Beth Hyland - Fall Into Forever

And the bulge below it.

Oh my God. I am so freaking embarrassed right now.

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” Long-fingered hands cup my elbows and set me back on my feet. “You okay?” Jon’s voice is soft and tinged with amusement, but not cruel. Totally different from when he was talking to Chris.

“I’m…uh…fine.”

A clean scent, faintly spicy, fills my nostrils and lungs, invading my body, and courses through my veins like an illegal substance. He doesn’t loosen his grip or step away, and although my teal top has long sleeves, my skin burns where his hands are touching me. He steals away my breath, my energy, my very essence.

Without blinking, he holds me at arm’s length and lets his gaze travel slowly over my body. Every inch of me tingles. And I mean every inch. My toes. The backs of my knees. Between my legs. My belly. My ears. My scalp. All my senses are on complete overload and for a split second I feel myself teetering. If he wasn’t holding onto me, I’d have to place a hand on the pillar to steady myself to keep from falling again.

He’s a good six or seven inches taller than I am, which is impressive, since I’m five foot eight. I’m used to looking guys straight on, or at least almost straight in the eye, so it’s a weird sensation for me to crank my head up like this. He’s got black gauges in his earlobes the size of a medium-tipped Sharpie. A bruise is starting to form under his left eye. Guess he took a few blows after all.

I should say something to fill the awkward silence between us, but nothing that’s not completely stupid comes to mind. Nice right hook or Good fight don’t seem appropriate.

His expression darkens, and I’m filled with a sense of unease again. It takes me a minute to realize he’s looking at the bloody jacket I’m holding and not me.

His female entourage has had enough of this interruption and tries to pull him away, but he shrugs them off. “Go inside,” he tells them without turning around. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

One of them protests, “But—”

“Go.”

None of them look too happy, but they do as they’re told. I’m struck by the fact that I was a lot like them just a short time ago—doing what a guy wanted me to do even if it wasn’t what I wanted. This break in focus snaps me out of la-la land and I regain some of my lost composure.

They file past us into the house, and each of them gives me the once-over. I want to tell them, “He’s all yours, ladies. Don’t know him. Don’t want to know him.” Instead, I straighten my spine and try to ignore my body’s insane physical reactions to this complete stranger. I can’t let a guy like him affect me this way. Not only does Jon Priestly sell drugs, he’s also got a violent temper. If I were in the market for a boyfriend right now, which I’m not, I’d pick a smart, sweet, law-abiding guy any day of the week.

“Your coat,” he says, frowning.

I shrug, pretending it’s no big deal. Part of me is afraid of him, but the rest of me is utterly fascinated. Who is this guy? He’s wild, almost primitive. And I’m too weak to resist. If he pushed me up against this pillar and kissed me right now, I might—just might—be stupid enough to kiss him back.

Geez, Ivy, you’re better than this. You’re not that stupid. Not anymore.

My inner voice is right. Why am I attracted to boys who aren’t good for me? I’m so disappointed in myself, I can hardly stand it. You’d think that after what I’ve been through, I’d be smarter than this. Obviously not. If I could slap my face right now, I totally would. No more guys with tempers. No more guys with cocky attitudes who think they’re the shit.

“Come inside. You can clean up there.” He makes a move toward the front door, assuming I’m going to follow him inside like an eager puppy.

Well, you know what? He’s wrong. I’m not interested in how he’s going to help me. I may be a fool, but I’m not stupid. Any hesitation on my part, any little opening, and bam, a guy like him will force his way in. And I don’t need that.

“No. That’s okay. I’ll wash it when I get home.”

Some girls may find a guy like Jon exciting and charming. Some are even naive enough to want to date them. But guys like him can harbor dark, dangerous secrets. Secrets you don’t want to know or be involved in. How do you think they got this way in the first place? It’s best to follow your head and stay as far away from them as possible.

Trust me when I say this: Guys like Jon Priestly are nothing but trouble.

