She doesn’t care if I fuck around with other chicks because she’s fucking other guys.
First time this scenario has ever annoyed me.
Tonight I didn’t bother calling first. Last time I went that route, she told me she was busy. I’m not giving her an out tonight.
I even have a present with me.
No, not my dick. That comes later.
Her driveway is dark, but that’s not unusual. Christ, I feel like a stalky dickwad. Her porch light is on, but her little Lexus sedan is nowhere to be seen.
Fuck.
I knew it was a risk coming all the way up here.
I’m still douching around in her driveway, trying to decide if I should wait or head back down to Empire when headlights come bouncing down the driveway. I swear my dick pulses to life at the sight.
* * *
Lilly
* * *
I managed to hold back the tears until I got in my car. Over the years, I’ve learned nothing can pierce your heart more than family. At thirty-three, it is scandalous that I’m not married and carting a bunch of kids around with me. Never mind that I paid for college and graduate school all by myself. That I bought my own house before I turned thirty with my own money. That I haven’t asked my parents for a dime since I left home.
If it wasn’t for my older brother, Alex, playing mediator, I wouldn’t have lasted through my mother’s mushroom soup with zaprashka—the first of twelve miserable courses I sat through tonight. Even though my mother bent her traditions a long time ago, and now celebrates Christmas Eve on the 24th of December instead of January 7th, the meal she makes has not changed.
How badly I wanted to take comfort in the familiar smells and tastes of my childhood. But once my mother got busy picking out my flaws and failures, it was only a matter of time before my father, aunts, and cousins joined the fun.
Lilly, when you gonna find a man to take care of you?
I can take care of myself, Babbo.
Nonsense, you’re getting too old to attract a man.
Zia Bruna, I attract plenty of men.
That one had not gone over well. I’m pretty sure my family still thinks I’m a virgin.
I hate to break it to them, but that ship sailed a long time ago.
Why hadn’t I moved farther away?
I could call my best friend, Sophie. Before her parents divorced, their strict expectations of her rivaled my own family’s. But she’s off in New Hampshire spending the holiday with her rock star boyfriend who has some downtime until after New Year’s.
After a quick stop at Stewart’s, I have a quart of my favorite eggnog in my possession. When I get home, I’m going to introduce the eggnog to the bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream I have stashed in my fridge. Then I’m going to crawl into bed and forget that I have to get up and do this again tomorrow.
My heart jumps in my throat at the sight of a black SUV parked near my house. Nestled at the end of a long, bumpy driveway, my house is isolated—which is how I’ve always liked it. My foot slips off the accelerator as I process what I want to do. Turn around and drive away? Call 911? Call Alex?
Before I can do any of those things, the door swings open and a big, black-booted foot steps out.
Z.
My mouth quirks. I swear to God, my nipples tighten and a slick rush of heat dampens my panties.
Christmas Eve just got a whole lot better.
* * *
Zero
“Z? What are you doing here?”
Her throaty voice gets me so fucking hard, my dick’s banging against my zipper.
Showtime.
Snagging the package off the front seat, I meet her in the driveway.
“Wanted to give you your Christmas present.”
She cocks her head in a way I don’t find all that comforting. But her hand reaches out to take the bag. Before her fingers skim over the brown paper sack, I yank it away.
“Nu-uh. Not yet.”
She plants a fist on her hip and gives me a cool stare that’s hot as fuck. “You don’t have to bring me presents if you want to get laid. You and your big cock are enough.”
Raising my hand and flattening my palm over my heart, I answer her in a wounded voice. “What a sweet-talker. Now, are you gonna invite me in? It’s so fuckin’ cold I can see your nipples through your wool coat.”
Her mouth twitches with a repressed grin. I’m gettin’ to her. Next thing I know, she’s standing flush against me, pushing me back in small steps until my back is against my car.
“Not so fast, sexy girl.” Slapping the bag on the roof, I flip places and pin her up against the car door. Her mouth forms a small “o” of surprise, but I take it in a rough kiss before she gets out a sound.
Then her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer. My arms snake around her waist, holding her tight to me.
Fuck, I’ve missed this. No one tastes like Lilly. Smells like her. Feels like her.
So fucking good.
Breathlessly, she pulls away.
“Do you want to come inside?”
Hell, fucking, yes.
* * *
Lilly
This is nuts, but I don’t care.
Breaking our kiss, I pull back as much as I can, trapped between Z’s hard body and his truck.
“What’s wrong, all your club whores go home for the holidays?”
He smirks, but a muscle tics at the corner of his eye. Maybe I offended him?
“Jealous, sexy girl?”
I flatten my palms over his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but I get distracted by the rock-hard muscles lurking under his warm, leather jacket.
I’m not wearing gloves, so I curl my hands, trying to warm my fingers.
He leans down, soft lips brushing against my ear. Warm breath tickling against my neck. “Come on, sexy girl, invite me in.”
A shiver that has nothing to do with the cold works over me. “I already did.”
