“Don’t go!” she blurted. She hadn’t expected him. Hadn’t expected to want him to stay, but she wasn’t sorry.
“If I stay, you know what that means.”
“Yes.” The minute she’d opened the door to let him in, she’d known what would happen.
“You say yes, but you give off more mixed signals than any woman I’ve ever known. And frankly, sweetheart, I don’t want to leave here with a hard-on.”
Her gaze lowered to the big bulge behind his button fly. “Too late.” She wanted it to happen. “Do you have a condom?”
Instead of opening the door, he leaned back against it. “Always.”
“Then stay.”
He held out his arms, still giving her the choice. She raced across the floor before she could over-think her decision. Her hands slid up the front of the soft fleece to his shoulders, and she buried her nose in his neck. She breathed deep, and the scent of his skin reignited all the places he’d heated up last week. “Make it good so I don’t regret this tomorrow.”
He cupped the sides of her head and looked into her eyes. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Can you handle it?”
He lowered his face to hers. “Darlin’, I do my best work under pressure.” Her lips parted, and he gave her a slick, wet kiss that lifted her stomach and raised her to the balls of her feet.
Beneath the soft glow of the entryway light, she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his. One of his hands moved from her thick hair and down her back to her behind, drawing her close until the hard bulge of his erection pressed into her. Her robe parted, and he was rock-hard against her belly, covered in a thin T-shirt. She wanted Zach. If just for one night. She wanted his touch. His kiss. She wanted him deep inside her.
His hands moved to her shoulders, and he pushed her robe down her arms. It fell and pooled at her feet, and he slid her T-shirt up and grasped her nearly bare behind in both hands. A drugged moan came from her throat as she kissed him back and surrendered to the desire bigger than her ability to hold it back. Not that she even wanted to try any longer.
The kiss caught fire, turning into a hot and greedy free-for-all of slick mouths and deep, consuming pleasure. He plunged his tongue into her mouth as if he were inside her body, and her body responded with a hot, liquid ache between her legs that left her clinging to him and wanting more. Her greedy hands moved over him, his fleece, the T-shirt beneath, and the back of his head. She pushed Zach’s hat from his head and his jacket from his shoulders, and he shook it from his arms. Their lips parted long enough for her to pull his T-shirt over his head, then her hands were all over his bare chest. She ran her finger over his defined muscles and hot skin, then pulled back to look at him. She recognized the double-z tattoo circling his big biceps and studied the newer tattoo on his forearm. She slid her gaze over his hard chest muscles covered in blond hair, down his six-pack abs and the darker blond happy trail that circled his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
“Do you like what you see?”
Only a man confident of the answer would ask that question. “I do. Yes.” She took a step back and reached for the bottom of her T-shirt. She lifted it over her head, and her thick curly hair settled down her back. She tossed the shirt to one side and stood before him in pink monkey socks and white panties. He leaned his head back against the door and looked at her through hot, hungry eyes.
She raised a brow, and he smiled, a predatory lift of the corners of his lips. “I love what I see.” He reached for her and pulled her to him, settling the heavy weight of her bare breasts against his chest. Her nipples pressed into his hot flesh and turned up the heat in her liquid, achy places.
He lowered his mouth to hers once more. The kiss was wild and chaotic, like nothing she could remember experiencing before. It was harsh and sweet and drugging, two people giving in to a purely physical and consuming need until he groaned deep in his throat and pulled back. His breathing was heavy when he said, “Adele.” The desire burning in his brown eyes made her feel beautiful. “Where’s your bed, honey?”
She leaned forward and kissed his throat as she slid her hand into his. “Come with me.” She led him into Sherilyn’s bedroom.
“Turn on the light,” he said, and pulled her back against his chest. She felt the vibration of his voice against the back of her neck. “We’re not going to do this in the dark.”
He let her go, and she turned on a lamp on the bedside table. She watched him unbutton his pants and peel them down his big legs. He wore gray boxer briefs with a white elastic waist and stitching around the pouch. As he kicked his pants aside, she moved to him and slid her hand down his belly and beneath the waistband. She reached inside and took his thick shaft into her hand. He’d been her first love. Her first lover. Time had diluted her memory, but it came back to her now. The solid weight of him as she slid her palm up his hot, velvet penis. He groaned deep in his throat and covered her hand with his, stroking it up and down until he couldn’t take it any longer, and he moved her hand to his shoulder. He pushed her down onto the bed and followed.
He murmured something against her throat, sweet words telling her how much he wanted her, how hard she made him, and how good her hands on him felt. He dragged his mouth across her shoulder, tasting her skin as he moved lower and kissed her breasts. The tip of his tongue licked her nipple before he sucked it into his hot mouth.
She moaned his name and arched her back with mindless need. She ran her fingers through his hair, watching through heavy eyes as he kissed her breasts and sucked her puckered nipple. He worked her over until her breath was choppy, then he worked his way down her body. He kissed her belly and just below her navel, his warm, moist tongue leaving a trail of fire.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as he left the bed to kneel between her thighs.
