He chuckles. “This baby was my one splurge when I bought the place.”
He’s not kidding. The furniture in his house has to be second- or third-hand. “I’m kind of fond of your couch. The blue velvet is rather cozy.”
A wide grin spreads across his face. “Isn’t it? My grandma handed that one down. Been in the family forever.”
I shake my head. “She had good taste—fifty years ago.”
His grin remains and his eyes twinkle in the dim light. “You know, Ness, I’m not gonna be offended if you want to take that clingy shirt off and relax in your bra and panties. I promise not to jump you. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in a bikini before.”
True. My bikini has about as much fabric as my panty set. “You could pretend you think I’m pretty. Girls like to feel beautiful sometimes, even from their guy friends.”
“First off, you know you’re beautiful. Second, that would be crossing the line.”
I let out a deep sigh. I heard the beautiful, which made me really happy—for about one second. Until he said he’d never cross the line.
“Just for argument’s sake, what’s wrong with crossing the line?” Am I really going there? I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but for now… “Friends date all the time.”
Zach shifts in his seat and pops the top off his water. “I like our friendship. I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”
“Because you never stay with anyone for more than one night?”
This pattern of his has kept us apart and kept him single. It’s a double-edged sword. On the one hand, if he’s single, he’s available. On the other hand, he never commits, so it’s a moot point. I don’t want a one-nighter with Zach. I want more.
He scowls.
“What? It’s true. Name the last person you dated more than once—”
“That would be—”
“Who you hadn’t already slept with.”
His mouth clamps shut. So nailed him on that one.
He scrubs the side of his jaw, his telltale nervous tic. “Fine, so I don’t do the romantic thing.”
“Is that what you call it?”
His thick, broad shoulder lifts in a shrug. “I’m just not much of a relationship guy.”
“You have long-term friendships,” I point out.
“That’s different.”
I don’t know why I’m pushing it. Must be that 110-proof tequila, but I can’t seem to make my mouth stop. “I bet we could keep a relationship going.” My heart thunders in my chest at the admission.
He stares at me as if analyzing a curious puzzle. “Where are you going with this, Nessa?”
I shrug like he did. “Just that we’re friends, and if we wanted to be more, I bet it would work out.”
He’s silent for a long moment, then, “Well, we’ll never know.”
My face heats. I know there’s something between us—have felt it all along. But for some reason, this time I can’t back down. “In that case, since you feel so platonic about me, it shouldn’t matter what I’m wearing.”
I grab the hem of my shirt in frustration and pull the fabric over my head. It lands with a loud splat on the wooden porch.
Zach sits forward, his eyes going wide. “Wait, what?”
“Ahhh, much better. You said so yourself. I have no reason to worry about you jumping me.”
He squirms, his eyes dropping below my chin for a split second, only to flash back to my face.
He rests against the side of the tub and his mouth turns up in a grin. “Of course. I already said you should lose the shirt.”
God, he’s infuriating. He’s actually going to act like he isn’t attracted to me, when my gut and his squirming tell me he is?
I’m tired of wanting a guy who holds me at arm’s length. I may be off my rocker, but two can play this game. I reach behind and unclasp my bra.
This time, Zach splashes water in his effort to sit forward. “What are you doing?”
I ignore him and drag the straps down my arms. My silk and lace panties go next, landing with a light plop on top of the shirt I discarded.
My hands are shaking. This is an extreme measure to prove a point. It’s not normal for me to strip to get a guy’s attention. In fact, I’ve never done anything like it before. If Zach wasn’t such a stubborn mule, I wouldn’t have to.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, sinking deeper in the water, but the tips of my nipples buoy up for a second, breaching the surface. My eyes pop open. “Oops.”
Zach is frozen, his gaze on my body. “Nessa.” His voice is a strangled growl.
“This shouldn’t be a big deal. You said you’re not attracted to me,” I remind him.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said there’s nothing to worry about, and that I should make myself comfortable.”
“I didn’t think you were gonna skinny-dip. Christ.” He scrubs a wet hand down his face.
“You told me you weren’t interested.” My tone is challenging now.
“Those weren’t my words.”
“It was implied.”
Zach fingers his hair forcefully, making it stick up in spiky, damp clumps. “I think you should put the shirt back on.”
“Why? You’ll still be able to see my nip—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—ples. What’s wrong, Zach? Got a problem?”
I don’t know why I’m enjoying his discomfort, but I really, really am.
I prop my foot on the edge of the hot tub and cross my legs at the ankle. Zach’s gaze darts to my feet and roams up, then closes off abruptly when he shuts his eyes tight. “I’m a weak man, Nessa. Don’t do this.”
“You don’t seem like a weak man, Zach. We’ve been friends for over a year, and you’ve never once made a move.”
“Well, not for a lack of wanting!”
My heart pounds in my chest, and for a second, I can’t catch my breath. He’s never admitted to feeling an attraction.
I throw up my hands. “I don’t understand. What are you waiting for?”
“Nessa,” he pleads. “You’ve got to stop.”
