Her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “I should’ve realised he’d ask about your age.”
“Is he always so pathetic, then?”
Her mouth hung open for a delighted second before she burst out laughing. “He’s bad at keeping quiet about things that bother him.”
“And my age should bother Kevin because…?”
“You know.” She rolled her eyes when Zach didn’t respond. “Because I’m too old for you.”
“Bullshit,” he said easily.
She choked out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”
“If I were too young for you”—she didn’t miss the way he rearranged those words— “we wouldn’t have been such good friends for so long. I’d bore you or get on your nerves. Be honest: how often do you think about the age gap between us?”
“Not that often,” she mumbled, which was a tiny white lie. In reality, the answer was never. It just didn’t seem to matter.
“See?” He looked way too pleased with himself. “Now, stop worrying about your pissy ex-husband and come here.”
“Come where? I’m practically in your lap.”
“But not quite.” He tugged her closer, lifting her up until she was literally in his lap, straddling him instead of the bench. She realised, with hot cheeks and no little satisfaction, that she was being semi-scandalous in a public place. And this public place wasn’t part of her new, carefree life back in Ravenswood—it was in a hotel where her old life lingered like a bad smell.
Maybe the two pieces of herself were slamming into each other, finally connecting, for better or for worse. Maybe Zach’s support, as solid and unflinching as his current grip on her arse, had helped that happen.
“There,” he said softly, his eyes burning into hers. “That’s better.”
She pressed her hands to his chest, felt his heart racing under her palm. “Much. Kevin interrupted us.”
His voice deceptively mild, Zach asked, “Did he?”
“Yes.” She said it firmly, almost formally, because this was a serious issue. She couldn’t allow her worthless ex to derail her evening. “We were going to continue our agreed-upon—”
“Agreed upon,” Zach cut in with a snort. “Aren’t you sharp tonight.” His tone was even sharper. But when he looked at her, she saw something beseeching in his eyes. “Do me a favour, sunshine,” he sighed. “Don’t talk about fucking favours.”
If she were sensible, she would interpret that as an obvious rejection. And she would carefully ignore the rapid beat of his heart against her palm, the yearning in his voice, the way his grip on her tightened as if he couldn’t let her go.
But Rae wasn’t feeling sensible. She noticed everything, and she let herself enjoy it. Stopped trying to hide her own yearning, her own longing, her own tight grip on him. Holding his gaze, she said, “Alright. No favours.”
He nodded curtly. Then she leaned in close, and everything about him tensed.
“Zach,” she whispered, as if they were starting again. “Will you come upstairs with me?”
He pulled back to look at her face. She watched his expression shift from disbelief to sheer, shocking pleasure. Then came his smile, slow and sweet and so fucking sexy. Teasing as ever, he asked, “Upstairs? What for?”
She smiled back, a little afraid and a lot determined. “I have a list.”
Chapter 13
This time, Zach managed to take a detour for necessary supplies. Condoms, which he hadn’t needed in a while, and a bottle of the silky, flavourless lube he actually liked—plus two Red Bulls because sleep was for people who didn’t have a shot with Baby Ann McRae.
His lips twitched as he remembered her wrinkling her nose at her own name. Then, without warning, more memories followed: Rae, Rae, Rae, so fucking wonderful. The look in her eyes, burning desire and hesitant trust, when she’d spread her legs for him. The exhausted curl of her right hand after she signed all those books. The way she smiled at her own reflection when she looked especially good. How she said whatever it took to catch him by surprise, and braided her hair all pretty, and drifted away inside her own head.
What came next wasn’t a realisation so much as a release: he was in love with Rae.
Zach stopped dead in the middle of a hotel corridor and breathed, “Fuck.”
He should’ve figured this out a while ago. Hell, he had a sneaking suspicion he’d started falling for her before he’d even developed an attraction toward her. It was the kind of oblivious shit he did all the time, but right now it was extremely inconvenient. Something had shifted between them tonight, something monumental—but he was 100% sure that if he mentioned his feelings, she’d panic and pull back.
