If I Loved You

by Kress, Alyssa

  "Okay," he said, grittily. "Okay." Stepping toward her, he took her in his arms. It was a strangely comforting gesture.

  The warmth of his embrace was completely unexpected, and it undid her. Something inside her, something hard and tough, abruptly...melted.

  Whoa. This was not what she'd expected. What was going on here? And then Zane's sweet comfort turned into something a lot more serious. The muscles bunched in his arms and his mouth came down on hers.

  Now, sex was something Pattie understood. It was ground on which she felt comfortable and in control. Normally. This wasn't normal. It was—way beyond. All melted like that, she got tossed into a hurricane.

  Now, too late, she remembered the strange intensity of her encounter with Zane outside Lonny Domino's gate. She should have known even sex with Zane would be dangerous.

  Still, Pattie thought, with what was left of her brain, this had to be better than talking.

  Didn't it?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Zane had his arms full of Pattie, his mouth locked to hers. His heart was racing like a sports car and his blood was on fire. Ahead of him, he was sure he could see heaven. All the same, dimly, he wondered how he'd ended up here. All he'd intended was a serious talk with Pattie, something to figure out what had been wrong with her all afternoon. Instead, somehow, they were doing...this.

  Her waist was firm and lightly muscled. Her lips were hot and demanding, and her tongue—

  Wait. Even as Zane wrapped his tongue around Pattie's, he knew there was something wrong with this picture. Why was Pattie jumping his bones? Out of nowhere! And why was he jumping her bones back? There were reasons—good ones—he needed to stay away from this kind of thing. He wasn't supposed to get involved, get too wrapped up in a woman.

  He made a half-hearted attempt to unwrap himself, going so far as to slide his hands from around Pattie's waist and push back from her—about half an inch.

  "No." She grabbed one of his hands and hoisted it upward. Firmly, she set his hand over her breast.

  At the feel of her soft flesh, desire sliced through him. Any retreat halted. Sucking on her tongue, he massaged his fingers over that round, lovely breast.

  Pattie moaned.

  The sound vibrated through Zane's mouth, telling him he was giving her pleasure. God. It felt fantastic to make her moan.

  Maybe there were good reasons he shouldn't be doing this, but he sure couldn't think of any. He unbuttoned her blouse.

  "Zane," Pattie tore her mouth from his long enough to murmur quietly. "Not here."

  Tristan. He had enough brain left to understand her. She was right, too. The kid could wake up and wander in. "Bedroom," he choked out.

  She moaned again, an impatient sound, and took his hand. He unpeeled himself from her long enough to follow her down the hall.

  His brain did not return to action during that short journey. Or rather, it concentrated on the way her body swayed and twisted under her unbuttoned blouse and tightish skirt as she walked in front of him down the hall and into her bedroom.

  Once they were through the door, he put his hands where his gaze had been, on that subtle swell of hips. He turned her around and pushed her against the door to close it. At the same time, he found the button beside the knob that locked the thing.

  "Now," he breathed.

  She parted her lips.

  He put his mouth over hers, kissing deep. One hand went into her opened blouse and covered the lace of her bra. The other hand slid around her back and unsnapped the thing.

  "Zane." She melted against him.

  Oh, he liked that. He really liked strong, prickly Pattie melting for him.

  He was still basking in the pleasure of her surrender when her hand slid down and unzipped his fly. Zane drew in a sharp breath, nearly going through the roof when her strong fingers closed around him.

  Quickly, he put a hand around her wrist.

  He could feel her smile against his lips. "I bet," she whispered, "I can make you come first."

  He couldn't believe she'd just said that, something so—juvenile.

  Something so incredibly arousing. The erection in his pants stiffened to the point of steel. A competition, with Pattie, over sex. The mere idea made his head spin.

  He knew she'd be able to feel his answering smile. "You got yourself a wager," he told her.

  She laughed softly.

  Zane used the moment to get a hold of her waist. He lifted her.

