Wrecked

by Shiloh Walker

  The breath caught in her lungs as their gazes locked.

  Things that she wanted that she couldn’t see . . . Right now the problem was that she knew exactly what . . . no . . . she knew who she wanted. But it wasn’t a good idea . . .

  He reached up and tugged on her hair. “So what’s the other thing you planned on doing, Abby?”

  You.

  The word almost jumped out of her. She had to fight to keep it locked inside and not just because it sounded trashier than hell. She wasn’t exactly planning on doing a man. She’d planned to have an affair. A torrid affair. With a hot guy.

  Yet the only guy she could even imagine doing this with right now was Zach.

  “Ah . . .”

  That familiar smile of his, a little devious, a little wicked, curled his lips as he wound one of her curls around his finger. “What is it, Abby? You weren’t planning something really bad, were you? Going to rob a bank? Get a part-time job as a stripper?”

  She snorted and eased back away from him, reminding herself that she needed to breathe. She needed to think. That was what she needed to do. “Sure, Zach. I’m going to become the Stripper Bank Robber. I’ll wear a mask and a G-string and pasties.”

  “Can I be your getaway driver? I’d love to see this,” he teased, his voice husky.

  And the look in his eyes was . . .

  Whoa. Her mouth went dry and again, her skin felt all hot and tight. She couldn’t seem to suck in enough oxygen. “Well, you’ll just have to picture it your dreams. Stripping and bank robbing weren’t on the list.”

  “I dunno . . .” A wicked light glinted in his eyes and he leaned in closer. “You look awful guilty, sugar. Just what else is on the list?”

  Get up. Walk away. You need to think—

  That voice, the voice of reason, the voice of sense, the voice she’d listened to her entire adult life, seemed to shriek at her, blaring a warning loud and long as she stared at him.

  Another voice, sly and seductive, whispered, you said you’d stop worrying. You wanted to live . . .

  * * *

  The dark brown of her eyes seemed to burn as she stared at him.

  Zach was torn between just closing the distance between them and just calling this whole idea off. More than seventeen fucking years, damn it. That’s how long he’d loved her and she’d never known.

  But you’ve never told her.

  Yeah, because she’d never seemed to—

  Abby slid her off her stool.

  Mentally, he sighed. Shoving a hand through his hair, he glanced away from her, tried to find something else to look at, focus on, think about. He’d been teasing her and pushing her as far as he figured he could go without saying outright, “I read the damn journal. If you have to have an affair, why not me?” But she wasn’t exactly following and—

  Her hand touched his shoulder.

  Zach looked back her. His heart seemed to jump up into his throat as she closed the distance between them.

  Everything in the world faded away as she pushed up onto her toes.

  And then, as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, Zach realized this was what it was like to have a dream actually come true. As her mouth parted under his, he was almost certain he was dying. Maybe he’d already died. Yeah. He’d been eating something and choked, died, and now he was in heaven.

  Except he figured there was no way he would end up there.

  So maybe Abby really was kissing him. Groaning, he reached for her and hauled her closer, pulling her to stand between his legs. With one arm wrapped around her waist, he slid his free hand up her back and tangled it in the crazy, soft curls of her hair. Soft as silk, just like he remembered.

  And her mouth was sweet, every bit as sweet as he remembered, but there was no director, no crew, no brilliant stage lights shining down and this kiss wasn’t choreographed or scripted.

  Abby wasn’t kissing him because she had to, wasn’t kissing him because it was in some fucking script, and she wasn’t going to pull away and make some stupid joke to break the tension.

  Abby was kissing him, damn it.

  It was real.

  Real, and he was going to make the most of it.

  Using his grip on her hair to tug her head back, he tasted and teased the curve of her lower lip and dipped inside her mouth to stroke her tongue with his own.

  She whimpered and arched closer.

  Closer, so that through the thin silk of the tank she’d pulled on, he could feel the soft weight of her breasts, the lush curves of her body and it wasn’t enough. He wanted, no, he needed more, but . . .

  Tearing his mouth away, he buried his face against her neck.

  Her body vibrated against his.

  “Abby . . .” he whispered, all too aware of how ragged his voice sounded. All too aware of the fact that his hands were probably shaking and the muscles in his body were bunched, tensed, ready to take.

  But what in the hell was going on?

  Her hands stroked up his arms, one curving around his neck while the other slid into his hair.

  Her lips brushed against his cheek as she turned her head. “I could tell you one of the other steps, Zach, but you’d either think I was crazy or you’d worry about me.”

  Lifting his head, he stared at her with a narrow gaze. Her face was flushed and her eyes were a little glassy. But she didn’t look away. Long seconds ticked by and then she tried to ease back from him.

  No, damn it. She wasn’t pulling back now.

  Glancing around, he studied their surroundings and then he grabbed his stool with one hand, keeping his right arm banded around her waist. He managed to drag the damn thing a foot or two down the length of the breakfast nook to the bar and then he sat down.

  Abby yelped as he lifted her up onto his lap and the skin on his burned hand screamed at him. He ignored both. Her skirt tangled around her legs and that was a bit of a hindrance, but he tugged and pulled until she was sitting astride him with the skirt tucked up around the sweet swell of her hips.

  Rushing it, man. Pushing too far, a calm, rational voice said. But how the hell could he be rushing it? He’d loved her for most of his life and his problem was that he’d never made a move. Now she had and damn it, he wasn’t letting her walk away just like that.

  “The only thing that worries me about your life is the fact that you never really live it,” he said, hooking his arm around her shoulders and staring at her.

  Her face was flushed and her eyes were overbright. Her gaze bounced around like she couldn’t look at him and she kept squirming around—considering her position, that made things very interesting. “Abby . . . be still, damn it.”

  She wiggled even more. “Put me down, Zach.”

  “Why?”

  “Because . . .” She stopped and then lifted her eyes to stare at him. Her tongue came out to wet her lips and because he just couldn’t stop himself, he pushed his hand into her hair, tangled it around his fingers, and took her mouth.

  The way he’d always dreamed about.

  It was a moment made for dreams, it seemed.

  Every time he’d thought about doing this, he’d been certain he’d get any reaction other than this. Anything but her hunger. Anything but her meeting him ragged breath for ragged breath, hungry touch for hungry touch. Desperate kiss for desperate kiss.

  A soft, startled gasp escaped her and he swallowed it down. Yet another dream came true as he felt her wiggle closer and wrap her legs around his hips and arch closer. Abby . . . he had Abby on his lap and she had those lush, wonderful legs wrapped around him.

  Fisting one hand in the tangle of her skirt, he dragged it higher, forcing the layers of material up out of the way until he could rest his palm on bare skin. The fabric brushed against the back of his burnt hand and pain slashed through him, but it faded in comparison to everything else.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck as he slid his hand back behind her hips, nudging her closer. Closer . . .

  Fuck . . . right
there—

  A broken moan escaped her as she tore her mouth away, her head falling forward to slump on his shoulder. Her nails bit into his shoulders, tension rocketing through her body as she started to rock against him and through her panties, through his jeans, he felt the heat of her.

  Using his grip on her curls, he tugged her head back and pressed his lips to the hollow at the base of her neck. At the same time, he held her hips steady and started to move her, battling back the urge to come up off the damn stool and spread her out on the bar next to him.

  No. Not the bar. Not enough room there.

  The floor . . . nah. The table. Room there. Lots of it. He could undo the tie on her skirt, like he was unwrapping a present. Strip away her tank . . .

  He settled for guiding her hips back and forth across the painfully hard ridge of his cock, listening to her broken gasps. When he heard her whisper his name, her voice a little dazed, he almost lost it. Damn near came in his jeans like a teenager.

  Her hands came up, dipping into his hair as he used his chin to nudge the strap of her tank out of the way, nuzzling and nibbling his way down the smooth, pale flesh. The swell of her breasts was right there . . . so fucking close.

  Maybe he could—

  Her body tightened.

  Her knees tightened around his hips and she arched, her body a lovely, sweet bow. “Zach . . . ?”

  Turning his head, he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and bit down. “Come for me, damn it.” Too many years spent wanting her and now, everything he wanted, everything he needed was right here. “Come for me, Abby . . .”

  * * *

  Those husky words sent her flying higher than she’d ever been.

  Unable to breathe, unable to see, caught in the circle of his arms and the heat of his body, Abby experienced a climax that all but devastated her. The oxygen seemed to disappear from the world. And it took the light with it. For long, long minutes, she was blind, deaf to anything and everything.

  And then, as rational thought started to intrude, she forced her eyes to open.

  They were moving.

  Or rather, Zach was.

  The hot rush of blood leaped to her cheeks as those stupid rational thoughts started to intrude, but she couldn’t very well spring away from him and get herself under control because he was carrying her.

  “If you try to jump away from me, you’re going to hurt us,” Zach said quietly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Walking up the stairs and having panic attacks aren’t very good combinations.”

  Her tongue seemed to glue itself to the roof of her mouth, but she managed to get the words out. “Why . . .” Okay. She got one word out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Why are we going upstairs?”

  “Because I want to sit down and hold you for a little while without you taking off and locking yourself in your room. I figured I’d just lock myself in there with you.”

  Her brain shut down.

  Locked in her room.

  With Zach.

  That sounded so very appealing.

  And it felt even better, she had to admit a few minutes later as he laid her down and tucked himself up behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist, his palm flat against her belly. The heat of him spread through her body, lulling her, calming her, seducing her.

  Too perfect for words, she decided.

  She could handle this, she thought. As long as she didn’t think. As long as she didn’t—

  Watch out, her brain warned her. You’re starting to think.

  Desperately, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Focus on him. Just him. He feels nice, right?

  Oh, yes. He felt better than nice. Better than anything she’d ever felt, really.

  But what in the hell is going on? You were going to think things through and now—

  Stop it. The calm, rational part of her mind got a little louder. But it just wasn’t enough and before she even realized it, she blurted out, “What in the hell just happened?”

  Zach’s lips touched the back of her neck. “Well, I’m no expert, but I think you kissed me,” he said, his voice teasing. “And I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed it. But maybe we should try again.”

