New Tricks

by Kelly Moran

  “I’m thirty-one years old. Mama was in her late forties when she started exhibiting symptoms. They can present at any time. You really want to put a child through that? Because I don’t.” She sighed, her heart heavy. “I’m not having kids. And that’s what you want most.”

  Closing his eyes, he rubbed his jaw. “Zoe.” Staring at her, a war over his needs and her circumstances waged across his face. “You don’t know what that test will say.”

  “And you need to quit living in denial and accept what the result might be.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ran her fingers over the tension lines on his forehead and said the one thing she’d been holding back for too many years. “I love you.”

  His shoulders deflated. “Zoe—”

  “Stop.” She shook her head, knowing exactly what was coming next. “I love you and I know you inside and out. Don’t you dare tell me nieces and nephews will be enough, that you’ll adjust your dreams for me. Even if the test comes back negative, Mama is my responsibility. She’ll be out of rehab soon. You’ve seen what she’s like. That’s no environment for a child.” Her chest hitched. “Do you understand now? Do you get it? I’m not trying to be stubborn or pessimistic. I’m drowning in reality.”

  Chest rising and falling, jaw ticking, he stared at her through desolate eyes. The longer he stayed silent, the greater the sheen grew, until his eyes were red with unshed tears. He made a noise like a caged tiger and dropped his forehead to her breastbone. Fists clenched, he growled again. Huffing, he vibrated while obviously trying to get himself under control.

  “I swear to you, I’ll find a way around this.” He lifted his head, set his palms on the bed by her shoulders, and hovered over her. “If I have to change your goddamn DNA myself, I’ll fucking do it. Because I love you right back. I did not claw my way out of grief only to find you and have someone I can’t breathe without taken from me again.”

  She squeaked in an attempt to pull oxygen into her lungs. Holy, holy cow. With his fierce alpha side barely in check, she almost believed he could bend time or shift space to his will. But the fact remained, no matter how badly they might want something, that didn’t make it true.

  But her childish pathetic heart latched onto what she’d always secretly dreamed he’d say. “You love me?”

  His expression softened, smoothing the fear and rage from his handsome face. “Are you kidding me? Yes. I love you.” His gaze darted back and forth between her eyes. “Now it’s time for you to understand me. No test or anything else is keeping me from you. We will work this out together.”

  She almost believed him. Raising her head, she pressed her lips to his until the last of the strain in his body eased.

  He brushed his nose with hers. “Tell me again, honey.”

  “I love you.”

  His thumb traced her lower lip as if he were trying to savor the feel of her words and not just the sound. “Then nothing else matters.” Tilting his head, he kissed her until oblivion hung in the balance. His lips dragged across her cheek to her neck. “You.” He moved to the other side. “And me.” Open-mouthed kisses rained over her throat. “From now on.”

  “Them’s fighting words.” Arousal heated her skin, made her throb.

  His warm breath fanned her breasts as he laughed. “Damn right.”

  He latched onto her nipple and she gasped, holding the back of his head as if that would be enough to keep him with her. He shifted to the other breast and she moaned, dragging her heel up his leg to his ass.

  Groaning, he reached for another condom, sheathed himself, and slid his arms behind her back. “Hold onto me.”

  She thought he meant metaphorically until he lifted her and she discovered he’d meant it literally as well. Cool air rushed her skin as he rose onto his knees, shifted his body to lean against the headboard, and brought her to a complete halt against his chest while she straddled him.

  Gaze on hers, hands firmly on her hips, he paused. His tip nudged her opening and her lids fluttered closed. She sunk her fingers into the flesh above his pecs while he kept her suspended between heaven and hell.

  “Drake, please.”

  His chest expanded as if that was exactly what he’d been waiting to hear. And in one breathtaking thrust, he filled her. A needy whimper raked her throat and she opened her eyes to find his locked on her. Heat and torment and promise shone through the depths. He moved his hands to her thighs, gradually sliding them toward where they were joined.

