Wrecked

by Shiloh Walker

  She looked down, focusing on her glass. “What happens when this ends? How do we decide that, anyway?”

  “We’ll know.” If I have my way, it ends when my heart stops. That seemed a good time limit. He took one of the cookies and broke it in half, feeding one half to her and popping the other piece into his mouth. He wasn’t hungry, but if he didn’t distract himself . . .

  He’d been working up to this point all week, although the decision to go out of town had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. But now that it was here . . .

  Fuck.

  He lay his hand on her belly. “When it ends, if that’s what happens, we’re just back to us. Nothing is going to change, Abby.”

  “You seem so sure of that.”

  “Because that’s how it will be.” No matter what, even if she walked away, he wasn’t going to lose his best friend. Even if she wouldn’t be his lover, his woman always, she was still the most important person for him and he wouldn’t give that up. “And that’s a question . . . not a rule. Was there anything else?”

  She shrugged a little and took a drink. “Not that I can think of.”

  His phone buzzed. Glancing down, he saw the message.

  Gone, dude.

  That was all it said.

  Taking the phone, he dumped it on the floor next to him. “If that’s it . . .” He caught her glass in his hand and put it down on the little table next to her, and took the tray of fruit and dessert. “There’s something I need to do.”

  Then he put his hand back on her belly and took her mouth.

  * * *

  Abigale would have thought she’d be prepared for his kisses by now.

  She would have thought she could handle them.

  But this . . . this was different.

  As he laid her down onto the chaise, it was like he was trying to consume her. Like he was trying to brand himself on her. And damn, was it working. Her mouth opened wide under his and she fought free of the blanket tangling around her shoulders. Once she had her hands free, she clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into his arms as she arched up against him.

  His mouth left hers to press a stinging line of kisses down over the line of her throat and she shuddered. “Damn it, if you stop again, Zach, I’m going to hurt you.”

  “Not stopping, Abby.” He caught the straps of her tank top.

  Her brain stopped. It simply stopped and she couldn’t process anything. He tugged her upright and she stared at him as he crouched over her, staring down at her with dark, stormy eyes. “Zach . . . ?”

  He said nothing, but his hands jerked the straps of her tank down until they tangled around her arms, half trapping them against her sides. He did the same to her bra and then he dipped his head.

  The cool air danced across her flesh, tightening her nipples and then there was his mouth. Oh . . . his mouth.

  Hot and wicked, and oh, so knowing. It closed around one tight, swollen nipple and pleasure lanced through her. Too much pleasure for such a simple touch, she thought. It blistered her skin, blinded her, and left her gasping for air as he bit down lightly and tugged, tugged . . .

  She clutched his head closer and arched against him, desperate for more.

  And then, even as she tried to get closer, he was gone. Crying out, she opened her eyes but before she could get a word out, he had her in his arms, hauling her up off the lounge. “Inside,” he muttered, his voice harsh, a far cry from the easy tone she was used to. A far cry from the teasing tones she’d heard each time she’d tried to take things further. “Grab the wine . . . we’re going inside. Now.”

  Dazed, she looked around and spied the cobalt blue wine bottle on the table. She closed her hand around it and cradled it against her chest as he carried her across the deck. Once they were inside, he paused by the kitchen counter and said, “Put it down. You aren’t going to be drunk on anything but me tonight.”

  Her skin seemed to burst into flames.

  “I think I already am,” she said, her voice shaking a little as he carried her through another door, into a room she hadn’t seen before. And she didn’t even see it then, not really. He hit the lights but all she saw was the huge bed and Zach as he laid her down and came over her, his hands tangling in her hair.

  The impact of that kiss was enough to make her nerve endings implode, one by one. She heard them exploding, sizzling through her as she wrapped around him, desperate to get closer. His shirt was in the way and she shoved it up, needing to get at his skin.

  He leaned back and tore it away but when he would have come back down over her, she braced her hands against his chest, keeping a few inches between them as she stared at his chest and shoulders. Her breath hitched a little as she smoothed one hand down over his pectoral, lingering over the bleeding heart design that had been inked there.

  Ironically, it was just above where his heart was. A dagger pierced it and there was stylized, twisting scrollwork done around the blade and the heart. It should have looked ridiculously feminine, she thought, but like every other tattoo he had, it suited him. She shifted her attention to the tiger that crouched just across from the heart. It was so vivid, so detailed, she could almost imagine it coming to life, muscles bunching as it leaped from Zach’s skin into reality.

  “I’ve never told you this,” she murmured, flicking him a look. “I’ve never told anybody . . . but I really love your tattoos, Zach.”

  He covered her hand with his and caught her wrist, dragging it away and pinning it over her head. He did the same with her other one and she caught her breath as she felt his bare chest against her own. “You can pet them and play with them all you fucking want,” he promised as he caught her earlobe between his teeth and bit her lightly. “After.”

