London Falling (The Falling Series) Page 2

“Is she a beggar? A drifter with no home?” My shocked voice rose.

  Nathaniel laughed heartily. “No, you old sod. She’s got her own small fortune. Her fee for the four weeks she’s moving in is $100,000 pounds.” My eyes went round. “That does not include the cost of the actual redesign of the home.”

  “Interesting. And of course you’re buying what she’s selling. But you are a master player of the field, dear brother. How will that work?”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed. “She’s not staying in my bed. Well, maybe.” He grinned and waggled his brows.

  The cringe that stole across my face could not be contained. The thought of him and the lovely London almost made me lose my appetite. Then my gaze settled on her across the room. I was once again famished, practically starved. She looked at me, our gazes held. Her grayish-blue eyes, full of light, seemed to call to me. I moved along the room navigating through other guests, eyes tethered to hers. It felt as though I was in a trance, as if my body floated along the room, defying gravity to reach her side.

  A large smile split her delicate features, making her impossibly more beautiful when I held out my hand. She clasped mine and electricity sparked and crackled between us. I lifted her hand and brought it to my lips for a brief kiss. She smelled of cinnamon and I wanted to run my tongue along her wrist and taste the spicy scent for myself.

  “Have we met?” she asked. Her voice filtered through the noise of the party and I could hear nothing but her soft tone. “You seem familiar.”

  I shook my head. “I would remember you.” I placed another kiss on her hand. “Collier Stone. It’s good to meet you, Love.” The desire to keep a hold of her hand was strong but I didn’t want to appear creepy. Strangely, when I let go, I missed its warmth.

  “You’re English?” She smiled. Her face lit up. It was adorable and made my groin stir in appreciation.

  “Guilty. Though my mate and I left the Queen Mum five years ago. Can’t shake off the accent to fit in with you Yanks. ”

  “You should never change yourself for another person. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  Her words pierced my heart. My ex didn’t agree. She wanted to change everything about me.

  “I’m sorry, now you look sad.” Her hand came up to my cheek. Her thumb skimmed across my cheekbone as her eyes searched mine, swirling from gray to blue to gray again.

  I could spend the rest of eternity looking into those eyes trying to determine their color. Her touch slipped away leaving me feeling bereft. I wanted those hands on me. When I blinked, the man she was with earlier held her tucked into his side.

  “You ready to go home, Bridge?” The tall man kissed her on the temple. Jealousy flared in my gut. She patted his chest and nodded. “I’ll get your coat sweet cheeks.” He turned and left without an introduction. It irked me.

  “Your husband?” The glance down at her left hand was obvious. No ring sparkled back at me. Just long, delicate fingers painted with a golden nail polish.

  “No,” was her small reply.

  “Boyfriend? Significant other perhaps?” My tone held a twinge of irritation but I clamped it down.

  “Tripp is definitely significant,” she answered vaguely.

  “Tripp is ready to take home the most beautiful woman in all of New York.” The man’s arm went around London’s shoulders pulling her closer. Her slim arms encircled his form. Made me wish I had that familiarity with her, that it was my body she was pressed against. He looked at me, his eyes assessing me from my dirty blond hair to my wing-tipped shoes. “Mmmm hmmm, unless you have plans to bed James Bond over here,” he blatantly allowed his gaze to look me up and down again.

  “Thinking about it,” she answered coyly and bit her lip. She did her own assessment, head cocked to the side in thought.

  The image of her face, her lips glistening and reddened from the bite of her teeth made me imagine her down on her knees, her head titled just so as I plunged my cock into her mouth over and over again. I took a deep, calming breath and stared into her eyes. She must see the desire there; I wasn’t trying to hide it. All rational thought be damned, I wanted this woman.

  “I sure as hell know what I would do to that fine ass.” Tripp grinned. He was a good-looking bloke but I could hold my own. My dance card was rather full…with women. Now that I was confident she wasn’t attached, only one name had just skyrocketed to the top of the list, London Kelley.