  God, the way he touched her. Like he was learning and memorizing while seeking enjoyment.

  She eased back to take him deeper and ground her hips. A tremor of need fizzled through her veins. No one made her ache, made her want like Drake. She explored his athletic body—the wide, strong shoulders, ripples of abs. A runner or swimmer’s build. Perfection. His muscular thighs beneath her flexed, and she lifted her gaze to his.

  Through hooded eyes dark with passion, he studied her in turn. As his gaze raked over her, his chest moved with rapid pants. “You’re beautiful.”

  Throughout her life, she’d been told that many times over. Perhaps because of her gypsy heritage. But he was the first person to have her believe it or, at the very least, not question the words. She took his wrists and guided his hands to her breasts. With hers over his, she rocked her hips.

  As if by instinct, he rose to meet her, and the connection was brutally breathtaking. She set a rhythm and he followed the dance, thrusting up as she came down over him. Tension built in her belly and she closed her eyes, tilted her face toward the ceiling. God, he filled her. Everywhere.

  Even without looking, she knew he was watching her, and something about that heightened her response. An awareness crept into her, coiled, and sped her heart rate. Brows pinched, she parted her lips, whispering words of encouragement.

  He moved one hand to her lower back, the other to where they were joined, and she imagined his intent gaze taking in how he drove inside her, how she rode him with abandon. Throbbing, her breasts grew heavy with desire.

  His thumb circled her clit, and she cried out as her body splintered. Light and sound fractured. Time screeched to a halt while she all but convulsed with the violent release.

  A groan, and he straightened. His chest crashed against hers. His arms wrapped around her back, hands holding her shoulders from behind. His mouth teased hers, open and poised as if in shock. And then he pulsed inside her, body rigid as he came, hips rocking to pull every drop of pleasure.

  Dizzy, delirious, she wove her fingers through his hair and opened her eyes. His lashes fluttered, and she was met with dark chocolate. He stared at her, unwavering. Like he was lost and found, in agony and bliss, satisfied and hungry.

  With a shaking hand, he cupped her cheek. “I can’t breathe.”

  Her throat closed at his honesty. Because she knew the implication, what he’d meant. He’d said the same thing the night of Heather’s funeral, and he was telling Zoe now. Somehow, he’d learned to function again after his wife’s death, but now he was right back to square one.

  Fighting to draw air.

  Chapter 24

  Drake scanned the semi-full banquet room a third time. Still no Zoe. Nauseated, anxiety-laden, he took a sip of whiskey and pretended to listen to Pete as he blathered about a workshop he’d attended.

  People from the conference floated from table to table in the pre-dinner moments. It was like a jacked-up charity function with all the black ties and sequined dresses. White linen cloths and flower arrangements. An instrumental orchestra played annoyingly droll music in a corner. Drake would rather say screw it and head back upstairs. Strip Zoe down to nothing and lose reality inside her soft, hot body.

  And never resurface.

  When he’d awoken this morning, she had already been dressed and sitting by his hip in bed, holding coffee. She’d been so damn distant and aloof his heart had stopped. They�
��d attended separate workshops and then went out to lunch. Blessedly, from there, she’d begun to act more normal.

  He’d taken her to Portland Art Museum because he knew her pretty eyes would wander everywhere and be happy. With a mix of Asian, American, and Native American pieces, she’d been in Zoe heaven. They hadn’t much time after that, so they did a quick tour of the Japanese Garden where she’d claimed to get new painting inspiration. He’d have to bring her back to the city again when they had more chances to explore.

  An hour ago, she’d insisted she would meet him down here for the banquet. Something about primping, but he suspected she needed some time alone. Adjusting his tie, he decided if she didn’t show her gorgeous ass in the next three minutes, he’d go after her.

  “The equipment they used wasn’t half bad, though.”