The look on his face—he’s serious. He doesn’t want me. Like, really doesn’t want me. Not if he’s begging me to put my clothes back on. He may find me attractive, because I’m a naked girl in his hot tub, but he’s not interested.
My mouth goes dry and I choke on the pain that’s risen from my chest. I stand abruptly to escape, remember I’m fully naked, and drop back down. I cover my face with my hands and push back the tears rushing to my eyes.
Why did I do this? I’m the stubborn one. I took it too far, and now look what’s happened. I’ve made a complete ass of myself.
“You’re killing me,” he says in a weary voice.
Water swishes around me, and then I’m being lifted up and onto his lap, his arms encircling me. My first thought, removed from the despair, is electric sensation everywhere. My naked skin on top of his muscular, warm lap, his large chest pressed against the side of my breast. But I tamp it down, because attraction and intimacy aren’t what he wants. He’s comforting me, trying to be a good guy. I’m the one throwing myself at him and having dirty thoughts while sitting on his lap. God, will I never learn?
His strong fingers tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. He leans me against his body and pets my head. Like I’m a little girl.
My previous anger sparks at those brotherly touches—so tired of it. Until he lifts me up and palms the bottom of my ass, fitting me more squarely on his lap. There.
He’s thick and long, and the electric throbbing I’ve been trying to ignore increases. I peel my hands from my face and dare to look at him.
His gaze isn’t brotherly. It’s focused, his jaw taut, but when he leans forward and kisses my cheek, his lips are soft and gentle.
My heart pounds so hard I go lightheaded. “What are you doing?”
Zach inhales deeply, his body pressing closer to mine—igniting, inflaming. “Making a move.”
His head descends, his mouth capturing mine, and this time, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss him back. Hard and deep, unleashing everything I feel for him.
I cling to him, touching his neck, his face, everywhere I can, because I’ve wanted him for so long. The kiss is hot—lips and tongue, sending flutters throughout my body. My previous worries disappear. Nothing else matters but the two of us together.
A low groan erupts from him. His hand roams up and down my waist, grazing the breast now plastered to his chest.
Yes. More.
I break our kiss for only a second and lift up to straddle his waist.
Zach grips the small of my back and drags me closer, his length pressing against the most sensitive part of me. “Nessa, we shouldn’t do this.”
It takes me a minute to register his words. What’s he talking about? He can’t kiss me like that and say he doesn’t want it. But he just told me that he only wanted to be friends.
My confusion must show on my face, because he says, “But I don’t care if it’s right or not. Tired of fighting it.” His mouth slams against mine, then gentles, his hands cradling my face. And I stop thinking altogether. I’m tired of worrying about whether this attraction is only in my head. I feel this. His hands and mouth on my body. That’s my reality, and I’m tuning everything else out.
Zach stands and climbs out of the hot tub with me in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. He’s holding me against him, one thick arm tucked beneath my ass, his mouth never stopping its seduction of my lips.
We reach the sliding glass door and he stops. I feel him dip, then shift from side to side.
It’s cold out, but his body is warm. Hot. His heart is pounding against my breasts. He drags the slider open, then takes less than a nanosecond to close it behind us. And that’s when I see his bathing suit on the ground. That’s what he was doing.
Doing…? Are we doing this? I want to, but does he? I’m overthinking it again.
I press my hands to either side of the face I adore with every ounce of my being—his square jaw, the chin with the slightest indentation, the one ear that sticks out a touch farther than the other—the hungry look in his eyes. With him holding me as he makes his way down the hallway, we’re almost nose to nose. “We don’t have to do this, Zach. We can stay friends.”
“Too late for that.”
The next thing I know, I’m flying through the air.
My legs flail, and a squeak erupts from my mouth a split second before I land with a bounce on his bed.
Zach comes down on top of me, supporting his weight with his arms while he eases into the cradle of my thighs. “You okay?”
I didn’t land hard—that’s not what he’s referring to. He’s asking permission. Because he’s not a jerk. He cares, even if he denied it until now.
“Yeah.” I reach up and run my fingers across his collarbone, over the sloped ridges of his cut upper arms. Zach has the best shoulders. I could stare at them all day, if I didn’t enjoy his pretty, pretty face so much.
Which reminds me—I run the pad of my finger over his lower lip, and he nips it with his teeth, then scoots down. He kisses the center of my chest, his lips sliding to my nipple, where he pushes the side of my breast up with one hand and wraps his mouth around the tip.
I squirm, shifting against his waist, seeking more friction. Zach takes his time, wreaking havoc with his tongue and not giving a damn that he’s driving me insane—the way he’s done for the last year and a half. Though I will happily put up with this form of insanity and live a contented lady, I wouldn’t mind moving things along.
If I could just get him to shift a little north so that he lines up with my—
He reaches down and grabs my ass. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day I met you.” He kneads the curve, then slides his palm up and down as if mapping it out. “I own this ass.”
Interesting. I never took him for the possessive sort. “Oh yeah? Well, I claim these shoulders. And your muscled butt, and that thick, long—”
My words get cut off by a kiss so tender it stuns me. And I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to be held by the guy who baffles me one minute and makes me half crazed the next.