He started walking again, muttering sternly to himself. “Keep your mouth shut, Davis. Keep it together.”
Love danced on the tip of his tongue.
By the time he slipped his key card into the door of their hotel room, his hands were shaking. Fear, love, and way-too-intense lust had him in their grip, and he was breathing slow and deep to calm himself down. Blood rushed in his ears like a stormy sea, every breath tasted of urgency, and his thoughts had narrowed to a single, shit-scary refrain.
If you fuck it up, this might be all you ever get.
But that wasn’t true. He couldn’t let himself believe it. Rae was skittish, and he understood why, but he could prove that she didn’t need to be. His long-term plan involved regular orgasms and casual intimacy and the perseverance of a fucking ox, and he would make it work.
She was sitting in the glow of the bedside lamps, looking all prim and pretty in nothing but a T-shirt and her underwear. He was arrested by the sight of her, but it took him a second to realise what was different. She’d taken her hair down, so for once, it was completely loose. No braids at the front; just a wild, brown and bronze length that was starting to frizz and curl at the ends. She watched him approach with fathomless eyes, and for a moment he felt like prey. Like she was about to sink her teeth into him in the best way possible, and he should approach with caution.
It wasn’t a sensation he disliked. Quite the fucking opposite.
He put down his pharmacy bag, threw her a can of Red Bull, and said, “For later.”
She gave him that familiar, one-sided smile with a brand new, sex-hungry edge. “You have the best ideas.”
“I should shower.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” She crawled across the bed, rose up on her knees, and reached for him. When he came closer, she threaded her fingers through his hair and licked a hot, electric stripe up the side of his throat. “I like you like this. It’s how you look every morning on your break, when I come to see you.”
Possessiveness rolled off her in waves, whether she knew it or not, and he was more than happy to bask in the heat like an animal. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pinned her to him, and drank down her gasp-turned-moan. “When you come to see me, huh? Is that what it is? I thought you were just taking walks.”
“Yes,” she said, one hand slipping under his vest. “That’s what I meant.” But there was no heat to her denial, no panic in her eyes.
“You know what I think?” he murmured, pushing his luck. “I think you’ve wanted me for a long time.”
Her lips tilted into a wry smile. “Maybe. Way longer than you wanted me.”
He frowned and caught her chin, letting her see the truth in his eyes. “Just because I didn’t want you in my bed, doesn’t mean I didn’t want you. I was desperate to be around you, to know you, and I still am. I want to carry every inch of you in my head forever, because you are too precious to remain a mystery.”
She swallowed, her lashes fluttering as she looked away. “Zach…”
He was fucking this up—pushing too far, too fast with the emotional declarations. He couldn’t bring himself to say, I meant that as a friend, so he said the next best thing. “Don’t freak out. I care about you, remember?”
“I remember,” she whispered. But she looked so vulnerable, as if she w
asn’t quite sure why.
“Tell me something,” he said, suddenly curious. “Why do so many people downstairs know you, but none of them act like your friend?”
She blinked, obviously confused by the question. He’d meant what he said; he needed to understand her. It was a compulsion, now.
Finally, with a rueful twist of her lips, she murmured, “I suppose Kevin got all our friends in the divorce. I don’t think I’m the type of person others hold on to.”
“Me neither,” he admitted easily. “Does it bother you?”
“No. I have everyone I need.”
“Do you think you could ever lose me?”
Her nails raked his chest as she curled her hand into a fist. “I think I don’t want to find out.”
Sharing time was officially over. He could see it in her face and feel it in the tension of her body. So, he soothed her the only way he knew how: by unleashing the full force of his lust, letting it rush out and sweep her away. Soon, she would trust him completely. For now, just a taste was enough.
The sudden change in Zach felt like a storm; like the thrill of excitement as the wind whipped up and the sky grew dark with the promise of thunder and lightning. Rae had a thing for storms, always had. They drew out a mix of primal fear and violent, feral triumph. They were overwhelming and all-consuming. So was Zach.
