by Kim Law
It was an animalistic smile.
And it was hungry.
He grew even harder.
She brought her head back around, watching him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her hands slipped behind her back, her fingers reaching until they grasped the tiny zipper just below her shoulder blades. She paused.
He let out a breath.
Then she tugged.
The fabric parted all the way down and he could make out the briefest glimpse of silver lace at the top curve of her rear. Her back was a thin sliver of skin in the middle of pale pink, and a silver band ran horizontally across the middle. It matched her panties.
“Slip your arms out of the straps.”
He didn’t pull his gaze from the mirror, but he could feel the heat of hers still on him. His words had come out thin. A reedy whisper in the silent room.
The straps dropped to her elbows.
He fought with himself. Watch the material fall in front? Or in back?
“Push it down,” he practically begged. “Off.”
The mirror won out.
The part in the material widened as she shifted in his arms. Her left arm slid free and the right side of her dress sagged.
Then her right arm.
The other side drooped. The dress still didn’t fall. He quickly brought his gaze around to her front. She had her hands covering her breasts, holding the dress up. He swore his erection began to weep.
The muscles of his arms burned with the need to put her down. Not because she was heavy, but because he wanted to explore her himself.
He flicked his gaze back to the mirror, demanding himself to retain control.
The gap from the zipper was now several inches wide. The silver of her panties and bra glistened in the blue reflection.
And his hands burned to touch.
He kept one hand at her rear, holding her tight, and tugged with the other. Her dress fell.
Holly sucked in a soft gasp of air. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Except for the strapless bra, she was now bare from the waist up. The slope of her back glistened in the night. Her shoulders curved with femininity. And her breasts . . .
He could make out the slight curves rounding out from her sides. He couldn’t take his eyes off those curves.
She rubbed against him; the lace of her bra tickled his skin.
He wanted her bra gone.
How many other men had seen her like this? In this room? Reflected in the moonlight like some sort of goddess.
And then he remembered. She’d never let anyone else in here. Only him.
Heavy need rose until it almost cut off his breath. The woman in his arms was special.
And he wanted to keep her.
As if sensing his thoughts, she leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. She didn’t speak. Simply studied him. Her eyes were solemn, and seemed to be saying that she understood. This wasn’t just some hookup. This was them. And they were special.
Then she tilted forward and settled her lips over his.
She took her time, the same as she’d done in the car. She tasted. Licked. Nibbled and sucked. But every time he tried to take it deeper, she pulled back. So he quit trying. He panted against her as she laved over him, and he let her seduce him.
He was just about to beg for mercy when she once again lifted her head. Her eyelids were heavy. She licked her lips as if tasting him on hers, her green eyes locked on his, and he groaned out loud. Then she shifted her gaze to take in the room. She paused every little bit, studying the vision they made, seeming to enjoy the sight as much as he.
He turned his head along with hers, and they both stared into a side mirror. Her body was wrapped around his, her curves everywhere.
“Holly,” he pleaded. He had to see more. When her eyes lifted to his reflection, he begged, “The bra.”
She nodded, and then her hands once again went behind her back. She didn’t look away from the mirror, her gaze clinging to his, and his breath could no longer make it out of his lungs.
She pinched the material between her fingers and the band dropped to her sides. Then she pressed into him to keep it from falling off. He closed his eyes in pain. He throbbed so hard he had no idea how there could be any blood anywhere else in his body. He needed release. And he needed it soon.
Forcing his breaths to return, he pulled in lungfuls of air, and he pried his eyes open. He wanted to bring his gaze around to her body. The real one, not the reflection. But he couldn’t. He liked watching her watching him.
Both hands cupped her butt, holding her tight against him, and as she let the scrap of material fall, her back arched away. He didn’t blink. And he didn’t breathe.
The bra landed at his feet.
She was stupendous. Her breasts were heavy and round. Her nipples puckered into hard beads of desire. He had to put his mouth there.
“Touch me,” she urged. She slid her own hands along the sides of her breasts, pushing them together, and his knees went weak. “Please,” she begged.
He nodded. “I’m going to touch you,” he promised. “If I don’t, my own hands will strangle me where I stand.”
A smile played on her lips, and then her hands touched him. She slid them into his open shirt, her soft fingers burning a path over his body.
“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for days,” she whispered hotly. Her fingers worked over his skin, and he couldn’t move across the room fast enough. Instead of heading to the bed, he moved to the dresser.
He swiped one arm out, sweeping everything to the floor. Her laughter filled his head.
Then he plopped her down on top.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I met you,” he pointed out.
He gripped her wrists in his hands and held them down at her sides. His gaze devoured her. She still had her dress on, bunched at her waist, and her breaths kept her chest rising and falling.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered, a note of teasing in her voice. “Since you first saw me?”
