by Kelly Moran
Of course, he did. It had been the first time Heather had asked him out.
His finger traced the tattoo, irreverently gentle. “You always made such a big deal about birthdays. Claimed the wish was the most important part. I thought blowing dandelion seeds would give you unlimited wishes.”
Damn. The sentimentality in him sometimes could decimate. She’d seen it first hand over and over with Heather, with his family. But Zoe never expected any traces for her. Then or now.
A quick grin flashed and then disappeared. “You turned down every guy who’d asked you to homecoming.”
Crap. She had to put a stop to him right this second. Taking a step back, she lowered her shirt and crossed her arms. Unable to look at him, she stared at his hands, held out in front of him as if in surrender.
“Why didn’t you say yes to any of those boys when they’d asked?”
She couldn’t breathe. “I went with Cade.”
“After I agreed to go with Heather.” He dropped his hands to his thighs, fingers clenched. His jawed ticked as his gaze searched hers.
“Stop.” She closed her eyes. “Just stop.”
“Why choose that day, that memory, to tattoo?”
Damn him. She bit her tongue and stared at the wall, determined to be more stubborn than him. She had almost no pride left. Couldn’t he freaking see that?
“Why, Zoe? Of all—”
“Because it was the best and worst day of my life!” Huffing, she fisted her hand over her chest. As he stared at her, gaze dialed to hell-no and jaw slack in shock, she said screw it. “You were the only person besides Mama who remembered my birthday that year, and she had to work a double shift. That kind gesture will stay with me forever.”
Crap. No. She would not cry. Her chest hitched. Yes, apparently she would. Hot, outlandish tears blurred her vision and trickled onto her cheeks.
He stared at her as if torn between wanting to hold her or run. He should take door number two because she wasn’t done. He’d opened the can of worms. Now he could go fishing.
She bit her thumbnail. “For months, I had been trying to find a way to tell you, and when you handed me a dozen wishes, I got my courage. They all scattered to the wind with my hope you’d say yes. But I never got to ask you to the dance.”
“No,” he breathed. An I-want-do-die expression twisted his features as his gaze drifted off. He could join the club. She didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of times she’d wanted to crawl in a hole.
“Unbeknownst of my feelings, my best friend made the leap and got there first. And that’s all, folks.”
“Ah, hell, Zoe.” His voice was so kind she wanted to scream. “I had no idea. You…” He ran a shaking hand over his mouth, down his jaw.
“Are you happy now?” A sob tore at her chest. “You’ve solved the great mystery of me. You know all my tattoos and meanings. Bet you regret asking, don’t you?”
He flinched and reached for her, but she stepped farther away. “I’m sorry. I obviously hurt you and—”
“Apologies aren’t needed, Drake. If it had gone down the way I wanted, you never would’ve wound up with Heather. That’s the way it was supposed to be. She was the right person for you.” She wiped her tears, mortification heating her face. “It was a silly crush. I got over it. I got over you then and I’ll do it again.”
“Please don’t.” He launched to his feet, strode toward her, and held her face in his hands. Desperation, remorse, and alarm radiated in his eyes. “You’re right. The timing wasn’t right for us then, and I wouldn’t take back my time with her. I’m only sorry you got hurt in the process.” He swallowed, gaze darting back and forth between her eyes. “But Christ. Don’t get over me. I have this awful, wonderful feeling there’s no getting over you.”
Damn him. And be still her pathetic heart. “Drake, we can’t—”
“Take the test.” He gave her a little shake and rested his forehead against hers. “Take the test and we’ll deal with whatever the results say. At least we’ll know.”
There he went using “we” again. “If it comes back positive—”
“If that happens, we’ll figure it out together. Whether we make it as a couple or remain friends, we will figure it out.” He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. After a moment, he pulled her to him, cradling the back of her head. “Stop fighting me, Zoe. For once, do things my way.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. Now that he knew everything, he’d never let her get away with any attempt to protect him. She’d known that all along and it was why she’d spent the past five years avoiding this scenario. The only person more hard-headed than her was him.
She’d have the blood test taken. For him and for herself. If it was negative, she’d let things progress with Drake naturally and see if they had a shot at happy. If it was positive, she’d end the relationship right then and there. No matter how insistently he pushed, she’d push harder. In time, they’d stay friends, and Brent could handle the inevitable healthcare decisions. Drake would move on.
But right now, in the cocoon of his arms, she felt safe for the first time in years, if ever. It was selfish and wrong to lean on him. He’d had enough suffering thrown at him. Yet the optimistic side of her she’d tried to keep dormant clawed its way to the surface. She’d wanted this, wanted him, for so very long. She’d take this smidgen of joy for however long it lasted.
And because it was Drake, she told him the one thing she’d never been able to admit, even to herself. “I’m scared.” Not just for the hazy picture of the future, but being with him, too. Luck had never been on her side.
