Falling Away (Fall Away #3)
By Penelope Douglas
Release Date: January 6, 2015
K.C. is the girl he won’t let get away....
K. C. Carter has always followed the rules—until this year, when a mistake leaves her the talk of her college campus and her carefully arranged life comes crashing to a halt. Now she’s stuck in her small hometown for the summer to complete her court-ordered community service, and to make matters worse, trouble is living right next door.
Jaxon Trent is the worst kind of temptation and exactly what K.C. was supposed to stay away from in high school. But he never forgot her. She was the one girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day and the only one to ever say no. Fate has brought K.C. back into his life—except what he thought was a great twist of luck turns out to be too close for comfort. As the bond between them grows, he discovers that convincing K.C. to get out from her mother’s shadow is hard, but revealing the darkest parts of his soul is nearly impossible.…
K. C. Carter has always followed the rules—until this year, when a mistake leaves her the talk of her college campus and her carefully arranged life comes crashing to a halt. Now she’s stuck in her small hometown for the summer to complete her court-ordered community service, and to make matters worse, trouble is living right next door.
Jaxon Trent is the worst kind of temptation and exactly what K.C. was supposed to stay away from in high school. But he never forgot her. She was the one girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day and the only one to ever say no. Fate has brought K.C. back into his life—except what he thought was a great twist of luck turns out to be too close for comfort. As the bond between them grows, he discovers that convincing K.C. to get out from her mother’s shadow is hard, but revealing the darkest parts of his soul is nearly impossible.…
“So, how did
this happen?” I asked, holding the gauze on his skin, under the cuts, to catch
the saline.
His abs
flexed, probably from the cold fluid, since saline didn’t sting, as I poured it
over the cuts, cleaning them.
He sucked in
air through his teeth. “Some of the science kids have greenhouses on the roof,”
he grunted, and I almost laughed out loud. “Masters asked me to go up and make
sure the roofs were closed, but I slipped coming back down the stairs. Scraped
myself on some bolts.”
Ouch.
I used the
rest of the gauze to wipe up the solution, and then ripped open a package with
a wet wipe and made sure the blood was cleared up.
“You should
be using gloves,” he pointed out. “You know? Blood and all.”
“I thought any
girl was safe with you,” I shot back, tearing open bandages. “Isn’t that what
you told me?”
Jax was
silent for a minute, narrowing his eyes farther and watching me as I placed
three rectangular bandages on his stomach.
“I said any
girlfriend of mine,” he finally clarified. “But you shouldn’t be so careless. Use
gloves next time.”
I ignored
him, feeling weird on the occasions he acted like this. Jax had a habit of
scolding me, sometimes acting as though he was protecting me, and then
following it all up with being an asshole. I finally figured out condescension
was his way of gaining superiority. Making others feel stupid.
I sat back,
looking him in the eye and changing the subject. “Is anything else hurt?”
He hesitated
only a moment. And then folded his arm back, lifting his right elbow to reveal
the scratches I’d noticed earlier.
Repeating the
same procedure, I stood up and leaned over him, catching the saline wash as it
cascaded over his wound and into the gauze.
He hissed,
and I blinked.
“Blow on it,”
he ordered.
“It doesn’t
sting,” I scoffed, knowing damn well that saline didn’t hurt.
“K.C., Jesus,”
he barked, wincing.
I rolled my
eyes but gave in. Holding the underside of his arm—his hard triceps—I leaned
down and released a slow, cool breeze over the scratches. Jax’s scent wafted
over me again, and I desperately wanted to close my mouth so I could breathe
him in through my nose.
But I didn’t.
I could tell his eyes were on me.
“Why are you
watching me?” I asked, wiping up the rest of the solution and blood.
I didn’t look
at him, but I heard him swallow.
“This is just
the first time you’ve ever made me feel good, is all,” he replied in probably
the most candid way I’d ever heard him speak.
I pinched my
eyebrows together.
The first time I’d ever made him feel good. I didn’t know
what to say to that. Hell, I had nothing to say to that.
Keeping
quiet, I finished applying his bandages as fast as I could and didn’t meet his
eyes again. He’d tried to be nice to me in high school. He’d tried to be a
friend. Maybe friends with benefits but still a friend. Now here I was, forcing
my attention on him, and he probably had no patience for me anymore.
“Can I ask
you a question?” I ventured.
“What?”
“That night
you drove Liam home . . .” I swallowed, smoothing my fingers over the
bandage I’d fixed to his arm. “You said you had tattoos. Too many.” I repeated
his words, my eyes fixated on his forearm. “What did you mean?” I pressed,
because clearly Jax didn’t sport any tattoos. His statement hadn’t made any
sense.
Even though I
hadn’t looked at him, I noticed his head turn away as he inhaled a slow, deep
breath. Kind of as though he was getting ready to dive deep underwater and knew
he wouldn’t be up for air for a while.
“Sorry,” I
said quietly, straightening up and crumpling the bandage wrappers in my fist. “I
just . . . I don’t know . . .” I trailed off. “I just want to
understand.”
I finally met
his eyes, and he studied me silently. I didn’t know if he was trying to figure
out what to tell me or if he wanted to tell me anything at all. Funny thing was,
I’d thought about what Jax said that night a lot over the years, and while I
was curious, it wasn’t until I’d overheard his conversation with Jared today
that I knew it had something to do with his childhood.
And I
realized that I didn’t know Jaxon Trent at all.
He rubbed his
forearm and narrowed his eyes briefly before relaxing. “If you could get a
tattoo, what would it be?”
I blinked,
shocked by his question. “Um.” I laughed softly, thinking. “I thought about a
set of angel wings, I guess. With one of the wings broken,” I admitted.
“It has
something to do with your past?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And it’s
something you want to remember?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
“That’s why I
don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People get tattoos for all kinds of
reasons, but they’re always badges of what has made them who they are. I don’t
care to remember what and who made me this way. The people that gave me life. The
people that brought me up . . .” He shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve
seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my
body, too. I don’t care about anything that much.”
Tour Giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment