He pressed his mouth to the heart and sucked lightly on her skin.
A ragged cry escaped her and he lifted his head.
Her pale skin was flushed and her eyes glittered.
Control fraying, he caught her face in his hands and hauled her closer, slanting his mouth over hers.
She opened for him, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he drank from her.
Dying of thirst, for her. Desperate for her.
Keelie.
She wrapped her legs around him again and this time, he banded his arm around her, until there was no room between them, no room, no air. All he could feel was the heat of her. She was already wet, he could feel it through their clothes, and the few threads of control he had left started to snap.
“Zane . . .” Her voice broke.
Snarling, he tangled his hand in her hair and arched her head back, baring her throat. She cried out as he raked his teeth down the soft, sensitive column.
She clung to him, wrapped around him and arched—
A warning chill race downed his spine.
His balls went tight.
Fuck. “Keelie,” he muttered, lifting his head.
Her eyes were locked on his, half-mindless, and she squirmed and wiggled, the tension in her body ramping up. A flush swept up her neck and he felt that tension spread out through him even as his cock jerked, throbbed—
He was going to lose it. In his fucking pants, like a kid—
“Please . . .” The whisper ripped out of her, broken and full of need.
Well, hell.
Drawing her back against him, he changed the angle of his hips and moved again, just once—
Her eyes flew wide and she cried out his name, her nails digging into the knotted muscles of his biceps as she came.
Sensation reverberated down his spine as she shuddered and moved against him, still riding the edge of her climax. Zane groaned and buried his face in her neck.
Yeah, the idea of maintaining some level of control had just flown right out the damn window.
* * *
Panting for breath, her head resting on his shoulder, Keelie tried to process just what had happened.
Her mouth was dry.
Her heart was racing.
One of his hands smoothed up her back and she shivered. He had rough hands, and the feel of those calluses along her hypersensitive skin was just one more torment.
Just what the hell . . .
“I don’t know about you, but I probably need to go take a shower.”
She blinked.
As he lifted his head, she went to cross her arms over her chest except that seemed kind of stupid just then.
So she kept her hands limp at her sides as she looked at him.
“A shower?” she asked dumbly.
A wry grin twisted his lips, his eyes more than a little unfocused as he glanced down at himself. “Yeah. A shower.”
Automatically, she glanced down and then jerked her gaze back up at the sight of the wet stain along the front of his pants.
“What . . . you . . . oh.”
He laughed, and when she would have looked away, he hooked his arms over her shoulders. “You went and turned me into a sixteen-year-old boy, Keelie. I’m the one who should be all embarrassed and blushing.”
“Ah . . .”
He nuzzled her neck and then murmured, “I kind of need a favor.”
He sounded . . . softer.
Zane was always so controlled and calm, polite with it, but almost . . . rigid. Now he sounded sleepy and warm and she just wanted to cuddle up against him and sleep.
But he said he needed a favor.
She didn’t let herself tense up.
She’d stopped trusting guys—if she’d ever trusted them—a long time ago. There were a very, very few exceptions. But . . . this was Zane.
He was watching her with a patient, almost knowing look and she had to fight the urge to cringe as he reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I seem to have misplaced my glasses. Can you help me find them?”
She blinked.
“Is that . . . that’s all you need?”
He pushed a hand through her hair. “Well, I’d love to find a way to solve world hunger, but I’ll settle for my glasses. For now, at least. And maybe that shower, with you.”
* * *
It was too warm in the bed, too warm, and too comfortable, and the last thing she wanted to do was move. But the light coming through the windows was shining right in her face.
The light.
That wasn’t right.
And the bed . . .
Swallowing, she let her brain process things for just a few seconds. She wasn’t in her bed. Okay.
She wasn’t naked. That was good.
It was an old terror and one she was starting to think she’d never get past.
But she wasn’t at home either—
Memory surged back.
The airport. Dinner. Zane.
Then Zach—
And . . . Zane again. She’d come over to apologize.
I just want to know if this matters.
His hands on her.
Every moment from the past night slammed into her mind, all too clear, the memory of him all too potent. Especially the feel of his hands on her, the taste of his mouth—and the way he’d looked at her.
He looked at her like she meant something.
And he wanted to know if this mattered?
How could she possibly tell him that this was starting to matter too much?
That he was starting to terrify her, all because of how much this mattered?
Her heart gave one hard, heavy slam against her ribs and she thought maybe all the air in the room disappeared as she let herself ponder that very thing—how much did this matter?
Oh, shit.
Now her heart started to race, too hard, too fast, and she couldn’t pull in the oxygen she desperately needed. Gripping the sheet in her sweaty palm, she closed her eyes tight, squeezed them shut. Get a grip. She had to calm down, because if she rolled over and he was in the bed behind her and caught a look at her now, he’d see everything she was thinking, everything she was feeling, and there was no way she could explain away her sudden, inexplicable panic.
