When We Fall (Take the Fall, #2)(12)

“Don’t be so dramatic, Piper. No one likes a drama queen, especially men,” she said, abruptly leaving me to my latest nanny’s care.

“Piper?”

I blink up at Jase. “I’m fine. Really. Sometimes I’m a bit dramatic. Won’t happen again.” I give him a smile, though I don’t think he can see it since the helmet only shows him my eyes.

“Uh-huh,” he says, skepticism in his eyes. “You want to try again.”

It’s not a question. “Childhood memories that have nothing to do with you.”

“Much better.” He swings a long leg over his bike. “Don’t lie to me again, Piper.”

“I won’t,” I promise. Now if only he would ask the right questions.

“Get on and wrap your arms around me tight.”

Nervous and giddy at the opportunity, I force myself to walk and not run to him so I can climb on. Once I’m in place and make sure I’m not flashing my panties to the entire world, I allow myself to process how hard and muscular he is. Surreptitiously, I let my fingers explore his abs through his shirt while pretending that I’m readjusting my grip.

“You done feeling me up?” he asks and my hands freeze.

“What?” I croak.

“You heard me,” he says, turning so that I can see the smile on his sexy face.

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.

“Are you?”

Slowly, I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”

He sucks in a breath, as if he wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from me. I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from me.

Without another word, he faces forward again and starts up his bike, then drives out of the parking lot.





Jase


The ride into the NoDa section of Charlotte was my own version of hell. The feel of her warm body pressed tightly against mine was the sweetest torture I’ve ever experienced. A reminder of what is so tantalizingly within my reach yet so completely forbidden to me. Worse, now I know what she feels like, almost every lush inch of her.

And you get to do it all over again once dinner is over, dumbass, I remind myself.

I’m out of my mind for agreeing to go to dinner with her, but I can’t help myself. I swear to God, if she crooks a finger at me, I will come running to do her bidding because I can’t stop thinking about her answer when I asked if she was sorry for touching me.

Which means not a f*cking thing in the grand scheme of things.

In the days that led up to her moving in with me, I’d played out every scenario that could happen between us, and not a single one of them ended in a happily ever after.

We’re too different. Her parents would never allow it anyway—not that I give a good damn about parents, but when the woman you’re interested in has the chief of police as her father and you’ve just been released from a seven-year stint for attempted murder…I can’t help but take that into consideration.

Truth be told, I have never considered a permanent situation with anyone. How can I with my family’s history? Once my dad took off, my mother hooked up with the wrong people and ended up overdosing.

“I’ve never been here before,” Piper says as we’re seated in a semicircular private booth. “But I’m a huge fan of Italian food.”

I smile a little at the enthusiasm in her voice. “I picked the place not only because of the amazing food but because no one will bother us here.”

“Good idea,” she says warmly as the hostess hands us menus. “Any favorite dishes I should try?”

Smiling wryly, I say, “Everything.”

She bursts out laughing, the sound lovely even to my jaded ears. “Then I’ll take one of everything.”

“Fine with me, but the portions are so big that you’ll never finish the first one.”

“I figured we could share,” she says softly.

Leaning into her, I murmur, “Normally, I don’t share, but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Her breath hitches. “How are you…doing, that is? It can’t be easy going from being confined and told what to do twenty-four/seven to…this.”

The change in subject throws me off balance. How did we go from flirting to my emotional state of being?

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but I’ve been worried about you.”

Since I’ve gotten out of prison, the first thing people ask me about is prison. What it’s like, if it’s as bad as on television…was I someone’s bitch—you know, real investigative stuff that shows me just how much they care. But Piper’s not asking about all of that. She wants to know about me. How I feel.

It’s odd to be treated this way.

“Sometimes, I’m afraid that the parole board will realize they made a mistake and will revoke my release.” Only to Piper can I confess this and only because she won’t tell another soul.

Instead of giving me a pat answer or assure me that nothing of the sort will happen, Piper simply smiles one of her sweet smiles and listens. Other than my prison therapist, I can’t remember the last time someone actually listened to what I had to say.

“Other times, I want to do and see and experience everything life has to offer.”