Abby flutters one hand to the nightstand, and I see it. Condom. Wow, this hotel is truly prepared …
I snatch it up. “Where did this come from?”
“Calandra.” Abby’s face turns scarlet. “She gave me a box as a joke.”
“Ha ha,” I say, deadpan. “Funny. And convenient.”
“Because she knows you were my first kiss, and she said when we got together again, sparks would fly.”
I consider this for about two seconds, maybe less. “Don’t care. Thank you, Calandra,” I say to the air.
I rip open the packet and drop to the bed to slide the thing on. It’s cold, and I don’t like condoms, but they’re necessities if you’re going to have a one-night-stand.
I hesitate another split second. Is that what this is? What it will be? A one-night-stand with Abby and nothing more?
My body is on fire, my adrenaline off the scale. Worry about it later.
Abby welcomes me down to her, her smile as sweet as a summer day. I brush back her hair, kiss her mouth, and slowly slide inside her.
Chapter Five
Abby
Is this what happiness feels like? Zach, my old friend, my first glimpse of what passion might be, looks into my eyes with his amazing blue ones, and presses himself into me.
I groan with it. I can’t stop myself. His warm weight sends me into softness, and his hardness touches something inside me I don’t think I’ve ever experienced. I’ve had lovers before, but the instant Zach connects with me, it’s like a bell sounding, a completion of something I’ve been waiting for all my life.
He goes very still, his eyes intense. He’s filling me, stretching me. I reach for his hips, those tight muscles welcoming my hands. I cradle him, pulling him farther in.
Zach leans down and kisses me, mouth hot, and then he glides out and back in again, starting a rhythm that is the best thing in the world.
I lift myself to him. When we’d tangoed, I’d laced my foot around his leg, and I do it again. This is what the tango is about. Wild passion that’s the closest thing to sex you can do in front of other people.
“Abby.” Zach’s throaty groan spirals heat into me. “I’ve never …”
What he’s never done gets lost as he closes his eyes and pumps, our bodies crashing together, held in the best kind of dance.
“Zach.” I touch his face, his shoulder, return to squeezing his seriously fine ass. “Damn.”
“Exactly.” Zach slides in and out, the mattress groans, and I swear the pictures on the walls shake.
The pillows slide out from under my head and I slap them away. Easier to push myself up to him on a flat mattress, and I want more and more and more. Zach slides his hand between us, his thumb bringing me to life as he presses deep inside.
Dark waves of ecstasy pour down to sweep me away. I hear the screams from my mouth, the cries of need, the words I never say at work. Zach’s laughing, but in sheer pleasure, then his laughter dies and his face scrunches up.
“Shit!” The word is a whisper and a groan. Zach’s head goes back, lamplight glistening on his skin as he grows louder. “Shit!”
He drives inside me as I try to hold him tighter than I possibly can. Zach lets out another strangled sound, and then he’s coming too, pounding the bed with one fist as he releases.
We both gasp for breath as he collapses to me, kissing my face and hair, saying my name as though he loves me.
It must be wonderful to be loved by Zach …
I hold him close, kissing his lips, wishing this night will never end.
* * *
Zach
I wake up knowing something is seriously right with the world. I drowse for a few minutes, wondering why I feel so good. Warm, comfortable, happy.
Then I remember.
I open my eyes in panic. Will Abby be gone? Did she take her luggage and run? Leaving me to hobble back to my room, hungover, unwashed, doing the walk of shame?
I turn my head … and there she is. The most beautiful woman in the world, gazing back at me.
She flushes a pretty red. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
Silence. We stare at each other a few moments, as though neither of us wants to break the magic. Real life is out there, but it’s far away. The routine of showers, breakfast, checking the news, checking email, dealing with work problems … it’s hovering, remote, not a part of this place and time.
The relief she’s still here smacks me hard. Abby shows no shock that we actually slept together or that she wants any excuse to get away from me.