  She gasped in surprise, then gasped again when his mouth found her taut nipple under her loosened bra. Her body arched against his as he suckled the tangy flesh. She cried.

  Zane reveled in that cry. Some competition. In a minute, he'd have her begging.

  He was wrong. She wasn't that far gone. She pushed against him. He stumbled and she regained her feet. She pushed him again until he hit the bed. Half laughing, half snarling, she threw herself at him and they both fell onto the mattress.

  Zane was half laughing, too, but only half. The other half of him was entirely focused on where his hands were, where hers were, the inevitable journey of their clothing.

  They rolled over the bed, each grappling for mastery, peeling off enough clothes to attain their separate ends. Zane adored the sensation of her palm smoothing over his chest, but he wasn't going to let it distract him from dragging his fingertips down the cleft of her round buttocks. When his finger slipped over the tight bundle of her nerves in front, she convulsed.

  But he didn't win right there. She held off. Zane knew because she had enough presence of mind to get her fist around his erection. The feel of her particular fingers around that particular part of him made his eyes cross. Through his groan of pleasure, he managed to keep his hand busy between her legs.

  They each had a lock on the other's weak point, but Zane knew he was at a physiological disadvantage. Her hand on him was setting him far closer to the edge than his hand on her. Nevertheless, with a mixture of obstinacy and amusement, he determined to make her come first.

  Meanwhile, he marveled over the whole situation. Never had he been this aggressive with a woman. He'd never known a woman who could match him this way. Maeve, in particular, had been a fading lily in the bedroom, a delicate flower he'd had to coddle and treat like breakable crystal.

  This was a hell of a lot more fun.

  Using a reserve of control Zane hadn't known he owned, he put a hand around Pattie's hand on him and pulled it away, thereby shutting off an enormously satisfying stream of pleasure.

  It was a damn shame, but it had to be done. There was a competition going on here that he intended to win.

  With his superior strength, he rolled Pattie onto her back. That was when he felt his breath stolen away.

  She was absolutely beautiful, her eyes laughing up at him. Her body was like a meal, exhibited for his delectation, with each erotic component distinctly displayed. Her shirt and bra were undone, but still wrapped around her arms, exposing her round breasts and tightly furled nipples. Her skirt was pushed up and her panties gone, revealing a beckoning triangle of dark blond curls.

  For a moment, just a moment, Zane felt his control waver. Then he smiled at her. She might be sheer temptation, but he was too strong to succumb.

  He grasped her wrists and planted her arms wide on the bed, then set his knee between her thighs.

  She didn't fight him. On the contrary, she half-closed her eyes and immediately widened her legs, moaning a little.

  All very good, but first things first. He needed a condom. He had a feeling... Leaning over, Zane fumbled with the drawer of Pattie's night table.

  Her lips curved in amusement as he drew out the plastic package he'd been looking for.

  "Always prepared," he murmured.

  "Don't tell me you weren't," she laughed.

  He didn't tell her, although it was true. Perhaps deliberately, he hadn't supplied himself with prophylactics. He hadn't wanted to admit this could happen.

  But now, rolling on the cond
om, he didn't care about good intentions gone astray. He grabbed back his hold of her hands, which had begun a mischievous journey up his thighs. Grinning, he anticipated triumph. On top like this and once inside of her, he'd be in complete control. He could take her wherever he wanted.

  That's what he thought anyway, meeting her gaze as he pushed into her body. Almost immediately, he had to revise his assumption of victory. It had been over a year. He was more deprived than he'd thought, and she was so tight and warm and welcoming. It was more than just her body, though that felt amazing; it was the look in her eyes, that special gleam from beneath her lashes.

  Slowly, savoring every millimeter, Zane filled her completely. A rippling sensation swirled from his groin and traveled up his torso, filling his head.

  For the love of heaven. He was much nearer the edge than a man of his age and experience should be. Yes, that was bad enough. Then she moved, a subtle roll of her hips. Zane sucked in a breath.