He nodded. He kept her arms pinned at her sides, and dipped forward. As if he needed the additional punishment, he skipped the darkened tips and nipped gently on the inside curve.
She gasped. Her chest pushed up. “You barely even looked at me when you first saw me.” Her words were breathy. “Other than to snarl at my shoes.”
“Baby,” he mumbled against her, turning his mouth to nibble on the inner curve of the other breast. She smelled like flowers and sunshine. “I noticed every last damned thing about you.”
He moved her arms behind her back and gripped both wrists in one hand, and then he took in her profile in a mirror.
“You had on a white shirt,” he started. He traced the tip of his finger from the top curve of her breast, down to circle around the slightly darker skin of her areola. He continued watching her in the mirror. She watched him as well. “Your breasts strained so tight against it.” He circled his finger in tighter. “As if desperate to get out.”
He cupped her then, and held her up to his mouth. She whimpered when he took a tiny swipe with his tongue.
They both continued watching in the mirror.
“Your shorts barely covered your ass,” he went on.
“I had on leggings.” She twitched, jerking forward, her body reaching out to him.
“Not in my mind,” he admitted. He landed on her nipple and sucked. Hard. A deep, guttural sound came from the back of her throat. “I wasn’t sure you were old enough to be legal.” He turned his face back to the mirror, letting his cheek brush over her now-damp tip while he continued holding her in his hand. He flicked a thumb over her and she shuddered. “But even then, I pictured my palms cupping your ass.” He squeezed her breast. “My face between your tits.”
She growled, low and hot. “How old did
you think I was?”
“Eighteen,” he muttered. He released her arms from behind her back and brought both hands around front. He was killing himself with the torture.
“I did not . . . look . . . eighteen.” The words were spoken between tiny bursts of air as he held her breasts together and alternated his mouth between her nipples. He plucked at her, sucking and tugging, gulping as if he were drinking her very essence.
She was exquisite. Both her and the sight of her in his hands. And he knew that he was just out of his mind enough to want more. More of her. More of this.
More than the next week and a half.
He lifted his head and locked in on her eyes, now a deep, needy green. He just wanted her.
“Lift your ass,” he demanded softly. When she did, he yanked her dress down her legs.
She sat before him in a tiny scrap of silvery lace, her breasts heavy and right in front of his face, and her eyes telling him that he wasn’t the only one who might want more.
He could love this woman.
“I’m so glad you didn’t turn out to be eighteen,” he told her.
Then he gripped her panties and tugged them off too. The second they landed on the floor, he spread his hands wide on her thighs. Her breath hitched.
“I’m going to touch you now,” he said. His thumb swooped between her legs, barely alighting on her skin and the narrow brush of hair. His words came out sounding like a threat, yet it was a promise. “With my mouth.”
He parted her thighs, eyeing her with greed. She was wet.
“And with my tongue.”
She whimpered.
He lifted one hand to grasp her chin and turned her toward the mirror. “And I want you to watch me while I do it,” he growled out.
And then he dipped his head.
Holly quit breathing the instant Zack’s head settled between her thighs. The contrast of his dark hair against her pale thighs was striking.
As was the swipe of his tongue.
She braced both hands on top of the dresser, her breaths coming in gasps, and strained her hips toward him. Her lip slipped between her teeth as she fought to keep from crying out. It had been way too long since she’d had a man there.
His tongue worked diligently, sending pleasure to the secret places in her body, and even if he hadn’t told her to watch, that’s exactly what she would have been doing. The mirrors added an erotic feel she’d only ever dreamed about. Add to that his soft demands for her to undress herself—while he’d watched—and she’d been half gone before he’d ever laid a hand on her.
It had been the look in his eyes, though, that had done her in.
This wasn’t just sex to him. That’s what the look had said.
She didn’t know if she could believe it, but she would swear that’s what she’d seen just before she’d taken off her bra. This was more. They were more.
Fear of getting her heart broken screamed that she couldn’t think like that.
He could still walk away.
But what she felt inside had a stronger hold on her now. Love.
Was she in love?
She closed her eyes, refusing to answer the question.
Zack’s hands slipped under her rear and tugged her forward, his mouth grabbing a stronger hold, and his tongue making her forget her worries.
“Zack,” she whispered the word. It came out as a plea.
She brought a hand to his head, both wanting to press him closer, while at the same time lift him away. He didn’t let up.
She held her breath and arched her back until her head bumped against the mirror on the wall behind her. The pressure inside her built. It screamed to be let free.
“Take me to bed, Zack,” she begged. “I want you inside me.”
She wanted to be connected to him in the most elemental way the first time she came. She wanted to know that he was there with her. A part of her.
Just in case she was right and he walked away.
He paused and she sucked in a deep gulp of air.
