Kate's body gives out and she sinks to the mattress. I fall right along with her, but then immediately roll us onto our sides. Absolutely wrecked...completely boneless, I'm too mellow to do anything else but wrap my arm around her waist and lie there. I know it's an intimate move, but fuck it. I want her to stay still, right there while I'm still lodged inside of her, and let me enjoy the peace and lack of guilt for just a moment.
Kate lies absolutely still, her arm resting like dead weight on mine, her breathing back to normal. I used to lie with Gina like this...after we fucked. We used to go to sleep like this at night in the beginning of our relationship, but toward the end it was just more comfortable I guess for us each to sprawl out on our own side of the bed. I have a sudden urge to stroke the skin of Kate's stomach...maybe even prompt her own hand to return the favor.
But I push that thought away. It sends the wrong message.
To her? To me?
Yeah...wrong fucking message to both of us.
"Zack?" Kate whispers softly.
"Yeah?"
"Why does it bother you that I'm friends with Sutton and Olivia?" she asks curiously, without a hint that she'll give any validation to how I might possibly respond. I can tell she's not about to give up their friendship.
Sighing, I release my hold on her and roll away, swinging my legs off the bed. I bend down and pick up my boxers, slipping them on and planning to ditch the condom once I get to the bathroom.
When I look back over at her, she's rolled to face me, one hand curled under her head, the other tucked under her chin. The lights from the city hit her full in the face and I can see the paleness of her eyes reflecting back at me.
"Truth?" I ask her, because I need to make sure she's ready to hear it.
"No, I asked because I love lies," she jabs back at me, then rolls her eyes. "Of course the truth."
Sighing, I grab my T-shirt from the floor. Gripping it hard in my hands, I lay it on her. "The Cold Fury...we're a team, but we're also a family. Alex and Garrett are like my brothers. By extension, Sutton and Olivia are like my sisters. We don't have a blood connection, but the familial connection is still there. You understand?"
"I understand that," she says, but then adds on, "I guess I don't understand what that has to do with me hanging with them."
I slip the T-shirt on, and then bend to gather up the rest of my clothes. No need to put that shit on...just going to be walking across the living room to my room with Ben.
"I don't want there to be any confusion over the boundaries," I tell her candidly.
"Like how?" she asks inquisitively, still not getting what I mean.
"Say Alex and Sutton come over to my house for dinner. You may be friends with Sutton, but that doesn't mean you hang out with us. You're Ben's nanny. That's your place. I don't want you to be confused because we're having sex. I don't want you to think that implies membership into the family unit I have with my teammates and their women."
She nods at me, and ever so softly says, "I'm clear now. Thank you for the explanation."
And fuck...a wave of acidic shame hits me, because I know that hurt her feelings. I stare down at her, wanting to weirdly crawl back into bed, pull her into my arms, and apologize for my cruel words. I want to kiss away that look of loneliness right now, and I want to tell her I didn't mean any of it.
But I don't.
Because even though it pains me to have pained her, I did mean it.
I meant every word of it.
Chapter 20
Kate
I think most women would throw their hands up, cut bait, and run at this point. It's what I should do, for sure.
Zack hurt my feelings in New York. No doubt. And not because of the truth of his words...that he was afraid I would be tempted to cross boundaries if I pursued a friendship with Sutton and Olivia. That was honesty, and it wasn't a surprise to me. Zack has always been clear that what we have is just sex.
I guess I was hurt because he didn't respect me enough to recognize that boundary myself, as well as honor my original promise to him that if I started having a problem with what was going on between us, I would come out and say it.
But things didn't start going downhill because Zack hurt my feelings. On the contrary, I have an amazing capacity to take the shit that Zack hands my way, and it's not just because he's an amazing lover. No, it's because I still have a world of empathy for this man and everything that he's gone through.
Everything he's still going through, because every day is a struggle for him to pull himself away from the ghosts of his past.
This I know takes time.
