by Cynthia Dane
“Over to my place?”
Rachel shrugged. “That’s what friends do, right?”
Zack tried to imagine having Rachel over to his apartment. The one overlooking the marina. The one next door to the studio he had personally renovated to suit his tastes, knowing full well that the resell value would be shit since he got rid of two bedrooms and half the kitchen. The one that called billionaire heiresses like Kathryn Alison a next door neighbor, and that was perfectly expected.
Rachel would look good in that apartment, wouldn’t she? Right there on his leather couch, curled up in his sweatshirt and munching on popcorn while watching her favorite Bollywood movie. Zack’s fantasy stopped there. “All right,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?”
“But not as our next friend date. I’ve got something else in mind.” Wait, that came out wrong. “Er, I mean some other activity. That is… I mean…”
Rachel jerked her thumb in the other direction when they reached the next intersection. “My building’s at the end of this block.”
He walked her to the lobby. No security. Not even a front desk. There was a relatively nondescript door with the word OFFICE painted on it, but beyond that, there was no way to tell that this was an apartment building aside from a few brochures asking potential renters to read it.
Rachel got out her keys. “Thanks for coming out with us. I got it from here.”
Zack cleared his throat.
“Yeah?”
He pointed to his sweatshirt still on her body.
“Oh, uh…” Rachel almost pulled it over her head, but her hands faltered on the hem of Zack’s sweatshirt. “Tell you what. I’ll give it back to you next time we meet up. Consider it an incentive to hang out with me again.”
“Like I need one?”
Rachel blushed. Why was she blushing?
“So, um…” She turned toward the stairwell. Is there no elevator? This building’s five stories tall. She better not live above the second floor… “I’ll see you next time.”
The way she walked, spoke, and carried herself suggested something. Deep in the more perverted recesses of Zack’s brain, he recognized it. The look a woman has at the end of a first date. He rubbed his stubble and considered his options.
Rachel was cute. Devilishly, irresistibly cute in that baggy sweatshirt.
She was also amusing to talk to and always kept Zack on his conversational toes. Who knew what she would suggest they do next time? She didn’t seem the adventurous type, but perhaps a zipline was in their future.
She was also hot. That was different from cute.
We could be friends, Rachel Taylor. Zack took one step after her. Or we could be more than that. Like we’re meant to be.
He didn’t know why he thought that so confidently. Probably for the same reason he thought that when they first met. The moment he saw her, Zack knew she was special. How much? A hot lay? A few interesting coffee dates? A new model for his next collection? A little bit of all three?
No. She was different from the other women he usually had those thoughts about. Yet she wasn’t different at all. She still inspired him to ask her out right away, hadn’t she? But that was Zack’s natural inclination when it came to beautiful women who inspired him to act.
Like right now.
“Rachel.”
He stopped himself from doing more. Not because he was suddenly slapped with the morality stick, but because he didn’t want to scare her away. I have a feeling that grabbing and kissing her would be a bad, bad idea. Rachel had erected a firm boundary between them for a reason. Zack didn’t know why. Maybe she had been burned in a recent relationship. Maybe she wasn’t into sex. Maybe she really was gay and simply playing with his head.
She didn’t owe him an answer. She didn’t owe him anything.
Damn.
“Yeah?” She turned around, one hand held up to her mouth. The sweatshirt sleeve slipped down her arm. A woman had never looked more enticing in a baggy sweatshirt… let alone Zack’s baggy sweatshirt.
You should be in my apartment right now. Zack pushed those thoughts away. Or we should be in your apartment right now. We should be in bed, having sex while I piece together why I’m so attracted to you.
What if he was only attracted to her because his brain had twisted her actions as some game of hard to get?
He took a step back. “Have a good night.”
Rachel came after him.
Ho boy. She was coming after him. What had she forgotten? Something she wanted to tell him? Something…
“You too.”
She stood up on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his cheek.
