Free Fall: an MMF romance (Wilde Boys Book 2) Read online

  It hurts.

  But I brush it off. Neither of them are really supposed to be here anyway and in a few weeks they’ll be gone, and I can go back to my solitary existence with nothing distracting me from work.

  I shoot a quick text to Ellis asking for their location, and he drops me a pin. Once I find a parking spot downtown, I take it and text him back.

  He responds a moment later letting me know they are on their way.

  Nothing about being on the mainland today has cleared my head. Somehow, I feel fucking worse. Like how if I wasn’t so obsessed with things I could easily delegate to others, I could have joined them for lunch in the city and helped Hanna out with whatever he’s helping her out with.

  No, I’d rather work. I know that.

  Then they round the corner, side-by-side, and it’s like salt in the wound. He has his arm around her, hanging over her shoulders and she’s leaning into him. They both look so damn happy and relaxed it has me instantly putting up my defenses. Fuck them. Fuck this feeling I get every time I’m stuck being the odd one out.

  The sickening feeling of jealousy hits me hard as I watch them both looking so happy. He’s looking down at her with a smile in his eyes and she’s practically glowing under the spotlight. I hate how he’s touching her. I hate how she’s letting him when she won’t let me. And I hate how she gets his attention when he won’t give it to me.

  Why?

  Because I’m a fucking asshole, and I’ve dug this very grave I’m lying in.

  We make dry small talk in the car on the way back to headquarters, and my eyes keep checking on Hanna in the backseat. She’s purposefully avoiding me.

  “Did you get everything done you needed to?” I ask.

  “Mostly,” she replies without looking at me.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, digging for information.

  “Yep.”

  Things between us remain this cold during the ride back to Del Rey. When we touch down, she immediately climbs out and says goodbye to Ellis without acknowledging me.

  She passes by me on her way to the guest house, and I suddenly can’t go another second with her giving me this cold shoulder. Hanna and I have known each other for too long. We were friends before this for fuck’s sake and after she leaves here, there will be more times we’ll be around each other with Zara and my dad. I can’t leave shit like this.

  Before she can disappear into the guest house, I jog after her and make the dumb ass mistake to reach out and grab her by the forearm. Her head snaps in my direction as she snatches her hand out of my grasp.

  “What are you doing?” she gasps.

  “Sorry, fuck. I just…” Fuck this. Why can’t I just apologize? “Never mind.”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter, turning back to the helicopter. Her heels click against the pavement, but after a few steps, they stop. When I hear her coming back my way, I turn toward her.

  She stops directly in front of me, and for a moment neither one of us speaks, she keeps her eyes unfocused on my suit as thoughts clearly turn through her mind.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so insecure, Nash. I don’t know why you don’t see what I see.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, feeling my defenses rising again, readying myself to hear her call me what the rest do—a spoiled brat, a possessive jerk, a wild card. But she only lays her hand soft against my chest.

  “Nash Wilde, you’re punishing me for not wanting you, but you’re the one pushing me away.”

  Her hand stays on my chest a moment before she turns away and walks off toward the guest house, leaving me with words that shake me to my core.

  The warm buzz of vodka running down my throat settles my nerves instantly. I’m sitting at the bar in the kitchen watching the sun set over the water and trying not to think about what Hanna said to me today or how it felt to see the two of them so happy together.

  She’s wrong. I’m not pushing anyone away. I didn’t push Zara away. I poured my heart out for her. I told her I fucking loved her, those words to be exact too. And she still chose him. Fuck, even Preston’s girlfriend chose him, like he’s a goddamn pussy magnet or something. And he acts so innocent about it, like he had nothing to do with it. But he gave her his heart, willingly, and she took it. Meanwhile I’m over here torn between two people who would rather fuck each other.

  There are footsteps down the hall. When he enters the kitchen, dressed in casual shorts and a T-shirt, my eyes refuse to drift away from the way his biceps fill the sleeves and the V-cut reveals a small patch of light hair. I hate the way he still has this effect on me.