However, I have seen major changes in Zack over the past several weeks.
Positive changes.
Changes that give me hope to continue on...hoping either that I will eventually settle for what he can give me or that he will accept what I can give him.
Either way, his words to me in New York were not enough to send me running.
But they apparently sent him running, because we've been back in Raleigh for two nights and he hasn't approached me outside of our normal employment relationship. He's pulled back and I know exactly why.
It's because when I was lying on my side in that hotel room, and Zack was looking down at me as he told me exactly why he didn't want me to be friends with Sutton and Olivia, I saw very subtle changes come over his face.
Even in the room lit up only by the streets of New York, I saw hard resolution as he told me all about boundaries, which caused pain to lance through me. Then I saw his face transform, and I knew, in that moment, he felt like shit that he had hurt me. I saw aching remorse on his face. I sensed hesitation within him, and I think he was on the verge of trying to make it up to me.
But then he hardened up again, and walked out of the room.
Fine.
So be it.
Like I said...plenty of empathy within me and I'm a patient woman. I can wait for Zack to work through these things.
Except apparently he doesn't want to work through it, and the fact that he hurt me has him running scared. Has him pulling away.
Stupid man.
Sweet man.
I'm not sure if I want to hit him or hug him.
I hear the garage door rumble upward, which means Zack is home from the game.
They played the Pittsburgh Titans tonight at home and Ben and I watched it on TV. Well, Ben made it through the first period before he conked out. I lugged him upstairs and put him to bed, then watched the remainder of the game in the living room. The Cold Fury won resoundingly over the Titans and clinched the number one spot in the Eastern Conference.
I went to bed after the game, hoping to fall asleep so I could fast-forward to the next day. I had no expectations that Zack would come to my room, but on the off chance he did, I was sure he'd wake me up nicely.
Except I couldn't go to sleep. I tossed and turned and fretted over Zack. I want him. I want him as a lover, but I want more from him too. I can't deny that, but I can suppress it. I would suppress it because Zack doesn't want that and has been very clear. It's caused some stress and conflict within me, yet I'm not willing to walk away yet.
The garage door goes down and I listen carefully. With my door closed and being on the second floor, I can't really hear much of anything. I imagine Zack walking in through the kitchen...tossing mail on the counter. Maybe getting a beer from the fridge. Casually strolling back to his bedroom, closing the door and himself away.
Ugh. I don't like that image. I don't like Zack hiding away from me. I need to make him see that I can be available for what he needs and only what he needs. I can stay within the boundaries and he has to respect me when I say that. He has to give that a chance.
I toss my covers back and swing my legs out of bed. I'm not sure what Sutton was thinking when she gave me some of her clothes, but included in the duffel bag were a few silk nighties. Nothing overtly sexual, but they weren't your grandma's flannel pajamas.
The one I'
m wearing now is really pretty and I think it goes well with my coloring. It's pale pink, made of satin, and hits at mid-thigh. It's held up by spaghetti straps and has cream lace edging over the material that sits at my breast. I hesitate for a moment, considering a quick change into my sweatpants, but then decide against it. I'm assuming Zack is in his bedroom now and thus there is no chance of him seeing me. I'll just make a quick trip down to the kitchen and get a snack. That's all. Quick in and out, just like I did with the ice cream.
And, if you're lucky, Zack will still be in the kitchen, I think with no small amount of shame.
I don't take the back staircase into the kitchen but rather the front that leads down into the foyer and provides me a peek at Zack's bedroom door. I make it halfway down the stairs and I see that his bedroom door is open and it's absolutely dark in there.
So he must still be in the kitchen.
I pad quietly through the living room, but before I enter the kitchen, I see the door that leads into the basement is open and the lights are on down there. I can't hear anything, but I know that's where Zack is. I wonder if maybe he's hitting the bottle of tequila again, or maybe he just wants to play some pool.