His arms cinched and his chest expanded with an inhale. “Me, too.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “You realize this might be sign one of an apocalypse. You admitting you’re afraid. Us together, agreeing on something. We should board up the windows. Gather supplies…”
Burying her face in the soft cotton of his shirt, she laughed. She stayed still a minute longer and then eased away. “I need to change. I’ll be back in a second.”
He nodded. “Any objection to me taking off my shirt?” He rubbed his neck. “I don’t typically sleep in clothes.”
She set her hands on her hips. “Is this a ploy for sex? I told you no sex tonight.”
“Never mind—”
“Because you have looked in a mirror, correct? All those abs and ridges are bound to change my mind.”
Brow furrowed, he opened and closed his mouth. “I can’t decide if that’s a compliment about my body or an insult you’d think I’d trick you into something.”
Poor, poor man. She laughed. “Relax. I’m joking. Well, not about the abs part. Regardless, I don’t care what you do or do not sleep in.” She grabbed a set of PJs from the dresser. “I’ll be right back.”
Exhausted, she headed into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and changed. When she returned, he was on the bed, back against the headboard, with Cotton in his lap purring. He still wore his shirt and nylon shorts, but he’d turned off the overhead light and had switched on a lamp.
He glanced at her and his hand paused over the cat. Slowly, his gaze skimmed the length of her and back again. “Now who’s not fighting fair?”
She looked down at herself. Okay, her pajamas were a little revealing. Baby blue with a cupcake pattern, the tank top was tight and showed a patch of belly, while the shorts were matching boy-cut briefs.
Shrugging, she tossed her painting shirt in the hamper. “Want me to change?”
“No.” The coarse, low tone of his voice sent shivers up her spine.
“I could make all kinds of pussy jokes right now.”
He looked at the cat in his lap and grinned. Carefully, he set Cotton on the floor and crossed his arms, gaze a little uncertain. “At the risk of having my man card revoked, I’ll admit you�
�re a little intimidating, Zoe.”
“Just a little?” She pouted and decided something on the spot.
If they were going to try this relationship thing, she may as well embrace whatever came with the territory. She was tired of fighting the pull. She didn’t think he was entirely ready for intimacy, and it was too soon for sex, but they could…make out.
From the foot of the bed, she crawled on all fours over to him. Through lids growing heavier and heavier, he watched her progress. By the time she straddled his hips, his breaths were soughing between parted lips.
“I take it back. You’re extremely intimidating.” An internal battle waged over his expression, then he set his hands on her bare thighs and squeezed. “You said just sleep.”
“But you’re not ready for bed.” At his questioning glance, she fingered the hem of his tee. “You’re still wearing your shirt.”
He paused, then reached behind his neck to remove it.
“Let me.”
She slipped her hands under the shirt and pressed her palms to the ripples of his abs. His arms dropped to the mattress beside them and he whooshed an exhale. Keeping her gaze on his, she moved her hands higher over his washboard stomach to his pecs, where she grazed her thumbs across the flat discs of his nipples. The back of his skull hit the headboard. Enjoying his reaction and the warm, hard male beneath her touch, she traced his nipples again with feather-light fingertips. They beaded as his chest rapidly rose and fell.
Sliding her hands around his back, she urged him to sit up, and when he complied, she tugged the shirt over his head. His hot, dark gaze landed on hers at the same moment his hands reclaimed her thighs. They stared at each other a suspended beat, and the longer it went on, the harder it became to breathe.
Finally, his gaze drifted over her hair, her face, her lips…as if he were memorizing her features. His fingers toyed with her shorts, then grazed her hips. Watching her closely, he dipped under her tank top and traced her ribs, then shifted around to flatten his hands low on her back.
His touch was more like a caress and unlike the way she’d ever been held before. Like he was learning her body and savoring rather than trying to instill desire. Her breasts grew heavy and her core damp, despite the gentle ministrations. Proving he wasn’t unaffected, his erection grew the longer he held her and pressed against her heat, sending her pulse into overdrive.
Judging by his stillness, he was either unsure of where to go from there or was waiting for her to set the pace. She gripped his biceps, loving the way his muscles shifted with the touch. Moving her hands up his shoulders, she grabbed the back of his neck and toyed with the hairs on his nape.
That was obviously one of his erogenous zones because he sucked air through flared nostrils and groaned. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips across his forehead, his temple, to his jaw. The scratch of his five-o’clock shadow rasped through the quiet, and she closed her eyes. Her nipples formed stiff peaks at the contact with his chest, and she threw her head back.
His mouth latched on to her neck, sucking, nipping. Her fingers clenched in his hair and she emitted a full-body tremble as he moved to the other side, tracing the tendon with his tongue. Hot breath teased her jaw as he worked his way up to the shell of her ear. Tendrils of need wove through her until she couldn’t remember her own damn name. His hands moved to her ass, kneading. Then, he rocked against her, and she lost it.
Fingers still fisted in his hair, she dragged his mouth to hers. Tongue and teeth. A war ensued over dominance and oxygen. Just as she thought she had the battle won, something vibrated her inner thigh.
She smiled against his lips. “You brought toys to the party.”