  Drake grunted as if he’d been listening to Pete. He’d forgotten how talkative his former classmate could be. “Sounds like it was productive for you.” Where the hell was she?

  Pete laughed. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”

  “Sorry. I’m distracted—”

  Heaven help him. Across the room, Zoe stood in the doorway wearing a gold slip dress that clung to every subtle curve and stopped at her knees. Toned legs three states long and black heels. Her hair was up in some complicated twist and several strands fell around her face. Red lips, smoky eyes.

  Oxygen backed up in his lungs as she glanced around, probably searching for him.

  Pete laughed into his drink. “I can see why. She’s one helluva distraction.”

  No shit.

  Her gaze landed on Drake and a grin split her face. She made her way over and he groaned at her swaying hips, at the purely sexual way she moved. And he knew exactly the beauty that awaited him under that dress.

  Pete chuckled. Again.

  “Hey.” She shook Pete’s hand and kissed Drake’s cheek. Her brow pinched at his lack of ability to speak, blink, or breathe. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like my dress?” She glanced down at the torture device in question.

  “I need a minute.” Since his voice sounded strangled, he cleared his throat. Like an idiot, he just kept staring. Funny how a guy could go his whole life knowing someone and never truly see them.

  Pete, yet again, laughed, giving Drake the urge to punch the grin right off. “I’m going to find my seat. Zoe, you look lovely.”

  “Thank you.” She eyed Drake. “Guess someone doesn’t need time to flip a compliment.”

  When Pete strode away, Drake’s fingers clenched his glass. “You don’t look lovely.”

  Her lips flattened. “Well—”

  “You look goddamn gorgeous and you’re making it difficult to string consonants together to form syllables.”

  Her eyebrows pinged and her jaw dropped. “That’ll do. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Stepping closer, he bent and kissed her forehead. Mercy, that lavender scent drove him insane. “We better sit. If we don’t, I’m tempted to take you right back upstairs.”

  She sighed dreamily. “I’m good with either scenario.”

  Dinner was lengthy and tedious. Zoe had the salmon and Drake the tenderloin, and though he was sure both were delicious, he tasted nothing. All he could focus on were the male eyes on her, the way she slipped into conversation so easily as if he weren’t there, and the damn laugh Pete kept dragging from her pouty red mouth. It was enough to make a man homicidal.

  During dessert, she moved her hand to Drake’s thigh under the table and drew lazy patterns with her finger. Each little swirl brought her closer and closer to DEFCON Five. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. “If you promise to stop killing conference attendees in your head, I’ll scream your name later. After all, you’re the only person I’m thinking about.”

  With a casual blink of her lashes, she smiled and resettled in her seat while he did everything he could to not growl. Or lay her flat on the table. Visions of her stripping out of that holy-hell dress and screaming his name forced him to shut his eyes or he’d wind up with a busted zipper. When he opened them, she was making love to a slice of lemon meringue pie with her mouth via a fork.

  Drake slammed the rest of his whiskey. And her champagne.

  Zoe smiled. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  The guys at the table rose out of politeness. Drake didn’t dare or he’d be expelled for indecent behavior. Napkin firmly in his lap to hide his erection, he stared at his plate and thought through the steps of neutering surgery. By the time she returned, the orchestra had started again and people were mingling about or dancing.

  Smiling, she set her clutch purse on the table. “Pete, would you care to dance?”

  Hell. He knew she was only being polite since Pete was here alone, but Drake’s molars nearly cracked.

  With a grin, Pete rose. “I would love to.” He glanced at Drake. “So long as my face will not be rearranged when we return.”

  Unable to help it, Drake laughed. “Keep your hands where I can see them and you have a deal.” Zoe rolled her eyes and, as they stepped away, he called her name. “That goes for your hands, too.”

  Mocking a pout, she sighed. “Damn.” She smiled at Pete. “It was worth a shot.”

