Wrecked

by Shiloh Walker

  And he was standing here empty. With nothing.

  Nothing . . .

  Staring into her dark eyes, he pressed his brow to hers. “Abby . . . hell, I . . .” The words had been trapped inside him so long, trying to force them out now, when he knew it was actually time to let them out, was almost painful. He cleared his throat and then lifted his head, watching her face. Where to start? Hell. How did he tell her that he’d loved her forever?

  Maybe by just doing that.

  Sliding his hand down her neck, he rested it there. Instead of looking into her eyes as he spoke, he watched as he stroked his thumb along the smooth line of her collarbone. “You remember that day that jackass boyfriend of your mom’s tried to hurt you?” he asked softly.

  She went tense. It wasn’t a moment she liked to think about, he knew. But this talk, it had to start there. He’d started hiding it then. If he was going to come clean, he had to start at the beginning.

  “Yeah.” She reached up, gripping his wrist. “Zach, we need to talk about—”

  “We are.” He dipped his head and buried his face against her neck, remembering that day. It was something that was still all too vivid for him. Way too vivid and he’d cut it out of his memory forever if he could. “I’d gone over there for a reason. I . . .”

  He stopped and sucked in a desperate breath.

  Abby stroked a hand up his back and then eased away, putting a few inches between them. Her hand touched his cheek and when she guided his face to hers, he couldn’t look away.

  He’d hidden it long enough. Too damn long. “I was going over there to see if you’d go out with me,” he said gruffly. “Like a date. A real one. And then I walk in and . . .”

  She stared at him. Her gaze blank, like she wasn’t following anything he’d said. Needing to get some distance before he did something stupid, like pounce on her or just fall to his knees and beg, he nudged her back and moved away, starting to pace. “I’d been crazy about you almost from the get-go. Mom and Dad thought it was sweet at first. Then they got worried. Then they adjusted. My brothers gave me shit about it. Dad would sometimes tell me that it would go away if I’d just look for somebody else.” He stopped pacing and slid her a look. “There is nobody else. There can’t be. Not for me.”

  Abby wasn’t looking at him. Her shoulders were rising and falling just a little too fast, like she was having trouble breathing.

  “You never noticed. Never seemed to see me, but I thought maybe if you’d just go out with me, give me a chance, I could get you to notice me. So I worked up the courage, spent all damn week psyching myself up for it. And that fucker was there, trying to hurt you.” He stopped and stared at the design wall in front of him, but he wasn’t seeing the pictures. He saw that day, everything playing out as it had a thousand times in his nightmares. “I could have killed him. I wanted to do it and I swear, sometimes, I think if I hadn’t heard you crying, I might have done it.”

  Hearing the ragged sound of her breathing, he turned back around and stared at her averted face. “And if I said I was sorry about that, I’d be lying.”

  She finally looked at him. Her eyes were bright and hot, but dry. Thank God. If she’d been crying, he didn’t know if he could keep talking. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that you got into so much trouble over it, Zach.”

  “I’m not sorry over any of it,” he snarled. Crossing the distance between them, he caught her face between his hands. Even now, he still saw the fear. She’d been so pale, so scared, fighting against that thick-necked son of a bitch, trapped between him and a table, struggling to get away. And all he’d had was a damned skateboard. Swallowing the bile rising up in his throat, he waited until the fury passed and then he shifted his gaze away from her again. “I was just going to wait a few weeks. Just a few weeks. But when I went back over to talk to you again, you told me that you were glad that I was just me . . . just your friend. Not like any of the jerks out there and you felt safe with me. Safe . . .”

  “Zach . . .”

  He shook his head. “So I wanted to stay that way. Safe. Not a jerk. Just your friend. For a little while longer, so you could feel safe.” He smoothed a hand down her back and because she was there, because he wanted to touch her while she wasn’t pulling away, he tugged her against him and when she let him do that, he dipped his head, pressed his lips to her neck. “I waited too long, though, and you had me shoved back into that corner as friend. Your dad died. You took off running. In college, you hooked up with that asshole. Then you finally settled down here . . .”

  He stopped, fisting a hand in the back of her dress as he fought for the words.

  * * *

  Settled down here . . .

  The light clicked on in Abigale’s head. Sebastian . . . what he’d said.

  You got him to move away from LA.

  “You left LA for me.”

  He lifted his head, gold-streaked hair tumbling into his eyes. “I’d leave heaven and earth behind for you. You were the only thing that ever mattered to me.”

  Her heart thudded against her ribs as the hand on her neck slid up to cradle her face. The way he touched her . . . the way he looked at her. All this time. Yes, he’d made her feel safe all those years ago. Zach had always been her haven. Her sanctuary. He was her everything, but she’d never seen that until recently. Never let him see it, either.

  Swallowing the knot in her throat, she closed a hand around his wrist and asked raggedly, “And acting? Everything else you left behind? How much of that was because of me, too?”

  “I left it behind because that wasn’t my life,” he said gently. Dark blue eyes watched her. “You know that. I never once regretted walking away. It doesn’t suit me anymore. It doesn’t fit me. I found the life I wanted. And the woman I’ve always wanted is standing right in front of me.”