We keep looking at each other, each waiting for the other to start. Or stop.
Abby touches my cheek. I feel her tickle my unshaved whiskers as though she likes them.
“What do we do now?” she asks softly.
My cock is already hard and waiting. “I know what I want to do.”
A tiny smile, hope. “What’s that?”
“Brush my teeth.” I slide my hand over my mouth. It can’t be good, my breath, not after a night of whisky, champagne, piña coladas, wine and all the yelling I did while having sex.
Her smile deepens. “No problem. There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, in my toiletries bag. In the package, I mean. Never used.”
I flood with happiness, because I won’t have to leave her yet, then my eyes narrow. “Wait, why did you bring an extra toothbrush?”
“In case I drop mine in the toilet.” Abby shrugs. “It happens. Hotel bathrooms can be tricky.”
I burst out laughing. In time, I remember to turn my head and not blast her with morning breath. “Be right back.”
I roll out of bed, my feet bouncing on the floor. I feel light, effervescent, which I shouldn’t. I should be hung over and sick. Why aren’t I?
Because I had the best sex of my life last night, that’s why. The rush of it probably burned out all the alcohol.
Abby wolf whistles. I turn around. “What?”
“You have a great ass, McLaughlin. You know that?”
“Aw.” I shake it for her. “Nothing compared to yours.”
Abby props herself on her elbow. “Have you been checking out my ass?”
“Yep. If you can ogle me, I’m doing it right back.”
“Okay.” Abby gives me a slow once over, making my body hotter than my back yard in July.
I hate to leave her, but I really want to meet that toothbrush.
I find it in her toiletries bag—with compartments and everything tidy, unlike my just-throw-it-in jumble. By the time I have the toothbrush out, coated with toothpaste and in my mouth, Abby is with me, doing the same thing.
I never thought brushing teeth would be sexy. But it is. Naked, side-by-side, the mirror reflecting two people with messed up hair, brushing furiously. Abby’s breasts move, and I get lost watching them.
I have a sudden thought—what would it be like to be with her every day? Go through the whole deal—shower, emails, dealing with problems, coming home to talk about everything with Abby?
I have never in my life pictured this. Now it slams me in the face like a cream pie in a slapstick routine.
I freeze, stunned, but the vision doesn’t go away. Abby continues brushing then rinses her mouth and hangs up the toothbrush. She gives me a puzzled glance, wondering why the hell I’m standing there with the toothbrush sticking out of my mouth.
I quickly finish up, rinse and spit, taking the towel she offers me.
Before she can ask what I want to do next, I throw the towel to the counter, slide another condom out of the box, put my arm around her, and take her back to bed. The sheets are still warm, the perfect nest for me to lower her into before I lick her all over. I do mean all over. Every inch. Some inches I linger on more than others.
Then she does me. Her tongue drives me insane. What she can do with her mouth … holy fuck.
I can’t take it. I roll on the condom in record time then wrap myself around her and make love to her, hard and fast. We’re laughing,
panting, and yelling as we both come.
I hope like hell I remembered to put the do-not-disturb sign on the door. If a maid decides to come in to do the cleaning, she’ll sure get an eyeful. And the two of us might not even notice.
* * *
Abby
I know it has to end sometime. I don’t want it to. I’ve never been with a guy like Zach. Not that I’m Ms. Experience, or anything, but I’ve had a couple of boyfriends in my time. However, none like Zach.
Zach proves he knows how to make me feel good, and he puts effort into it. He doesn’t expect me to lie flat so he can feel great and walk away. No, he takes his time, touching me, bringing my body to life.
Zach is good at bed talk too. I don’t know if what he says is rehearsed, but it sounds sincere.
You know you’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw, right?
I love the taste of you. I can’t get enough.
I never realized before how hot a guy’s tongue on my ankles would be.
We lay back in exhaustion after the third time making love. My throat is scratchy, my limbs tired, my body wonderfully loose.
