Fighting Love

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Fighting Love Page 17

by Melissa West


  “Thank you.”

  “Really, her enthusiasm is infectious.”

  “So is yours . . . usually.” Her eyes lifted to his, and he walked over, sat beside her, and pulled her legs into his lap. “I don’t want you to be afraid here.”

  “I’m not afraid here.”

  “Good because—”

  “I’m afraid everywhere.”

  Zac’s words caught in his throat. “Everywhere? But why?”

  Sophie sat back against the couch, her thoughts inward. “I used to be a different person than I am now. In a bad place. And I met someone who made it worse. We ended things.” Her eyebrows went up. “Or I ended things. He didn’t take it very well.”

  “And you think he’s the one who’s been calling you? The one who sent the flowers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you afraid of him—afraid he’ll hurt you?”

  Her gaze drifted away again, and Zac felt every overprotective bone in his body tensing, ready for a fight. Yet he had no idea who he was up against.

  “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m not comfortable with you going home alone tonight.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Either you stay here and I’ll sleep on the couch, or I’ll be forced to sleep in my truck outside your house. Doesn’t matter to me—okay, that’s a lie. I’d rather you just stay here, but if you won’t listen to reason, then I’ll just have to stalk your door.”

  She smiled for the first time. “You’d do that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Or I could stay here?”

  “Or you could stay here.”

  “I don’t have a toothbrush.”

  “I have a spare.”

  “And what I would sleep in?”

  Zac stood and went into his room, returning with a light blue Littleton Farms T-shirt, the logo in white—it was his favorite.

  “You can sleep in this.”

  “And I’d sleep . . . here?” She pointed at the couch, and suddenly it occurred to Zac that she was here, alone with him in his house.

  “In my bed.”

  Her eyes locked on his, and she swallowed hard. “I’ll sleep out here. I can’t take your bed.” And Zac couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw disappointment cross her face. “But . . . if it’s okay with you . . . I think I’d like to stay here.”

  “Then it’s settled.” He went over to the end table, grabbed the remote, and passed it to her. “You choose the movie, I’ll pop the popcorn.”

  He started away when she called out to him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Night had set in, and the crickets were the only noise to greet Zac when he stepped outside the back door for a breath and a moment to calm down. Because all he could think about was all the things he didn’t know about Sophie and all the things he yearned to discover. He was falling for her, fast, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d risk not just his heart but Carrie’s as well.

  Once back inside, he grabbed the popcorn from the microwave, dumped it into a bowl, and handed it to Sophie.

  “What’s the movie?”

  “Jurassic World.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I never got a chance to see it. You look surprised.”

  “I just never would have pegged you for an action-movie girl. Thought for sure we’d be watching Notting Hill or some shit.”

  She laughed as she took a handful of popcorn, then passed the bowl to Zac. “Still a possibility if this one sucks.”

  “Nah, it’s good. If you like action, you’ll like it.” He hit the lights, then settled back beside her as the movie came on. And it was a doozy. Sophie jumped at every turn, and before long, she set the popcorn bowl on the end table and pulled Zac closer to her so she could duck her head and hide her eyes every time a dinosaur jumped out.

  Finally, Zac urged her to lie down, him behind her so her body was tucked up against his, his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. Then he felt something change. The movie continued to blast with the surround sound, but he was no longer paying attention. No, his focus was on her hand on his, gliding his hand down her thigh.

  Then she turned slowly until she was lying flat on the couch, him still on his side. “You make me feel safe.”

  And then her free hand reached up and directed his face toward hers.

  Their lips connected, and as though the simple touch had released something, she sighed against his lips. That tiny noise, barely vocalized, sent them into a frenzy. The kiss intensified, and Zac rolled on top of her, their bodies moving together, unable to remain still.

  Zac’s hands began to explore of their own accord, down her thigh, gripping her leg and wrapping it around his waist so he could cup her ass. She moaned this time, the sound so sweet that he nearly tore off her clothes right then and there, but he knew she needed to go slow.

  So when she pulled back, he didn’t follow. Instead, he brushed her hair from her face and stared down at her.

  “I want to see your tattoos.”

  “My tattoos?”

  “I know, it’s stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid.” He pushed back onto his knees, then gripped his shirt and tugged it off, tossing it to the floor. Sophie sat up, and her eyes fixed on the compass over his right pectoral muscles. With a single finger, she traced the ink lines, then the claws over his shoulder that led to the tribal tattoo that wrapped around his back and down his arm.

  “You’re so perfect.” Her eyes flicked up to his. “How can someone be so perfect?”

  He stilled her hand over his heart. “I’m not a perfect person, Sophie. I make mistakes just like the rest of the world. But maybe, if you’ll let me . . . I could be perfect for you.”

  He traced her lips, his gaze following the line, and then started in to kiss her again when his cell vibrated on the coffee table.

  “Sorry, I have to . . .”

  “Of course, make sure she’s okay.”

  Grabbing his cell, Zac checked to see who had texted, only to find a message from Brooks asking if Zac was free for breakfast tomorrow. He set the phone back down and focused on Sophie.

