Hard To Handle (Teach Me Book 2)

by RC Boldt

  “O-kay.” Tate stood, her blue eyes bouncing from Zach to Lawson and back again. “This just got weird, so I’m going to thank you all and head on home.”

  Laney rose to hug her friend. As Zach turned from watching Tate head toward the door, he and the others rose and pushed in their chairs, each grabbing their small bag of gifts.

  “Later, gorgeous.” Lawson enfolded Laney in a hug, mumbling a “thank you” into her hair before releasing her.

  Foster hooked an arm around her neck. “Thanks, Laney McBrainy.” Loosening his hold on her, her brother gave her a quick kiss on the temple.

  Laney’s eyes met his for the first time that night and offered him a weak smile of thanks. He simply nodded. The four of them walked out together, splitting up as they each went in the direction of their cars parked in various locations in the downtown area.

  Just as Zach saw the others disappear from sight, he went after Laney, pulling her gift from where it had been sitting at the bottom of his bag. Seeing her car lights flash as she pressed the key fob to unlock it, he called out her name. She turned in his direction, her cautious gaze on him as he approached with the small white box in his hand. Once he got within a foot of her, he thrust the box at her.

  “Here. Just … take it.” Hearing the harshness in his tone, Zach softened his voice. “Please.”

  Wordlessly, she took the box from him and he turned around abruptly, walking off to his car. It was done. He had given it to her.

  Merry fucking Christmas.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AS IF IN A DAZE, Laney got into her car, fastened her seatbelt, and sat staring down at the box in her lap. She wasn’t sure how long she remained there, almost afraid to see what the box held.

  “It’s not like he’d give you a bomb, Laney,” she mumbled to herself. Still, with caution, she opened the lid of the box and—

  “Oh, my gosh,” she breathed the words out in wonder. Wonder that Zachariah Mayson had given her some sort of exquisite snow—or water—globe of sorts with a lone dolphin jumping inside. She had never seen anything like it. Tipping it, she watched as the blue water flowed over the dolphin in waves.

  Zach had given this to her for Christmas. But why?

  Because he likes you, dumbass.

  The thought was jarring and she quickly stifled it. Laney placed the globe back into the box, setting it safely on the passenger seat before starting her car and putting it into gear.

  No way, buddy, she thought to herself. He didn’t get to just give her a gift—an amazing gift—and just leave it at that.

  She ended up in Zach’s driveway, yet again. She was bombarded by the feeling of déjà vu as she recalled her nervousness the last time she had pulled her car up to his house. This time was much different, however. Because, she had a bone to pick with Zachariah Mayson.

  She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

  * * *

  Zach had practically torn off his shirt upon arriving home, tossing it into the laundry bin. He had been in the process of unbuttoning his jeans when he heard the pounding on his door.

  What the hell? Who would be at his door at nearly ten o’clock at night on a Sunday?

  “I’m coming!” he yelled at the incessant pounding as he padded down the hallway. Jesus. They needed to tone it down. Not caring that his pants were unbuttoned around his hips and he was shirtless, he flung open the door angrily, ready to give hell to the person on the other side.

  “What the hell do you—” He stopped mid-rant as his eyes fell on who was standing on his doorstep.

  Laney looked mad as hell … and never more beautiful. With anger flashing in her hazel eyes and lips pressed thin, red and kissable. And that dress she wore? Oh, hell. It had taunted him the entire time they had been at The Turtle. Just for the simple fact that it accentuated the curves on the body he’d had his hands on, mouth on, lips on just a few days prior.

  “What the hell do I want, you ask?” she snarled at him as she shoved past him to enter the house, pushing the door shut behind her with a loud thunk. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked. I want to know what the hell was with that gift. The one you shoved at me.” Her volume increased, her words forceful, demanding. “Why did you give me that gift?”

  She was upset because he gave her a nice gift? Fuck that.

  “Because it made me think of you!” he practically screamed. He watched Laney’s eyes go wide, lips parting in shock or disbelief, he wasn’t sure which. They stood there, staring at each other, fiery gazes clashing.

  He wasn’t sure who moved first, but one minute they were having their angry standoff and the next, their bodies collided, lips meeting in a kiss filled with a fierceness, tongues warring. Knocking into the wall before he righted them as they pulled off articles of clothing, they made their way down the hallway to his room. Leaving a trail of her flip flops, sweater, dress, panties, bra, and his pants in their wake, they made it to his bedroom.

  Zach pulled his lips from hers. “Just one night, again, Kavanaugh?” He heard the slight bite in his tone.

  Her eyes searching his, she quietly answered, “Just one night. Again.”

  Hearing her repeat the words, he felt like there was a massive weight on his chest, making it difficult to breath.

  Oh, he would give her one night, all right.

  His mouth slammed down on hers, devouring her, tasting her deeply. Having her curves pressed against him made him nearly weak in the knees at how right it felt to have her in his arms.

  It’s only for one more night.

  Those words haunted him and he slid his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back to tilt it, moving his lips to her throat. As if he were trying to punish her, he lightly bit the side of her neck, soothing it afterward with his tongue. Hearing her moan when he tightened the fingers threaded in her hair, realizing it turned her on, he closed his teeth over her earlobe, tugging gently.

  “Zach.” His name was uttered in a breathless groan. “Please. Touch me.”

  “You want me to touch you?” His words came out sounding cold and he knew exactly why. This was not her show. She didn’t get to make requests. The person who just wanted to scratch the itch once more didn’t get to make demands.

  “Please.”

  “Well, you’ll have to do something for me first, Kavanaugh,” he told her as he sat on his bed and before grasping his cock, stroking the hardness from root to tip.

  Zach couldn’t quite decipher Laney’s expression as she stood before him, eyes first meeting his before they traveled down over his chest and farther, stopping at the sight of him touching himself. Her lips parted and her breathing became ragged as she watched him.

  “You going to just stand there and watch me, or are you going to put your mouth on me, Kavanaugh?” Her eyes flew up to meet his, irritation evident at hearing him refer to her by her last name. Like she knew what he was trying to do.

  He wasn’t going into this blind like last time. He was doing the whole self-preservation thing. And maybe it was stupid, but by calling her Kavanaugh and not Laney, he managed to keep that wall up. To prevent her from hurting him. Again.

  “Get on your knees,” he gritted out the command. Stroking himself to the sight of her, naked and luscious before him was nearly his undoing. But when he watched her drop to her knees in front of him, her eyes seeming at war with his own, almost a battle of wills, he felt the breath catch in his throat.

  Laney didn’t break eye contact with him as she leaned toward his cock, slowly, and licked a path from the base all the way to the tip, swirling it around the end. Zach inhaled sharply and saw the look of satisfaction that came over her at eliciting that response.

  “Come on, Kavanaugh,” he bit out, almost angrily. “Just go ahead and—” His last words were cut off as she slid her mouth down over him and sucked. Hard. And when she hollowed out her cheeks, taking him deep, he felt as though his eyes were going to roll back in his head.

  Sweet mother of God. He fisted a hand in her ha
ir, relishing the feel of the silky strands, the fact that it was Laney’s hair in his fist. That it was Laney’s hot, wet mouth sucking his hard cock deep, working him with her tongue. When he felt himself tighten up, just beneath the base of his cock, the hand fisted in her hair pulled her off him.

  “Get on the bed.”

  He watched as her curvy ass crawled onto it, lying on her back, eyes watching him intently.

  “Spread your legs for me.”

  Zach crawled between her legs, lifting them over his shoulders, his gray eyes locking onto her hazel ones before lowering his mouth to her. He feasted on her—that’s the only way he could put it—tasting her, sliding his tongue deep inside of her wet center before sucking on her clit while working two fingers deep inside of her, hooking them to find her sweet spot. Her hips rose off the bed, thrusting against him as she rode out her orgasm, crying out one word.