“We’re going to have to go downstairs soon,” I say glumly. “Someone will come looking for us.”
“One of my nosy brothers, probably.” Zach stretches, rippling his muscles in a good way. “I should head them off.”
Still we lie on the bed, reluctant to let this go. What we’ve had might never happen again, and we know it.
“There’s this restaurant.” Zach speaks offhandedly, like he has a passing thought and decides to voice it. “Mason’s. On Sixteenth Street just south of Thomas. Kind of a hidden gem.”
“Yeah?” I wait in anticipation.
He pauses, studying my face. I wonder what he’s looking for and do my best to be interested, but not desperate. A good balance between I’d like to see you again, and This was fun. If we never have anything again, this was good.
I’m not sure I manage it.
“You should try it sometime,” Zach finishes. “You know, if you ever pry yourself out of the East Valley.”
“I do leave it. On occasion. For a very good reason.”
We watch each other again. I’m not sure what he wants me to say, if anything. “Maybe … uh.” I choke on the word, wet my lips.
Zach waits, tense. “Maybe what?”
“Maybe we could meet there sometime.”
Okay. I said it. Ball’s in his court. Could be that’s what he wanted.
Zach nods, as though I’ve spoken something profound. “Yeah. Maybe we could.”
There’s some relief between us now. We want to see each other again. On some unspecified day in the future. This one-night-stand might expand into another one.
Someday. Maybe.
* * *
Zach
When I finally make my way back to my own room, ready for a shower, shave, and change of clothes, I run straight into Ben.
Ben and I are the middle kids. Neither of us have the importance of the oldest son or the adorability factor of the youngest. Austin soaks it up like a brat.
Ben and me stick together—usually. Today, my shy younger brother gives me the biggest knowing grin I’ve ever witnessed on him.
“Oh, man.” Ben leans against the nearest wall in the hallway, arm over his stomach. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck, but really, really enjoyed it.”
I’m on him in a heartbeat, my fist around his shirt. “Don’t you say a word. I don’t care if you make fun of me, but I don’t want her upset. Understand?”
“Got it.” Ben pats my arm, fondly. “Your secret is safe with me.” He makes the motion of a zipper over his mouth.
“Thank you.” I release him and smooth the T-shirt I’ve wrinkled, then head for my room.
Behind me comes muffled laughter. “Bro,” Ben says softly. “You have glitter in your hair.”
For some reason, this makes me insanely happy.
Once I reach my room I shower, dress, and pack up my few things. I hurry to the lobby to check out, but I linger there in case Abby comes down. When she does, I can talk to her again, maybe take her to breakfast.
Except, she never shows. As I pretend to thoroughly read all the newspapers under the sunny skylight, a couple more of the bridesmaids appear. One is Brooke Marsh, who has a bad history with Austin. He and Brooke went out for a while and now they loathe each other. I noticed they kept a wary distance from each other all through the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, the wedding, and the reception.
I move toward Brooke, casually, as though simply returning my last newspaper to the table where I found it. This takes me close to her as she fumbles in her purse.
Brooke is stunning, and I understand why Austin chased her in the first place. She has black hair she streaks with red, an arresting face, dark skin, and eyes of deep brown. She makes anything she puts on look good, including the bicycle shorts and baggy T-shirt she wears this morning.
For all Brooke’s beauty, my only interest in her today is that she and Abby are very good friends.
“Morning,” Brooke says to me, giving me her sunny smile. “A McLaughlin brother I actually want to speak to.”
I feign surprise. “Has Ben been talking trash to you? I’ll kick his ass.”
She laughs. “Poor Ben. He has to get over his too-nice disease. He lets himself be taken advantage of.”
“Tell me about it. I rescue him all the time.” I clear my throat. “So, how’s it going?”
Brooke’s smile grows wider, her beauty putting everyone else in the room to shame. Austin is an idiot.