Zach’s hands roam, deliberate and focused on every inch of my body. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy, but I don’t remember it feeling like this. Everywhere his hands touch has my body shaking, craving more.
He reaches over the edge of the bed in the midnight-darkened room and tears a condom open. Leaning to the side, he slides it on. My heart races at the glimpse of his flat stomach, muscular leg, and that part of him reaching for me, wanting me. He settles back, but he’s still not where I need him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to scooch up a little?”
“I’m good.” He kisses my chin, the curve of my cheek, the edge of my lips, finally settling on my mouth, where he loves me with such intensity that I wonder if I’ve been wrong all along. That Zach has always felt more, and has been holding back.
I run my hands down the contours of his wide chest and stomach, reaching around to his ass, where I grab him and yank him up. He’s way bigger than me and it’s not like I actually budge him, but he finally scoots until I feel the head of him where my body is throbbing.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Nessa.” It’s an oath. As if he’s convincing himself. And then he slides into me and all I can think is, He’s mine. For now. And hopefully longer, if I can prove this thing between us is right.
The love I have for Zach cloaks us. There’s no way he can’t sense it. And I’m too far gone to pretend otherwise.
I want to tell him how I feel—so much love—but I say nothing. And then I stop thinking about anything except for his fingers lightly squeezing my nipples, his hand curved around my ass just like he said—as if he owns it—using that part of me to guide himself in and out at just the right angle.
My breath hitches when he hits a certain spot. And being the suddenly perceptive guy that he is tonight, he stays there, working it over and over.
Stars flicker across my vision. My body convulses as the longest orgasm in the history of orgasms suddenly overwhelms me.
“Oh God,” I say as I start to come down from a high I’ve never experienced before.
“Nope, just me. And by the way, we’re not finished.”
Zach pumps in and out in an easy pattern until my breathing changes from the gasping, panting mess it was to something resembling normal.
“Can’t hold it any longer,” he murmurs, and angles slightly, finding some new position that must feel good because he’s already coming, groaning and shaking above me, his mouth on my neck, sucking in counterpoint to the pleasure down below.
His breaths slowly calm, and he sprinkles kisses on my neck and face, as if he can’t get enough. He eases to the side, tucking me up close to him.
We lie like that for a few minutes, and I must fall asleep. The next thing I know, he’s getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom. I’m so sleepy and sated I can’t move, so I don’t. I lie there like a lump.
The mattress dips after what feels like seconds, and Zach wraps me in a body hug. I nod off, wondering if it’s all a dream.
And if I’ll wake up to the dream, or to reality.
Chapter Four
I’m utterly relaxed, except that my mouth feels like I slept with cotton in it all night. I blink a few times and look around the room. My eyes widen.
Holy shit! I’m at Zach’s. And last night—
I glance over without moving my face, afraid I’ll wake him. And then I do look, because he’s passed out on his stomach, pressed up against me, one arm bent under his head. I want to reach out and touch him, he’s so cute. There’s a throw blanket he must have tossed over us at some point, because we never even made it up to the pillows. We’re lying in the middle of the bed, his feet dangling off the end.
I’d like to blame it on the tequila, but I didn’t have that much to
drink last night. The only thing I can use to defend myself for winding up in his bed is that I was a starved girl. Once I had access to the guy I’ve been dreaming about, I gorged—and promptly fell asleep.
Geez, I’m like a man. Take what I want and pass out.
My stomach sinks. What if he regrets it? I mean, I got naked in front of him. And then cried. Holy crap, what if what we shared was guilt sex out of some kind of pity he felt toward me?
I should leave. Get out of here before he wakes. Because if he wakes and looks uncomfortable, or tries to shoo me to the door, it would break my heart. I can’t deal with that right now. I need a shower. And a toothbrush. And some sugar at hand before I tackle that kind of letdown.
Light streams through the window, but it’s faded and blue, as if it’s still early out. I slide my hand across the mattress to the side of the bed, and glance over to see if he stirs.
No signs of life. I slowly ease myself out of bed and stand, watching him like he’s a rabid animal about to pounce. I’m so intent on searching for possible movement, I’m not looking where I’m going.
My pinkie toe strikes the foot of the bedframe. Pain bursts up my leg and it’s all I can do to keep quiet.
Son of a bitch!
Hopping, I hold my toe, lose my balance, and land on my ass. I crawl toward the bathroom and spy over my shoulder to make sure Zach’s still asleep.
I am an idiot, on the ground, stealing away like a thief in the night.
And I’m totally okay with that right now.
I quietly close the bathroom door until only a crack stands between me and the other room. Holding on to the counter, I pull myself up and catch my breath. I prop my foot on the toilet seat cover and check out my pinky toe. It’s bright red and swelling. Awesome.
Dressing quickly—without my bra and panties, dammit, because they’re still in a damp pile by the hot tub—I glance in the mirror, and holy shit. I have mascara smudged below my eyes and—I press my finger to the side of my neck—a red splotch on my skin. Is that a hickey? He marked me?
Wow. My face warms, my belly clenching. Last night was—I fan myself with a hand. I really need to get out of here before I do something stupid like crawl back into bed with him. He could very well regret last night.
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