  He was going to lose this contest. In the next millisecond. Only his utter determination to see her come first, his resolution to make sure she found the ultimate pleasure, saved him from an immediate and ignominious defeat.

  He clenched his jaw and moved his hips. She gasped, then moaned as he set a strong and determined rhythm.

  But she hadn't given up. No. For every stroke Zane gave her, she stroked him in return.

  Pleasure ran through him like quicksilver. In her face, he could see she felt something similar. It was dangerous to look, though, for the expression on her face fed right back into his own pleasure. All the same, he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

  In the end, his greater physical strength overcame her willful resistance. It had been a foregone conclusion, really. As he stroked and stroked and stroked, he could feel her melt, her deliciously feminine surrender.

  She threw her head back, every cell in her body giving in to him, ceding. At the same time, he could feel her tense around him, the small contractions that signaled her completion.

  Triumph swept over him like a wave. Too much triumph. It knocked the reins right out of his hands. As he felt Pattie go over the edge, he plunged too. Rushing at him came a jolt and a wash of indescribable pleasure.

  "Pattie. Pattie," he heard someone murmur. He lowered over her and gathered her in his arms. She was soft and warm and a little moist. "Pattie," he said again, half laughing.

  He hadn't won, after all, dammit, but the thought made him happy. It made him want to laugh. Everything made him want to laugh except that he was too utterly satisfied to move a muscle.

  "Oh, Pattie," he groaned, and buried his face in her hair.