“I know why you’re sweet-talking me, Zach. Abby left already. She said she has a work project she has to finish before she goes in tomorrow. Aw.” Brooke softens in sympathy as my face falls. “You don’t look near as happy to see me now.”
“Oh. Sorry. I just …”
“I know what you just. You and Abby …” Brooke scans me, dark brows arched. “Yeah, I can see it. I don’t mind helping you—you’re not Austin.” She digs her phone from her purse. “At least there are three good McLaughlin brothers.”
“Austin’s not so bad.” I defend him—he’s my brother, right?
“Yes, he is.” Brooke skims her thumb down her phone and starts typing. “I’m texting you Abby’s number. Leave her be today, because she really is behind on her project, but in a few days, ask her out. Like a normal person.”
“You mean instead of prying intel from her friends?”
Brooke hits Send, and my phone buzzes. I glance at the number and then save it to my contacts, but I don’t really need to. I’ve already absorbed it, memorized it. The most important number on the planet.
“Exactly.” Brooke’s smile fades, and she gives me a stern look. “And you could have just asked me. Abby isn’t going out with anyone at the moment. I mean, she was, but he’s a dweeb, so good riddance.”
“Thank you.” I must appear pathetically grateful because Brooke smiles again and pats my arm.
“Happy to help.”
“But seriously, how are you doing?” I ask. “Everything good with you? I’m not just a jerk trying to get Abby’s number—I want to know.”
“I’m fine. Really. I have a great life, a good job, lots of friends. Not seeing anyone and don’t want to. My girlfriends and I are going on a trip together this summer—ladies only. Looking forward to it.”
Her eyes hold defiance, as though she wants me to tell Austin when I see him that her life is perfect without him.
“His loss,” I say. “Take care, Brooke. You’re awesome.”
“You’re such a sweetheart.” Brooke enfolds me in a warm hug. I get a kiss on the cheek as well. “Good luck,” she says as she pulls away. “Abby deserves some fun. She works way too hard.”
“She’s not going on the trip with you?”
“We asked her, but she can’t get the time off—Abby works for a total jerk. We set something up with her for later.” Brooke’s expression turns warning.
“You be nice to her. Or a whole bunch of people will be on your ass. All right?”
“I know. One of them is now my sister-in-law.”
“Yep. So be careful.”
I clutch my phone like it’s made of gold. “I will. See you, Brooke.”
“See you around, Zach. Give Ben a kiss for me.”
“Bleh. No. I’ll just tell him you said hi.”
She laughs, and to the merry sound, I quit the hotel. I load my bag into my pickup and let it roar to life. I sit for a time, looking at Abby’s number on my phone, before I lay the phone gently aside and drive away.
* * *
Abby
It’s Monday, and I’m suffocating in cubical hell. I spent all day Sunday and well into Sunday night trying to finish my presentation with a hangover and seriously distracted by thoughts of Zach McLaughlin. All that is making for a terrible morning today.
I want to bask. I want to sit and remember Zach touching me and kissing me, and the wonderful feel of him inside me. I recall the sense of completion I’ve never experienced in my life. I want to draw that to me, wrap my arms around it, not let it go.
Plus I just want to think about Zach. His eyes, his smile, his body I want to lick all over. Again. I need a full-length poster of him in my cubicle so I can gaze at him whenever I wish.
Nothing like that would be allowed. Not in this sterile office. We get one or two photos of family and that’s it. Everything personal is discouraged.
My boss, Mr. Beale, is a tall, thin guy with eyes like steel ball bearings. Not one to inspire confidence. He doesn’t much like women, but he has to deal with us, because there are a lot of us in the marketing and sales departments. He watched me in severe disapproval this morning while I made my presentation.
It didn’t go well. Didn’t I understand the product? Mr. Beale snapped at me in front of the whole department. Did I have any imagination at all, and could I come up with one single decent campaign?
This Changes Everything: McLaughlin Brothers, Book 1 Page 4