  Her breathing hitched. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “Damn it, I asked you . . . just a few days ago. Hell, I asked you a month ago and you didn’t say anything about . . .”

  “About the fact that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?” A wry grin tugged the corner of his mouth up. “Come on, Abs. A month ago, you’d just had that asshole fiancé of yours all but kick you in the face. If I’d said . . . hey, Abby . . . I know I’m not Roger, but I’ve loved you forever. Will you give me a go?”

  She glared at him even as her heart skittered around her chest like it was trying to take flight. I’ve loved you forever . . . “And what about the other day, damn it?” She slammed her fist against his chest. “I . . . I was trying to work up the courage to tell you that I . . .”

  She snapped her mouth shut as the words tried to break free.

  It was hard, she realized. Harder than she’d expected.

  Fire burned in his eyes and hard, strong hands closed around her hips. The room whirled around them and seconds later, she found herself seated on the hard, unyielding surface of his desk. “Tell me what?” he rasped.

  She leaned back, sucking in a breath as she tried to calm the racing of her heart. But all Zach did was brace his hands on the desk and lean in over her, crowding in around her until he was all she could see. All she could feel. And all she was ever going to want, she realized. Everything.

  His gaze rapt on her face, he rested a hand on her thigh as she remained silent. “Tell me what, Abby?”

  “I . . .”

  He stroked his hand higher, a small, almost sad smile curving his lips. “It’s not as easy as you think, is it?” The tight material of her skirt caught around his wrist and he stopped.

  Almost desperate for air, she watched his face. “That’s why I didn’t say it then,” he murmured as he stroked his thumb over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “It’s something I held trapped inside me for seventeen years, Abby. Seventeen long years and letting it out was almost impossible. Even though there were times the words wanted out so bad, they all but choked me.”

  “Are you going to say it now?”

&
nbsp; “Maybe . . .” He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. “I guess maybe it’s time. Past time even.”

  Her heart stuttered and slowed to a stop as he kissed her, soft and slow. It was almost like the first time they’d kissed. Not that breathtaking free fall like that first kiss, but still. It was like everything else in the world just stopped. Nothing mattered but the touch of his lips on hers, light, easy . . . and sweet. Her heart ached inside her chest, swelling until she could barely breathe around it and then he lifted his head and stared down at her. “Abby,” he murmured, lifting a hand to curve around her neck. “I love you.”

  A sob slipped free and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  One of his hands cupped the back of her neck and cuddled her in close. As he bent around her, he whispered, “I’ve loved you so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to not love you. And I’ll go to my grave loving you. You’re my everything.”

  “Zach . . .”

  Blindly, she sought out his mouth and when he met hers, she almost cried, it felt so good.

  All this time.

  He’d been here . . . all this time.

  Desperate for him, she reached behind for the zipper of her dress, but he caught her hands, eased them back down. “Zach, please . . .” she whimpered against his lips.

  “Shhh . . .” He eased the zipper down.

  Splaying a hand wide over his chest, she stared at the tattoo of the heart, at the dagger before shifting her attention to the A. Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to it and she would have done more, but he eased her off the desk and reached for the hem of her skirt, dragging it upward. “Damn it, Abby, what did you do, paint this on?” he muttered, his voice a ragged growl in her ear.

  “Just about.” She could hardly breathe, she thought, sagging back against the desk and bracing her hands on it as he tossed the dress on the chair nearby.

  And then . . . nothing.

  She sucked in a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze. Lifting her head, she found him staring at her.

  More pointedly, at the bandage on her chest. “What . . . ?” Something fired in his eyes. That storm again.

  She cleared her throat and reached for the edge of the dressing. It had been long enough, if she remembered right. But when she went to peel it back, Zach was already doing it. “You had me written on your skin all this time . . . I decided I was going to do the same.”

  His lashes lay low over his eyes.

  “I didn’t want you doing this one. I . . .” She swallowed and went to touch it, but he caught her hand, guiding it back down. Nervous, she babbled on. “I needed it on me when I came to see you. You’ve been here, right in front of me, all along. And part of me knew, damn it. I knew, but I didn’t let myself see it. You didn’t let it show, but I didn’t let myself see and now I’m—”

  His mouth crushed against hers.

  The words died in her throat and anything, everything else she might have died in her throat under the impact of that kiss. If the last one had been soft, sweet, and gentle, this was the opposite. Stealing the very breath out of her and burning her from the inside out. His hand tangled in her hair as he wrestled them away from the desk. She stumbled and fell against him and he caught her, twisting them so that when they went down, it was into the fat leather chair dominating the corner between his desk and file cabinet.

  He used it for when he was having nervous clients that he needed to talk down.

  He figured it had just about enough room for what he needed to do with Abby.

  She had a pretty little heart tattoo on her right breast. It was delicate and sweet, with the word Zach etched inside it. There wasn’t any color and that was just fine. It had his name in it . . . she’d written him on her skin, just the way he’d done with her all those years ago.

  Tearing his mouth away from hers, he urged her up so that she was sitting astride him. “Unzip me,” he demanded, staring into her eyes.

  She swallowed and then eased away.

