The Fall by Kate Stewart Page A

casual to dangerous again in a matter of seconds. I would never get used to this. To the way he made me feel. I drank in his sharp features, his chiseled chin, and perfect full lips. His paralyzing eyes were accented by dark black lashes and his smooth black hair made them stand out.
    Was he always this gorgeous? Yes, God, yes he was.
    I remembered the feel of his lips on mine, his tongue, and the weight of him as he took me—
    “And then you dumped me,” he said, dragging the dead horse to the table. He had said it in a way where it could be construed as a joke, but I knew better.
    Shit.
    “I think your memory may be a little foggy. That really isn’t how it happened. Besides, you had it coming,” I said, trying to tread lightly. “You put me through hell in high school and made sure no one would date me.”
    “That was just so Jon Reiner couldn’t pop your cherry.” I laughed at his absurd statement and he joined in.
    I leaned in to whisper, “How could you get my cherry if you never dated it in high school?”
    “I figured I had some time, but you turned into such a hoe.”
    I laughed again and so did he.
    “One guy. I slept with one guy in high school. Let it go. God, you are such a hypocrite, and if it makes you feel any better, Reiner was a disaster.”
    I looked at the man across from me, replaying the night I had boldly put the moves on him at his frat party. It had been incredible. All those years of pent up sexual frustration unraveled around us as we explored each other, repeatedly. I had replayed that night over and over in my head throughout the years. That night had changed everything.
    I looked at Dean now across from me at Chantilly and saw a sadness I hadn’t noticed until now.
    I felt the guilt of what I had done to him that night hover over me. I realized long after our first time together I had been so concerned with my agenda to get him in bed that I didn’t even realize what he was trying to tell me. He thought I was special. I wondered if I would ever think that way about myself. Then again, he was the only man truly capable of making me feel that way.
    And taking it away too easily.
    Pain ripped through me as I recalled the day it stopped. Dean saw the memory surface on my face and started to speak when I stood to excuse myself for the restroom, and to my absolute horror, I saw Josh standing a few feet away. He had his arm around an older woman who I recognized as his mother. I quickly made my way over and hugged her in greeting, wishing her a happy birthday. Josh was far from civil as he spoke.
    “An old friend, Jesus, Dallas,” he whispered harshly and only for me.
    “Josh it’s not like that, not at all. Please come outside with me.”
    “Dallas, how are you?” His mother, clearly embarrassed by hearing our unpleasant word exchange, did her best to make conversation. “I’m fine, Mrs. Stephenson,” I piped in happily. “It’s so good to see you. Happy birthday.”
    “What the hell is going on?” he hissed as Mrs. Stephenson was whisked away by the hostess. I glanced over my shoulder to see Dean behind me. “Dean, this is Josh. Josh, this is Dean. I ran into him yesterday at my OB. We went to college together.” They shook hands and I begged Dean with my eyes to give us a minute, and he quickly conceded. He walked over to the table, laying his card down, waiting on the server to pick it up and check us out.
    Josh eyed Dean then quickly turned to glare at me. “I really don’t care how good of friends you are, that dress is not for a friendly dinner, Dallas.”
    “I know, and I’m sorry. I just...it was a bad call. I’m under a lot of stress lately and you don’t want to hear about work—”
    He roughly grabbed my arm and led me outside. Once we were far enough away, he tore into me.
    “So you dress like a total whore and go on a date with an old boyfriend who wanted to pop your cherry! My mother heard that disgusting shit!”
    “Oh, God.” I wanted a blanket, no