He pushed her back onto the bed and dragged his shirt over his head in one swift movement, so fast she barely followed. In the low light, his pale skin seemed to shine. Ridges of muscle defined the slab of his chest, carved his broad shoulders, slashed a V at his hips. Then her gaze found the thick curve of his erection, clearly outlined by the grey jersey of his joggers.
“Top off,” he said, but she shook her head, trying not to pant at the sight of him. At the living temptation he’d become, half-dressed like that.
“You think I’m missing the rest of your strip tease?”
“Fair point.” He pushed down the joggers and his underwear all at once, then laughed softly as she went slack-jawed. Oh, Lord. She liked to look at men, but Zach… he did something strange to her. He always had.
It was the way he held himself, maybe, like some proud Greek statue from an age gone by. Like he’d never felt an ounce of shame or self-consciousness in his life. He was so casually dominant, so lazily confident, his nudity deliciously lewd yet utterly natural. She tended to focus on his chest, since it was usually bare, but now she took in his thickly muscled thighs, his lean hips, the jut of his erection.
And God, that erection… Her mouth went dry, but she wasn’t sure if anticipation or outright nerves were to blame.
“Zach,” she said calmly, “did you know there is a piercing in your dick?”
He looked down as if shocked. “Well, shit. How did that get there?”
This didn’t seem like the moment to laugh, so she clapped a hand over her mouth—but amusement bubbled up anyway, hysterical and delighted. “I knew your secret piercing was a sex thing.”
“Of course it is. Unsexy piercings aren’t usually secrets.”
“Right,” she said dryly, eyeing the little ring that curved through his swollen cockhead. It was a bright, shining silver, stark against his flushed skin. “Um… does it hurt?”
“No,” he said, then held up a hand. “Actually—I’ve changed my mind. It hurts like hell because I’m not inside you.”
She bit her lip. “Oh dear.”
He laughed and climbed on to the bed. “You look scared as fuck.”
“I’m not,” she lied. “It’s just a piercing.”
As if throwing him off would be that easy. “I wasn’t talking about the piercing, Rae. Relax,” he murmured, his fingers catching the hem of her T-shirt. “You don’t need to be nervous. We’ll take our time. Okay?”
“Okay. Yes. Right.” The last of her words were muffled as he eased her T-shirt over her head. She’d already removed her bra, so now she was naked except for her knickers. She remembered the last time she’d sat before him like this, and the thought must have hit him too, because their eyes met and their lips curved almost simultaneously.
“Are you going to take these off for me, this time?” he whispered, fingering the lace at the edge of her underwear. When she hesitated, he ran his mouth over her jaw, his lips soft and his stubble rough. “Doesn’t have to be now,” he breathed into her skin, low and reassuring. “Touch me.”
Rae couldn’t believe she’d needed the reminder. It had been forever since she’d actually had sex—longer than the eighteen months since her divorce, anyway. Luckily, Zach seemed dedicated to reminding her how this was done. She ran her palms over the fine rasp of hair on his chest and was rewarded with his hands kneading her arse, making her clit swell and her pussy ache. She nudged the flat disc of his nipple with a fingertip, and he pushed out a breath and sucked on her lower lip. Everything inside her turned molten. His big, rough hands stroked her so softly, his mouth was so tender but hungry, and the tension was killing her.
Then her questing fingers brushed the skin just above his hip, and he shuddered. A moan escaped from somewhere deep in his chest. "Christ, Rae,” he murmured, and when she looked up, she was shocked by the decadent need on his face. His eyes were bright, swallowed up by black pupils; his sharp cheekbones were flushed; his lips were swollen and parted and slick.
“Lie back,” she said, the desperate thud of her heart driving each word. “I want to see what else makes you moan.” When he obeyed, she settled between his thighs and licked that soft, sensitive skin above his hip. He jerked, his hands sinking into the mess of her hair, tugging until she looked up at him.