She didn’t entirely understand it, although she knew the root of it.
There were things she wasn’t ready to tell Zane. Not now. Not yet. Maybe sometime. Maybe.
She forced herself to take one slow, shallow breath. When that worked, she managed another and the band around her chest eased. Good. That was good.
Okay. Another breath. Then she popped an eye open. Slowly, she sat up and looked around. The room was empty.
A momentary reprieve.
Swiping a hand through the tangle of her hair, she licked her lips. She could do this. So what if this was the first time she’d ever spent the night through with a guy—and they hadn’t even had sex. She could look at him, face him, talk to him.
Because yes, he did matter.
This mattered.
The cold knot of fear in her chest slowly unraveled and a smile spread across her face.
It mattered.
She mattered.
Without her truly realizing how it had happened, one of those ugly little threads of her past shriveled, snapped, broke. The chains that bound her didn’t lessen all that much, but it was a start. Maybe just a small one, but that didn’t matter.
Keelie had always been good at making do with small bits and pieces.
A second later, the floor creaked and then Zane was there, leaning against the wall, dressed in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, his face clean shaven, glasses firmly in place.
He looked alert and awake and aware . . .
She just wanted to bite him.
Her mouth started to water.
Heart racing, she stood up and turned to face him. The T-shirt she’d slept in fell halfway down her thighs, but she s
till felt exposed. Of course, standing there half-naked, facing this guy who had rocked her straight in the most explosive orgasm of her life wasn’t exactly going to make her feel steady.
“Morning,” she said, tripping over the word.
He lifted a brow and then a slow, easy smile curled his lips. “Good morning, Keelie. I called for some food. There’s next to nothing here and I’m starving.”
She licked her lips. “Ah, that’s . . . well, I have to . . .”
“In a hurry?” The bland look on his face made her feel foolish.
She’d spent the night. He’d made her come. Apparently, she’d done the same for him. Then they’d showered. And they hadn’t had sex. She almost felt sort of cheated. If she was going to feel all guilty and awkward, couldn’t they have at least had sex?
“No.” Nervous, she shoved her hair back. “I’m not in a hurry.”
He came toward her. “Good.”
She held still as he reached up, stroking a finger across her lower lip. When he went to lower his head to kiss her, she averted her face. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“I don’t care.” He caught her lower lip, bit her lightly.
Her heart did a slow, lazy roll in her chest as he caught her close and smoothed his hands down her back, tucking her up against him. Then he just held her. One hand curved along the back of her neck, cradled her up against his chest, while the other curved along the small of her back.
Closing her eyes, she sighed and leaned against him.
He felt so warm.
It was possible to be cold for so long that you simply forgot you were cold, she realized. And now, pressed against his warmth, she felt something almost painful—those cold places, slowly thawing. It hurt, even as something sweet and blissful spread through her.
Tears pricked her eyes and she pressed against his chest.
She needed a few minutes alone, before she started to cry right there.
“I need a minute,” she said, and it took every bit of willpower she had to give him an easy smile.
His hands fell away and she kept her movements fluid and her steps unhurried until she was in the bathroom. Then, after she’d shut and locked the door behind her, she leaned against it as that tingling, painful ache spread throughout her entire soul.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she sighed.
“I think you’re in trouble here, Keelie.”
* * *
Zane had a lifetime of practice when it came to hiding his emotions. If his parents had any idea of some of the shit he’d hidden from them, some of the secrets he never planned on sharing with anybody . . . well. Suffice it to say that things wouldn’t be pleasant if any of that came out. His mother would never let him hear the end of it and she’d maybe go on a maternal rampage, even now, more than twenty years later.
But he’d kept secrets and he’d kept them well.
He’d hidden his feelings and hidden them well.
Now he had to do it all over again. The door opened and Keelie came out, still wearing the T-shirt she’d slept in. It was his and he was going to bronze it, or maybe sleep with that damn thing, because it would smell like her . . .
“Can I borrow the shirt?” she asked, tearing him out of his fantasy.
He blinked. “Ah. Yeah.” Okay. Keelie walking around wearing his shirt did something to his brain that just wasn’t conducive to conversation, but he managed a fairly normal smile as he picked up his coffee. “There’s coffee.”
Keelie gave him a grateful smile. “I need it.”
Her hands closed around the cup and she lifted it up to her lips.
He watched, practically mesmerized as she took a sip. A soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, escaped her.
His dick hardened.
How in the hell could she get him worked up just by drinking coffee?
Blood throbbed, pulsed in his veins as she took another sip and then moved over to the bar. The worn cotton of the T-shirt he’d given her slid over her slight curves. The fabric was all but shapeless from years of use, wearing it to the gym, on hikes, but the body under that shirt was anything but shapeless. Her shoulders, the line of her back, how she settled on one of the stools.
“So . . .” she drew the word out. The seriousness of it managed to break through the cloud in his head.
