The Harder You Fall. Gena Showalter

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      JESSIE KAY SAT in the bleachers, embarrassingly awed. West was a warrior of old and the arena was his battlefield, his body his weapon. And what a weapon it was.

      He owned the ball. When someone else had it, he took it. When he had it and someone tried to steal it, he knocked that someone into a wall with a full-on slam. He threw insults, elbows and knees like they were confetti.

      Tomorrow, the members of Team Ball Buster would feel as if they’d tangled with an F5 tornado and lost, guaran-dang-teed.

      It—was—hawt. West was hawt.

      Jessie Kay’s gaze remained glued to him. Sweat glistened on his bronzed skin, and blood trickled from several cuts he’d sustained. The injuries only made him sexier. She wanted to kiss him all better. With tongue.

      Dang. The future of her new good-girl status looked pretty bleak right about now.

      He shoved someone else into the wall, a loud thud echoing, and she sighed dreamily.

      Harlow gasped with concern. “Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. This sport is brutal. It’s making my stomach churn.”

      “Churn with happiness, right?” Brutal equaled awesome.

      “Would I need a vomit bag for happiness?”

      “Not likely.”

      “Then no, not happiness. Beck has such a violent past. I’m nervous this kind of aggression will lead to flashbacks and nightmares.”

      Jessie Kay knew the guy had grown up in foster care, same as West and Jase, and that not all the homes had been safe havens. “Beck doesn’t look traumatized out there, honey. He looks as thrilled as a bull with teats.”

      Harlow rolled her eyes. “A bull would not be thrilled with teats.”

      “How do you know? A guy with boobs would be over the moon. Anyway. You mentioned Beck’s past. What do you know about West’s?” Subtle, Jessie Kay, subtle.

      “About as much as you do, I’m thinking. Which means not a whole lot.”

      Well, crap.

      Her phone buzzed, and she checked the screen. Sunny Effing Day.

      Got a line on party of the century 2nite. U in??

      She didn’t have to think about her response.

      No thanks, but tell me all about it in the morning :-) :-)

      Sunny: Girl, U know there’s a big chance I won’t even remember the deets, right??

      Yeah. And that was one of the bigger problems for Jessie Kay. She hated remembering the things she’d done, but she hated not remembering the things she’d done even more.

      “So, uh, what do you think of him?” she asked Harlow. “West, I mean.”

      Harlow’s gaze sharpened on her. “Well, he’s certainly a charming devil, isn’t he? Why?”

      She ignored the question, saying, “Of course you’d think he’s charming. He’s nice to you.”

      “He is, which is probably why I think he’s smart, driven and witty. And handsome. And strong. I love his dedication to Beck and Jase.”

      “But?”

      “But...sometimes he can stand in a full beam of light and I still think he’s surrounded by darkness.”

      Yes! That! “I thought I was the only one who’d noticed.” She’d often wondered if something bad had happened to him as a kid. Something more than the bits and pieces she’d gleaned over the months. Orphaned at a young age. The death of a girlfriend. A lost scholarship. “I bet this kind of aggression is cathartic for him. And Beck. Because this conversation does not revolve around West. I bet brutal field play would be cathartic for me. Hey! Maybe we should start a team of our own.”

      “No way, no how.”

      Excitement filled her, and she clapped her hands. “We’ll call ourselves Victorious Secret and our motto will be ‘We Live to Spank You.’ Duuude. Yes! I’m basically the smartest person in the world. Ever. You in? Of course you’re in. Practice begins tomorrow.”

      “I’m out.” Harlow shuddered with horror. “I have zero desire to be tossed around like some kind of meat bag just because I have possession of a ball anyone can buy at any sporting-goods store for less than twenty dollars.”

      “Puss! You were the town bully for years. Where is your predator spirit?”

      “In my pants,” she deadpanned, “where Beck likes to visit.”

      Yeah. Okay. The fact that Jessie Kay hadn’t gotten any since the Jase/Beck debacle could maybe possibly definitely for sure begin to explain her desire to attack strangers and bask in their misery, perhaps even dance in their blood. That and the fear that she not only sucked as a person, she sucked as a lover. Why else would so many guys ditch her so fast?

      Throughout her life, she’d had too many hookups and too few relationships, nothing ever lasting more than a few weeks. And more often than not—or, you know, every time—it had been the guy who’d left her, not the other way around.

      Why was she such a failure? What made her so unworthy of more?

      Her winning personality should only ever seal a deal.

      Like Daniel said, he’d had the time of his life during their dates, laughing with her—not at her—until he pulled a muscle. And yet, he’d still let her go. And after him, she’d gone out with Dorian Oliver, a childhood friend of Beck’s who lost his wife to cancer years before. He hoped to find love again, and honestly, he’d seemed really into her, always making excuses to get his hands on her.

      You cold?

      But after only three dates, all of which had ended with a passionate kiss at her door, he’d pulled the plug.

      A good thing, actually.

      According to Momma, a girl shouldn’t give her pearls to pigs. Dorian was as far from pig-like as possible—a sweetheart who treated her with nothing but respect and kindness—but the message fit all the same. If she didn’t have a future with a guy, why waste her precious time? Especially considering she’d wasted so much already.

      She was twenty-seven years old and the dreaded thirty was creeping up on her like an insidious disease. Or the worst thing on the planet—a spider. Did she have a single prospect? No! Because the only guy capable of eliciting a lasting response in her was a bastard of the highest order some days, most days, and a charmer without equal the others. Again, a charmer to everyone but her for reasons he’d never had the courtesy to share with her. Not that it mattered...even though he could melt her panties with only a glance.

      The next piece of beefcake she welcomed into her bed would like the crap out of her, figuratively speaking, and that was that.

      You outshine the sun, Anna Grace. There’s nothing about you I would change.

      Her СКАЧАТЬ