by K. K. Allen
“Sweet Jesus, you taste like heaven,” he murmurs, his words hot against my skin. I gasp when a finger hooks into my underwear and pushes it to the side, exposing me. “And now, I’m about to go to hell.”
He plays the same game with the strawberry, only this time his mouth doesn’t stop once the juice is gone. He stays on me, a man on a mission with every expert stroke of his tongue. Heaven and hell is right.
It doesn’t take much for me to let go, especially when he demands it from me with his gravelly voice. Especially when he pushes a finger into my core and curls it just right to finish the job.
Never has dessert tasted—or felt—so good. Zachary Ryan has officially ruined me for all desserts … by making me his.
I’ve finally come down from my cloud of bliss when I feel him righting my underwear and lifting me back to a sitting position. And just when I think it’s over, he places the once-bitten and thoroughly juiced strawberry between his lips and bites down, ensuring that no drop is left behind.
I work like crazy the next two days, finalizing everything and checking items off our project timeline before the week-long festivities begin at Camp Dakota. It’s especially helpful that Zach has been preoccupied with the school visits. After the other night, he would only be a distraction in this final week of preparation. I do miss him, though. After seeing him every night since he’s been back, the last two nights have been tough. Luckily I had Chloe to console me.
It’s late in the afternoon on Friday when I finally emerge from my office. Everything is ready to go for tomorrow. I’m confident about it and ready to take Richland up on his offer to let me leave early, but it looks like he’s had a change of plans.
“What in flying rainbows are you two doing?” I exclaim.
I’ve walked in to find Zach completely bare except for a pair of black boxer briefs tight enough to reveal … everything. Richland is standing in front of him with a bottle of baby oil. I’m halfway tempted to snap a picture, stick a caption on it, and post it on Facebook. It would go viral instantly. But seriously … what the actual fuck is going on?
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Never mind. Whatever sprinkles your donuts. I’m out of here.”
But I’m rooted in place watching them. They’re both laughing so hard that I can see Zach’s abs tightening with each inhale, and Richland spins to greet me. “No! Stop, Monica. Thank God you’re here. I thought you went home early.”
“I was about to, but I was just wrapping a few things up.” I focus on Zach for my next question. “Why are you naked?” He’s finally stopped laughing, but he’s still wiping tears from his eyes.
“Meredith,” they say in unison.
I roll my eyes. “The oil and water photo shoot?”
Richland nods. “She wants an opening and closing video for dramatic effect, and then she wants to repurpose the raw footage for some other crazy shit she’s got up her sleeve.” He nods to the sheet of paper on the desk to my right and I pick it up.
Looking at the sketch, I shake my head. “I still don’t get the purpose. Why does she get a say in this?”
Richland sighs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s happening.”
I try to be a good sport like him, but I’m secretly fuming that Meredith gets away with this crap.
“Imagine a complete contrast to the bright opening number where we’ve got Zach frozen but on rotation in front of the camera.” Richland points to a photo on the nearest wall, referencing the last shoot we did with Zach. “White shirt, happy. We’ll do the opposite for this shot. Dark, covered in sweat, showing the hard work from the week. His expression determined, ready to take on anything. That will close this puppy out. Let’s just get the shot and we’ll edit it onsite.”
And that’s what I love about Richland. He hated the idea, but the moment he knew he was stuck with it, he committed to it and now it’s his. I’m still not convinced.
Richland holds up the plastic bottle and then extends his arm to me. “You can do the honors. This is not going to happen for me. Sorry.” He laughs again and walks away after setting the bottle down. “I’ll be over here. Just holler when the rubdown is complete.”
Richland is crazy. Out of his damn mind. There’s no way I’m going to lather Zach up with a bottle of baby oil—at work. But then again, Richland thinks I’m a professional and that there’s nothing to worry about. If he only knew.
Richland moves to the other side of the room to busy himself with the photo equipment. Zach grins. “Saving the day once again, aren’t you, Cakes?”
“This is a bad idea,” I say in a hushed voice.
He chuckles lightly. “C’mon, just lube me up and then you can hand me over to Richland.” He winks.
I know I’ve got to do this—not because I think it’s a good idea, but because it’s my job. And I am a professional. If anyone can do this, it’s me.
Except, oh my God, Zach’s body. It’s the first time I’m seeing it like this. Almost completely bare, rock hard abs, as if sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Strong legs with not a millimeter of fat on him. But those briefs and everything they’re not hiding … whoever said black made things appear smaller never got an eyeful of this guy.
Jesus, save me. It’s too hot in here. Richland should know better than to turn on the lamps too long before a shoot. I’m practically sweating, and I’ve just stepped under them.
“You okay, Cakes?”
I ignore him, too distracted by my thoughts to hold a conversation. I mean, geez, why didn’t I get him naked the other night? Oh yeah … he wanted to take it slow. I try not to laugh out loud. After giving me the best orgasm of my life, he didn’t want me to reciprocate.
Way to drag this out, Zach.
And now I’m getting ready to rub down his perfect body at work.
I snatch the bottle of oil, refusing to meet his eyes. Filling my palm with liquid, I coach myself silently, repeating I’m a professional until it comes true.
“Cakes, eyes up here.”
I’m inhaling as I look up. “Huh?”
He laughs. “It’s not a big deal. Just oil me up already.”
Words I never thought would be spoken to me. I might have dreamed about this once. Maybe I’m dreaming now. As I float on my imaginary dark cloud of Zachary Ryan’s perfect body and all the ways I can touch him freely, I begin coating his back.
“Are you all right?” he asks again.
“I don’t know,” I say with mock sweetness. “How would you like it if I came to your work and took off my clothes, then asked you to rub me down so I could pose for a photo shoot?”
The moment I say the words I know how stupid they sound.
He laughs deeply, infuriating me further. “Do you really need me to answer that?”
I growl and slap a heavy dose of oil onto his back. “No,” I whisper-shout. “Shut up and let me do my job.”
He’s still loudly amused at my unease, and I don’t know why, but it sends a flare of anger through me. Here I am, trying to do my job and rub down this NFL god who not too long ago was buried between my legs, and he has the nerve to laugh at me.
Payback’s a bitch.
My movements are slow. I decide I might as well appreciate this fine specimen at my fingertips. One thing that’s always fascinated me is the human body. As I glide my hand along his back muscles, up his spine, and over his shoulders, I try to remember all the smart names for all the taut muscles I once learned. It’s a struggle because the only way to accurately define Zach is perfection.
My fingers slide gracefully over every swelled muscle, every defined curve, digging in a little at every dip, just to get a reaction out of him. He’s as still as can be. That’s okay. The professional that I am is certain to cover every inch of his warming skin.
“We should take a selfie and send it to Meredith,” I start. “Thank her for the idea. I’m not so sure I hate it anymore.” I grin at my own joke. Well, half-joke.
Zac
h gives me a throaty laugh. “Such a kind gesture. Your thoughtfulness astounds me.”
“Thanks, Zach.” I run my hands along his back at the waist, and my eyes zero in on the black briefs wrapped around toned skin. I freeze for a second, trying desperately to pull my eyes away. Of course I’m going to check out a hot guy in boxer briefs, especially when I’m getting paid to feel him up—but damn these thoughts that come with it.
His laughter ceases, and that’s when I realize my fingernails are digging into his waist, my mouth so close to his back I might graze it with my lips. The silence is what brings me to the surface of my thoughts. I gasp a shallow breath before letting him go and stepping back.
What am I doing? My nails have left a tiny imprint on his skin. I rub it gently; glad he can’t see how mortified I am. “I’m sorry.” I let out an embarrassed laugh, but Zach remains still, his body rigid.
I grab the spray bottle and release water onto his back, watching little beads form all over his body. As the water reacts to the oil and retracts, balling up into droplets and sliding down his slicked up back, it hits me.
Oil and water. That’s us.
Zach is a sturdy creature with nothing to hide. And I’m anything but. Somehow I ended up in his world, but that doesn’t mean I belong here. That’s why when he comes close, I retract. Never by choice, but by necessity.
He turns to face me. I’m sure my face is flushed. Here I am, touching every inch of exposed skin on this man’s body, when all I really want is to touch the unexposed ones.
“Enjoying yourself, Cakes?” His tone is low and husky.
I refuse to look up. My strength will die the moment our eyes meet, and I’m not ready to lose this kind of power. Not when he’s so clearly the winner in every other interaction between us. It’s finally my turn to call the shots.
Pouring more oil into my palm, I set down the bottle and eye his stomach like it’s my next obstacle course. American Ninja Warrior, here I come. Peering around Zach’s body at Richland to ensure he’s preoccupied, my lips curl up slowly. I smooth the liquid over his skin, paying extra special attention to the lines that run diagonally from his shorts, up his stomach, and then back down again.
He clears his throat. “Be careful.”
Batting my eyelashes up at him, I feign mock innocence. “Just doing my job. It’s not a big deal, right?”
I’m fully aware of the way his eyes darken in response to my teasing. “It is now.”
Shit.
Do not look down. Do not look down.
Taking a slow sip of air as slyly as possible, I continue my work, lathering the rest of his stomach and arms, paying extra attention to the valleys, ensuring every inch is tended to before setting the bottle down to complete the race.
I don’t need to look up to see how unmistakably heavy his breathing has become. That’s when my head tilts down and confirms what I already knew. I may have made it to the finish line, but not without awakening the beast.
My eyes fly up to meet his in a crash so fierce I nearly stumble back. He doesn’t let me. Instead, he grips my arm, holding me steady and leaning in. “I told you to be careful,” he growls. My heart is crashing against the walls of my chest. Oh my God.
We’re both oblivious to anything but each other until we hear the clattering of something on the other side of the room. “Ah, shit,” Richland mumbles, stooping to pick up whatever it was.
Zach releases his grip and glares at me one last time before walking off to the bathroom, and I make the trek to the makeup table, furiously trying to calm my nerves. But it’s too late. What I did was beyond teasing, and the look in Zach’s eye told me he won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.
I need to get out of here. Now.
“Hey Richland,” I call out. “He’s all set so I’m taking off. Need anything else for the shoot?”
“Nope. Go on home. It’s been a long day.”
Relieved to get away, I pack up my things and rush out the door before a freshly oiled Zach comes out of the bathroom.
“Cakes, open up.”
The knocking scared the crap out of me. I heard it from the shower and finally threw a towel around me to see what the commotion was all about.
I open the door and tighten the towel around me when I gaze back at Zach’s amused expression. “Sorry,” I say as I dash back to my room to change. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
Hurrying, I throw on a baggy tank top and some shorts. It’s not like he can stay long, anyway. Zach has an early workout and we both need to be on the bus by eight a.m.
He’s standing at my bedroom door when I emerge. I jump back, my heart leaping into my throat. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He grins. “I was about to sit on your couch, and then I remembered I’ve got oil all over me.” He cocks his head to the side. “Kind of your fault. Mind handing over a washcloth or something?”
I look over his body, still shiny and smooth, and I try to fight a blush. “You can shower.” Yeah, definitely not going to be able to hide that blush. “If you want. You can’t stay for long, but my couch is new…”
“Sure, Cakes. Got a towel?”
“Whatever happened to plans with Desmond tonight?” I ask, grabbing him a towel from under my sink.
Zach doesn’t give me much room to leave the bathroom, forcing me to slide against him. He grins wickedly. “Something came up. So I’m here instead.”
Okay, then. I exit quickly and close the door behind me to hide my blush.
Zach showers while I prepare a plate of crackers and cheese. I didn’t stop for takeout since I have a pile of leftovers from the week. We’ll have to make do with what I have here. After a quick clean-up, I turn on the television, which is already set on some entertainment news station, and I flop down on the couch.
A few minutes later I hear the click of the bathroom door and turn to watch it open. Holy crap. It’s like the heavens part and angels start singing when Zach walks into the living room. I scramble to a sitting position. He’s wearing the same outfit he had on as I oiled him up earlier. I narrow my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. Not going to happen. The grin on his face is wide as he sits beside me, making himself comfortable as if it’s his own home.
“I could totally get fired, you know.”
“For groping me at your office?” His head turns to me, eyes filled with challenge.
I glare at him. “I did not grope you. My boss told me to rub you down, so I did.”
He laughs. “I don’t think he asked for you to give me a massage while you were at it. That was all you. Trust me, Cakes, if I did that to you it would be all over the news and I’d be under fire for sexual harassment.”
I hold up my finger in warning. “Not even funny. Welcomed sexual advances are completely different.”
His eyebrows lift in mock surprise. “I don’t remember welcoming any of what happened back there.”
I growl and bury my head in my hands. “Seriously, Zach. What if Richland had caught on to any of that?”
“He already knows about us.”
I look up, shocked. It didn’t even occur to me that they would have talked about us—whatever we are.
“It’s obvious, Cakes. He straight up asked me tonight. Don’t be mad. I’ve known the guy for a long time. Richland’s cool with it.”
“He is?” I mean, I’ve known Richland for a long time too, but I’ve never asked him for his opinion on employee-client relationships.
He nods and slides a comforting hand over my shoulders. “Said if you’re fine, he’s fine, and he won’t say anything.” Zach tucks a stray hair behind my head. “I think he has a soft spot for you.”
I sigh and lean against him. “Well, that’s kind of a relief.”
He squeezes my thigh with one hand while pulling me tightly against his chest. “I got you, Cakes. That’s why I came up here. I know we don’t have plans tonight.” He pauses for a moment. “You goi
ng to kick me out now?”
Smirking, I turn to catch his puppy dog face, begging me to let him stay. “There will be no kicking, but you should leave soon. I’d hate to be the reason your biceps deflate in the morning.”
He lets out a deep laugh and squeezes my thigh again, this time inching it up my leg until I’m back to barely breathing. “C’mere,” he says, huskily.
My focus is on his lips when he speaks, so I’m not entirely sure what he means. I’m already pressed against him. But then he cradles the bottom of my thigh and lifts, pulling my leg across his lap so that I’m straddling him.
His eyes roam from my neck to my lips and then finally to my eyes. His hand sweeps through my hair until his fingers massage my neck. “If you can’t tell, I’m crazy about you. Two days away from you just about killed me.”
My eyes flutter closed, relaxing against his touch, until another hand runs up my thigh and skates between my skin and my shorts, reaching the top of my thighs.
“Me too,” I admit, just above a whisper.
The hand that’s caressing my neck pulls me closer. Hot breath tickles my neck before he’s kissing it. “Zach,” I breathe out, feeling like I might explode without more.
He nips at my skin. “I was so pissed at you earlier.”
“You were?”
His other hand lands on my leg, mirroring the one that’s grazing the skin beneath my shorts, moving over my thigh, and then finding my ass. He grips both cheeks firmly before sliding me up his lap so that I’m acquainted with the one part of him I’ve been fighting to stay away from. He groans as we connect. I suck in a breath. Everything goes dark when my eyes snap shut, making his intoxicatingly fresh scent stronger.
Lips glide up to just below my ear. “Hmm,” he murmurs. “You’re such a tease.” Chills move up my spine and across my skin until everything begins to warm under his spell.
I meet his eyes, my breath catching in my throat. He’s brushing a thumb against my cheeks like they’re the most beautiful pieces of me. He does the same with my chin and my lips.
I want to feel him press deeper into me, so I try to move, but he stops me with one look.
