“Zach,” she moaned, “I want you.”
He kissed her gently. “I want to take my time with you.” He set her on the ground and stripped her out of her T-shirt and bra, his hands cupping her breasts, stroking over her hard nipples. She leaned against the wall, her head tipping back at the pleasure of his hands, and then he dropped to his knees, taking her breast into his mouth and sucking deeply. It was like a direct line of pleasure to her sex. She ached fiercely for what she knew he could give her. She wasn’t used to waiting this long for him to get down to serious business. She tugged at his hair, trying to pull him away and redirect him, but he merely switched to the other breast.
Just when she was about to scream at him to give her a wallbanger already, he shifted lower, first with his fingers, stroking down her belly, and then with his lips and tongue. He pulled her shorts and panties off and she nearly cried with relief, but then he started all over again, his fingers stroking her belly and then around the curve of her hips.
“Zach, fuck me.”
But that wasn’t what he was about tonight. He didn’t reply, merely stroked and kissed and tasted his way down her leg.
“Please,” she whimpered.
She squirmed as he got to her sensitive calves and then the arch of her foot. When he started over, high on her other leg, she let out a mewl of protest. But it was no use. He kept moving down her leg, stroking, kissing, tasting. Finally he reached the arch of that foot and she let out a sigh of relief. That was short-lived.
His palm made a slow trip up the inside of her thigh before he finally touched where she ached for him. By the time his tongue joined his fingers, parting her and tasting her intimately, she was chanting his name, rocking mindlessly against his mouth. Oh, God.
“Zach!”
He slid his fingers inside her and looked up at her, his mouth still demanding, hungry, like all of him, his eyes heated, possessive. In that moment she was his. She knew it with startling clarity and it alarmed her. She closed her eyes.
His mouth shifted to kiss the inside of her thigh. “I want to see the ecstasy in your eyes. Will you give me that, Carrie?”
She met his eyes. A moment of charged silence vibrated between them. She sensed he was asking something significant, he rarely spoke unless he had something to say, something meaningful, but she couldn’t comprehend it. Her body’s need was far more powerful than her brain right now.
“Yes,” she said softly.
He kissed her sex almost reverently, his eyes locked on hers. Her knees buckled, but his grip on her hips held her in place and his groan against her vibrated so intensely she gripped his head, holding him to her. She’d never felt anything so intimate, him holding her, her holding him to her most vulnerable place, his hot gaze burning into her. He amped her up with his lips and tongue and teeth, his gaze never leaving hers, and then she was coming on a long low scream, her body racked with pleasure.
He eased away from her and she closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath for what she knew would be a wild ride. The soft drop of his clothes, rustle of the condom, and then he was lifting her, taking her in one swift thrust. She scrambled to hang on, throwing her arms around him and locking her ankles behind his back. He grunted, giving her that moment before he took her with powerful thrusts, his mouth covering hers, his tongue delving deep. She was liquid fire, consumed by him, lost and found at the same time. And then she tensed on the sharp edge of ecstasy.
He tore his mouth from hers, gazing deep into her eyes. “Come for me. Look in my eyes and say my name.” And then he was pounding into her and she held his gaze as long as she could before she lost it, coming and coming and coming, each thrust bringing a deeper wave of pleasure.
“Zach!” she cried.
Which must’ve been what he was waiting for because he let go, pumping into her for his release. His teeth closed around the cord of her neck, sending another shock wave through her.
Long moments passed. He was breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat. Finally he lifted his head. “Carrie,” he rasped.
“Zach,” she said playfully, not willing to venture into the serious territory that his voice was hinting at.
He nipped her lower lip, a swift penance for her teasing. It was one of the things she liked about him most. His body spoke so clearly on a level she understood instinctively. How did he do that? She’d never had the back-and-forth with a guy the way she did with him.
“Are you going to put me down?” she asked.
He gave her a small smirk of a smile before lifting her up and off him, setting her on her own two feet and lifting his palms in the air. She immediately had to grab his arm for balance, her legs shaky and weak from hanging on.
He chuckled.
“Jerk.”
His gaze turned dark and dangerous. Her breath caught and then she was airborne, cradled in his strong arms as he carried her to the bedroom.
“You can’t possibly do it again so soon,” she told him.
“You can.”
“By myself?”
“I’m gonna find out how many orgasms I can get out of you.”
She shivered.
His voice dropped to the deep honey tone that made her crazy with lust. “I’m guessing twenty.”
“N-no. No way.”
“Now you’re calling me out. Gotta prove myself.”
She squeaked. It was all she could manage at the prospect. But the level of trust she had in him meant she had no reason to tell him no.
He set her down on the mattress, settling next to her, lying on his side. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment before his hand settled between her legs. She arched off the mattress, still sensitive.
“Easy,” he crooned in her ear.
She moaned as he stroked her softly, building it up again. His deep voice in her ear, urging her on with the kind of filthy talk she’d never heard spoken out loud in her life. He kept surprising her. She stiffened suddenly and then arched into his hand as the climax hit, deeper than before.
“How many you got in you?” he whispered in her ear.
She couldn’t speak. Lost in a haze.
At his mercy.
Again and again.
Until she went limp. Completely spent.
“Damn,” he said. “Only three. I’ll have to build you up for more.”
“It was five. Two in the living room.” She curled on her side and pulled the blanket over her.
He ripped it off.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, turning to face him. “Gimme that.”
“My turn. Now you’re gonna be my reverse cowgirl. You’ll like it.”
She moaned, not sure if she could take much more. He left for a moment, probably to clean up and get another condom, he respected her hard line about that. He respected her. An unexpected well of emotion had her tearing up. He returned, joining her in bed, and she reached for him, pulling him close in a tight hug, lying side by side. They had less than a week left.
After a few moments, she lifted her gaze to his. “Tell me what to do.” Reverse cowgirl was one of his off-list requests.
His lips quirked to the side. “That might be my favorite thing you say.” He rolled to his back. “Sit up and turn around.”
She did and he lifted her up and then over him. She straddled him automatically, her back to him. “Oh, I get it!” she exclaimed and then gasped when he pulled her down fully onto him. She moaned loudly as her aching throbbing core took him at a different angle. He controlled her movements, holding her by the hips, taking her slow and deep. It was all too much, her body clenching down around him, her breath shallow, incredible pleasure, on and on and on, and then she was coming, a ragged cry wrenched from her throat.
He slapped her ass lightly. “More.”
She swore and he tightened his grip on her hips, making her take more, over and over, soft cries escaping as he took her to a place of dark pulsing pleasure. Finally when she thought she couldn’t take any more, completely spent, he stil
led her, loosening his hold on her hips.
“Ride me, Carrie. Fast or slow as you want.”
She started slow, but then it felt so good, she went faster and faster in an exhilarating ride. And then they were both climaxing, their voices rising together in ecstasy. She wanted to collapse, but Zach had a tight hold on her, holding her in place.
“Zach?”
He lifted her off him and set her on the bed. Then he turned her, lifting her again to settle her on top of him, chest to chest. His arms wrapped around her, giving her what she needed once more. It was that primal language they had. Or maybe it was just him. He seemed to know what she needed without her spelling it out. She wondered what the chances were of finding another man who spoke her language.
And then she dozed off, safe in his arms.
Chapter Ten
Zach was so relieved to have Carrie back in his arms, he immediately decided not to give another thought to a relationship and to just enjoy all that she freely gave him. His only concession to relationship territory was to go through with his promise from this morning to share a bed with her. He honored his promises, a point of pride for him, even though he knew he’d sleep like crap. He needed his space to sleep. Not even a relationship would’ve changed that fact.
Of course, that meant he’d had to exhaust them both. It was the only way he’d get any sleep. He wanted her out cold with no chance of even trying to cuddle him. Nothing worse than peeling off a cuddler. They always took offense.
He’d started the night with a wallbanger, made her come three more times, and then put her in her first reverse cowgirl. She took to it like a champion rider.
Now he looked down at her sleeping on top of him. He knew he’d pushed her pretty far on the exhaustion scale, but it wasn’t yet midnight. She’d probably want more in a couple of hours. He’d rather they go straight through to mutual exhaustion and then sleep.
Fifteen minutes later, he woke her up. She protested, snuggling into his chest, so he just slid her off him to the mattress. She didn’t like that.
She sat up, pouting and blinking at him, looking put-out and sexy as all hell. He sat up and slowly leaned in, watching her eyes close before he nipped and then sucked on her bottom lip. Her hands started roaming all over his chest. She was so easy to get going.
“C’mon.” He got out of bed.
“Where’re we going? I’m comfortable here.”
He waited.
She grabbed the blanket, got out of bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
He pulled the blanket off her in a quick jerk and tossed it back on the bed.
“Hey!” she protested.
“I’ll keep you warm.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked with her to the living room.
Then they watched a movie.
He might’ve made her come a few times during the kissing scenes. It was a chick flick.
Finally it was nearly two a.m. and they were both back in bed, not sleeping. He was tired; she was tired. It should have been ideal. Unfortunately, after nine straight days of requesting and getting what was on her wish list, Carrie had become comfortable enough with him to make some demands off list.
“Spoon me,” she said, curling on her side and scooting right up against his side where he lay on his back.
“You’re a cover hog,” he informed her.
“I am?” She rolled to her back and looked at him.
“Yeah.”
“Here.” She tossed the blanket over him, then pulled it until it covered him and hung over the other side of the bed.
“Now you’ll be cold.”
“That’s why you have to spoon me.” She rolled to her side, naked with no blanket at all, and pressed her back against his side.
He let out something that would’ve been a sigh from someone less bad boy than himself. “Babe.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Babe?”
“I’m not a cuddler. I’m a lone wolf.”
She giggled and rolled toward him, throwing an arm and leg over him and settling her head on his chest. “Then I’ll cuddle you. Now you’re a cuddled wolf.”