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “I see you’ve met my brother,” Nathaniel’s voice broke the staring contest between London and me. He held out his hand to London’s “significant other” as it were, though I don’t know how significant he could be if he likes men over women. Maybe he does both?

  “Not at all. Collier Stone.” I held my hand out to Tripp and he shook it quickly, as if in a hurry.

  “Tripp Devereaux. And you are?” Tripp’s voice lowered to a gravelly timber as he openly ogled Nathaniel.

  My brother grinned playing into Tripp’s suggestive tone. “Nathaniel Walker. Good to meet ya, mate. London, always a pleasure seeing you.” He pulled her into a hug. Bastard.

  “English hotties, Bridge? Tell me I’m dreaming because I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Tripp’s gaze undressed us with abandon.

  All four of us laughed but my eyes stayed glued to London’s. Nathaniel and Tripp started talking about someone they both knew named Hank. I encircled London’s wrist and pulled her to the side. “It seems as though your mate and mine are hitting it off quite nicely.” I laughed then held her hand. It was warm and soft.

  “Nate works for my sister. He even dated her for half a second,” she offered.

  “Then your sister does work with me. I’m the ‘Stone’ in Stone, Walker & Associates,” I smiled and made a point to touch her forearm. I couldn’t not. The woman’s skin, body, and simple being called to me. Made me need to be near, want to hold her.

  She gasped as I held her wrist. “Are you a couple?” I tipped my head toward Tripp and Nathaniel.

  “Not exactly, but I couldn’t live without him.” She got a glazed look in her eyes.

  My hopes plummeted. Her tone made me wonder if maybe they were, in fact, a couple in a twisted weird new age way. I couldn’t blame her if she was. Since my breakup with Claire, I’d bedded more women than I’d ever willingly admit to. Though bonking tens of women didn’t wash away what my ex did to me. Unfortunately.

  “He’s not my lover if that’s what you meant to ask.” The spark was back. Though talking to her was like a ping pong match. Just when you thought you were about to make the winning point she whipped the ball back with a zinger. “Tripp, I’m ready.” He nodded. She smiled at me then asked, “walk me out?”

  “I’d be honored.” She glided alongside me, her hand at the crook of my elbow. It felt good there, right somehow. I led her through the room.

  She briefly stopped and said goodbye to Maxwell and his girlfriend. They both hugged her and then she placed her hand back on my forearm as we went down the lift and to the curb. A black town car waited when we exited.

  Tripp trailed behind us, not interfering with our moment together. He passed us and jumped into the car. She turned and looked at me.

  “Will I see you again?” I asked.

  “If you want to,” she whispered and leaned up. Her lips brushed mine, hands clasped around my neck. Her fingers dug into my nape and tickled my hair.

  My mouth opened in shock and her pink, little tongue entered swiftly, melting along mine. She tasted of crisp, white wine and I wanted to drink. Hell, I wanted to consume. The synapsis in my brain finally clicked and I gripped her body tightly against mine and took control of the kiss, melding my mouth to hers.

  She moaned and I sucked her tongue into my mouth then nibbled her plump lips. My hands tunneled into the silky strands of her hair and settled at the nape. I tightened my grip at her hairline and with a tug, deepened the kiss, ravishing her mouth, pulling her head where I wanted it.


  Bone-deep lust plowed through me. Savagely and desperately I tried to stake my claim on her, out in the open, on the busy streets of New York City. My hand slid down her spine and landed on the slight swell of her bum.

  She started to pull away but I planted my hand on her sweet arse and ground my erection against her, knowing it hit her at the perfect spot. She groaned and with a renewed interest gripped my face with both hands and devoured me.

  “Get a room you two! Jesus, Bridge, you’re fucking making me want to jack off as I watch the show.” Tripp’s strangled voice came over London’s shoulder.

  We both pulled away, startled expressions our faces. Her hand touched her swollen lips, her eyes widened in surprise. She was beautiful, effervescent in an unearthly way. She walked over to the town car and got in without a word.