Nothing holds me back. I want to see Zack tonight. I want to confront him...stand in front of him in my new--previously used--sexy nightie and get a reaction from him. I want to provoke him into making a move on me. And if he doesn't, at least I'll know that the door on that opportunity to be with him has closed.
I head down the stairs quietly, my heart galloping with excitement and fear. As soon as I reach the bottom and turn right into the basement, I see him.
He's sitting in a low-slung leather chair, both hands sitting casually on the armrests, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He's slouched down and his gaze is pinned on the floor. I can tell...he's come down here to just sit and think. To be alone. It's written all over his posture and the thoughtful look on his face as he ponders the carpeting.
I take a step forward and the movement catches Zack's attention. His gaze rises slowly, running up my legs, hovering a moment on my breasts and finally up to my face.
Our eyes lock and I see a war within his eyes. I see desire flickering right along with uncertainty and anger.
"Go to bed, Kate," he says tiredly.
Not tired because of the game or the late hour, but I can tell...tired because of that war he's fighting.
I don't respond, but instead walk toward him. The flames now leap in his eyes and his fingers curl into the edge of the armrest. His hips roll and adjust deeper into the chair and his eyes sweep down and up me again.
"What are you doing?" he asks thickly as I cross the floor.
Words are a waste, in my opinion, and only open this situation up for debate if Zack wants to fight what's going on between us. So I walk right up to him, putting a little sway in my hips and reveling in the soft satin as it brushes against me.
When I reach his feet, I step right between those shiny black dress shoes he has on, and his legs spread slightly.
"Kate," Zack warns in a low voice.
I lower to my knees and inch forward, causing his legs to spread apart farther to let me in. My hands come up and rest on his thighs. I feel the heat of him through the dark gray dress pants, and his muscles contract and then relax under my touch.
I stare up at Zack. He returns the look, his eyes hooded, his lips parted slightly. And then he shreds me and relieves me all at once when he reaches a hand out, pushing my hair behind my ear. "I'm glad you don't heed my warnings."
A small smile of understanding rewards him and my eyes drop to his belt buckle.
I want him in my mouth. I've been obsessing about it since that night in New York when he had me in his mouth. Zack possessed me...consumed me...his lips roving hungrily over and against me. He hummed appreciation for my reactions and taste, he urged me higher and higher with his mouth and fingers, and within just a few short minutes, I was arching my back off the bed in the most blinding, the most debilitating, the most fabulous orgasm of my life.
In those few minutes where his face was pushed hard between my legs, I would have done anything he asked of me. He had me so utterly in his control, so needful for him to never stop, that I would have done and promised anything.
And I want that from him now.
Not that I would take advantage of that and get him to offer up promises in a haze of lust. No, I just want his body under my control and I want to give him the same exquisite pleasure he gave me the other night. I want the intimacy of it...I want there to be absolutely no barriers or boundaries when I take him in my mouth. I want to give everything to him.
My hands reach out and I let my fingertips stroke the belt buckle.
Zack's legs push inward, caging me in at my ribs. "Jesus," he mutters, and my head snaps up to look at him.
"Do you want me to stop?" I ask him softly, even as I start to undo the buckle.
His hips flex up a little and he growls, "Fuck no, don't stop."
Exhilaration courses through me. Heady power and triumph.
He's not pushing me away.
He still wants me.
The buckle comes undone and I push the ends aside, immediately going to work on the button. His erection is evident under the expensive material and my mouth waters just looking at the outline of it. My fingers gently work the button open, and I marvel over the sureness in my hands as I grasp the zipper and pull it slowly down.
I've never done this before, and yet I'm confident in what I'm doing.
That has everything to do with the way Zack told me not to stop. With such need in his eyes that I knew only I would be able to satisfy it.
I consider the gray boxer briefs staring at me, and how to get his pants and underwear down, when Zack brings a hand to my face and strokes his fingers down my cheek. I raise my eyes and pull my bottom lip between my teeth, just feeling...in my bones...it's a sexy thing to do.