He lay there, enjoying her soft curves pressed against him, knowing he was never going to get to sleep. He turned off the light on the nightstand and prepared for a long night. Maybe he could do some brainstorming for his long-neglected book.
She lifted her head. “Close your eyes.”
“They’re closed.”
“I can see the whites of them.”
“Then you should close your eyes.”
She rubbed his chest. “Why aren’t you a cuddler?”
“Don’t know.”
“You’ve never slept with a woman in your bed?”
“They sleep. I don’t.”
“What can I do to make it easier?”
He couldn’t think of anything. His plan to exhaust them both hadn’t worked. He was exhausted, though. No surprise he’d made so little progress with his book. Carrie was a full body and mind workout. He thought about her way too much. She was never far from his mind, stuff she said floating through his brain or her beauty in different lights. Like in the morning light her hair rumpled from him, sweetly sleepy, looking for her coffee. He was aware he was entering mushy territory but too tired to guard against it.
“Tell me about yourself,” she whispered.
He tensed. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you meet up with the Campbells?”
He relaxed. “Their dad, Joe, was coach of the basketball team at the Police Athletic League. Ethan wanted me to play since I was tall.”
“You didn’t want to play?”
“I wasn’t into sports, but Ethan was persistent. Turns out it’s easy to be good at basketball when you’re the closest one to the net.”
“How old were you?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
“Nine.”
She sighed, her breath fanning over his chest. “I always wished I was tall.”
“You’re perfect.” He instantly regretted his sappy words. He understood he was on a time limit with her. But the more time he spent with her, the more he thought she was the most perfect ideal woman he’d ever met.
“Zach?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes you surprise me with…sweetness.”
He grunted. She wouldn’t think he had much sweetness if she knew where he came from or how he’d pretended to be something he wasn’t just to be with her. His chest tightened, gut churning with the shame he could never fully push down. He’s a bad seed. You can’t trust him. Sneaky, a liar and a thief.
“What was your troubled past?” she asked, startling him. It was like she’d read his mind. “Tell me your story.”
“Who said I had a troubled past?”
“All of the guys close to the Campbells do.” She lifted her head and ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
He gave her part of it. “I was a repeat runaway from foster homes. I stole cash and food.” He left out that his parents were in organized crime. He didn’t like the association it put in people’s minds and especially didn’t want it in her mind. Carrie thought he was a bad boy with a little sweet on top and he was mostly okay with that.
“Oh, Zach.” She gave him a squeeze around the middle. “That must’ve been scary for a little kid to be on the street. Of course you’d need to steal cash and food to survive. How old were you?”
“Started when I was six—”
“Omigod! Six!”
“I was fine. Street smart.”
“You were lucky.” She climbed on top of him and hugged him full body, her head on his chest, her arms and legs squeezing his sides.
He cupped her head and wrapped an arm around her waist.
She propped her hands on his chest and looked up at him. “Why did you keep running away? Were the foster homes bad?”
He pushed her soft hair out of her face. “They weren’t all bad.
Sometimes the other kids were worse than the caregivers. Tough, violent, cruel.” She dropped her head on his chest and hugged him tight again. “Anyway, I ran away to find my real mom. By the time I met Joe Campbell, I was nine. He looked into it for me, found out she was dead and helped me settle into my last foster home. His house was like a second home. I spent most of my time there.”
She held onto him in the longest hug of his life, probably trying to comfort him.
“Carrie, I’m fine now. Really. Joe turned things around for me.” She kept right on hugging him. “Tell me your troubled past,” he said to lighten the mood. He knew she’d had a good life so far. It was written all over her expressive face. She was open and enthusiastic, not beaten down by life.
She shifted to his side, one arm and leg over him and then reached up to adjust his arm around her shoulders. Bit of a forced cuddler, but he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. “My biggest heartache was wasting time on my ex, but I guess that pales in comparison to what you went through. I had a very normal middle-class childhood. My mom was a nurse, my dad a pilot, my older brother was already in college when I was born. I was a surprise baby, but even that wasn’t bad. They all doted on me.”
He kissed her hair. “I could tell.”
“Why? Do I seem spoiled?”
“No. You just seem like someone who knows they’re loved, who knows where she comes from, and has the confidence to take a few chances.”
“Like with you,” she said with a laugh. “Taking a chance showing my wish list to a bad boy.”
He clenched his jaw. It wouldn’t be long before she moved on. He’d been lucky to have her as long as he had. Lucky to have her at all, really. It made him question why he’d been working so hard these past years when the best things in his life hadn’t been any work at all, just random dumb luck. Meeting her, meeting Ethan, meeting the Campbells. It suddenly occurred to him the best things in his life weren’t the things he thought made him important, rising above his past—his teaching job, academic accomplishments, or even his research. It was the people he’d met. And he’d made very little time in his life for them. It all went back to his lone-wolf nature, he supposed. Kinda sucked for him and the people around him, Carrie included. It was good she wouldn’t be around long enough to get hurt.
Bad Boy Done Wrong Page 10