  “Is she okay?”

  “It wasn’t her. It was an old friend of mine, Brooks. He’s coming back to town for a few days and wants to get together.”

  “I’ve heard his name. The only person to ever leave or something?”

  “Yeah, he had some family problems. Left for college and never looked back. I’m a little surprised he’s stopping by, but his parents are buried here, so he’s probably . . .” Zac trailed off at the look on Sophie’s face. “Or we could stop talking about this, and go back to . . .”

  She sat up and kissed him lightly in answer. “I don’t want you to sleep out here.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  An understanding passed between them, and Zac leaned over her, kissing her lips, then neck, his body hovering over her until she wrapped her arms around him and secured him to her. Their breaths came out in pants, the moment speeding up as the kiss built. Finally he couldn’t take anymore.

  Pushing off the couch, Zac scooped Sophie into his arms and started for the bedroom, a strange feeling passing over him with each step. Something that felt a lot like peace. As he set her gently on the edge of his king-size bed, not bothering to turn on the light, he decided he didn’t want to rush this. No, this moment would remain in his memory for the rest of his life.

  Without a word, him still in jeans and his chest bare, he reached down and traced the edge of her shirt, his fingertips gliding over her stomach. He eased it up and over her head, then tossed it to a nearby chair. His gaze dropped to her full breasts, barely contained within a light pink bra, nothing about it overly sexy, and yet . . .

  He dropped to his knees before her, and she threaded her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp—driving him insane.

  “Sophie?”


  “Yes.” The response was less an answer and more a command.

  He brushed her long, wavy hair from where it had fallen over her shoulder, then kissed the patch of freckles there, her collarbone, her neck, then the swell of her breasts, her body arching up to him, her head falling back, so eager.

  And there went any chance of them going slow.

  With one hand, he unfastened her bra, letting her breasts spill free, and holy hell. A man could die a very, very happy death before these breasts.

  He lay her back and ran his hand down her stomach, then kissed her navel, before unsnapping her shorts and sliding them over her hips and to the floor. Her legs were shaking now, desire igniting every muscle in her body. Zac wanted to give her every pleasure that she deserved, fill every fantasy.

  Trailing his fingertips gently down her thighs over her calves, he edged her legs open and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then one by one, he kissed every inch of her leg until she gripped his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh, her need escalating to the point of pain. He knew it was time that he helped her find her release.

  Slowly, he slipped her panties off. She squirmed on the bed, her hands tightening on his shoulders as he lowered his mouth to her mound, stroking the delicate flesh there with his tongue, before sucking her into his mouth, his tongue continuing its work, while he fought to keep himself from coming right there, her sweet taste all over him as she rose to his mouth, desperate to be claimed. And he was just the man to do it.

  He licked her once more, then drove a finger deep inside her and sucked harder until she cried out, her body coiled tight. Then she collapsed back against the bed, her eyes still closed as she reached for him.

  “I want you inside me,” she breathed.

  Zac took a condom from his nightstand and rolled it on, then stared down at this woman who’d come into his life like a tornado, tossing everything on its head, yet making everything better.

  He bent over her and kissed her, then drove inside her while she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him still closer. They moved together, harder, faster, their eyes locked. Zac could swear that this, whatever it was, might destroy him. But damn if it wouldn’t be the most satisfying breakdown of his life.

  Sophie’s eyes clenched tight, and he released in a surge of emotions, as if he could drop all the stress of his life for the first time and just breathe. Her hands in his, her eyes on his, her body wrapped around him. Through her, he could breathe again.

  There were no sounds in the room as Zac pulled Sophie against him. No distractions, only the two of them—nothing fake about it.

  His breathing slowed against her hair until they were both sound asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “But why won’t you tell me?” Glenda huffed as she followed Sophie into the Fresh Foods retail front. “You spent the night there. That has to mean frisky happenings, and I need to live vicariously through you. Please. Just one question.”

  “Fine, one.” Sophie placed a hand on her hip, but she couldn’t bring herself to be aggravated at her friend. In fact, nothing could upset her today. Not the neighbor’s dog getting into her trash—again. Not the license check on her way to the farm, as though the sheriff didn’t know every single person in Crestler’s Key without having to look at his or her ID. And then she arrived at the farm to find the lock had been broken off the main gate—likely an accident rather than anything serious. Just yesterday, she would have been worried about such a thing, but after spending the night in Zac’s arms, him giving her satisfaction in more ways than one—more times than she could count—she decided life was too short to worry about things that were very likely in her head.

  So someone called and hung up a few times.

  So someone sent her wildflowers.

  So the lock on the gate had been broken.

  Each thing could have a very logical explanation, and Sophie refused to search out problems that weren’t there.

  “Okay,” Glenda said, rubbing her hands together in excitement. “How big is his—”

  “No way. Not going there.”

  “What? I was going to say tattoo. Get your mind out of the gutter. But of course, if you decide you want to dish on the other, then I’m all ears.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes and flicked on the lights. “What makes you think I know the answer to either of those questions?”