He gives a slight groan of approval, but his eyes are serious. "I hated staying away from you," he murmurs.
I smile, which causes the sexy lip to pop free. "Then don't do it again."
Zack's eyes harden slightly and his hand slips past my temple to curve around the back of my head. He squeezes and says, "This is difficult for me."
His words are firm, but there is a wealth of vulnerability in them, and that causes my heart to weep for this man. "It shouldn't be," I tell him softly. His eyes search mine, desperately seeking the truth from me. "This should not be hard between us. I'm okay. You're okay. This is okay...what we're doing."
"I don't want to hurt you, Kate," he says grimly.
"I know that," I assure him gently. "And I see the lines in the sand you've drawn. I'm steering clear of them, and I promise you, Zack...the absolute minute this becomes something I can't handle, I will tell you. And there will be no hard feelings. I swear it."
Uncertainty and desperate hope to believe me.
That's what I get back from his look.
He doesn't say anything. I take that as tacit agreement as well as permission for me to continue my seduction. Placing my fingertips in the waistband of his underwear, I start to pull at them, hoping he'll raise his hips up to assist.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
Once again, I raise my gaze to his and tilt my head to the side. "For what?"
"For when I do hurt you," he replies resolutely. "It's going to happen."
Tenderness and sorrow well up inside me. And gratitude.
Yes, gratitude for his foresight and admission, because whether Zack wants to admit it to himself, he's just shared with me a very crucial detail...
That he already has feelings for me, otherwise this would not be bothering him so much.
I immediately put him at ease. I tell him what he needs to hear so he has peace of mind. "Apology accepted."
His smile comes then, very subtle and filled with appreciation.
I smile back.
Then I reach my hand down
inside his underwear and run my fingers over his hard length. Without taking my eyes off my goal, I ask him offhandedly, "Are we done talking now? Because I'd really like to put my mouth to other uses."
Zack's hand falls away from my head and I hear his head hit the back of the chair cushion. "Killing me," he mutters as his hips flex upward, insisting I touch him more. "Absolutely killing me."
I giggle and command him, "Lift your hips so I can get your pants down a bit."
He complies and I briefly release my hold on him so I can get the offending material out of my way. They slide easily down and past his erection, which when freed is so stiff it stands up straight.
One quick peek up at Zack, and although his head is resting on the cushion, his eyes are lowered to stare down at me. Blazing heat echoes back at me and his chest is already rapidly expanding and deflating in anticipation.
My own blood fires in response, the heady power surging back through me again. I look back down at his swollen shaft and wrap my hand around the base. A huff of air comes out of him, blowing across the top of my head.
So many places to start. So many things I could do.
Kiss? Lick? Nip? Suck? Stroke?
I opt for the first idea in my head, leaning forward and kissing him softly on the tip. Zack moans and his cock jumps in my hand.
Nice.
Now I think I want to suck, because I believe that is my best chance to drive him quickly crazy. I want to do to him exactly as he did to me. Build him up fast, make him insane with lust and need, and then I want to be the one to set off the explosion.
I lean up on my knees a tad so I hover over him. My hair falls around me in a curtain as I lower my mouth and start to take him in.
He's huge. He's thick. And he won't fit all the way in without playing patty-cake with my tonsils. So I concentrate on that part of him that I can accommodate, moving up and down with my mouth, counterstroking with my hand.
Immediately, Zack reacts. He groans loudly and starts pumping his pelvis, giving in to the natural urge to be the one doing the fucking. I use my free hand to push down hard on his hips and try to still him, but that's like trying to hold down a bucking bronco.
So I work with it. I go ahead and let him set the pace, but I work my mouth, combining pressure and suction and squeezing. I flutter my tongue under the head of his shaft and he hisses in pleasure. I do that over and over, alternating between allowing long strokes in my mouth and rough squeezes from my hand. Without thought to what I'm doing or even if I'm doing it right, one hand goes between his legs, and I lightly press in and massage his balls.
Zack Page 17