  One word, spoken in such a soft, breathless tone that it made his walls come down.

  Zach.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LANEY WOKE IN THE MORNING with a smile and a lingering soreness between her thighs yet again. Rolling over, she found the bed empty, the sheets all askew. She laid there, in Zach’s bed, detecting the scent of brewing coffee in the air and let the feeling of déjà vu wash over her.

  Last night had started off angry, as something rough and almost punishing. She knew what he had been doing when he’d continued to call her by her last name. It had been his way of pushing her back.

  But once he had brought her to orgasm and she had cried out his name, it was like a switch had been flipped inside of him. From that point, it had turned softer, gentler. Tender. The roughness of his touch had given in to a more reverent one.

  Maybe they could do this … this thing. It was totally hot sex. The hottest she’d ever had, not that she would ever admit it to Zach, of course. And he was far nicer and easier to be around when he wasn’t being his usual obnoxious self. She really liked the kinder, sexier version of Zach Mayson. That version of him was seriously hot. Like, the kind of hot that made her immediately want to bend over and grab her ankles.

  Okay, maybe that was overdoing it a bit. But, holy shit, she blamed him because he was the one who had somehow set her inner slut free.

  Sitting up, she slid off the bed and padded over to the dresser. Sliding open one drawer, she pulled out a pair of boxer briefs. Laney walked over to his closet door and upon opening it, nearly laughed aloud.

  Of course this man would have a color coordinated wardrobe. Viewing the contents, she saw that it began with whites and ended in browns and reds. Running her hands over the hanging clothes, she came to a soft, black cotton T-shirt and pulled it off the hanger. After tugging it over herself, she smoothed it down over her body.

  Quietly exiting the bedroom to head down the hallway to the kitchen, she found him, yet again, standing over the stove. His pajama pants hung low on his hips and she caught the movement of the defined muscles of his shoulders and back. She walked over to stand beside him.

  “Where are your coffee cups?”

  “Your cup’s already set up by the coffee pot,” he answered without meeting her gaze.

  Right. Okay, so he wasn’t going to make this easy for her.

  Moving to the freshly brewed pot of coffee, and grabbing the nearby cup, she noticed it already had sugar in it. By the looks of it, specifically three spoons full of sugar. Just as she was about to ask him for milk or creamer, a container of almond milk slid in front of her. Glancing over at him, he merely shrugged, his focus still on the pan in front of him, and mumbled, “I’m allergic to regular milk.”

  How had she not known that? And, more importantly, how was it that he knew exactly how she took her coffee when his was—she peeked over at the cup near the stove—plain black?

  Huh.

  She leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee thoughtfully, watching him as he worked his omelet magic. This was actually kind of nice. They were having coffee and were going to eat—

  Laney’s hand froze, coffee cup mid-way to her mouth, as she noticed what was sitting on the counter beside where Zach was working at the stove. There was only one plate set out.

  One. Single. Plate.

  Her eyes darted back up to him, now noticing the stiffness in his posture along his quiet demeanor. Well, then. This obviously changed things a bit.

  Eyeing him, she spoke carefully, “So. You’re making yourself an omelet, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re just planning on eating it in front of me?”

  Flipping the finished omelet onto his plate after turning off the burner on the stove, he withdrew a fork from a drawer.

  “Didn’t really expect you to stick around,” came the curt answer. Zach still hadn’t made eye contact. She watched him set the plate and fork on the kitchen table before coming back to retrieve his coffee cup and place it on the table, as well.

  He slid into the chair, laying a napkin on his lap, and paused with his hand on the fork. “You don’t have to worry about staying. You thanked me plenty last night for the Christmas gift.” Then, he picked up his fork to begin eating.

  She recognized the insulting insinuation that the sex last night was viewed as a “thank you” for the gift.

  He was going to play like that, was he?

  And he was ignoring her as if it were no big deal that she was still standing there, naked beneath his clothes, in his kitchen.