With a low laugh that came out more like a groan, he fished in his pocket and withdrew his phone. He glanced at the screen and set the cell on her nightstand. “Even though they would’ve been all right overnight, Flynn took my dogs home.”
“Does he know where you are?” One of her concerns was his family. Though they’d always treated her like one of their own, she worked for them. Friends and dating were two separate things.
“Yes.” He tilted his head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “My brothers are surprised yet encouraging of our new development.” With a heavy sigh, he squeezed her leg. “Though I fear a certain part of me will be awake all night, I think we should go to sleep. I promised you that much.”
“Exactly which part will be an insomniac?” She trailed a finger down his chest. “Do you mean the one below your belt—”
He grabbed her hand and twisted his body until they landed on their sides, facing each other. With her head resting on his upper arm and his thigh between hers, he stared at her. “I try very hard not to break my promises. Quit tempting me.”
“How hard do you try?”
On a rugged, rough laugh that ended in a groan, he kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes. Sleep.” As if by punctuation, he snapped his lids shut.
A light rain began to splatter against the windowpane.
“Okay,” she said on a sigh. “But I’m only going to pick up this line of questioning in the morning.”
Chapter 18
Drake awoke with his face buried in lavender-scented hair and a whippoorwill cooing just outside the window. Zoe’s rearend was snug against his increasing happiness to her vicinity as he spooned her. His leg was draped over both hers as if, even in slumber, he’d been concerned she’d bolt, and his hand was splayed between her breasts.
Grinning like an idiot, he lifted his head. Heather had never been much for cuddling. After sex and when they’d first fallen asleep, sure, but by morning, they’d wound up on opposite sides of the bed due to her restless patterns. It appeared the only time Zoe pressed the pause button was while unconscious.
It had been some time since he’d slept with someone. Sunlight streamed through her blinds to create slanted patterns on her soft olive skin. Features relaxed, she looked like a fantasy with her lush mouth parted and dark lashes fanning her cheeks. Her hand rested over his, the other was tucked under her head.
Desire and affection and something he dare not name crashed around in his chest. Most of all, happiness tightened his throat. For years, he’d woken up with the mantra to get through another day. Rinse. Repeat. He almost didn’t recognize the sensation of being anything other than numb.
The things she’d admitted last night tugged at him. Worse were the tears she’d shed while saying them. He’d had no clue she’d felt that way about him. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her cry. She’d always been strong enough to will them away, the exception being the moment Heather had died and the resulting funeral.
But Zoe had opened a vein, had finally let him in, and he wouldn’t make her regret it. He couldn’t change the past, didn’t want to, but he could do something about the future. Though he was scared to death of what the test would reveal, the results would be moot. It didn’t matter when or where. He was going to take her. Like an oath. A promise. And he was keeping her.
He’d told her repeatedly he didn’t know where they were headed. He’d only wanted her to try. But that had been a lie. He knew from the second he’d kissed her where his feelings lay. Probably before, dating back to Cade and Avery’s wedding. He just hadn’t recognized it.
Falling for Heather had been a gradual glide until she’d been so embedded he never questioned his love. Thing was, Zoe had always been there. Thus, the descent with her had been a thirty-story drop with no cushion. Perhaps it was his upbringing with two loving parents who showered affection, or maybe it was just his genetic makeup, but he never shied from emotion or grew embarrassed to demonstrate feelings. What was the point in hiding?
Except Zoe had been walking through life like she’d been alone. She’d had her mom and her friends, but fierce independence and pride—and hurt—had kept her from openly expressing her needs. That ended today.<
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She stirred, and he kissed her bare shoulder over the adorable freckles, wondering where else she had them. He nuzzled her neck while she slowly awakened, and he grew harder as she shifted against him.
In slow motion, as if testing reality, she turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder. She blinked and rolled to face him, those hazel eyes mossy in the morning light. Her gaze skimmed his features. “Hi,” she said in a voice still husky from slumber.
He smiled to diffuse her confusion. “Hello. Do you have any idea how adorable you look when you sleep or how sexy you are when you first wake up?”
A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. “You already have me in bed. There’s no need to—”
Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her to shut her up and because it was what he most wanted—right below breathing and above eating. Holding the back of her head, he deepened the kiss. She melted against him, all soft curves and even softer skin. Breathing got bumped to the bottom of the list when her hands settled on his chest and her nails raked their way down.
Lower, lower…
Sucking air, he lifted his head. “You’re feisty first thing in the morning.”
Her lop-sided grin made him groan. “You started it. And I did warn you we’d continue my line of questioning from last night.” She tapped her chin with a finger and teasingly pouted. “What was the word you used? Ah, yes. Hard. I see you were right about a certain appendage being an insomniac.”
Her deft fingers trailed over his abs and wrapped around his—
“Sweet Christ.” He rolled her beneath him. But that wasn’t much help. She crossed her legs behind his ass, cradling him against her heat. His eyeballs thunked the back of his skull. “Zoe.” He said her name three more times and buried his face in her neck.