Jon

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed when Tina comes out of my bathroom, wearing only her bra and underwear. A few minutes ago, she cornered me on the stairs as I was heading up to my room to chill out, and, well, I’m not a saint. The party is still rocking, but I’ve got to be at work in about an hour, so it’s not like I can hang around and drink, anyway. I don’t know about you, but being the only sober guy in a house full of drunk-ass college students isn’t my idea of fun.

Tina tosses her things on my desk chair. “I’m so glad I ran into you. It’s been waay too long since we hooked up. I need my JP fix.”

“I thought you were dating someone. Didn’t it work out?”

She shrugs and glances at her phone. “I was, but I got bored.”

“Boring can be good, you know.” I kick off my boots.

“Yeah…maybe when I’m thirty and I’ve popped out a kid or two.” She quickly types a text and starts to set the phone down, but it chimes and she picks it up again.

She and the other girls from her sorority were wearing those matching shirts when they came in. I make a mental note to tell Kelly at the station that neon pink was a good idea. It makes them easy to spot in a crowd…and easy to avoid if I don’t feel like being swamped. Most of the time, I like the attention. It feeds my inner narcissist, the part of me that craves people hanging on my every word and action. But I can only take so much of it. And for some reason, I’m not into it tonight.

I flex my hand. It’s still sore from hitting Chris. God, what an asshole. I fucking lost my shit when he started mouthing off, but I can’t say that I regret it. I’d do it again in a second. For him to say that three hundred bucks isn’t a big deal shows he’s never had to decide between eating lunch or putting a couple bucks’ worth of gas in the tank.

Besides, your word is your word. Doesn’t matter if you think the person you owe is loaded or not.

Tina sets down the phone. “Sorry about that.”

“As long as it’s not your boyfriend, wondering where you are.”

“I told you, we broke up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It was Ali and Hanna. I said I was busy, but that I’d meet them downstairs in about twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. I’ve become a twenty-minute rebound fuck for bored chicks. Great.

As she passes my desk, she runs a finger slowly along the edge and peers at me from under her lashes. Okay, so she’s trying to be seductive, I get that. But why? It’s pretty obvious we’re going to be fucking in a minute, so why bother?

She fans out a handful of condoms like a deck of cards. “What color? I’ve got red, blue, orange, purple, and green.”

“I don’t care. You pick.”

“Jesus, Jon.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You act like you’re not even into this.”

She’s right, but I’m not about to admit it. After all, I do want to get laid. I just don’t want to deal with all the bullshit leading up to it. “No, I am.”

“Really?” She comes closer, frowning. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.” But the instant I say it, I know it’s a lie. And I’m not just talking about the fight with Chris.

You know when you glance at the sun, then close your eyes and still see the image on the back of your eyelids? That’s what happened to me with that girl on the porch. Ever since I saw her staring at me, I can’t stop thinking about her. Maybe it’s the torment behind her eyes that calls to me, making me want to know more. It’s like she knew all of my secrets at a glance—what I’m feeling, what I keep hidden from everyone. Logically, I know that’s impossible. Only a handful of people know the truth about me, and one of them is dead.

And yet, I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me…like she was seeing straight into my soul.

Normally I don’t let myself get distracted or derailed by a pretty face. When you’ve been around as many as I have, external beauty isn’t all that memorable or interesting.

Take Tina here, for instance. She’s got a great smile and a nice body. We’ve been hooking up off and on since we met last year. But if she told me she was dropping out of school and moving to Europe, I can’t say it would bother me all that much.

“Then why aren’t you undressed yet?” Tina says. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

The smell of Jack Daniels on her breath is strong. I hadn’t noticed it before. Either she just took a swig of a pint she’s got in her purse or she’s drunker than I thought.

“How much have you had to drink?”

Ignoring me, she grabs the buckle on my belt and gives it a tug.

I push her away. “Can you just answer the question?”

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Enough, but not too much, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to discern whether she’s BSing me or not. I may be my father’s son, but I’m not a total asshole. “How much?”