“Getting reacquainted with your fairy.” He pulled her panties down her legs and past her monkey sock before he placed his hands beneath her thighs and lifted until her knees rested on his big shoulders. Then he leaned over her and kissed the fairy tattoo on her belly. His hot breath brushed across her skin as he asked, “You don’t mind if I give her a sugar bite, do ya?”
She swallowed hard and shook her head. He kissed her stomach and bit the inside of her thigh as he placed his warm palm between her legs, then slid his hand up until his thumb brushed her clitoris.
She moaned deep in her throat and felt his satisfied laugh against the inside of her thigh. He parted her slick flesh and placed his hand beneath her bottom. He raised her like a feast and brought his mouth down.
Fourteen years ago he’d kissed that same spot. Only he was better at it now. Better at knowing how to use his tongue and how hard to draw her into his mouth. He teased and sucked until she almost came apart, then he slid a finger inside and touched her g-spot. He hadn’t known that trick fourteen years ago, and she came apart. “Zach,” she called, as a fierce orgasm clinched her insides and spread across her body. Her spine arched off the bed, and he stayed with her until the last shudder shook her body. Then he brushed his mouth across her inner thigh and stood.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a couple of weeks now.” He reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a condom. “Are you ready for more?”
She felt boneless as she looked up at him. She should have been sated, ready to roll over and go to sleep, but as she stared at his beautiful body and powerful erection, she wanted more. A lot more, and she knew she would not be truly sated until she got it.
She sat up just enough to grasp his hand, pulling until he landed on top of her. His thick penis burned into her belly as she kissed his throat and shoulder and pushed him onto his back. Their heated skin stuck together where it touched, and she took the condom from his hand and opened it. He was more than ready, and she fit the latex over the plump head and unrolled it down the long, hard length of him.
“I think you’re going to like this.” She straddled his hips, positioned hers
elf, then slowly sat. He was big and extremely hard, and she took her time, feeling every bulge and ridge through the thin latex until the head of his penis bumped her cervix.
His breath hissed from his lungs as his hands slid up her thighs and hips to her waist. “You look good up there. I like it already.”
“It gets better.” Slowly she raised herself, rocking her hips and sliding back down. She teased him with her body, clenching her muscles around him, drawing his flesh deeper, using him to build and stroke the sexual fire burning through her.
“You’ve learned a few things,” he said, his grip on her waist tightening.
She rolled and rotated her hips, feeding his need and hers, and looked into his drugged eyes as he watched her. She bent forward to kiss the side of his neck. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and she whispered into his ear, “You feel good. Hard. Huge.”
He rolled with them until she was on her back looking up into his face. His fingers curled with hers, and his mouth came down hard. His tongue drove into her mouth as he drove into her body. She felt light-headed like she might pass out as he pushed her up the bed with the powerful plunge of his hips. She tore her mouth from his, wrapped one leg around his waist, and matched him thrust for thrust. He propelled them toward orgasm, pushing again and again.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” she whispered with each hard stroke, until the first wave grabbed her and wouldn’t let go as it rushed across her over and over for an eternity. It curled her toes and clenched her fists, and she opened her mouth on a silent scream.
He groaned words of pleasure and praise. He told her she was beautiful and how good she felt inside. With one last powerful drive of his hips, he shoved into her and stopped. His grasp on her fingers tightened, and he buried his face in the side of her neck. His release turned his back and shoulder muscles to stone and elicited a final groan that seemed to come from the pit of his soul.
His breath whispered across her cheek, and he kissed her ear. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
Hurt her? She laughed. “No.”
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. A totally unrepentant smile tilted his lips. “I got kind of rough there at the end. Sorry.”
She ran her hands up his shoulders and down his back. She looked up into Zach’s familiar brown eyes. Nothing about the sex she’d just had with Zach reminded her of the boy she’d once known. He was different now, and so was she. The biggest difference was that she didn’t love him. He’d just given her great sex. Incredible sex, but it wasn’t love. It had nothing to do with love, and that was just fine with her. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with the man who’d once broken her heart.
“Are you hungry?” He pressed his forehead into hers and ran his hand up her thigh. “Could you eat some pizza?”
Nothing had reminded her of the boy she’d once known until that moment. He’d always been ravenous right after sex. “How about a sandwich instead?”
“That’s really sexy.” Zach ran his gaze up Adele’s legs as he scratched his bare chest. He’d pulled on his jeans and appeared totally relaxed and at ease, sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar.
“What?” She handed him a glass of sweet tea and took a seat beside him.
“What you’re wearing.”
“This?” Adele glanced down at her white T-shirt, pinched the fabric, and held it away from her stomach. She was a little embarrassed that she didn’t have anything truly sexy to wear, but when she’d packed for her visit, she hadn’t exactly packed with sex in mind.
“Yeah.” He took a big bite of his ham-and-Swiss sandwich and washed it down with the sweet tea.
“It’s an old T-shirt.”
“But that’s what I always liked about you. You’re sexy without even trying.”
She was? She didn’t feel sexy these days. Between her work and her sister and Kendra, she mostly felt tired.
“If you think this T-shirt is sexy, you don’t get out enough.”