It was friendly. Sweet. The kind of kiss a little sister would give her big brother after a fun day out together. There was no reason for that kiss to destroy every lick of common sense in his brain.
It didn’t help that his whole body shook in anticipation. Or that his brain fried as if left in the summer sun all day. Or that his other brain woke up and asked where the party was.
Right here, asshole. Her name was Rachel Taylor, and Zack wanted her more than he had wanted any other woman that year.
Perhaps in his life.
“Hey!”
She said that, yet the rest of her words were muffled. Because Zack was a monumental dumbass who couldn’t get a hold of himself.
He had to kiss her. Now.
Rachel shoved him away from her the moment his lips landed on hers. He was not shocked when she smacked his arm with enough aggression to get the point across.
Shit. He had fucked up. Bad.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.” He turned around. Shame? Was that what he felt? I never feel shame! How embarrassing. That too! “Shit!”
Zack wanted to show himself out. Go home. Nurse his ego and maybe send another apologetic message to Rachel, while hoping for the best. Whatever. He had fucked up. This was the end of their short, friendly tryst. With any luck, Rachel didn’t know any big, burly guys who owed her some favors. Zack was strong, but he didn’t have any black belts.
Shit!
A small hand wrapped around his before he could grab the door handle and escape into the night. When he turned around again, he found Rachel.
Coming for him.
Ah, well, he probably deserved whatever she was about to do to him. Slap him across the face. Punch him in the nuts. Bash a chair over his head. Mace, right in the eyes. That would show his privileged ass what he could get away with.
Or, he supposed, she could kiss him like she hadn’t pushed him away for kissing her.
Zack didn’t think twice. Perhaps that was his problem. He hadn’t done much thinking lately. But, for once, it was a good thing. Because not thinking meant he was ready to grab Rachel and kiss her so hard that they would both see stars for the rest of the night.
The same stars exploding behind his eyelids right now. Because it was impossible to kiss Rachel with his eyes open. He had to close them and savor every delicate second passing…
Oh. And the tongue in his mouth. He should probably savor that too.
Well! Someone had upped the ante!
“Mmf!” That was not a protest bubbling in her throat. That was encouragement. Namely, encouragement to shove her against the wall and kiss her until they ran out of breath.
Few women kissed him this passionately. Few women made him feel like the billion dollars some of the money magazines said he had in trust funds sprinkled across numerous foreign accounts. Few women could kiss Zack and awaken one of the most dormant feelings inside of him.
A kiss hadn’t been this mind blowing since…
Few women were able to remind him of that faraway love and make him blissfully forget at the same time.
God only knew where this was going to go next. They were in Rachel’s apartment building, for fuck’s sake. Zack was getting harder by the second and he was famished enough to rip off her clothes right there in the lobby. From the way she let herself go all over him, Rachel was this clos
e to inviting him up to her place… and into her body.
I’m going to fuck you so hard that we…
“Whoa!”
Reality came crashing back down when a man in clubbing gear stepped out of the stairwell and stumbled upon their hot and heavy make-out session by the front door.
“Oh my God!” Rachel grabbed her bag off the floor and took off for the stairwell. Zack was left to stand in utter disbelief while a man gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Nice, man! Have had my eye on that one for a few weeks now!”
Zack snatched the picnic basket he had dropped, glared at the high-as-fuck cockblocker, and left the building. He had a feeling that going after Rachel was the wrong thing to do.
***
Oh, it was.
Rachel locked her door behind her before sitting in her dark apartment. That… that happened. He had kissed her. She had kissed him.
And it was good. So damn good.
This was a woman who didn’t have the best opinions about kissing. It was a function of affection and sexual expression. Most men (and women, honestly) were terrible kissers. They used too much tongue. They sucked her lips. They slathered her face in drool or simply stood there like robots, expecting her to do all the work.
Not Zack. Zachary Feldman was a master kisser. Whatever happened down there? It had been enough to tell Rachel that he would be a master in many other ways, too.