  We don’t speak as he walks to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey he bought in the city and holds it up to me, as if he’s offering me a glass, noticing the vodka in mine is gone. I should refuse. I should walk away because I know what happens when Ellis and I start drinking together. I’ve had myself convinced for three years the only reason he liquored me up all those times in Amsterdam was to get me to do what we did, but I know goddamn well I was sober for the first time. The first time he touched my cock I was sober as a nun and I liked it. I wanted it again. The only time I drank after that was to give myself the courage to let him do more.

  “Sure,” I reply.

  “Did you get done what you needed to with the design team?” he asks calmly.

  “Yeah. It was a pain in the ass, but we managed it.”

  “Good.”

  He hands me my drink, and we don’t talk for a moment. But he doesn’t leave either. Standing on the other side of the island, he keeps his eyes on me as he takes a sip, and I warm under his gaze and from the drink. I should apologize for what happened the other day. I should make it very clear right now it won’t happen again. But my mouth won’t form the words.

  “This is delicious,” I say instead because it is. I’m not much of a whiskey guy, but it’s a lot more fucking smooth than vodka, and the flavor doesn’t assault my senses as it slides down my throat. I’m getting drunk tonight. Fuck, I’m already halfway there.

  “It is,” he replies. “It’s the best stuff I can get stateside. Nothing like what we could score in Europe.”

  Bringing up Amsterdam instantly raises the hairs on my arm, and we make sudden eye contact, but I glance away as fast as it came.

  “I think I’ll go drink this on the patio. It’s nice out.” He takes his drink, letting his gaze linger on me for a long moment before he leaves through the patio door and sits at the table next to the pool.

  That was definitely an invitation. I’m not a fucking idiot, but the question is whether or not I should take it. We’re not going back to the way things were in Amsterdam. I can’t.

  I want Hanna, not him. Or at least, I should want Hanna more than him.

  But I brought him out here for a reason, to mend the friendship we shared before things went overboard. And with that, I grab my glass and the bottle he left behind, following him to the patio.

  The two of us sit in silence for a while, making small talk about work when I notice movement in the guest house. Part of me wonders if he wanted to sit out here because out here, we could be seen by her. If she sees us together, sharing a drink, being civil, maybe she’ll come too. Maybe I can mend two broken friendships. Two birds, one stone and all that.

  A moment later, just as I suspected, she emerges from the guest house in nothing but her white bikini with a towel draped over her arm. It catches both of our eyes, and neither of us can look away as she saunters toward us. Those long legs of hers carry her with so much grace it’s intoxicating. And that white suit in contrast to her golden skin shining in the setting sun makes her look like a goddess in our presence.

  Fuck, I want to make this work with Hanna. And I don’t really care anymore if she’s off-limits or what Zara would say. It’s my turn to be happy.

  And what if I stop pushing her away? What if I let her in and give her everything, will she take it? Or will she choo
se him and fucking crush me? Knowing my luck, she’ll somehow end up choosing my dad too. Fucker.

  But as she reaches our table, giving us both a warm smile, creating beautiful dimples in her cheeks, I know it’s worth it. I’ll risk it. I’ll tear my heart out of my chest right now and hand it to her if that’s what she wants. If she’d just choose me.

  “Is this dinner?” she asks, pointing to the whiskey.

  “It would seem so,” Ellis replies.

  “Are you hungry? Let me make you something?” I ask, starting to stand.

  Her eyes widen at me, but she puts up a hand before I can dash off to the kitchen. I may not be as good of a cook as my dad, but damn, I can try.

  “I’m fine,” she says softly toward me. We’re not screaming at each other, so that’s a start. We just have to keep this up.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Ellis asks as his fingers gently run up her arms in an intimate loving gesture, like they’re already committed or some shit. The minute my jealousy wants to rear its ugly head, I take a drink and push it down.

