When Christie’s slimy hand slips onto his thigh, the final piece that had kept my heart afloat splits. My remaining strength slips into the frigid abyss, soon to drown.
I shoot up from the table, jostling it and spilling a couple of full drinks.
“What the hell, Dahlia?” Bianca grabs for the pile of napkins.
But I don’t say anything, and I ignore their annoyed glares as I stomp over to where Zack sits with little Miss Touchy-Feely.
While they chat, Zack spots me from the corner of his eye as I shove between them, interrupting their conversation in a similar, though much more vehement, way as she interrupted our kiss at Keith’s birthday party. Zack’s eyes widen like saucers. There’s a pressure building in my chest, and I feel as though if someone poked me, I could very well burst.
But it’s his next move that sends a stream of fire straight through my veins.
He smiles. The bastard actually flashes me that cocky lopsided grin, as if to say, “Finally, you’re not running away from me. You’re admitting that you’re feeling this and us too.” Damn straight I’m done running. What’s even more infuriating is how affected I am by that smile that says so many things. My knees turn to jelly, but at the same time, my fists clench and my fingernails dig into my palms with the strong desire to punch his face and knock out every one of those pristine white teeth.
Christie clears her throat behind me, and I turn to find her with an expectant, haughty expression. Like how dare I have the nerve to interrupt her date with Zack.
Putting my attention back on Zack sitting casually in the stool as he lifts his full beer glass, and acting on pure instinct, I snatch the drink from his hand, the cold, frothy liquid spilling over my forearm, and toss it right in his face.
His mouth drops open, likely speechless. Rivulets of the beer drip down his lips and onto his tongue, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look so gorgeous, even soaked to the bone, that I have to bite my tongue to keep from lapping up every last drop.
When the look of utter shock turns into a hard grimace, I stare into his eyes, challenging his anger with my own burning resolve. “Go fuck yourself, Zack.”
I turn to Christie, who covers her own gaping mouth with her hand.
“He’s all yours,” I tell her snidely.
As I walk away, I could swear I hear the bartender cackling, but I don’t dare look back.
I spot my table and notice the horrified looks on Bianca’s and Justine’s faces while Lexi wipes her eyes with a crinkled paper napkin, seemingly from laughing so hard. Even though my purse is in that booth, I’m not in the mood to try to explain what just happened. I’m sure Lexi will be barreling into my house minutes after I get home anyway.
My entire body is humming with fury, and the bite of the winter air when I shove through the doors does nothing to soothe the fire.
He brought her here. To the same spot we were in. Like all of his effort to push past my barriers was a farce and I was so easily replaceable that he felt the need to showcase it.
Tears blur my vision. Whether from anger or hurt, I can’t really tell, and I have to lean on the cold siding of the restaurant to gather myself as my breathing turns sharp and stilted.
I’ve been hurt before, but never like this. I never allowed myself to get close enough to anyone to feel this way, but God, it’s excruciating. I’ve been played. Maybe this is what I deserve for letting my guard down.
Never again, I tell myself.
My head jerks when the door swings open. Zack steps out still dripping with the beer I threw in his face, and while it’s freezing, I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw steam coming off of him.
Before I can duck into the parking lot in an attempt to avoid him, a strong hand grabs my wrist and pulls me back with enough force to topple me. His expression is absolutely murderous, and I can only pray my glistening eyes don’t give me away as I plaster on my own steely expression. At least, I hope it reads that way.
Zack’s mouth opens as though he’s about to say something, but it quickly snaps shut. Before I can think, his hands are grasping my shoulders and my back is thrust against the exterior wall.
While I showed a small bit of restraint inside by tossing his beer and not punching him, I’m ready to let him have it now. My hand balls into a tight fist, and I ready myself to knee him in the balls.
But then my face is in his hands and his lips are crashing into mine so hard and fast that our teeth briefly clash.