“Honey, I have a teenage daughter.” He set his glass on the bar. “I don’t get out at all.”
Adele found that hard to believe. “At all?”
“I haven’t been in the same room with a naked woman in a long time.”
“How long?” She took a drink of her tea.
“Let’s see. It was since before Devon died. I know that. Probably about four or five months before I served her with the divorce papers.”
The tea went down the wrong pipe, and she sputtered and coughed. “You were divorcing Devon?”
“Yeah, but don’t let it get out. Tiffany doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Okay, but…” She set the glass on the bar. “Never mind.”
He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Never mind what?”
“It’s none of my business, but if you were divorcing Devon, why is your house practically a shrine to her?”
He set his sandwich on the plate and turned on the stool to face her. “We really haven’t changed much in the house since Devon died. The furniture in my bedroom and in the media room are new, but Tiffany likes things left the way they are.”
“Oh. That explains the big spooky portrait of Devon.” But sooner or later they would have to change. Keeping things the same couldn’t be healthy for either of them.
“You think it’s spooky?”
“Oh, yeah. You don’t?”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it, I guess. I don’t really even see it anymore.”
“The first time I was in your house and saw that portrait of Devon, I about had heart failure.”
“I bet.” He laughed and scratched his bare chest. “When I came home and saw you standing under the portico, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. You were standing there with your wild hair and white sweater, and you didn’t look very happy to see me.”
She turned to face him, and her bare knees slid between his denim-covered ones. “I was shocked. First by that enormously freaky portrait of Devon, then by you.”
He reached for her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that day.” He flipped her hand over and kissed her wrist, sending warm tingles up her forearm to her elbow. “I know you’re only in Cedar Creek to help out your sister, but I’m glad. I’m a selfish bastard, and I’m glad you have to stick around for a while yet.”
After he finished eating, he made love to her again. He didn’t demand food afterward, and Adele drifted to sleep wrapped up in his arms. When she woke the next morning, she was alone.
Like all good one-night stands, Zach had left without so much as waking her. No empty promise to call her later. No awkward good-bye.
Those were the rules of sex without love. Those were the rules of two people hooking up. She was fine with it, even if it did feel a little hollow.
She turned onto her back and looked up at the patterns on the ceiling. Yes those were the rules, but she couldn’t help wondering where Zach was and what he was doing.
For some reason, the curse didn’t seem to zap him. At least not yet, and she wouldn’t mind using his body a few more times before the curse kicked in, and she had to kick him to the curb.
Chapter 11
From across the shoe aisle, Devon Hamilton-Zemaitis eyed the new shipment of Metro7 dresses. From where she stood, she could see the choices were black, gray, and hot pink. Devon would never be caught dead, even when she was dead, in hot pink. Hot pink was vulgar, and gray washed her out.
To her left, she caught sight of her competition for the black jersey dolman. Her name was Jules Brussard, an upstart Junior Leaguer from New Orleans.
Devon jumped over a stack of shoe boxes, did a roundoff into a back handspring, and finished with a left-side hurdler, accidentally landing her foot in Jules’s ample chest. Jules flew backward and knocked over a rack of Hanes Her Way thigh slimmers.
“Sorry,” Devon said, hardly winded as she grabbed t
he black jersey from the rack.
Since getting sentenced to Walmart three years ago, Devon had learned a few things. First, that just because she’d been reduced to wearing Walmart couture didn’t mean she had to let herself go. Being dead hadn’t changed her fashion sensibilities. Naturally, she was envied by the other associates.
The second thing she’d learned was that she had the energy and stamina of a teenager. She could do herkies and pikes and back handsprings like no one’s business, just like when she was on the UT squad. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one with her former body. There was a woman in Beauty who delivered a mean karate chop to the throat if you got too close to the lip liner.
The third thing she’d learned was that behind the smiley face logo lived a lot of severely pissed-off dead people who, like herself, had been unjustly charged, unfairly sentenced, and doomed to a life of Muzak.
She’d been assigned to an eternity of shelving shoes. Which should have thrilled her, but just made her long for the days when she’d sunk her feet into Prada, Manolo Blahnik, and Valentino. Cheap shoes just didn’t smell like Fendi.
She supposed it could have been worse. She could have been sentenced to the kitchen, where she’d have to churn out cole slaw and chicken nuggets for eternity.
She moved into the changing room and shed the print chiffon she’d wrestled from the grasp of a woman from home appliances just yesterday. She pulled the black jersey over her head, and it clung to her body. As she gazed at herself in the full-length mirror, she smiled. She was beautiful and perfect, as always.
But unlike always, the image wavered and dissolved in front of her eyes. The racks of clothes shimmered like a mirage, then disappeared. She stood in a gray mist, and her skin tingled. She looked down at herself and gone was the black Metro7. In its place was her Chanel bouclé tweed and Mikimoto pearls.
“There you are. You never did stay where you were supposed to.”
She looked up. “Mrs. Highbanger?”
“Highbarger,” her sixth-grade teacher corrected. “You were supposed to be in shoes. Not apparel.”
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