Then his head slowly turned. He was still bent between her legs, but his face appeared in the mirror now. His mouth glistened with her juices, and she wiggled with the urge for more.
She forced herself to sit still.
“Make love to me,” she said softly.
That look was back in his eye.
She nodded. “You and me. Now.”
Hungry possession flashed across his face as he rose and scooped her off the dresser.
“Yes,” she urged. “Hurry.”
He wrapped her in his arms, and before it even felt like they’d moved, he was lowering her to her bed. The instant she hit the mattress, her hands went wild to rid him of his clothes.
She shoved the shirt from his shoulders, leaving it halfway down his arms while he started on his belt. Then her hands were on his fly, unzipping his jeans. She couldn’t go fast enough.
He shrugged out of his shirt and she pulled him from his pants.
“Ah,” he groaned as her fingers closed tight around him. He momentarily paused, rearing back as if her touch burned. His teeth gleamed in a feral clench.
He was so hot. And so hard.
It was everything she could do not to put him in her mouth right then and there. She wanted to taste him. But she wanted more to feel him.
“Inside me,” she begged.
She let him know with her look that she would do more. Later. She would take him in her mouth. Until he begged.
But right now . . .
He shoved her to the bed, and then he was on top of her. Somehow, a condom appeared in his hand. His eyes were on hers.
Then everything slowed.
They rolled the protection down over him together, and he stretched out, his body touching hers all the way down. His elbows braced against the mattress and his hands gently cupped her head. His thumbs slid over her temples. His mouth dipped for her kiss.
It was a slow burn. And that kiss said the same thing she’d seen in his eyes.
She meant something to him.
She was special.
When he pulled back, he simply stared at her. Moonlight made him seem to glow in the room as she slid her hands down his sides and eased her legs apart. Heat nudged against her core. His harder, rougher skin tantalized her. Everywhere. She nodded.
And then he slid inside.
They both pressed their mouths closed, their chests heaving against the other, and it was complete silence in her room.
And she knew.
She was absolutely in love with this man.
Then he began to move, and it was the best damned feeling she’d ever experienced in her life. He was slow and hard. Masterful. And he knew exactly where to find her favorite spots.
His body pumped above hers, sliding deep, in and out, leaving her breathless with each move. All while keeping her head steady between his hands. His eyes on her eyes.
And then he kissed her.
And then they both tipped over the edge.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Holly opened her eyes as sunlight peeked over the mountains and hit her windows. She was on her back, and though her head wasn’t turned to Zack, she knew he was still there. His weight pressed into her, and his heat seemed to cocoon her.
He’d been wonderful last night.
No. That didn’t tell the whole truth. He’d been freaking awesome last night.
And she wasn’t just thinking about the sex.
He’d understood what receiving that e-mail had meant to her. She’d gotten her hopes up. Again. Which had made her as upset as receiving the e-mail had.
She was done with all of that once and for all. She’d either sell them herself, or she would never sell them at all. And she was okay with that decision. She couldn’t go through that sort of re
jection over and over again. Maybe some people could handle it. The big artists had been through hundreds of rejections. She knew that. She’d studied about it as she’d worked on her degree. Tough skin and all.
But she didn’t want tough skin. She just wanted to create.
She wanted to be happy. To smile each day, and hopefully make someone else’s day brighter just for being in it. She was good at that. And she loved it.
So she was finished seeking an external outlet for her mirrors. They would be sold out of Sugar Springs, or they wouldn’t be sold at all.
The decision made her more content than she’d ever thought it could.
She focused out the windows and thought about the other things that had been discovered throughout the night.
Like Zack’s muscles. And his stamina.
His compassion.
He really was a wonderful guy. And a great lover.
And she just happened to be in love with him.
Yep. That was the big revelation to come from the night. She had fallen in love with Zack Winston. Just as she’d feared. Someone who would leave her in barely more than a week.
Unless she convinced him to take her with him?
The pressure of tears built in the back of her eyes because even if she could convince him, if by some miracle he fell in love with her too, she didn’t want to move to Atlanta. His house was great. His mother was greater. His car was off the charts.
But her life was here.
Her mirrors were . . . here.
She closed her eyes and thought about Zack. He’d been in love before. He’d even had his biological mother stomp all over his emotions. Holly couldn’t imagine him taking another chance. Not with his heart.
Work and his life might commingle, but women and his life didn’t.
No matter what his eyes had told her last night.
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trekked toward the sheet because she knew he wouldn’t take the chance. Not on her. And she couldn’t blame him. She turned her face toward the ceiling to stanch the tears. She didn’t want to lie there and cry.
But when she shifted, she found that Zack was awake. He was on one elbow, a pair of übersexy, little rectangular glasses perched on his nose, and he was watching her. And now he was looking at that one tear track leading from her eye to her hairline.