Every thought spinning around like a tornado in my mind comes to a complete stop the second our lips meet. After a moment, rather than knocking his teeth out as I so vividly envisioned earlier, my arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s pressing into me, his soaked shirt seeping through the material of my own, but I couldn’t care less. The warmth of his skin underneath engulfs me like walking out into a summer day.
His face is sticky and he reeks of beer, but underneath all of it, I can smell his cologne. My mouth laps up every drop of beer coating his lips, and my kiss becomes even more feverous when I finally taste nothing but Zack.
Soft yet powerful hands slide around my back, his touch like a soothing balm against the unbearable pain of the last two months.
A contented sigh passes through his lips and into mine, and I breathe him in as though he’s my only source of oxygen. When he parts his lips, I welcome the feel of his tongue and the taste of his own habeñero wings. The bite of the pepper combined with the taste of his kiss sets my already smoldering senses on fire.
All of the trepidation and fear of our first kiss is absent as our tongues twist together in a frantic, carnal dance.
Zack’s hands slide up my arms to cup my cheeks, and he pulls away to stare into my eyes. His lips are swollen and parted as he breathes in short, visible puffs of air that fall against my face. He’s looking for something. Likely waiting for panic and fear to cloud over my eyes.
They won’t. Because I’m done pretending. Done denying my desires calling out for me to go to him.
“Dahlia.” My name is a wish on his lips, one I think he’s been terrified to voice.
When I stare into his eyes, I hold nothing back. I let him see all of me, my fears, my hopes, and my desires.
His answering kiss is more than I could have hoped for. Different than the one just moments ago. A slow and delicate exploration of each other, as though we’re pouring our very beings into the kiss. And I feel him. I feel all of him. And I want him. All of him. Now.
Rather than pull away, I speak against his lips, my voice trembling. “Take me home, Zack.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Grabbing my hand, he leads me off the curb while looking back at me as though I’m about to disappear before his eyes. My heart practically stops as a car screeches its brakes right in front of us. Zack smacks his palm on the hood of the yellow Toyota and flips the driver the bird before leading me to a massive black Jeep Wrangler.
As I reach for the handle, he spins me around and plasters my back against door, stealing another soul-melting kiss that leaves me dizzy when he pulls away. Opening the passenger side door, he helps me into the car, and my nose fills with his scent. My eyes close on an inhale but snap back open when the door slams behind him as he sits in the driver’s seat.
His keys jangle as he fiddles with them until he finally finds the right one. A heated look passes between us before he twists the key in the ignition.
And the engine roars to life along with my heart that is racing with hope for the first time in a long time.
THE APARTMENT DOOR SLAMS AS we enter in a whirlwind, both of us too eager to even check if Keith is home. I don’t care if he is. I’m too far gone at this point. My mind is consumed with Zack, and my body is becoming more and more eager for it to be too.
The house is dark, not a sound besides our mingling footsteps echoing throughout as we ascend the stairs to Zack’s room. When he wrenches the door open, I shove him inside and slam it behind me, pressing my back ag
ainst it and allowing the cool wood to ease the fire burning beneath my skin.
He stands in the middle of his room, his chest rising and falling rapidly, fists clenching as he tries to maintain control. I push away from the door and reach for the bottom of my top, pulling it over my head as I walk toward him in my bra and jeans.
His nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and his eyes darken with a burning need that sends a delicious shiver straight to my groin as his gaze roves over my body in a slow, languid sweep. Then finally, he moves to stand before me, rips his shirt off in a flash of movement, and discards it to the floor.
Holy shit. My mouth all but drops to the floor as my eyes take their fill of his naked torso. I’ve seen bits of his body in training. Sometimes his shirt would ride up along his belly, or he’d show up in paper-thin wifebeaters that so deliciously displayed a set of heavily muscled arms and a shredded back, but those glimpses don’t come close to full view. Jesus, the man has an eight-pack. My tongue darts out to lick the corner of my mouth with the desire to do the very same thing on every hard line across his belly.