“Then let’s go.” Reaching over me, he grabs the little brown paper bag off his roof and takes my hand,
“Wait, I’ve got stuff in my car that I need to bring inside.”
He waits while I grab my eggnog and the plate of cookies my aunt shoved into my hands before I left.
Once we’re inside, I’m oddly nervous.
Z is the only guy I’ve ever known who makes me nervous.
After taking off our coats, I lead him into the kitchen so I can put the nog in the fridge and the cookies on the counter. Almost shyly, Z holds out the paper bag to me.
“Condoms? You know I keep plenty of those,” I joke.
He doesn’t laugh.
“Open it.”
When I do, I almost cry, which is stupid. Inside is a canister of Godiva dark chocolate hot cocoa mix. “I can’t believe you remembered this. Where did you manage to find it?”
He shrugs casually, but his smile and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, tell me he’s pleased with my reaction.
“You said it’s the only kind of hot chocolate you like, and you have to have hot chocolate on Christmas Eve, it’s mandatory.”
“Yeah, but the Godiva store at the mall closed. Where did you even find it?”
He shakes his head. “I have my ways.”
I’m not sure what to think of that. I know I’m probably reading too much into this, but the cocoa isn’t easy to find, which means he went to some trouble to track down this gift. For me. When that’s not what our relationship is about.
“Christ, Lilly, it’s a beverage, not an engagement ring. Calm the fuck down.”
“No, it’s really sweet. Thank you.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“You want me to make it, now?” I ask him with a laugh.
“Well, yeah. You told me it was the greatest thing ever. I gotta see if it lives up to the hype.”
This is getting weird quick. Z and I fuck. We don’t sit around sipping hot chocolate together.
“Okay.” Rolling up m
y sweater sleeves, I get to work. I pull out a small saucepan, my favorite whisk, and a half-gallon of milk.
I don’t bother measuring anything out. I know from memory just how much of each ingredient to use.
Z’s quiet while he watches me whisk the milk and powder together over low heat. “The key is to constantly stir the milk so it doesn’t burn,” I tell him over my shoulder to break the silence.
“See, I would never know that. I would have jacked the fire up and set the milk to boil.”
I chuckle because I can picture him doing exactly that.
Taking down my favorite cocoa mugs, I stifle a laugh. Z’s going to think I’m nuts.
At first he doesn’t notice but then he tips one mug to the side.
“Remington?”
I chuckle, a high-pitched sound that splits my ears. Why am I so nervous around him tonight? “They were a house-warming present from my brother. For situations just like this. You know, if I had a guy over, he’d find out quick that I’ve got a shotgun and a big brother.”
Z throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, I bet he’s got a shovel too.” He stops and looks at me a little more seriously. “He wouldn’t like me at all, would he?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Anyway, joke’s on him. They’re perfect cocoa mugs, ‘cause they’re so big and weighted just right. I use them all the time even though they’re ugly as shit.”
He chuckles as he watches me pour hot chocolate into each mug.
“No marshmallows?”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Nope. Sorry.” Stretching up on tiptoes, I snag a bottle out of the cabinet where I stash my liquor. “How about marshmallow vodka?”
His nose actually wrinkles. “Sounds a little girly.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Oh, all right. Hit me,” he asks, holding out his mug.
After taking a sip, he glances at me. “Not bad, Lilly, you’re always so clever.”
I hate how much the compliment excites me. But it does. I’m used to men complimenting my looks. More specifically my boobs. But few men ever comment on my intellect.
Z does. And it’s not the first time, either. He’s sincere too, which I appreciate. It’s not like he has to sweet-talk his way into my bed.
Let’s face it, the man has an all-access pass.
That thick dark hair of his just begs to have my fingers run through it. His eyes are especially stunning. Mischievous midnight blue is the best way to describe them.
He smiles, softening his dangerous good looks.
“I like when you smile,” I say softly.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you’ve got these cute little dimples.” I tap his cheek to emphasize my point, and as I’m pulling away, he captures my hand.
“Cute?”
The feel of his strong hand wrapped around mine sends electrifying sensations through me. Gazing into his dark blue eyes, I’m struck by how much I really like Z.
“I like cute, but I also like big, dangerous, and powerful.”
“Am I those things too?”
“Yes.”
His eyes simmer with heat, and I use my free hand to stroke his raspy cheek. He leans in and brushes his mouth against mine. So gentle for a man who looks so demanding. Releasing my hand, he wraps his arms around my body, pulling me tight against him.
He growls when I flick my tongue against his lips and deepens our kiss. The taste of chocolate is sweet as he glides his tongue into my mouth.
Zero
Normally I’m not into being some good girl’s bad boy experience. But despite all appearances, Lilly has never pretended to be a good girl.
Still, the fact that she finds me so dark and dangerous strokes my giant biker ego in all the right spots. Her luscious curves pressed tight against me are an extra bonus. My hands roam down to run over her perfectly round ass.
Pulling away, I take in her heavy-lidded expression. Just because I know where this night is headed, doesn’t mean I don’t want to enjoy the journey.