  She shuddered, her entire body going tight at the thought. After. He was serious. Finally. Lifting her foot, she stroked it down his calf, feeling the worn denim against her sole. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”

  “So are you.”

  He eased upward to crouch above her, reaching for the tie that held her wraparound skirt in place. “You wore this skirt again.”

  “You seemed to like it.” She was about ready to order a dozen more, too.

  “I like you in anything. I think I’m going to like you naked best, though.” He freed the skirt, but didn’t open it yet. Instead, he eased her upright and fought with the tangle that had become her clothing, easing her shirt and bra up and over her head, tossing them to the floor and guiding her back down. And still, he didn’t remove her skirt.

  She wanted to groan. Wanted to scream. And then she wanted to sigh as he caught her breasts in his hands and plumped them together, using his thumbs to tease her nipples.

  “You told me your little secret, Abby,” he said, lifting his head to stare into her eyes. “Now I’ll tell you one of mine. I fucking love your tits.”

  Blood rushed to her face as she stared at him and her skin went hot, tight.

  “Is that a problem?” he murmured.

  She blinked, a shudder wracking through her body as he continued to stare at her, his gaze bold and unapologetic. “Ah . . . I . . . I don’t think so.”

  “So you’re not going to be pissed off at me if I tell you that I often have to kick myself in the ass because I’ll find myself staring at these pretty tits and then have to remind myself we’re supposed to be friends.”

  A whimper caught in her throat and before she could stop it, it squeezed out of her. “We . . .” She licked her lips and finished in a rush. “We are friends.”

  “Yes.” He lowered his head and raked his teeth along the slope of her right breast. “We are . . . and as your friend, I shouldn’t have to kick my own ass to keep from checking out your tits and wondering what it would feel like to do just this. But I did it. All the time. Is that a problem?”

  It should be, she thought, dazed. It really should be. But all this knowledge did was make her hot. Hotter. It burned her so hot, she could barely breathe and even if this
ended tomorrow and they were back to friends, she didn’t know if she could regret knowing what he’d just shared with her.

  “No.” She somehow managed to answer as he continued to wait, watching her with wicked eyes, the blue burning with promises.

  His thumbs stroked around the tips of her nipples and he dipped his head to catch one between his teeth and tugged. “Good.”

  Her head fell back as he did it again and each small pull arrowed straight down between her thighs. The pleasure was almost staggering, so intense, so huge. She went to cradle the back of his head, intent on pulling him closer but then he was gone, moving so suddenly, her brain couldn’t even process it.

  * * *

  Years, damn it. Zach had been waiting for this for years, thinking about how he’d touch her, the ways that he’d seduce her, the ways he’d make love to her. And now that the moment was here, the only thing he could think about doing was just touching her. Learning that lush body with his hands and bringing her to climax so that he heard his name on her lips as she came.

  The material of her skirt spread around her, still hiding her lower body from him, although it spilt just above her right knee, leaving her calves bared to his view. Her breasts, full and round and topped with deep rose–colored nipples, all but begged for his touch and he had to focus on the task at hand to keep from staring at her.

  His hands felt too clumsy as he scrambled to deal with his jeans. The button seemed too damned big and if he wasn’t mistaken, somebody had gone and glued the damned zipper shut. But finally, finally, he managed to get rid of the damn jeans, remembering just in time to pull out one of the rubbers he’d tucked into his back pocket before he’d left home.

  He had more packed away, but for now . . .

  Keeping it tucked in his hand, he went to kneel on the bed and stilled.

  Abby was staring at him, her breath coming in harsh little pants that had her chest rising and falling in the most interesting way imaginable. A flush started low on her chest, spreading up her neck and higher, higher, suffusing her entire body a pale, gentle shade of pink. Her eyes locked blindly with his and her voice was a little shaky as she said, “Damn it, Zach. When did you get to be so beautiful?”

  Something hot and satisfied moved through him as he crawled across the bed and leaned over her, dipping his head to catch her mouth. “Hey, they weren’t trying to get me on the stupid Bachelor show for nothing,” he teased. He had his share of arrogance, he knew. But nothing equaled the rush of pride he felt right now.

  The look of want in her eyes was almost enough to lay him low.

  It almost rivaled what he had inside for her. Almost.

  Her tongue slid against his as he kissed her and her hands curled around his shoulders, tugging him down. But he resisted. He had plans, things he needed to do now that this was finally happening.

  And one fantasy . . .

  Pulling back from the temptation that was her kiss, he settled on his knees next to her hips and waited until the fog cleared from her eyes. “You know, the other day, when you were wearing this skirt,” he muttered, stroking a hand down one of the panels. “I kept having this fantasy. Unwrapping you like a damned present. I get to unwrap you now. Unwrap . . . undo . . .”