He settled on the stool next to hers, then caught her waist, hauled her into his lap. She yelped and then grabbed his hands, twisting her head around to look at him.
“Our date was shot to hell,” he said, staring into wide, startled eyes.
“Well . . .”
Dipping his head, he caught her lower lip, bit down.
She shivered against him.
“It was shot to hell. But I’ll have you know, I didn’t punch Zach. I wanted to.”
When he lifted his head, she blinked at him. “Ah . . . just where are you going with this?”
“I’m just explaining that I didn’t hit him, even though he was a stupid asshole.”
Keelie lifted a brow, an elegant arch over the pale blue of her eye. “Zane, from what I understand, you enjoy hitting him. I doubt y’all need reasons to fight. But I appreciate the self-control.”
He reached up, stroked the tip of his finger across her eyebrow. “We have to try the date thing again. Since last night flopped.”
“Well.” She shifted on the stool, wiggling around until she could wrap her arms around him.
His brain went into a slow, complete meltdown as she draped her arms around his neck, her hip tucked against his cock. But that wasn’t the worst. A fist reached up, grabbed him by the throat as she settled her head on his chest. “I don’t think it was a total flop. Not really. The end of the night wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Closing his eyes, he rested his head on hers. Hell. I love you.
The words almost escaped him then.
But he knew she wasn’t ready. She thought she hid it, but he’d seen the fear, the nerves. He wasn’t going to risk scaring her now. “No,” he murmured. “The rest of the night wasn’t so bad.”
He settled his hand on her hip, fighting the urge to grab her, hold on tight, so tight she’d never be able to get free. “Still. We should have that real date. Without my brother. Without Abby. No interruptions. How about I make you dinner . . . here.”
“Dinner.” She lifted her head, studied him. “You cook?”
Stroking a finger along her cheek, he smiled. “Yeah. I cook. You’d probably be amazed.”
“Anybody who can do anything more complicated than mac-n-cheese or a pizza from the freezer amazes me.”
“Please. I passed that level before I was in high school. Mom made sure of it. Only one of the boys failed the mom test—Seb.” He curved his hand over the back of her neck. “Zach got stuck on anything more basic than breakfast, but Trey and I do pretty well. And Travis . . . well, he could give Abby a run for her money if he really wanted to.”
“Then maybe you should have Travis cook.” She gave him an innocent smile.
He bit her lip, licked her. “No. It’s just us.”
Chapter Eight
“I like the third one.”
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Keelie was focused on ignoring it.
So far, Zane and Zach were doing the same thing, although Zane had his hand on her spine as the three of them studied the web templates Zane had put together for Steel Ink’s new site.
Web design wasn’t particularly Zane’s milieu, but he’d designed his own and if he did this one, he’d be able to showcase the photographs he’d be taking to their absolute best. It was, in short, a good starting point, he’d told Keelie when they met at the shop.
And she didn’t care if it was his ideal job or not—she’d get on her knees and beg if it would get them something better than the eyesore they had.
Looking over at Zach, she lifted a brow. “What about you?”
He shrugged, eyes narrowed, as he stroked his
thumb along his chin. “Torn between the second and third. The first one is out.”
“Agreed.” She nodded. “You’ll have people pulling it up on their phones. I do. Plenty still don’t like the mobile layouts. I think that will be the easiest to still get a good layout on a phone.”
Zach shot Zane a look and he nodded. “Both will have a mobile layout but some people just don’t like it that way. The second template isn’t going to show up as well if somebody is trying to view it on a phone, or even a tablet.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Zach nodded. “Fine.”
Zane hit a button and the images spread across the wall changed from templates to tattoos, but they weren’t the basic pictures currently displayed on the website or out in the shop. “These are what we’ve got so far. I can do more while I’m here. Maybe you can offer a discount to those willing to let me get some shots either while the designs are being done or right after, whatever, if you want to build a larger gallery to display.” Several images, all professional, all beautiful, flowed across the screen. “I’ve got images of you, Javi.”
He paused and looked at Keelie. “We need a few for the female customer base.”
She made a face at him. “I don’t do pictures.”
“Don’t trust me?” He lifted a brow.
“I don’t like seeing my face out there.”
He shrugged. “Nobody said your face had to be on them. I can focus solely on the designs. People would never know it was you. Like . . .” He stopped and showed a cute little dragonfly, perched on the pale white curve of a woman’s hip.
A soft growl escaped Zach. “When did she let you take that?”
Keelie glanced at Zach and then Zane, saw the glint in his eyes. “Aw, come on, man. You know Abby is like my kid sister. I told her we needed to get some images for the women’s gallery. She was in her swimsuit when I took it. Relax.”
“Fuck you,” Zach said, shortly.
Zane just smiled, a cool twist of his lips before he shifted his attention back to Keelie. “What do you say? The rose on your neck, maybe? I guarantee nobody would see your face.”
Razed Page 13