  And then she found herself on her back, staring up into a pair of dark blue eyes that she knew very, very well. They’d always seemed to glint with mischief, or trouble . . . but she’d never realized just how much they glinted with that kind of trouble.

  Not until now.

  As his mouth came down on hers again, Abby barely had time to catch her breath. Then she was wondering why she’d even bothered. He stole the oxygen right out of her with his kiss. His tongue stroked along hers, moving into her mouth with an easy assurance that belied his words.

  I’m no expert.

  Oh, yes. Yes, he was.

  She whimpered as he took the kiss deeper.

  The hand on her belly caught the material of her skirt, dragging it upward and although panic crowded inside her head, there was nothing in her that could make herself pull away. Nothing that would make her say stop.

  He’d do it. There was no doubt in her mind.

  The problem was she didn’t want him to stop.

  As his fingers flirted with the waistband of her panties, Zach lifted his mouth from hers and whispered, his breath dancing over her swollen, sensitive lips, “Abby . . . ?”

  She knew what he was asking. He was giving her a chance to call a halt to this. A halt to this crazy, insane . . . what was this thing?

  Swallowing, she forced herself to open her eyes and stare at him. “What’s going on, Zach?”

  He sighed and instead of slipping his hand inside her panties, he smoothed a palm over her thigh. He lowered his head, resting it on her breasts. “That’s the twenty-thousand-dollar question, I guess, isn’t it?”

  She felt the puff of air against her sensitive skin and groaned as her nipples responded, tightening as though he’d been nibbling on them instead of just talking to her. This was insane.

  Completely insane.

  She’d just had the climax of her life . . . with Zach. And both of them were still fully clothed. They hadn’t had sex. They’d only barely been making out and she’d come harder than she could ever remember coming in her life.

  Insane.

  And all she wanted to do was strip herself naked, make him do the same so they could see just how far they could ride this insanity.

  “We should stop.” Her body shrieked at the very idea of it. So did just about every other part of her. Hell, even her mind wasn’t getting on board with the idea of stopping. She closed her eyes. “Shouldn’t we?”

  He rubbed his cheek against her skin. “Is that what you want?”

  No. Terror locked the word in her throat. Yes, she’d been the one to kiss him and yes, she wanted more, so much more. Lately, the things she seemed to want from Zach terrified her. But he was her best friend. There was nobody she loved more than him, nobody who meant more. He was . . . everything.

  What if she lost that?

  The weight of his head left her breast and she opened her eyes to find him watching her, with his measured, steady gaze. “Abs . . .” He stroked a hand along her cheek, cupped her face in his palm.

  Licking her lips, she nudged him back. “Let me up a minute.”

  Something flashed through his eyes. It might have been disappointment, she thought. But she was afraid to think about it too long.

  As he eased away, she shifted away from him and climbed off the bed to pace. “I’d say something like this is crazy. Except I kissed you so it’s not like this came out of nowhere.” She shoved her hair back from her face.

  “Are you trying to tell me you wish you hadn’t kissed me?”

  She shot him a look and then wished she hadn’t.

  Wow.

  How in the hell hadn’t she noticed this before . . .

  He sat with his back pressed against her headboard. The walls of her bedroom were pale green and the headboard was
white. The boards were reclaimed wood and the overall feel of her room was a shabby chic look, feminine without being too fussy. Zach should have looked incredibly out of place on her bed, with his beat-up jeans and black t-shirt. But he didn’t.

  He looked like he belonged there. In her room. With her, with that faint smile on his face and that intimate, watchful look in his eyes. The vivid color of his tattoos wound around his arms and she found herself wanting to pull his shirt off and learn the detail of those tattoos in ways she’d never done before.

  He was too beautiful for words.

  Logically, she knew that. She’d appreciated the sheer beauty of him before. But knowing it and having it hit her like this were two very different things. Her belly, all hot and tight, twisted with need as she stood there staring at him and it took her a few more seconds to remember that he’d asked her something. A question. Oh, yeah.

  “No,” she said. She didn’t regret kissing him at all. “I just . . .” She shook her head and shifted her gaze to somewhere other than him.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  Blood rushed to her face and she turned away, focusing her attention on the sprawling window that stared out over the desert. At night, she could stare out at the spread of the sky and feel lost in the beauty of it. During the day, she could stare at the desert and find some peace in the chaos of her day.

  But right now, it wasn’t working.

  Hearing a faint movement behind her, she turned around as he came to a stop just inches away. “No answer?” he murmured, reaching out to tug on a lock of her hair.

  She jerked her chin up and fell back on the attitude that had gotten her through things when little else could. “Hey, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I could always ask you why you kissed me back,” she shot off.

  A hot grin appeared on his face and he dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “But I can give you an answer for that. Are you really sure you want to hear it?”

  Abigale rolled her eyes and tried to back away from him. But he followed her. Step-by-step, until she stood with her back braced against the wall just by the window, the heat of the sun already warming her skin. “I probably already know what it is,” she said, curling her lip at him. “You’re a man, right?”