  “I think some white wine would be nice,” she says, and Ellis is up before me, jogging off to the house to fetch it for her. If this is going to be some pissing contest for her affection, I’m going to win. I’ve known her longer. When he’s gone, I’ll still be around.

  “Going for a swim?”

  “Yeah,” she replies with a smile. “It’s beautiful out tonight. I figured I should soak it up while I can.”

  My eyes flash up to meet hers. What was that supposed to mean?

  “I’m going to head back tomorrow.”

  Suddenly it feels like I’m swallowing glass. She’s leaving already. I mean, I guess she’s been here a week, and no one can avoid their life forever, but I’m not ready for this. I don’t like the idea of this island without her already.

  “You don’t have to.” It feels pathetic to say, but I’m afraid it’s because of me. I did this. Scared her away.

  “I have some things to take care of. Ellis helped me get it started, but I need to do this.” She looks like she’s putting on a brave face, and I think back to that night I picked her up outside the bars, drunk and clearly in some bar fight. I don’t want her going back to that life.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “No, Nash. Letting me come here to get away was help enough.”

  “I want to help,” I reply, giving her a pleading expression. I want to help. Fuck I want to do everything for her.

  “I know you do, but I need to do this part on my own.”

  “Okay,” I answer, not knowing what we’re talking about at all, but whatever it is, I’ll do it.

  Ellis comes out a moment later with a stemless glass full of white wine, handing it to her with a warm smile. She bathes in his attention as my grip on the glass I’m holding tightens.

  “You guys want to swim with me?” she asks playfully, looking at both of us.

  “Maybe in a bit,” he replies, taking her towel and draping it across her lounge chair like she can’t do it herself.

  Suddenly, I jump up. “I will.”

  My reaction was a little bit too fast because the ground starts to tilt a little as soon as I’m on my feet, but I don’t let them see the way the alcohol has affected me so far. Then, I tear my shirt off and her eyebrows shoot to her forehead.

  “In your underwear?”

  “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” My shorts come off next, and I’m standing in my tight black boxers which were not made for swimming, but I don’t care. Yeah, I’ve had too many drinks already today, but it doesn’t stop me from grabbing my drink and beating Hanna to the pool. Setting it down on the deck, I make a quick dive into the water. It’s warm without being hot, perfect for tepid nights like tonight. It’s not too hot out here this time of year, but just right for an evening swim. Just as I come up, I spot her sitting on the edge, her legs dangling into the water.

  “That’s not swimming,” I say, gliding over to her, placing my hands on her legs.

  Is it too obvious I’m trying to play nice? Can they tell I’m trying way too fucking hard to not be an asshole? Probably, but the whiskey helps convince me I’m doing the right thing.

  Thanks, whiskey.

  “Nash!” She yelps as I pull her under, my hands gliding up from her legs to her soft waist, my fingers dancing over her ribs, feeling each bone under her skin.

  I should have made her dinner. Now I feel like an asshole, but as we both pop back up, the water running in rivulets out of her thick black curls and over her skin, I fight the urge to kiss her.

  “You’re too skinny,” I say as soon as we come out of the water, and her smile fades in a blink.

  “You know that’s just as rude as telling someone they’re too fat.”

  “Well, you are.” She pushes against my chest, but I wind my hands around her waist, holding her to me. “I’m sorry if that’s rude, but I want you to eat more.” I’m not trying to start a fight, but the harsh expression on her face tells me she thinks I am and she’s readying herself for battle.

  “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  With her one blue and one brown eye laser focused on my face, her struggle dissipates.

  “I’m fine, Nash.”

  “Are you?”

  It’s a quiet, intimate moment as we stare at each other and I guess I’m probably bringing up the elephant in the room, but I was the one who picked her up that night. She never wants to tell me what’s going on with her, and maybe she thinks I don’t care. But I do care. I care she had a very public breakdown last year. I care that she’s living in such misery now that she ran off to my island to escape. I care this was supposed to be a safe place for her and instead, I yelled at her and called her a slut.