I mean, I totally felt his dick against my thigh. Addled Rachel was this close to grabbing it like she had every right to.
The man was a walking aphrodisiac. She knew that the first time she saw him in Opal’s. Like she knew he would be nothing but trouble for her.
It was a godsend that one of her pothead neighbors interrupted them. It had been enough time for Rachel to regain her senses and get the hell out of there before she did something she would regret.
Now? It was two hours later, and she was wrapped up in bed, cell phone close to her chest. She had never taken off Zack’s sweatshirt.
But she had taken off her jeans. Because nothing said more good ideas like wearing nothing but her undies and a man’s sweatshirt to bed. Even better? She kept checking her phone for a message.
A message that never came.
I fucked up. Oh my God. He’ll never want to see me again now. Just as well! Hadn’t Rachel made a promise to herself? To not get romantically or sexually involved with anyone for a whole two months? What kind of sorry shit was she if she couldn’t go a whole two months without getting into bed with someone?
I was going to ride him like a cowgirl. Damn! Could she get any more embarrassing?
Probably. She could start by texting Parvati. Not to tell her about what happened, but to thank her for coming to the movie so Rachel didn’t have to be alone with Zack.
She knew it was dangerous to be alone with him. Now it was even more dangerous.
Rachel eventually fell asleep with her nose buried in Zack’s sweatshirt. To say she had some of the naughtiest dreams of her life was a severe understatement. The poor dear woke up so sexually frustrated that she screamed into her pillow.
It didn’t make her feel any better.
Chapter 10
Usually, when Zack faced a particular personal crisis on the level of What the hell do I do now? he either took to expressing his frustrations through art… or ran to the marina to hang out on his yacht all day, busying himself with the kind of upkeep he hated paying other people to do.
Upkeep for his apartment? He would hire five different crews to rotate on a daily basis if it meant he never had to make his bed, clean his toilet, or vacuum the floors. But when it came to his precious Priss & Moan, he was the only one allowed to do anything aside from major overhauls. Even then, he insisted on being there every step of the way. I take care of my yacht more than I would my own children. Probably why he was in no hurry to have children, if ever.
Early Sunday morning, it was easy to decide what to do. With Uncle Roy in town, there was only one option.
“You look like you got hit by a tugboat!” Roy cried the moment he saw his nephew on the bow of his yacht. “Don’t tell me you spent the whole night partying.”
“Nope.” Zack tucked his phone into his back pocket and crossed over onto his uncle’s vessel. Roy was in the midst of doing his laundry. Like Zack didn’t want anyone touching his boat, Uncle Roy didn’t want no man or woman cleaning his things. Besides, he didn’t have much to begin with. What money he didn’t keep tucked away in his accounts went straight into his boat and the multiple trips he took around the world. Most people wouldn’t even be able to guess that he was the Roy Feldman, the rightful heir to the great Feldman Steel legacy who gave it all up to buy a yacht and piss off into the horizon. Most of his clothes and the supplies he kept inside were cheaply made since he went through them so quickly that he didn’t see the point of investing in better clothing.
Today he wore a thin blue tank top with multiple tears along the seams and a pair of gray cargo shorts stuffed with handheld tools and power bar wrappers. The most expensive thing on him was his water proof watch. That could be me one day. Tanned, gray-haired, and smelling of the sea no matter how much he bathed. Once, when Zack was in high school, he idolized his uncle for the life he lived. Now? He was happy to have him back in port whenever he made the trip around the world.
“I couldn’t sleep last night.” Zack sat out of his uncle’s way as he went to work hanging up his clothes to air dry. He claims it makes them fresher. In truth, Uncle Roy probably didn’t want to take his clothes to the local laundromat. Besides, wherever he went, the sun shined strongly enough to dry his clothes within a few hours. It was going to be a nice, warm Sunday. “Been having a weird week.”
