I may have lost him once, but he will always be the one. The one who sneaks into my mind when I’m at my lowest, the one who ponders on the back of my mind and forces me to wonder the what ifs of what life could have been. Zane will always be the one I won’t ever let my father completely know about. He’ll never know how close to fleeing I was or how much Zane knows about the running of the family.
As I take another look at him, one thing I struggle to remember is my destiny – don’t feel, don’t deviate, kill Zane Maverick. It fades to the background until its howl is nothing more than golden silence. It’s all completely forgotten when Zane’s beaming expression looks up at me.
“You going to have a go, Princess?” he teases with a nickname and nods to the plot next to him.
“Prepare to lose,” I threaten and with a bit of sass, I put the club upon my shoulder and march to my own area. I slot the card into the reader to enable my horde of golf balls to become available. As I ready for the first, I block Zane’s watchfulness from my mind and take a haphazard swing – and miss.
I forgot how fucking awful I was at golf.
I break down into an instant nervous giggle, the embarrassment filtering into my system. I make attempt number two and fail; by number three, I’m biting my lip and looking over my shoulder to see Zane in a fit of silent laughter. He always found my awfulness at this sport a hilarity, why would I change a habit of a lifetime?
"Here, let me help you," Zane comments and places his own club into his bag.
He comes to stand behind me, cloaking me with his body. He slides his hands down my arms slowly, and sensually, until he reaches my wrist. His hands turn gently to cover mine and wrap around the top of the golf club.
"You make sure you've got a really tight grip so it doesn't slip from your grasp when you give it a swing," he teaches me patiently, his hands deliberately giving a demonstration of how to grip properly. "Then you make sure your legs are placed evenly apart." He releases my hands only to run his hand down my thigh to push my legs apart. "I know you can open wide, Amelia, don't put up a fight now."
I giggle and obey him. I sidle my feet a little more until he puts his hand up to stop. Resuming his position, Zane's hand curls back into place and he stands up a little to allow me to straighten my back. With ease, he pulls my hands and the club back a few inches, moving back to make sure the aim is adjusted correctly before he forces me to take a full-bodied swing. The ball flies from the tee with ease, and I know I want to try on my own now.
“Let me try that without your help,” I command, shaking him off. He made it seem easy; it’s time to try it without his guidance. He releases me, taking a few appreciated steps back. My cockiness overrides all other talents, and I ready myself alone this time. I do as he had shown, take the swing, but the ball doesn’t go nearly as far.
“Your footing’s wrong; it’s making your body twist wrong,” he guides gently from the sidelines.
“Okay,” I tell him and listen. I correct my body and line my club up with the side of the golf ball. I make sure my body is fine while running through a list of mental notes. I check my aim and then take a swing. This time, when the side of my favorite club hits the white ball, it forces the small sphere to shoot off with a hasty speed. And it carries on going nearly to the end of the range before it drops with lost momentum.
I watch as my ball flies through the air, only landing a few feet from where Zane’s had last landed. I jump around and then fling myself at him. I jump excitedly again, squealing as I do so. Then the realization hits me so coldly, I slow until I’m just holding onto him. Slowly, I pull myself away from him, my arms not wanting to release him completely. All my senses come to life with just the proximity of our bodies. The harshness I had toward him never entered the building today, stolen by my father’s prior acts. I entered this place vulnerable and led wholly by my heart, and for once, I didn’t care.
I look straight into his eyes, and there’s a forced silence between us for a moment. We just stare and forget about what we were doing. I long to kiss him, but I can’t give into this. I can’t allow myself to get deeper than I already am.
I realize I’m a drowning mess. It’s a beautiful death I’ve enlisted and each delicate breath he steals from me is a delightful giving. Zane can have every part of me – my heart, my mind, my body. Everything that makes me human is his and everything that makes me the woman who loves him is his, too. Sadly, the consequence of that means he also gets the death warrant signed in blood by my father.