My gaze skips down to her dark green sweater. It sets off her almost-black hair and brings out the green and gold flecks in her dark brown eyes.
“You look pretty tonight.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. Most girls like compliments, but you can never tell with Lilly.
“Nothing, my mother was annoyed because I didn’t dress up nicer.”
Stepping back, I take in her outfit more carefully. Soft, fuzzy sweater, tight enough to accent her generous curves but loose enough to still be acceptable for a night with the family. Dark jeans and low-heeled boots. Small gold earrings glitter in the kitchen light when she tosses her head back. I’m not sure what Lilly’s mother expected, but I certainly like what the sexy girl in my arms has goin’ on.
“Well, I like it,” I say as my hands find their way to her cheeks, my thumbs stroking along her jaw.
“Are you planning to spend the night?” she asks.
“Are you inviting me to, or are you going to kick me out after you get yours?” I say it as a tease, but that’s been the way it’s gone down the last few times.
Color races up her neck into her cheeks. I had no idea Lilly was even capable of blushing.
“You can stay.”
I pull her tight again and grind my hips against hers, so she knows how much I want her. “Good, ‘cause I want to fuck you more than once.”
“So ambitious.”
Lilly
A couple kisses from Z and I’m toast. Done.
I try sucking in a breath, but it’s futile. He has me pinned against the counter. The warmth and hardness of his wonderful, muscular body sends my heart thumping wildly. His thick arms have me held captive and my panties are fucking soaked.
The heat this man stirs up inside of me is ridiculous.
And I just agreed to let him spend the night.
His face moves closer and he nuzzles my neck. His raspy cheek is rough against my skin and I love the feel. His lips brush against me, sending tingles dancing through me. Ah, God, his teeth nibbling at my ear lobe is going to be my undoing.
A soft sigh of pleasure escapes my lips and I sag against the counter for support. Too weak to even hold myself up under his sensual assault.
He chuckles against my ear. “I remember what you like, sexy girl.”
Yes, he does.
His big, rough hands skim down my sides, then sneak under my sweater. “Should I undress you right here?”
He tickles my ribs but instead of laughing it makes me moan.
“Would you like me to fuck you hard and fast on your counter?”
Both hands are under my sweater but they stop just under my breasts. I make a needy pleading noise and arch my back, wanting his hands.
“Or, I could take you over to your couch. Bend you over the back and take you from behind.” He punctuates the dirty image by thrusting his hips against me.
I can’t take any more. I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my head to the side, kissing him to get him to shut up. My hands stroke down his broad shoulders, over his chest, skip down over the bumps of his abs, finally landing on the impressive bulge in his jeans.
“I’ll leave it up to you.” I squeeze his dick just a little, so he remembers what it feels like to have my hands on him.
“I don’t even know where to start, Lilly. That’s how fucking nuts you make me.”
It’s a sweet sentiment. A little filthy too. I could get used to this sweeter side of Z. I already like his filthy side.
His lips glide over my jaw and take my mouth again. My body won’t stop trembling while his hands slide down over my ass again, this time pulling me up and into him. He breaks our kiss long enough to look in my eyes. “Wrap your legs around me, girl.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes. You. Can. Do it. I got you.”
Keeping his hands under my ass he carries us into my bedroom and tosses me on my bed. It’s messy and unmade, but it’s not like
Z has ever invited me to see his room at the clubhouse, so I really don’t give a shit.
I prop myself up on my elbows to admire him. “Take your shirt off.”
He grins an irresistible flash of dimples, then slowly works his shirt off.
“Fuck,” I groan.
A slower smile spreads over his face. “You like that, huh?”
Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I can only nod. Why do I only seriously date older men again?
Money. Security. But none of that seems important as I gaze at Z’s perfectly chiseled and tattooed body posing before me. Yes, he’s a cocky fucker, but he’s earned it. He looks damn good and I don’t blame him one bit for being proud of it.
He unzips his pants and steps out of them. “Why are you still dressed?”
Kneeling up on the bed, I pull my sweater over my head and toss it at him.
“That’s better. God damn your tits are perfect.” He reaches to run a finger over my black, see-through bra, pausing to tease my nipples into hard points. “Fuck, that’s sexy. Were you planning to get fucked tonight?” he asks with a bit of an edge to his voice.
Narrowing my eyes, I brush his hand off me. “What kind of question is that?”
He thrusts his chin at me. “The sexy underwear.”
A soft chuckle escapes me. “That’s all I own.”
“Fuck.”
“No granny panties in my drawers.” I continue provoking him.
He lets out a strangled groan, while rubbing his hand over his neck and jaw. His gaze is glued to my body and a surge of feminine pride zips through me.
Hooking my thumbs under the straps of my bra, I tease them on and off my shoulders. “This is tame.”
“Lilly,” he warns before diving onto the mattress with me. He’s all business as his hand go straight for the button on my jeans. He tugs and jerks the material down my legs, then tosses them on the floor. A conflicted look crosses his face.
Zero Hour (A Prequel to Zero Tolerance) Page 3