  I’d just shared the best kiss of my entire life with the most mysterious and unusual woman I’d ever met. And she was just going to walk away? Hell no! This could not happen. What is it about me and women? I always seem to screw something up?

  “London, wait. I’m sorry,” I said as she closed the car door.

  She smiled so sweetly I wanted to melt into the pavement where I stood. “Don’t be sorry. I very much look forward to seeing you again.”

  “May I have your number?” I desperately needed proof in my hand that she was interested.

  Her lips twitched and a perfectly sculpted dark eyebrow rose. “If it’s meant to be, you will find me.” The town car roared to life and drove away. Find her. In a city of over eight million people she wanted me to find her. My grin widened at the challenge presented. The chase was on.

  Chapter - 2

  Collier’s breath was raspy and thick with lust against my ear. “Holy shite! That’s so uh…good, London.” His breath came in feverish gusts along the sensitive skin of my neck. “Love, just a little more…” His entire body was strung tight with pressure, legs entangled with mine as my hand stroked him up and down, harder and harder. Not only could I feel his release coming through the tension in his body, pure ecstasy rippled off of him, turning me into a blistering pot of desire. When in the throes of passion, being able to empathize and feel the pleasure of another made my gift bearable. Beautiful even.

  The surroundings blurred. Shook. “Fuck, Bridge! Yes, yes…” came the voice of my best friend as globs of sticky cum coated my hand. My entire body accepted his pleasure with a euphoric rush of adrenalin. Realization dawned and I became aware of what had just taken place.

  Not again.

  Tripp’s breath was labored against my neck. He kissed his way to my mouth, gliding along my skin until he reached his goal. His lips covered mine and for a brief moment, I allowed it, appreciating the softness in his kiss. Then the real world crashed down, splintering into a million tiny shards of irritation. I shoved his large body hard, almost pushing him off the bed.

  “What the hell, Tripp!” I yelled. “Not cool!” The wood floor of my apartment connected with my bare feet, sending shards of ice through my instep and up my legs as I stomped into the bathroom on the cold, hard, floors.

  “Come on, Bridge. I needed you!” His voice came across sounding like a wounded puppy.

  Washing his release off my hands in the bathroom sink I took a long hard look at my face in the mirror. My sleep tussled hair would take a miracle to tame. I had rosy cheeks from thinking I was having a private moment with Collier, not Tripp. The pupils of my eyes were dilated, so black with lust over the Englishman I could barely see the blue of my irises.

  “Are you mad?” Tripp’s voice was small and I hated it instantly. He leaned against the door, a defeated look plastered across his gorgeous face. I was not going to be another person who screwed him over, literally or figuratively.

  “Yes.” I looked him in the eyes expressing my irritation. His features were drawn and apologetic. “So, how was it?” My lips twitched into a smirk.

  His answering grin was huge and spread over modelesque features. It was hard to stay mad at such a lovely creature. My best friend was beautiful. Inside and out, though he would disagree with my assessment. His dark chiseled bone structure and light eyes made him the perfect playboy and he lived up to his title. Tripp was the definition of a man-whore. He loved men and women alike.

  Often when I’d come home to spend time away from my clients, I’d find him sprawled across the furniture with a new piece of arm candy, looking freshly fucked. I stopped asking names long ago. They rarely were invited for a second go-around with Tripp.

  Then again, I was no better in many ways. I took my pleasure when and where I wanted it. The “who” seemed to differ quite often as well. Traditional relationships were not my thing. Aside from Tripp. He was the only constant male in my life besides Daddy and my brother, Rio.

  “Bridge, baby, sometimes it’s hard for me to keep my hands off you.” He leered and gave me a full head to toe Tripp once over. My nipples hardened against my camisole, more because of the feelings I felt pumping off of him like a firehouse shooting water at a burning building than my own attraction.