“You,” he rasped, “are going to kill me. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”
But Rae did. She’d been trying so hard to ignore it, this knowledge, but she couldn’t anymore. Wouldn’t. The lines between real and fake had blurred so badly, they were barely visible—yet she didn’t want to run away. Not even when she saw possession in his eyes and felt it in his touch. She realised with sudden, endless relief that she loved him more than she feared for herself. She was stronger than she’d ever been, and she chased what she wanted, and if this connection between them hurt in the end, perhaps it would be worth it.
She didn’t know how to say any of that, though; simply feeling it was exhausting enough. So, she bowed her head and worshipped him, instead.
Her lips traced a teasing path across his skin while he moaned and arched and begged her for more. She smiled to herself and nuzzled his cock, barely resisting the urge to purr like a cat. He smelled like heat and salt and skin and Zach, so she flicked her tongue out to taste.
“Rae,” he moaned, his hips bucking. “Don’t—I’ll—”
“What?” she teased. “You’ll come? Really?”
“Yes,” he gritted, clearly serious. “You have no idea how fucking good you look right now.”
She did, actually—she could tell just by the way he watched her. But she wanted to hear him say it. She ran her cheek over every steely-soft inch of his cock, enjoying his tortured groans. “Tell me,” she whispered against his skin.
The words were ripped from him, sudden and breathless. “You look like mine.” Then he bit his lip bloodless, his frown agonised, as if he hadn’t meant to let that slip.
She should’ve been horrified, but wild, rebellious pleasure bloomed inside her. On a sex-fuelled wave of defiance, she murmured, “Maybe I am.”
He rose up on one elbow, his gaze darkening. Then he reached down and grasped his erection at the base—hard. His voice even harder, he ordered, “Open for me.”
She did, and he lifted his hips, murmuring sweet, sordid things as he fed his cock into her throat. It was a hot, human intrusion that shot straight to her clit. She sucked hard, and he thrust up into her mouth, his hand a delicious weight on her nape, his voice cracking as he urged her on. God, she wanted him. Like this, yes—or, even better: between her thighs, filling the ache that grew inside her as his pre-come teased her tongue.
>
She wanted him in her life, always, wanting her right back.
“Stop,” he gasped, the word abrupt, ragged. She eased back, and he sat up, dragging her into his lap. His kiss was dangerously deep, as if he wanted to devour her, or maybe to be devoured himself. His hands never stopped moving, sliding over her bare skin, the heat of his palms branding her sides, her breasts, her throat. Then he cupped her face, and the kiss turned tender in a way that made her heart break and her hips rock. This. This was what they were.
A second later it was over, as if he thought she couldn’t handle too much. Rae was flipped onto her back, her body tingling in anticipation while Zach reached for something on the bedside table.
Her underwear felt so inconvenient, all of a sudden. Confining, even. She peeled them off and sank into the languor of the moment, teasing her plump clit with delicate fingers… Only for Zach’s warmth to return, his body a comforting weight as he lay above her, his own fingers joining hers. But his were slippery, and he glided over her folds, spreading the luxurious wetness. His gaze caught hers, held. Then he pushed two fingers inside her, and she thought she might shatter. His thumb swept over her greedy bud, circling gently while his fingers fucked her nice and slow. She spread her legs wider and choked out, “More. More.”
He kissed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, and then his tongue slipped between her lips just as his fingers curved inside her. He rubbed something sensitive and sultry and perfect, and she came. Wrapped her arms around him, sucked on his tongue as she moaned, and came. He kept stroking, kept circling her clit, until she gasped and twisted and jerked away, the sensations too overwhelming.
But not so overwhelming that she couldn’t say, “Condom.” It wasn’t a reminder so much as a warning: You better be ready, because I’m about to need you again.
She heard the rip of foil before he settled between her thighs, his lips soft over the pulse racing at her throat. His voice was rough and rumbling and oh-so-satisfied when he murmured, “You’re not nervous anymore.”
That Kind of Guy Page 16