  Drake tracked their progress on the floor throughout the song, smiling at her vast expressions as she spoke, imagining the witty nonsense she was probably spouting. Never a dull moment with Zoe around.

  After the first song, he met her on the dance floor and took her hand, tugging her to him and setting them in motion to an elevator version of Just the Way You Are. “Haven’t danced with you since Cade’s wedding. I think my heart pounded just as hard, but for an entirely different reason.”

  She smiled up at him. “And why was that?”

  “First time it beat in years. You have a way of doing that, you know.”

  Studying him, her smile slipped a fraction. “You don’t have to say sweet things all the time or be jealous. You’re the only one I’m interested in.”

  “I speak truth.” As for the other thing, he didn’t think jealous was the right word. Being around her gave him an uncanny urge to beat his chest and growl mine, but that was more territorial than envy. “I’m not sure where the jealousy vibe comes from. I was never like that with Heather.”

  Her fingers played with the hair on his nape. “Probably because you guys started dating so young. Everyone kind of knew she was yours. Besides, she wasn’t a flirt like I am.”

  True. He dipped his hands low on her back and urged her closer. “You two were very different in a lot of ways. From an outside prospective, it’s surprising you were best friends.”

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. Her gaze grew distant as she looked away, her expression indicating her thoughts had drifted into enemy territory.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “She’s just a tough act to follow.”

  His stomach bottomed out. He stilled their movement, utterly shocked this had been a concern on her part. “Are you worried I won’t love you as much as her?”

  “Of course, you won’t.” Her irritated, vulnerable gaze nailed him. “You two were epic. Storybook. I wouldn’t ever expect us to compare with that.”

  Christ, he was an asshole for not seeing this sooner. “You’re wrong.” He set them in motion again, trying to find the words to explain while he breathed through the way she’d wrecked his gut with her admission. Worse, that she believed it. “I love both of you with the same heart, Zoe, just in different ways.”

  Since she’d lowered her head and rested her cheek on his chest, he couldn’t see her face to read her expression. But she moved easily with him, despite the stiffening of her spine. Breathing in her lavender scent, he closed his eyes and picked apart his past, his present, and found answers he thought she needed.

  He res
ted his chin on her head and caressed her neck, her back. “Heather was a calming presence in my life. She was a pleaser and very agreeable. She saw only the best in people. There was quiet passion and gentle readings of the mind. We could sit in silence for hours and not feel the need to talk. No demands or pressure, and I loved that most. The simplicity of just being with someone.”

  Sighing, he kissed Zoe’s hair and left his lips to linger. “You both have huge hearts and giving natures and fierce loyalty to those you love. The two of you are dreamers and romantics. Family always comes first, whether that’s by blood or friendship. Those shared traits are what I treasure, what drew me to both of you.”

  His arms banded tighter around her and he held the back of her head, fighting an emotional onslaught as memories shoved around in his skull. “You, Zoe, challenge me. When I want to sit idle, you force me to look at what’s around me and participate. I’m constantly on my toes, wondering what you’ll say next and causing my head spin to keep up. No one can make me laugh like you do. You see both sides of the coin, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind in a world where most people would rather placate. You, honey, are a fighter.”

  Closing his eyes, he blew out an uneven breath. “Same heart,” he repeated, “different ways to love.”

  She didn’t speak or respond or falter in her steps as they danced. Both arms were still around his back and one hand was buried in his hair. Songs bled together. Partners came and went from the floor. He’d swore she’d left the premises if he wasn’t holding her so damn tight.

  After he didn’t know how long, she slowly lifted her head and stared at his chest. “Drake…”

  Enough. He took her hand, twirled her, and brought her back to him. “We’re not upstairs yet. Don’t start chanting my name. And by the way, you promised to scream it.”

  She breathed a husky laugh. “I’m a woman of my word. Let’s go.”

  He held her hand in the empty elevator ride up, his gaze focused on the numbers. “What color panties do you have on tonight?”

  “Who says I’m wearing any?”