  “Tripp,” I warned. “We’ve had our fun in the past but…”

  “I know, I know. We’re friends. Best friends. I can’t help it sometimes. You’re fucking hot.” He came and put his arms around my waist and hugged me, my back to the solid muscle of his bare chest. He inhaled against my hair. “You smell so good.” He nuzzled my neck then slipped his hands up my waist and over my breasts, firmly gripping each globe. “And your body is fucking incredible.” He tweaked my nipples through the fabric of my camisole and I pushed him away, shaking my head.

  “You and I both know this never works. We both have issues…” He nodded in full understanding.

  “I don’t want to screw up what we have. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to fuck you.” The man was nothing if not honest.

  Every few months he would make sexual advances toward me again. We’d had sex many times in the past. It was phenomenal. We’re very compatible as sexual partners. It’s real life we couldn’t handle. Each and every time we had sex in the past, we both became distant toward one another. It ruined our easy going friendship for a solid couple months. The problem always seemed to be that we loved each other; we just weren’t in love.

  Tripp and I wanted to be with other people. Monogamy was not an option. That’s a fact we had in common. So we agreed to stop having sex and focus on the genuine love we had for one another. The best friend kind.

  Real lovers, the kind of romance that lasts a lifetime, doesn’t allow for other relationships. Tripp and I wanted both. I’d had the real kind once. Never again.

  “So where are you staying this month?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Dylan Matthews is my next client. Investment banker.”

  Tripp pretended to yawn. “Booooorrrriiiinnngggg!” His smile was infectious and I snickered along with him.

  Turning on the water for the shower, I removed my clothes and stepped in. Tripp hopped up on the bathroom counter and watched me. He’d seen me naked more times than I could remember. I wasn’t shy. “So what about double-o-seven from last night?”

  “Collier Stone?” My tone sounded sultry, even to my own ears. “He’s who I thought I was giving a handy to this morning when you so rudely interrupted my dream fantasy.”

  “Really? Interesting. You dreamt about a man?”

  “Yes. Don’t sound so surprised. I have the occasional wet dream.” Not really. Usually I sleep like a rock, a dreamless rock.

  “Since when? You never once told me about your dreams. I actually remember you saying you don’t dream.”

  The damn man had a perfect memory. It was tiring. You could never pull one over on him. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone dreams, Tripp.”

  “Yeah, but you never remember them. Now you’re dreaming about a man you met last night, and kissed, I might add. That was a little fast, even for you.” He laughed loud enough for me to hear it over the running water.

 
He was right. Kissing Collier last night was an unusual response, even for me. Typically I’m not shy around men I want but generally not so aggressive. I practically devoured the man on the sidewalk after barely meeting him. He tasted good too. Everything about the man was rich and thick, like a full bodied cabernet.

  “I was really proud of you…and turned on. Hence the need for the hand-job.” He lifted both arms and made a jazz-hands movement. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “I hope you enjoyed it because you’re not getting another one.” The moment I turned off the water he opened the door and held a towel open for me. I stepped into it and he wrapped it around drawing me into his arms.

  “So are you considering making a change from your normal MO?” Tripp asked as I tucked another towel around my wet hair.

  “In what way?”

  “Well, it’s probably about time you let a man in.”

  I shrugged and shook the towel around my hair squeezing out the wetness. “You know, I’m happy the way things are. I don’t need a man to be happy. I’m in control of my life and most importantly, my heart.” Tripp’s question struck a chord that hadn’t been played in a long while. Since James died I’d worked hard to glue the pieces of my broken soul back together. For the most part, I’d done well. I get what I physically need from the men I bed casually, and I have emotional companionship in Tripp. “Besides, I have you. Why would I need anyone else?”

  Tripp smiled wide and shook the towel in my hair and then pulled it off. He pushed the wet hair behind my ears running his fingers through it and down my scalp. “And you always will have me.” He ducked his head down so we were forehead to forehead gazes locked. “You know I love you, right?” His voice was sweet and tender. He was trying to make amends for taking advantage this morning. This habit was old and worn through many years of trial and error. If Tripp did something to upset me, he’d immediately need to re-establish our connection and confirm my love. That screwed up bitch of a Mother of his tortured him into believing he was unlovable. “More than anyone?”