It’s as we stand together that I hear a faint murmur of music in the background. It draws me back to where we are and reminds me that this isn’t a forever state. We both look out and see a boat, dressed up to the nines for a party. The music is pumping already. The tune is faint and just melodic, but I remember hearing this before. I go to part completely from him, but Zane resists, his arms constricting my waist.
“Remember that first night?” Zane asks, obviously identifying the music. “We slowed danced in the middle of that party to this song. It felt like no one else was around us. It was just you and me.” He gives a solemn smile, an act he seems to have mastered when he remembers what we used to have. “I knew then, that everything you made me feel was because it was right.”
“But it wasn’t, was it?” I ask back in all but a whisper. “It felt so right that you had to leave me.” Again, my eyes water, and I don’t think he quite understands how I barely survived that day. Nor does he realize that his mistakes have made him a marked man. “I won’t ever forget that day, Zane.”
“Then don’t,” he comments back. “Remember it well, Amelia, because I am not that man anymore.” He leans his head forward, placing his forehead to mine. “Let’s try again.”
“It’s not that simple,” I tell him gently. “I want nothing more than to do that, but I have to protect myself.”
It makes this all so much harder when I know that I have to place an ever-growing bounty upon his head. He doesn’t know what fate he gave himself, and he can’t save himself now with trying to tell me he’s changed. Salvatore Abbiati doesn’t believe in second chances like I do, and after last night I remind myself that even I’m expendable to the family.
“Then we’ll have to have another date,” he remarks and releases me entirely. He takes the club from my hands and tucks it away in his bag. He grabs his playing card and his bag and walks over to mine and grabs it. “Because there will be others.”
I don’t argue, just ponder the thought of that. We walk back into the building, he puts the cards near the front desk, and we leave together. I wait diligently as he locks up, and I try really hard not to divulge what’s on my mind. I don’t want to blurt out that I don’t want this to end right now. When he’s locked up, he tells me to wait while he goes to find the security guard and I stand stock still, trying to control my ravaging emotions.
As he comes back, he gestures for me to walk out to the parking lot with him. I linger a little at Zane's side, even to the point of following toward his black SUV. He unlocks the doors, as we get closer, and goes to the back to open the trunk. He throws the clubs in, slamming the door promptly closed.
"So, is this where we separate?" Zane asks, and he barely finds it in him to look at me. "You run back to that Abbiati mansion and I await your call again?"
I give off a small chuckle and shake my head. "You've got me for the rest of the evening.” But then my nerves hit me. "If you want me, that is?"
Just at the sound of that comment, his eyes begin to twinkle. Butterflies burst to life so vibrantly within me; I feel their wings tickle the sides of my rib cage, trying anything for a full life at liberation. It’s been so long since I felt anything like this, and as much as I want to shy away and forget about it, I can’t.
Go on a date with Zane, Amelia. Allow yourself to be twenty-three and in love, for Christ’s sake. Enzo’s words resonate loudly in my mind, and I decide to throw all caution to the wind for a moment.
“A
ctually, I don’t care if you don’t want me, you’re stuck with me for tonight,” I decide for him.
“Now, now, Sweetheart, we know that’s not going to be any great hardship.” He takes a cautious step forward, shortening the gap between us. When I don’t cower or argue, he closes it completely. “This is what I’ve been after all night. Are you finally giving into my sweet will?”
“I’m not giving in,” I counter as I try to keep myself headstrong and remain on top of the alpha. I want to run this show, allow him to realize I’m no longer than same girl. “I’m just needy.”
His chuckle is so hearty, and I love the way his eyes close with the gesture. “You wouldn’t know needy if it came and fucked you senseless, Amelia. You’re just a highly sensual woman.” He moves closer and the electricity sparks between us. “Now let’s really run this show right,” he begins and before I know it, he has me moving backwards. He pins me to the side of his car, much like our last meeting. I swallow hard as my heart pounds fiercely and I tentatively force myself to look up at him. I’m pretty sure Zane would laugh if he could feel my heart hammering a million to the dozen.
“This has been a long time coming,” he admonishes, his hands skimming along the lines of my waist and hips. They graze along my clothing before he finds access to push them up to feel skin. His hands go over my jeans and electrify the skin under my shirt.
The feeling is so familiar, but at the same time, so unlike anything I’ve felt in so long. He imprints across me, and before I know it, his lips are on mine and we’re kissing under the incoming evening sky. There’s no care for the publicity of it or the greed in which we enjoy one another.
Then my mantra spurs to life – don’t feel, don’t deviate, kill Zane Maverick. The noise of my own evil motto forces me to hesitate and push him away. I’ve felt, I’ve deviated, and if I continue, there is no way I can kill Zane Maverick.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his hands slipping out from under my clothing.
“This,” I choke, striving for the freedom to breathe. “We can’t do this.”
He looks at me aghast and horrified at my sudden need to backpedal. “Why not?”
Because I’m meant to murder you, doesn’t seem like the right response on our second meeting in so long. My mind goes ballistic with ideas, and I try to keep my response short and precise without giving too much away.
“One night with me will be bad for your health.”
He chuckles, not giving up at the sound of that comment. “I’ve been known to be a daring bastard, Sweetheart. I’m willing to take the risk.”
“No,” I beg and push him away. “We can’t.”
“Amelia,” he tries without conceding easily. His hand comes to graze along my jaw with ease, and I’m forced to keep my attention on him. He won’t allow me to look elsewhere. “You clearly feel something is worth saving or you wouldn’t have given this a chance. You wouldn’t have bothered calling. You’d have put up as much of a fight as you did the other day. I know how stubborn you can be, Amelia, so why did you really call me today? Be honest with yourself, too.”
On the one hand, I called so I could gauge some way of killing him. On the other, I wanted to spend time with him like I used to. That gaping void in me needed forgetting for one evening. I needed to just feel alive. It’s what makes this all laughable - Zane makes me feel so alive, but I’m the one who will, ultimately, steal his final breath. This is becoming a much more cruel existence to live in.
This is like when we kiss, a storm rises. It rolls through me before making an almighty, thunderous boom in my heart. The ash and dust it catapults around me are full of emotional rubble that I find to be toxic and too alluring. I want to remain in this explosive state, but I don’t want to deal with the aftermath that is to come.
“I fucking want you so bad,” Zane grounds out, and from beside me, he wrenches the door to the back of his car open. “I need to be inside you, Amelia. No one, but you. I want to be buried so deep in you that you forget what I ever did. I just want you to remember who really fucking loves you.”
I take this as my time to take some control. I grip onto his t-shirt and spin him around so his back is to the inside of his car. “Get in before I change my mind and don’t give you this opportunity.”
He listens and rushes into the backseat. He kicks his boots away and as he pushes himself along the leather seats, he undoes his belt buckle and forces it open along with his jeans. I kneel upon the corner and pull the door shut, and quickly getting rid of my shirt. Thankfully, the back of his car is bigger than the back of mine!
I crawl over toward him, trying to get him as aroused as possible with every given moment. I lick my lips with anticipation and straddle his barely covered lap. Toying with the hem of his shirt, I begin to push it up his body, displaying his ripped abs. As I push higher, I begin to lean forward and plant delicate kisses to him. I kiss his chest as I force his t-shirt over his arms and head and toss it to the front of the car. I course over his tattooed chest, kissing every inch of skin possible. I reacquaint myself to the inked images, and the warmth of his skin, and as I reach it, the heavy beating of his heart, I lift away, now noticing his tattoos have multiplied since the last time I was with him. He has a tribal pattern down his right arm and across his shoulder. However, before it never covered much of his chest, and now it does. Zane doesn’t move as my eyes graze the artwork, my fingertips following the same path.