A moment of silence passes between us, then we’re on each other in a tangle of roaming hands and greedy mouths. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra and shiver as cool air meets my exposed breasts that have become heavy with need.
He doesn’t leer at me as I expect him to. After a simple long, languid perusal of appreciation, he hauls me off the floor, and I fall into a plush, navy comforter, watching through half-lidded eyes as he comes down on me. His muscled thigh pushes between my legs, and I have to fight not to grind against him as he grabs my hands when they move to touch his chest and pulls them over my head. The movement makes my breasts arch upward like an offering.
A small whimper escapes me when his hands move from mine to slide down my forearms, my shoulders, and the sides of my body, his touch igniting tiny sparks with every inch. He stops to clasp a hand around my waist and runs a calloused finger along the seam of my jeans.
When his thumb brushes the button, I tilt my hips upward, the friction of the movement sending a glorious wave of pleasure over me. Never in my life have I wanted someone so badly. My body almost quakes with the need for him.
The button pops open, and my heart hammers, awareness prickling along every inch of my skin as he yanks the suddenly constrictive material from my hips, down to my ankles, before throwing them onto the floor among the shirts.
Standing at the edge of the bed, he stares at me with dark blue eyes, leaving me laid out before him. My breath turns into soft pants as my eyes plead with him to come back to me. I need his touch. Now.
“Zack.” My voice comes out hoarse and thick with need.
He remains silent, and I practically squirm under his lust-filled gaze. But when he pops the button on his own jeans, my breathing picks up, my body screaming to feel his skin on mine.
His jeans fall to the floor in a whoosh, and my breath hitches when I find he isn’t wearing boxers and his thick cock stands at full attention. A tremor steals over me at the sight of him fully naked above me. Every inch of him is hard, toned muscle, just as I’d imagined it would be when thoughts of seeing him just like this flooded the deepest part of my mind. God, he’s a sight, powerful and potent.
My eyes soak up every inch of him as he hikes a knee up on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He covers me once again, and I cling to the hard ridges of his back, feeling the muscle flex beneath my fingertips as he leans on his elbows.
Watching me intently, he ducks his head to pull one of my nipples into his mouth. My breath leaves me in a rush as my hand flies up to tug at the short strands of his hair at the exquisite wet heat. Fuck, it’s too good.
He lets me go with an audible suck, moving to wrap his lips around my other breast until my mind grows delirious and I feel as if I could come from this alone. Then he releases me and places his forearms on either side of my face, tilting his head to claim my mouth in a lush kiss and lacing our fingers together.
My leg wraps around his narrow hips, needing to pull him closer while he drags his lips down to my neck, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses below my ear and along my collarbone. When he drifts down my body, my eyes fly open to watch him pepper soft, reverent kisses along my chest and belly before stopping above the scalloped edge of my panties. The sight of him looming above the lace makes my breath catch in my throat.
He flicks his gaze to mine, those deep blue eyes glazed over in a lust-induced haze as my panties are wrenched off. The sound of the material ripping fills the quiet room.
I’ve never actually had a guy go down on me. All of my prior hookups had been short-lived and to the point. No real foreplay, no exchange of heated looks, no sweet kisses of adoration. I didn’t need that with them. I wanted exactly what they came for and booted them out of my room before Christos came home from work.
The heated gusts of his breath against the sensitive flesh is almost too much, and I actually mewl in response, setting something off within him as he releases a low groan and wraps his lips around the aching bundle of nerves.
Oh my God. My eyes squeeze shut, and one of my hands flies up to grasp the pillow while my heels dig into the mattress.
The wet slide of his tongue draws small, wicked circles before his lips close around my clit in a soft suck, sending my hips bucking and making him place a hand on my lower belly to steady me. My mouth falls open and my eyes squeeze shut. Oh God, it’s too much, the pleasure so intensely fierce that my head swims and a sob escapes my lips. I can’t decide whether to tell him to stop or beg him for more.