  After one more sip of coffee, she sat the cup down with a hard thunk, her lips forming a slow, dangerous smile.

  Game. On.

  * * *

  Zach could feel her eyes as if they were staring a hole in the back of his head. To say this was not going as smoothly as he had expected was an understatement.

  Please, just go, he begged silently.

  But, you don’t really want her to go, an inner voice argued.

  He concentrated on the food before him, turning his fork to the side, cutting a piece of his omelet. So centered on the task, he didn’t register the sound of clothes softly dropping to the floor. Zach simply chewed an omelet he wasn’t even really tasting and stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

  Just as he was about to bring the fork to his mouth for another bite, a hand wrapped around his wrist. Startled, he turned his head, mouth opening in what would have been a scathing remark. However, the words never came out. Because, as his gaze traveled from the hand holding his wrist, he saw nothing but an utterly naked Laney standing beside him.

  She plucked the fork out of his hand, set it on his plate, sliding it farther back on the table, the coffee cup following suit. Sliding one leg over his lap, she straddled him, and Zach could feel the heat from her core penetrating through his thin pajama pants, right over his cock.

  Of course, the damn thing was a traitor and responded to Laney even as he internally begged it not to. He steeled himself to meet her gaze, his deep, gray eyes meeting her golden, hazel ones.

  “You’re in my way.”

  She smiled innocently. “Oh? Am I?” She brought her hands to rest just beneath her breasts, before sliding up over top her nipples, running the pads of her index fingers back and forth over them. They hardened and he watched as her eyes darkened with arousal.

  “I thought maybe you were hungry for more than just an omelet.” One hand glided down over his chest and firm ridges of his abs, sliding a finger just barely beneath the waistband of the cotton pants, grazing over the tip of his cock.

  “What do you want, Laney?” he bit out. The harshness in his tone threw her off and he watched as she appeared to choose her words carefully.

  “I want you. Again. And maybe again after that.”

  “So you just want to fuck? Is that it?” There was no mistaking the taunting in his voice.

  Something flashed in her eyes. “You can’t deny that we’re good together. We have some serious chemistry.”

  Zach didn’t miss that she avoided answering his questio
n.

  “You mean we’re good together. In the bedroom.”

  The little wrinkle between her brows popped up. “Yes.” She spoke the word slowly, cautiously.

  “And that’s all we would do. Have sex. Nothing more.” He didn’t even say the words as a question because he already knew the answer.

  Laney watched him closely. “We don’t even like each other outside of the bedroom, Zach. And I’m not looking for a relationship,” she answered before placing his left hand over top her breast, pushing into it, letting him feel the softness of the skin contrasting with her erect nipple. He stared down at his hand, trying to get his thoughts and emotions under control, willing himself not to lead with his dick.

  “We don’t even like each other outside of the bedroom, Zach.” Damn it, those words stung. Because nothing could be farther from the truth, at least on his end. And to hear her say she wasn’t looking for a relationship, wanted only sex? It made him wonder if this could be his “in”. That, maybe—maybe—if he agreed to have “just sex” with Laney, he could make her see him, see that they could have more than sex. So much more.

  He met her gaze. “When do we start?” He ran the pad of his thumb back and forth over her nipple.

  On a gasp, she answered him, “Right now.”

  Before she managed to get out the last word, Zach had shoved the plate and coffee farther down the table, with no regards to the coffee sloshing over onto the hardwood floor. He laid Laney back onto the kitchen table and placed the heels of her feet at the table’s edge.

  Omelet forgotten, Zach sat there staring at her—her sleek, long legs wide open to him—and he knew two things were certain: He was going to do everything in his power to change Laney’s mind about him, about them.

  And that she would be a far better breakfast than his omelet had been.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I DIDN’T REALIZE WE WERE expecting three more people for Christmas Eve dinner,” Laney mentioned to her mother as she set the table with the fancy place settings used for special occasions and holidays.