  As pleasure continued to sift through him, he couldn't stop smiling. Ah. For the first time in a long while, he felt...happy.

  ~~~

  Oh. My. God. Pattie lay panting beneath Zane, his weight a masculine reminder of who'd just given her that amazing climax. Amazing? Out of this world.

  Now, it was true she hadn't had sex in a while—a long while—but she remembered what sex was like, and it wasn't like this. This had been...crazy.

  And rather frightening.

  It had involved...feelings. Emotional feelings, not just physical ones. Her heart beat hard, as if she needed to run away from some danger.

  With a soft murmur, Zane squeezed her lightly.

  The small embrace set Pattie's incipient panic to barking. What did that squeeze mean, that possibly affectionate squeeze? Did it refer to all the connections she'd felt forming while they'd wrestled in bed?

  Dimly, she wondered if this was what happened to most people when they had sex, this forming of bonds. It would explain the comments and remarks she'd received over the years from various sex partners on her own persistent immunity. To her, sex was like enjoying a good meal. Pleasurable, at times enormously so, but never emotional.

  Not that she was feeling emotional now. Or needy. Just...dangerously close to it.

  Zane's chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. Gently, he rolled off of her.

  Her panic expanded. He might end up facing her. Then they might talk. That would be bad. She didn't want words, at least not words that might explain or define what had just happened. She wanted words that would fog and obscure, words that would completely disguise how close she'd come to taking from Zane.

  Keeping her gaze on the ceiling, she seized the initiative. "God, that was good, Kincaid. Top notch, class-A talent you've got there."

  Since she was looking at the ceiling, she couldn't see his reaction, but she felt it. Next to her, his long male body tensed.

  Too late, she realized her comment may have hurt him. But she shook away the idea. Nah. A man never minded being told he was hot stuff in the sack. Meanwhile, the purely physical praise should keep things casual.

  "Um... You're not so bad, yourself," Zane claimed roughly.

  Good. He'd taken her cue.

  Determined to keep things light, she sat up in bed, grabbed the ends of her bra which were around her arms, and casually shrugged back into it.

  She knew she had to look at him, at least briefly, otherwise he'd think there was some reason she couldn't. So she tossed her gaze in his direction. She made sure to put on a blithe smile.

  He had his head on his palm and was looking at her. "Pattie..."

  His deep voice rasped her nerve endings. "Yeah, Zane, I know." Still smiling, she straightened her blouse. "I'm sure glad I got that out of my system."

  His expression went entirely unreadable.

  Inside, Pattie tensed. Was he going to deny he'd gotten it out of his system, say he wanted more? Or, worse yet, deny he was out of her system?

  But he only replied, finally, "Right."

  Pattie relaxed a little. Buttoning her blouse, she told him, "Your pants are on this side of the bed."

  He paused again. "Right."

  Was that sarcasm she heard? Not that it mattered. Although he hesitated another fraught moment, he clambered out of bed.

  Thank God. Pattie used his preoccupation to stand up and smooth down her skirt. She had no panties, and although that gave her an unpleasantly vulnerable feeling, she didn't take the time to look for them. Now that he'd gotten started, Zane would dress faster if she looked completely clothed.

  Fast was important. At any moment he might balk at getting treated like a casual lover and possible mistake. At any moment he might try again to talk.

  As soon as Zane had dealt with the condom and got his pants back on, Pattie went to her bedroom door and opened it.

  Zane, reaching for his shirt, threw her another one of his inscrutable glances.

  Pattie did her best to act nonchalant while he covered his muscled chest with his shirt. He was a prime specimen, she'd give him that—but she wasn't going to allow these new connections between them to solidify. She would not allow herself to need him. In fact, he was out of her system now, just like she'd said. She didn't even want him any more.

  All the same, the sooner he was out of here, the better.

  "You ready?" she asked.

  Slowly, he straightened. "I guess I'm leaving, huh?"

  It was an odd choice of words. He guessed? As if she hadn't made that clear?

  Unless...he was giving her a chance to contradict him? To say, no, that she wanted him to stay?

  Pattie's eyes widened. "Yes," she said firmly. "It's time to go."

  Slowly, he lowered his gaze. Almost imperceptibly, he sighed. "Need my keys. Oh, there they are." He bent to pick up a set of keys from the floor by the foot of her bed. Straightening, he caught the keys up in one hand. "I'm ready."

  Pattie turned and walked out the bedroom door. She led the way down the hall toward the front door, all the while pricklingly aware of Zane padding behind her. Her tension ratcheted back up. Was he going to pull one last, unexpected trick on her, make her talk, after all?

  He didn't say a word. But after opening the front door, he stopped.

  Pattie's heart also stopped. What? Why wasn't he going?
<
br />   He turned around.

  She wanted to be anywhere but meeting his eyes and waiting for whatever he was going to say.

  But he only closed his opened mouth and shook his head. "Goodbye, Pattie."

  She swallowed her receding panic. "Goodbye, Zane." Her voice came out only a little strained.

  He turned around and walked fully out the door this time.

  She closed it after him. Firmly.

  There. He was gone. That was over with. Completely. Over. With.

  Pattie turned and looked into her dark apartment. Relief washed through her, a relief so profound it melted her knees and left her exhausted.

  She wasn't even sure what she was relieved about: that she'd avoided accepting affection or tenderness from Zane? That he wouldn't now expect a thing from her?

  She only knew it was not a perfect relief, but mixed most uncomfortably with sorrow.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The buzz of the alarm sounded particularly rude to Zane on Monday morning. He snaked an arm from under the bedcovers and slapped the device off. One opened eye glared at the clock. He had precisely an hour and fifteen minutes before he was supposed to be at work. Zane closed his one opened eye.

  Work. God. Pattie.

  A combination of dread and regret seeped through him. The last person in the world he wanted to face this morning was Pattie, Pattie with whom he'd engaged in exactly the sort of relations he'd warned himself not to engage in with her, or any woman.

  Zane sighed. Sex with her had been even worse than he'd imagined. He'd felt wild, stirred...affected.

  Whereas, Pattie's reaction had been to kick him out. As if he'd been a serviceman done with a repair.

  Zane stifled a moan. He should have kicked himself out. He should have scrammed out the door on his own. But he hadn't. Instead, he'd played every trick he could to see if she'd change her mind.

  His embarrassing behavior hadn't stopped there. All weekend he'd been wallowing in an orgy of self-pitying desire, wanting—wanting— No, he didn't care to figure out what stupid things he wanted.