Zack’s groan vibrates against my clit and sets off a blinding light bursting beneath my closed eyelids. My head thrashes against the comforter as the climax steals over me, breathy moans escaping me while it crests and slowly descends.
He rises on his knees. My legs quake and shiver when I surge up and wrap my arms around his neck, capturing his lips and tasting myself on his tongue. My fingers can barely grip his sweat-coated skin.
Breaking the kiss, he leans over his bed and pulls open a drawer in the nightstand. I can’t tear my eyes away from his cock and the tiny bead of moisture welling at the tip, making my tongue tingle with the need to lick it away. He returns with a condom, tearing open the wrapper with his teeth before sliding the latex over his hard dick, canting his hips as he rolls it down to the base.
We fall back on the bed, his hands tangling and weaving in my hair as he sucks my lower lip. His thick cock nestles against the apex of my thighs.
“Yes.” I need this now.
My hips tilt up to meet his, eager to fill the aching emptiness, but he pulls away and slowly drags his lips against mine. As he nuzzles my nose, a reverent expression steals over his features.
His voice is rough and breathless. “Are you mine, Dahlia?”
I swallow thickly, my eyes going wide. Am I his?
I place my palm against the rough scruff of his cheek. “Yes.”
But his expression grows persistent, as though my answer doesn’t quite satisfy him. “Say it.”
“I’m yours, Zack.”
And I am. Thoroughly and irrevocably. I can’t run from him anymore. It’s simply too painful. Being so close to him over the last couple of months, yet so far away because I forced the distance between us, I felt as though a piece of me refused to leave him. That missing piece left me broken, and the cracks in my resolve spread before it finally shattered. It’s a simple matter of fact now. I belong to him, and no amount of fear or self-convincing excuses will change that.
His eyes close and he sighs with relief, kissing me gently before resting his forehead against mine.
My arms wrap around his sweat-slick back, and his eyes peel open as he pushes gently into me. The pressure is incredible as he slides in inch by heated inch.
Once fully seated, he pauses before breathing words across my lips. “I’ve always been yours, baby.”
And then he moves in a slow, steady glide that
elicits a low groan from the back of his throat while my mind lingers on his words. He’s mine.
My hips rock up to meet his gentle rhythm, but soon we both become lost, lips sliding as breathless moans escape me while another climax builds. My inner walls tighten around his shaft, making him lever himself up on his arms and ram his hips directly into mine. The sensation is almost painful, but oh, so wonderful.
He pumps his cock in and out of me at a rapid pace. When he stays deep, pulling out only slightly as he rolls his hips against mine, the dam bursts and I come in a slow, mindless wave of unyielding pleasure, my back arching on a low, keening moan.
“Fuck, Dahlia. Oh, fuck.” He grunts while he comes down on top of me and thrusts with fervor.
One hand rests at the top of my head, while his other arm hooks around my bent leg and pushes it back, allowing him to go deeper. Clipped, helpless moans escape him as he almost hits the end of me each time, our gazes locked and our faces flushed with euphoric satisfaction. He’s beautiful like this. Tiny rivulets of sweat drip down between his pecs, his tanned skin glistening in the dim light.
I feel his cock swell inside me as he quickens to a furious pace before releasing a low, guttural groan and spilling himself inside me. When he collapses over my body in sated bliss, we both come down from our orgasms, breathing hard and clinging to each other. Too afraid to let go.
THE TART SWEETNESS OF DAHLIA’S shampoo tickles my nose as we lay together under my blankets. She nestles into the crook of my arm, tucking her head under my chin as the rush of endorphins leaves our bodies.
Being here, in my bed, with Dahlia’s naked body pressed against mine, was the last thing I expected to happen tonight. I’d all but given up on her, because no matter what I did, it didn’t seem to be enough to tear down her walls.
Sweet Insanity (Sweet Series Book 1) Page 13