Then I freeze.
My fingers stop right above his heart, where a new, simple tattoo sits etched into his skin as a permanent reminder that I was once his. My name is scrawled upon him like some adorned medal of honor, surrounded by the protectiveness of yet more tribal patterns and symbols. I struggle to inhale breath, and my eyes water. I look up at Zane’s face, and he looks at me with tenderness.
“It’s always going to be you,” he whispers and reaches out to cup my face. “I just needed that reminder of what a stupid ass I was. It’s there every time I look in the mirror as a reminder of what I let go.” He gives a tiny sad chuckle. “Of what I know I don’t deserve.”
My eyes water heavier than ever. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” My argument mirrors his, and I’m at a loss for words. We’re both in this sorry mess because we both felt like we wronged the other.
Sitting here, half dressed, my jeans undone ready to make love to Zane, my top discarded across the back of the driver’s seat, and I find myself attacked from all angles by my father’s fated duties. I don’t deserve this man’s love when I have one goal in mind – master the kill. I know it won’t happen here – not tonight – but it will and one day soon.
It’s a constant battle I have with myself.
I find myself needing to leave. He grips my waist pulling me onto him more, preventing me from moving far.
“We could be so different this time, Amelia. We were meant to meet up. Like fate bringing you back to me,” he says. The voice from within beckons forth and tells me it’s my father’s doing that we were forced to meet again, not fate. “Amelia, I’m a lot of things because of my wrongdoings, a lot of things I’ll admit to, but loving you is something I want to say I can do right.”
I shake my head fiercely, trying to forget all of the wonderful things he’s said to me. “We’ll never be much more than this,” I claim and try to still myself from cracking in half and revealing myself an absolute fucking liar.
“Then give me tonight.” His voice begs, his eyes plead, and his hands tighten upon my waist. “It’s a simple request. Just cave for tonight, and I’ll back off.”
“Fuck it.” I succumb to the greed.
I move closer to him again, landing upon his chest and find my lips meeting his in a bittersweet union. Both of us no longer yield our feelings; we fall into them with a roughness only heightened by our hunger for one another. The eighteen months we had apart being a driving force we fight to find ourselves.
I find myself too constricted in my jeans, and I pull away
long enough to push them away, deliberately forcing my panties down with them. The only piece of clothing I have on is my bra, and I can see that Zane is itching to free himself of his boxers and take me completely. I grin wickedly and reach behind me, undoing my bra and slipping the straps down my arms in a slower motion, but stop to press the lace material against my breast and hinder the provocation.
“Don’t be a fucking tease, Amelia. Baby, I can’t take it,” he practically whines at me with sudden desperation as I keep my bra clasped against my chest.
I tilt my head to the side. “What do you mean, don’t be a tease? You always thought it was my middle name.”
I see him rub himself, trying to ease the sudden tightness in his boxers. “Sweetheart, I’m still convinced it is.”
“It is,” I reprove and drop my bra, sitting before him entirely naked for the first time in over a year.
“Fuck,” he breathes and lifts up to force his boxers down.
“Stop,” I command, as he goes to grab me, and I just offer him that same grin. He sits back, and I reposition myself so I have a perfect spot to lean down and give him a blowjob. My heart races with exhilaration and as I reach for his already erect penis, my sensuality comes to play. I give one last look up at him before I kiss the tip, lick around it, and grip it tight. I remember just how he likes it and how to push him to his barest limit. I hear him groan and move my hand to stimulate him even more. I hear him swear as I take as much of his length as I possibly can, and I work him to a pleasurable state.
Zane reaches out, taking my hair in his hands, keeping me on his penis. However, when he starts to force my head down onto him with choking force, I have to rein him back. Gently, I apply pressure around his cock with my teeth reminding him of who’s in total control here. When he yelps in pain and releases me, I slowly ease him out of my mouth and sit back up.
Femme Fatale Page 7