  I care that she should hate me, but I hope to fucking God she doesn’t.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Ellis approach. In his hands is a round wooden tray, and he sets it down on the pool deck next to our drinks. Hanna and I both look over and notice that while we weren’t looking, he must have put together this cheese tray assembled with two different kinds of cheese, sausage, crackers and some grapes.

  “Thank you,” she says sweetly to him.

  Why couldn’t I do that? Why do I have to push her buttons? Basically insult her when all I wanted to do was what he just did?

  He gives me a momentary glance before he goes back to his chair around the patio table.

  Hanna dives into the food Ellis brought out, and we both watch with satisfaction as she practically demolishes it. When she takes her last sip of wine, he’s quick to replenish it for her.

  “Thanks guys,” she says. “I could get used to this. You two could really take good care of me, couldn’t you?”

  Our eyes meet immediately. The innuendo was obvious, wasn’t it? That wasn’t just in my head, and suddenly as I glare at him over her head I’m back in Amsterdam, sitting around with some girl, waiting to take things to the next level.

  But this isn’t Amsterdam. And Hanna is not just another girl. That is not happening with her.

  What is happening is at the end of this night, she will be in my bed. I’m going to make things up to her the right way, without fighting, without letting my insecurities win, without hurting her in the process.

  Just thinking about it has my dick twitching in my soaking boxers.

  The sun has gone down, and the outdoor lights have kicked on, bathing us in a warm glow under the night sky. I can first tell Hanna is tipsy when she swims over to me and laces her long legs around my waist from behind, latching onto my body like a floatation device. My hands glide against the softness of her shins when she whispers next to my ear.

  “Think he’s ever going to join us?”

  “I bet if you ask him, he will.”

  Wait. What am I doing? I don’t want him in here. I want Hanna to myself. If he comes then it’ll be his waist she latches onto. It’ll be her he gives his attention to.

&
nbsp; “Ellis, Nash wants you to come swimming,” she sings to him, and he responds with a subtle lift to the corner of his lips. I know what she’s doing—we both do. Trying to pretend I want him here to make us make up.

  “I’m happy just watching you two.”

  I swallow down the lump in my throat. When my eyes meet his, I try to decipher the look he’s giving me, but I can’t. He’s leaning back in the chair, a few feet away from the water, drink in hand as he watches us, and a shot of excitement dances up my spine. We’re on the brink of something. I can feel it.

  “Watching us swim? That doesn’t sound very exciting?” she replies with a laugh. I hear the soft slur to her voice, and I assume at her weight, it doesn’t take much, but her second glass is already gone, and this is starting to feel dangerous.

  “Then do something more exciting,” he says flatly.

  An eerie calm blankets the island as I suddenly realize where things are headed.

  “Like what?” she asks with a little less playfulness in her tone and a good deal more severity. Meanwhile I’m standing here, her on my back, his eyes on her as he says, “Why don’t you kiss him?”

  Her hands roam the landscape of my chest. The air stops, dropping like lead in my lungs as she climbs down from my back and comes to stand in front of me.

  “Ellis told me to kiss you,” she whispers.

  What are we, sixteen?

  Well, fuck it. If we’re going to play, then I’m going to be in charge this time.

  “Yeah, well he likes to be in control,” I reply, pushing her to the edge of the pool.

  “Is that so?”

  Once her backside hits the edge, I lean down, pressing my lips to ear as I say, “Yeah, and I like to let him think he has it.” Then with my hands under ass, I lift her back up so her legs wind around me again, and I attack her lips with mine.

  She hums into the kiss, and I instantly remember what it felt like to kiss her the other day when everything went to shit. This time I’m not going to let her go. If he wants her back, he’s going to have to fight me for her.