by Rebecca York
Somewhere in her disordered mind she knew that everything that had come before was only preparation for this sharp, rich moment in time. This moment and all the ones that would come after.
When he silently asked her to open her lips, she did his bidding—then shivered as his tongue took possession of her mouth like an ancient warlord sweeping in to steal booty.
She gave him permission to plunder. Permission to ride away with her most intimate possession—her heart. Deep inside herself, she knew that this encounter wasn’t just about sex. It was about all the tender feelings for this man that had gathered inside her.
There was not space between his body and hers, yet she inched closer, overwhelmed by the feel of his chest and hips pressed to hers. And by the erection wedged against her middle. The knowledge that she had done that to him was exhilarating.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
“Zach,” she murmured, nibbling her lips against his jaw as she spoke. “I love the feel of your cock. It’s so nice and hard and sexy.” To emphasize her words, she moved against him, pleased by the sound of his indrawn breath. “But it’s kind of wasted against my stomach. Lean your hips back against the door and splay your feet out. That way I’ll feel you where I need you.”
For a charged moment he looked down into her eyes. Then he did as she asked, leaning back, equalizing their heights to nestle his erection at the top of her legs.
She moved against him, hearing her own deep sigh of satisfaction. She could come like this, she knew. Just from the friction and the sensuality.
But she didn’t want it to happen yet. She wanted Zach inside her when she exploded with pleasure. When she eased a few inches back, his wordless protest gave her a kind of secret reassurance.
He’d changed when he’d gone to his room. He was wearing only a dark tee shirt, jeans and athletic socks.
Reaching out, she grabbed the hem of his tee shirt and began to roll it up, keeping her hot gaze on his as she slowly, slowly got the thin fabric out of the way—teasing them both with the languorous pace of her movements.
When she had rolled the shirt as far as she could go, she stopped to admire his chest, then leaned forward and caressed him with her face, enjoying the thick mat of his chest hair against her cheek.
Raising her hands, she found his flat nipples with her fingers. She smiled as she felt their hardness, their tightness. With her thumbs and fingers, she pulled on them, twisted them slightly, suspecting from what he’d asked her to do that he would like that.
His little exclamation told her that he did.
He had been standing with his hands at his sides. In a rush of movement, he brought them up now, capturing her hips, bringing them back against the hard shaft that strained at the front of his jeans.
She allowed him a few moments of contact before she whispered, against his ear, “Maybe it’s time to get out of those pants. Aren’t they feeling too tight right about now?”
He answered with an inarticulate sound.
Smiling, she put a few inches of distance between them again, then steadied her hand on his shoulder while she pulled off her white sandals and tossed them to the side.
A sharp sound pierced her consciousness. The phone. Out in the living room the phone was ringing.
She and Zach looked at each other, and she knew that neither one of them wanted to answer the damn thing. Voicemail picked up, and she thought she heard Beth speaking. But she couldn’t hear what her friend was saying. She didn’t want to hear. She only wanted to concentrate on Zach.
Blocking out the message coming from the living room, she went down on her knees in front of him. When she glanced up, she saw the intensity of his expression. He looked like a man who was poised on the brink of either heaven or hell—and he didn’t know which.
She was on a level with his fly. Just because she wanted to, she stroked her hand down the length of his zipper, heard the hiss of his breath as she touched him there.
Working her way back up, she unbuckled his belt, her movements as slow and deliberate as they had been when she’d rolled up his shirt.
With the buckle undone, she released the button at the waistband, then began to inch the zipper down, feeling the tension gathering in him—and in herself.
She was so aroused she could barely stand it. But she didn’t abandon her plan.
When the zipper of the jeans was fully opened, she reached inside and pulled down the front of his briefs to free his cock.
It was hot and hard in her hands, and she knew it would feel exquisite inside her.
But not yet. She stroked him with her fingertips, light teasing strokes that she knew were driving him mad. Then she dragged her tongue over the length of him before circling the head with a teasing stroke.
He gasped and gasped again when she took him in her mouth, as much of him as she could take, playing with him for a long, sensuous moment before pulling back.
Then she stood again and pulled the camisole over her head. Now she was wearing only the garter belt and stockings.
“Lord, you are the sexiest sight I have ever seen,” he growled. Still with his hips against the door, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it away. Next he shucked off the jeans and briefs and came toward her, catching her in his arms, bending to give her a long, deep kiss before lowering his head to capture one of her aching nipples in his mouth while he caught the other between his thumb and finger, giving her back the same pleasure she had given him—and more.
“So sexy,” he said again as he reached between her legs, dipping into her hot, slick sex.
“Oh!” She was close to orgasm, too close. “Please, Zach, I’m going to come. And I want you inside me when I do,” she managed to say.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her on the comforter and following her down.
“Now. Do it now,” she gasped out, then gasped again as she felt his velvet hard cock plunge inside her.
He went very still above her, then, looking down into her face with an intensity that robbed her of breath.
When he began to move, she could focus only on the wonderful, erotic sensation of that shaft moving in and out of her.
She came then, in a wave of ecstasy that lifted her up to a high plateau and kept her suspended in the heavens.
When she drifted back to earth, he was still inside her. Still hard as a fence post. And he was staring down at her with an expression she couldn’t read.
He stayed where he was, and she lifted her hand to stroke his damp shoulder, his cheek, and his lips.
He kissed her fingertips.
“Zach?”
He didn’t speak, only began to move his hips again, slowly and deliberately, almost withdrawing from her, then plunging back inside, building her arousal once more.
He kept the pace slow and deliberate, even when she dug her fingers into his sweat-slick shoulders, begging him to let her climax.
Not until she was thrashing wildly under him, raising her hips with each thrust, screaming silently for release did he bring her to the peak again.
This time she spun off into space, almost losing herself in the intensity of her release. But Zach was her anchor to the here and now. She clasped him by the shoulders, and when she settled back to earth, he leaned down to gently kiss the corners of her eyelids, her lips.
He stayed where he was for several heartbeats, then rolled off of her.
Turning her head, she saw him lying beside her on his back. He was breathing hard, his eyes closed, his face contorted. But it wasn’t his face that captured her attention. When she looked down, she saw that he was still hard, still aroused.
What had been a fantastic experience for her had left him aching and needy.
Reaching out a hand, she laid it lightly on his shoulder.
“Zach, what can I do for you?” she asked.
Chapter Thirteen
Amanda lay beside Zach waiting for him to say something. He didn’t answer her question,
only reached over the side of the bed and found the sheet she’d carefully folded. Sitting up, he flipped it open, then draped it over both of them.
It covered his nakedness—and hers. But it did little to hide the erection still sticking out from the front of his body. Instead, his rigid penis made a little tent pole for a section of the fabric.
He lay against the pillows with his eyes closed, his head turned slightly away from her.
Under the covers, she laid her hand softly over his, feeling him quiver. For a moment she stroked her fingers along his still heated skin, then said. “Zach, that was fantastic . . . for me.”
“I’m glad,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What about you?”
He pulled his hand away. “In case you can’t figure it out, I don’t want to talk about me,” he snapped.
“I think we should.”
“Why?”
She hesitated for a moment. There were a lot of things she could say now. And she wasn’t sure which was best. She decided on, “Because I think the two of us have gotten very close in a very short period of time. And I want to get closer. Emotionally closer.”
He made a small sound that she hoped signaled his agreement.
Turning toward him, she added, “Making love with you was wonderful for me. I see it wasn’t as good for you—and I want to do something about it.”
The words hung in the air between them, and she wished she hadn’t spoken them.
He sat up and gave her a look that could have frozen water to ice. Punching out the words, he said, “I don’t need any help from Dr. O’Neal.”
Feeling at a disadvantage, she sat up, too, and pressed her palms against the comforter to keep herself from reaching for him again. A few minutes ago, they’d been as close as a man and a woman could be. Now . . .
“I wasn’t offering help from Dr. O’Neal,” she said softly.
He tipped his head to one side, studying her, and she was glad he’d found the sheet. Otherwise, she would have felt very naked.
“What were you offering?” he asked, his voice challenging her.
She gave a small shrug because she was pretty sure that if she tried to speak now, she’d start to cry.
Fighting her natural inclination to try and reach out to him with words, she pressed her lips together. Her own emotions were raw as she climbed out of bed. She had just had one of the best experiences of her life, and now she was on the edge of tears.
“Maybe it will be easier to talk when we’re both dressed,” she whispered, ducking into the closet to pick up the clothing she’d discarded earlier. Wadding them into a ball, she clutched them against her chest and hurried out of the room.
To give herself something to do, she turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat, then stepped under the spray and just stood there for several minutes. The hot water felt good. But not as good as Zach’s hands and lips on her. Not as good as his penis inside her.
And hot water was certainly no substitute for a conversation with the man who had just sent her flying off to the moon, then crashing back to earth.
While she stood under the shower spray, she fell into the habit that had built up over the past few days.
“Dear, Esther,” she murmured, letting the sound of the pounding water mask her words.
“I’ve met a fantastic guy. I was attracted to him from the moment we met. I think it was the same for him. But we started off on the wrong foot. It’s complicated to explain it all. It’s got to do with a murder investigation. But that’s not the important part. I can’t speak for him, but what it seems like to me is that neither one of us wanted to walk away from the relationship.”
She stopped and squeezed shampoo into her hand, washing her hair as she continued.
“Each of us reached out to the other. I think we both did things we wouldn’t have considered with someone else. I mean sexual things that I might have thought of as kinky before I met him. But we did them. And it was mind-blowing. Fantastic. Then I wanted to just have plain old sexual intercourse. I seduced him. And it worked. It was just as good as I knew it would be—right up to the end.”