  Of course she did, and the answer was big. Like big big. On both accounts.

  She giggled at the thought, and Glenda pointed at her. “That’s what. You can’t stop smiling, and you’re laughing like a fool. That reaction only happens when you have really great sex or you fall in love. So which is it?” Sophie stopped walking, and Glenda’s excitement soared to the sky. “Oh my God. You love him.”

  “What? No. I barely know him.”

  “Of course you know him. You’ve lived here for like six months or whatever, right? And you two have been dating for nearly a month now. You could totally love him.”

  “But I don’t.” Not yet. Though Sophie felt she could love him. Zac represented everything she’d always wanted in a man but never considered for herself. He was a family man, loyal to the core, strong and dependable. And it didn’t hurt that in one night he’d awoken some sort of sexual fiend inside of her, all too eager to explore every inch of his body.

  “Sophie.”

  She glanced over to find Glenda barely containing her laughter.

  “You overfilled the flowerpot.”

  Sophie focused on the water pitcher in her hand, which she didn’t even remember picking up, and then the overflowing pot of tulips. “Craptastic.” Jumping back, she set the pitcher down and grabbed a fresh towel from the back to clean up the spill.

  “Maybe not love, but you like him.”

  Sophie stopped what she was doing and leaned back on her heels, grinning up at her friend. “I do. I so do. Is that terrible though? I mean he’s a father. Surely there are rules against that kind of thing.”

  “So what? Carrie-Anne is adorable, and you aren’t the kind of woman to try to put a wedge between them.”

  “Lord no. I’m the opposite, actually. I want them to stay exactly as they are. Just . . . let me spend a little time with them in the mix.” She stared out the floor-length windows that looked out over the farm, then back at Glenda, who had her hands linked in front of her and was shaking her head slowly. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just so happy for you. Since you moved here you’ve sort of looked like a fish out of water, trying to find your way, but not quite getting there. You were always the sweet person you are, but it never touched your eyes. Not like now. You look very happy.”

  “I am. He’s just . . . amazing. I’m so going to screw it up. But until then, I plan to hold on for dear life.”

  The two women laughed at the same time that Kit, their UPS driver, arrived with some packages. “Here you go, Sophie. Same place as always?”

  She waved a hello. “Yep, on the counter is fine, and I have a little treat for you there to give Abby.”

  He set down the packages and returned with the jar of honey she’d fixed up for him. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Tell her to mix a little with green tea, and it’ll help that sore throat she’s been having.”

  “Thanks. I’ll tell her. You ladies have anything for me?”

  “Not today, but we’ll have a mess of shipments for you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They waved him off, and Glenda went to work opening the packages before stopping at one. “Hey, this one’s addressed to you, not Fresh Foods.”

  Sophie pushed off the floor and tossed the towel onto the counter, then eyed the package. “Weird. Maybe it’s samples from a supplier or something.”

  “Maybe. Open it.”

  Shrugging, Sophie grabbed a pair of scissors from the basket of miscellaneous items she kept beside the register and slit open the box, only to cut her hand in the process. “Yikes.�
�� She stared down at the cut and pressed it to her mouth as Nana had taught her to do to stop the bleeding. But today the bleeding chose not to listen.

  “I’ll grab you a Band-Aid. Stay put.”

  “Thanks.” With her good hand, she tore open the rest of the package to find a bubble-wrapped figure inside. Slowly, she worked the wrapping off the figure and then stared down at the angel, her left wing broken. In an instant she was back there.

  They’d gone out to dinner on Sophie’s birthday, and the restaurant had served her a sundae in honor of her special day. He didn’t like her to eat desserts, and she’d gotten in the habit of politely refusing them at birthday parties and weddings, always saying she was full and couldn’t eat another bite. But the restaurant owner had come out and was adamant that she enjoy his treat for her.

  So she did.

  Somehow she went from taking a small bite that wouldn’t impact her waistline to inhaling the entire bowl. She would have been embarrassed if not for the owner’s excitement, but then her eyes had lifted to find him watching her, a look of pure disgust on his face.

  When they arrived home, he sat her down in the family room and explained what she’d done, how detrimental it was to her health and his because he needed her in top shape for his work functions, and what would his colleagues think if he were married to an obese wife. She listened to each word, each painful slice to her self-esteem, and then she apologized, sure that was the end of it. It always had been before. But then he stood and reached for her hand. She had no idea what he was doing when he led her to the bathroom, turned on the light, and flipped up the lid on the toilet seat.

  “It’s your only option now,” he’d said. Then he placed the small angel beside her and closed the door.

  That was the first time of many that she would purge herself of all the bad foods she’d eaten, each time with the angel beside her.

  Until finally, one beautiful fall day, she snapped.

  He placed the angel on the sink, and Sophie stared down at it, this petite, beautiful little angel, nothing but love on the angel’s face. Sophie picked it up, opened the bathroom door, and threw it as hard as she could.

 

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