Roy glanced at him in between hanging up a pair of boxer shorts and one of his favorite linen shirts. “One of those art things you do?” He may not have been the most articulate when it came to talking about his nephew’s career, but he never shat on it. Not like the rest of the Feldmans whenever the subject came up. “Nothing clears the mind like a day out at sea, son. When’s the last time you went out for a trip around the bay?”
While the city wasn’t considered coastal, per se, it was only a half hour jaunt downriver to get to the Atlantic. Even now, so early in the morning, boats of all sizes took off from port and headed downriver. “Too long, honestly. Guess I haven’t been in the mood. Or too busy.”
“Then do it! Or let’s do it after lunch, eh? Or we could do it before lunch.” Roy grinned at him. “Order it in and enjoy it while we soak up the sun and listen to the gulls. I hear some whales were spotted not too far out from here. You know how lucky I am getting them to come portside.”
Zack admitted it sounded tempting. He might even take his uncle up on the offer. The farther I get away from land, the easier it will be to clear my head. That’s what he told himself, anyway. And why wouldn’t he? That’s usually how it worked out.
“Anyway, it’s not my art.” Although it went hand-in-hand with his current conundrum. “Guess you could say it’s a woman.”
Roy stood up straight and clicked his tongue at his nephew. “I keep forgetting how young you still are.”
“I’m almost thirty.”
“And it wasn’t until I was forty-six that I finally stopped chasing tail, son.” Roy picked up his laundry basket, turned it over, and sat down near his nephew. “So who’s the latest lady you’re seeing?”
“I’m not really seeing her. We’re… friends… I guess.”
Roy cringed. “Ooh. Good luck with that.”
Zack wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to unload everything in his head regarding Rachel and how their “friendship” had gone so far.
Then his uncle gave him that pitiful look. Here went nothing.
Zack began with seeing Rachel through the window of the café. How something about her had inspired him to walk inside and start sketching her intriguing profile.
Going back to ask her out.
Her telling him that she would rather have friends than lovers.
Going out with her twice. Kissing her last night… having her kiss him back, knowing full well what was about to happen if they were never interrupted.
“What’s wrong with a little nookie, son?”
Zack scoffed. “That’s not why we went out.”
“Sounds like that’s why you went out with her.”
“I mean… I don’t want to sleep with her unless she’s 100% on board with it. Based on how she took off last night, I’m guessing it wasn’t something she actually wanted to do.”
Roy shook his head again. “Why are you wasting your time on her like this? Don’t tell me she’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen in your life. I would find that hard to believe, based on some of the women I’ve seen you post to your Instagram.”
“I… wait, what? You follow my Instagram?”
“Son, I like every single thing you post! What the hell!”
Zack pulled his phone out again. “What in the world is your username? Because I don’t recall this at all.”
“Spoonertime376.”
“Spooner… what?”
“This explains why you’ve never followed me back.” Roy slammed his hands against his thighs. “Thought maybe I had done something to hurt your sensitive feelings.”
Zack brought up his uncle’s Instagram account. Most shots were of the open sea, ports, docks, Caribbean villages and the occasional selfie. At least his uncle had invested in a good selfie stick. Then again, he probably used it to swat seagulls away from his lunch more than for taking selfies.
“Women.” Roy scoffed. “They’ll be the end of all of us. Either that or money. You’ve got both twofold.”
“You never got married.”
“Nope. And I never went into the family business, either. Both were a huge waste of my time. Not saying it’s not worth it for other men, but…” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “I want to be a man of my own volition. That means no career tying me down. It definitely means no women for more than a weekend.”
That’s usually how I see the world as well. Then again, Zack had never found a woman worth more than a weekend at least, a month at the most. The women he dated were beautiful, funny, intelligent… some great combination that made them both stand out from the next and blend together into a seamless line of women, women, women. How could women be so tantalizing but also bore him half to tears?