She turned in the spray, carefully rinsing her hair before she went on.
“But then it all blew up in my face. I didn’t satisfy him. Did I do something wrong? Or . . . or is there something . . . wrong with him?” she managed to say. “I don’t like putting it in those terms. But he’s not leaving me any choice, is he? Not when he’s so closed up. Not when he won’t talk to me.
Can you help me, Esther?” she finished.
But she knew the only person who could help her was Zachary Grant. Unless he told her what was going on with him, they didn’t have a chance.
Finally, when the water began to cool, she turned it off. Stepping out of the shower, she began to dry her body and her hair, knowing that she was drawing out the process because she didn’t really want to come out of the bathroom.
But finally she poked her head out the door. When Zach wasn’t in evidence, she went into the bedroom and retrieved her watch from the dresser.
After slipping her feet into a pair of sandals, she knew she’d stalled as long as she could. As she walked down the hall, the house felt strangely silent.
“Zach?”
She’d geared herself up for a confrontation. But he didn’t answer, and when she crossed the living room, she saw he’d left a note on the dining room table.
Gone for a walk.
###
Zach leaned against the low-hanging branch of a tree, looking down at the dark waters of the creek, watching them rushing over the rock and gravel that lined the streambed.
The branch swayed under his weight, but he stayed where he was.
He’d left the house because he couldn’t deal with the look of disappointment on Amanda’s face after they’d made love.
He’d been a damn mess since his divorce. Every sexual encounter with a woman had ended the way this one just had. He simply couldn’t have an orgasm with a partner. And he’d assumed that he never would again. He knew on some level that he was punishing himself for what had happened with Mindy. But the insight hadn’t changed anything.
Until he’d met Amanda—and somewhere deep inside him, hope had bloomed. Despite his previous failures, or maybe because of them, he’d taken another approach.
Because he’d wanted her so much, his mind had started working on things that he could do with her that would give her some kind of satisfaction. Everything they’d done had been wonderful—for him. And he knew that she’d liked it too.
Because of her profession, he’d expected her to be sophisticated about sex. But he could tell immediately that she’d been shocked by his risqué suggestions—and by the games he’d initiated.
Still she’d been willing to do that stuff with him. Stuff he hadn’t tried with any other woman, because he hadn’t cared enough to be that inventive.
Yet he’d sensed she wanted more. Which was why he’d been avoiding her today—until she’d taken matters into her own hands. And she’d certainly thought of a very creative way to invite him back to her bed.
Lord, that erotic outfit she’d put together from stuff she must have had around the house. What was she doing with a garter belt and stockings anyway?
It didn’t matter where she’d gotten them. He’d been instantly hard as a broomstick when he’d seen her looking like a cross between a convent schoolgirl and an exotic dancer. He’d wanted her beyond reason. Wanted to please her. And there had been no way he could have refused what she was asking.
Truthfully, by the time she’d knelt down in front of him and opened his fly, he’d thought it was going to turn out okay for him—for the first time in over a year. She was so warm, and giving and sexy. And he’d been hot enough to go up in smoke.
But then they’d been naked in bed together, and when he’d started making love with her in the old traditional way, he’d been pretty sure it was going to end as it always
did. With another woman, he might have left before the final humiliation. But not with Amanda. Because he cared about her too much to walk out, he’d done the only thing he could—dedicated himself to making sure it was as good for her as possible.
His hands clenched around the tree limb, rough bark digging into his palms. Pushing himself erect, he cursed, his angry voice ringing through the woods.
A little while ago, his own disappointment and frustration had made him lash out at Amanda—with that crack about Dr. O’Neal.
He’d seen the tears glistening in her eyes before she’d turned away. Those tears had overwhelmed him. He’d run from them, because he didn’t know what else to do.
But now that he’d had time to think about it, he knew he owed her an explanation—whatever the outcome.
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, standing there in the silence of the woods.
He didn’t want to lose her. But he didn’t want to live a lie with her, either. He’d said that he didn’t need any help from Dr. O’Neal. But that was obviously a lie. He needed help from someone. In fact, he’d asked for her help. But not in the way he should have. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he turned and started back toward the house.
###
“Damn you,” Amanda muttered to the empty room as she stared at the words he’d scrawled in masculine handwriting across the piece of notebook paper.
“Did you realize you wrote your coward’s note on the same paper you used to write that other letter—the one that led to a very erotic session in bed? When we both reached climax without touching each other.”
She walked to the window and looked out, but she couldn’t see him. Still, she began speaking to him again. “Doing that with you was very exciting. Partly because I’d never had a sexual encounter like that before. And partly because it was with you.”
She gulped. “I don’t think I could have done that with another man. Certainly not with someone I’d known for as short a time as I’ve known you.”
Her hands clenched and unclenched. “Damn you,” she said again. “You can’t duck away from me by going for a walk. I’ll still be here when you get back. Because this relationship is too important to give up the first time we hit a problem.”
