect, crazy, shaking, smashing release.

I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his mouth close to mine.

"Winch," I breathe against his lips before I kiss him deep and slow, drawing his wild, unchecked moan from low in his throat until it tumbles into my mouth.

The sound of it, the feel of it in me, cracks through the eggshell walls of my calm, and urges me to press against him harder and then let go.

I've always been good at letting go. Free-falling. Opening up and letting everything wash over me.

The hard part for me has always been holding on after the fact.

Head back, legs tight around him, arms holding him close, I let myself slide and shake into perfection. But when it's over, I have to resist the urge to pull back.

I want to. Deep in my gut, I want to kick away from him, be alone with the fill of my own happiness, protected and disconnected. I always knew being with him would eventually hurt me, because it would have to end. But now I've been exposed to the full extent of exactly what it is I'm going to miss.

And it's going to ache like my heart's been torn from my chest, still beating.

I can see in his face that he's holding back, slowing down, closing up. Like always, Winch and I are at opposite poles.

And, like always, we push each other to stand and face the one thing we always run from.

I free-fell, but now I'll also cling to him, no matter how much this will hurt later.

He held on, and now he needs to let go.

"Let go," I whisper, my hand running over his back, down to the curve of his perfect ass. I smile at him, nervous to be this close, this unsexily open during something this intimate.

The sexy mask of lust is gone, and it's just me and him, too close and too connected for what's probably going to be too short a time. His eyes are wild, panicked, and he's lost any sense of rhythm. I adjust under him, fit my arms on his shoulders, and draw long, smooth strokes down from the rounded muscles of his shoulders to his tensed wrists, leading his body back to the pattern it needs to be in so he can fling himself open and let it all wash over him.

"It's okay. I'm here. Let go."

His eyes are wide. His breathing is ragged. His arms snake around me, so tight they almost crush me, and I only hesitate a single beat before