  He caught her hips, reluctant to let her go.

  A smile curved her lips. “Zach . . . I need to move a little. This works better if I’m not sitting right on top of you.”

  He groaned and let go. Resting his hands on the armrest of the chair, he busied himself staring at the tattoo. That pretty little heart . . . then he hissed as he felt the back of her hand brush against his cock. She took her time and when she finally had his fly open, he was digging his fingers into the leather just to keep from reaching for her.

  * * *

  Abigale traced her fingers over the thick ridge of his cock and smiled as it leaped against her touch. Gray cotton covered him and she smiled at him as she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his shorts, dragging them down with a wicked glint in her eyes.

  Dragging them down slowly . . .

  Swearing, he shoved them down and reached for her, hauling her into his lap and crushing her laughing mouth to his. He guided her legs down on either side of his hips.

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “Seventeen years worth of hunger.” He tucked the head of his cock against her entrance and stared up at her as he drove straight home.

  Her back arched and she bit her lip to stifle a ragged cry.

  He wanted to hear her moan, wanted to hear each broken sigh as he fucked her. Instead, he rocked against her a second time, a third time, as he stroked his hand up her middle and circled the tattoo on her breast with his finger. He didn’t touch it . . . the new ink needed time to heal before anybody else went messing with it but damn it, he wanted to press his mouth to that mark.

  “I love you,” he rasped, reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair and tug her down. “Damn it, do you hear me? I love you.”

  She pressed her mouth to his, her elbows braced against his chest. “I hear you.” She whispered it against his lips, her gaze locked with his. “I hear you, Zach . . . I see you. And I love you. I want you . . . more than I want my next breath.”

  Love and desire ripped through him, so desperate and raw and wild, he didn’t know if he could stand it. Twisting his hips, he drove deep inside her, hard, fast. She gasped and when he saw her mouth falling open, he caught her lips with his, swallowing the scream down.

  Later, he thought dimly. Later, he’d take her home. To her place. To his. It didn’t matter. Someplace where they were alone and he could make her sigh, make her moan, as he made love to her all night. While he told her that he loved her as often as he wanted.

  For now, he focused on working her body into a burning frenzy, which wasn’t hard. She was so hot, burning against him and whimpering into his mouth, her fingers digging into his skin while she swiveled her hips against his, hard and fast.

  Faster . . .

  Faster . . .

  She broke over him with a ragged, breathless scream and when she tore her mouth away to breathe, he buried his face against her neck and let go.

  The climax ripped through him, almost painful in its intensity.

  And for once, the ache in his heart wasn’t so raw and empty.

  He held her as she shuddered and gasped for air. And he felt complete.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Glumly, Abigale stared at the door as Zach zipped her dress back up. “What are the odds that nobody heard us?” she asked.

  He was silent long enough that she paused to look back over her shoulder at him.

  Strong, warm arms came around her waist and tugged her back against him. He’d already pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it, shoved a hand through his hair. He looked just fine, she’d noticed. And she’d seen a glimpse of herself in the mirror he kept on hand for clients. She looked . . . well. She looked like a woman who’d just spent the past few minutes having sex in a chair.

  Her dress was wrinkled, her hair was tangled around her shoulders, and her lipstick—supposedly kiss-proof—wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He skimmed a hand down her arm and rubbed his cheek against hers before he answered honestly, “Slim to non
e.”

  As the hot rush of blood leaped to her cheeks, she groaned and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. “Damn.”

  “We could stay in here until after closing time,” he offered, pressing a hand to her belly. “I can think of a good way to pass the time.”

  She slanted a dark look at him. “This place just got broken into not that long ago. A few days, remember?”

  “Yeah. I still got the bumps and bruises to show for it.” He sighed and eased away. “And you’re right. I’m not keeping you here after the shop closes up. So we go out now. Face the music.”

  Groaning, she held out her hand.

  He caught it in his and then, abruptly, swooped down and stole a kiss. “I bet you didn’t see this coming when you were writing in that new journal, did you?”

  “No.” She laughed a little and then looked around, spying her bag. She caught the strap in her hand and hefted it up on her shoulder. She slid a hand into the side pocket, pulling the silly little green journal out. “I had a plan to wreck my life. And then you go around and totally remake it.”

  He hugged her against him and then, before they could get distracted, they left the office.

  Abigale was still blushing as they moved through the main part of the shop. It was empty, save for Javi. He slid them a wicked grin. “Hey, Abby. Zach.” His black brows arched over dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything else.

  “Javi.” Zach glanced around. “Where is everybody else at?”

  “We wrapped up the last customer forty-five minutes ago.” Javi slid Abigale a look and added, “When Abby came in, I decided to flip the sign to ‘closed.’ Keelie is . . .” He frowned and glanced around.

  “Right here.”

  Abigale and Zach turned.

  Keelie stood in the hallway, head bowed as she tugged a pair of earbuds out. The music was still blaring from them and she took a second to turn the volume down before she looked up. Her mismatched eyes glanced at Zach but her gaze met Abigale’s and held it. “Abby,” Keelie said quietly.

  Lifting an eyebrow, Abigale waited.