  “You’ve been undoing me for the past month.” She curled her fingers into the material of the comforter beneath her.

  “A month?” He slowly started to peel it away, staring into her dark brown eyes. “That’s nothing. I’ve been waiting for this a lifetime.”

  A gasp caught in her throat, but he didn’t keep watching her just then. He needed to remember he’d planned to proceed with caution and he seemed to be throwing caution out the window lately.

  Smoothing the first panel out of the way, Zach stroked one hand down the curve of her hip and bent over her, pressing his lips to the point where her bone pressed against her flesh. A soft sigh escaped her and she stroked a hand over his hair. “Zach . . .”

  He straightened back up and grinned at her. “I always did like to take my time with my presents.”

  She just stared at him, the brown of her eyes darkened to near black. As he reached for the other panel of her skirt, a breath shuddered out of her, almost a sob. Spreading the material out next to her, he kept his gaze on her face as he shifted around, moving her legs so that he had the room to kneel between them. The blush on her cheeks brightened and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it a little before letting it go.

  He rested his hands on her hips, holding her gaze for a long, silent moment. And then, as her lashes drifted down, he let himself look.

  So beautiful. The red banner of her hair spread out around her, one lock curling around her shoulder, the end of it curving around her nipple. The swell of her breasts, the fragile span of her ribs, the indent of her waist, and the curve of her hips. So female. And so his.

  Finally his.

  For now, at least. And he planned on branding himself on her so that she never thought about going to another man.

  The tangle of curls between her thighs was a few shades darker than her hair and glinting with moisture. His mouth watered, but his hands were shaking and his muscles were locked, screaming at him. Need battered at him, chewed angry holes through his will, and he knew he wasn’t going to take his time on this. Still watching her, he tore the rubber open and unrolled it down over his cock.

  Her mouth parted a little and his cock jerked as her tongue slid out to wet her lips. He could see her doing just that, right before she went to her knees in front of him—Stop it, he told himself. Had to stop.

  Coming down over her, he tangled one hand in her hair and tugged her head back, watching her face. “I wanted to take this slow, take our time, and make this last.” He pressed his mouth to hers. “But I can’t. You’re the one who’s undoing people, Abby, and I’m completely undone here. I’ll make it slow, make it matter, make it special next time, I swear.”

  Her hand slid up his back, dipping into his hair as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Zach . . . it already matters . . . it’s already special.” She brought one leg up, pressing her knee against his hip and arching up.

  He groaned as he felt the wet heat of her core brush against him. Reaching down, he held himself steady, started to press against her.

  The soft, sweet flesh yielded around him, gloving around him, so slick and so damned soft. So damned amazing. She whimpered and arched, twining her arms around him and crying out as he started to withdraw. The sheer dismay in her voice wrenched at his heart. And then as he sank back inside her, hearing that ragged cry of pleasure, savage satisfaction flooded him.

  Her nails bit into his flesh, digging in and leaving hot little marks of pleasure as he started to move faster, shuddering at the slick, tight feel of her. Gripping him so tight, so smooth and sleek.

  Brushing his lips against the curve of her cheek, he whispered her name.

  Blindly, she turned her face toward his, seeking him and he met her, kiss for burning kiss as flesh slicked over flesh and their rhythm turned frantic.

  Against his chest, he felt the soft pressure of her breasts, the fiery little points of her nipples. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and she rocked to meet each thrust.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against her lips. “So beautiful, Abs.”

  The tension in her body ramped up. Too much . . . too much . . . as he surged back inside her, it was like sinking his cock into a fist of silk—impossible and every bit as sweet. Then she cried out, a look of sheer bliss washing over her face.

  As she started to come, he surged against her, harder, faster, forgetting about finesse, grace . . . forgetting everything but the fact that this was Abby.

  The one woman he’d always wanted.

  The one woman he’d thought he’d never have.

  Chapter Ten

  “Umph.”

  Abigale wanted to keep her face buried in the pillows, dead to the world.

  But Zach apparently had
other ideas. “Come on, beautiful. It’s not even ten. You’re not going to bed yet.”

  As he swept her up in his arms, she poked a finger into his ribs. “Why the hell not?” She turned her face into his neck and sighed.

  “Because I plan on putting you into a hot tub, scrubbing you clean, and then fucking you all over again.”

  That sounded enticing. Abby opened one eye and peered up at him. From somewhere through the door off the right, she could hear water running. “Are you getting in the tub, too?”

  “Yes.”

  She debated for a few seconds, but as tired as she was, she really couldn’t see any downfalls to this idea. Other than being tired, but she could always sleep, she figured. “Okay.”

  * * *

  The bath was amazing and she had to admit, she felt all nice and loose as he helped her out nearly a half an hour later. And if it wasn’t for the burn of lust in her belly . . . Stop it, she admonished herself. Reaching for a towel, she tried to remind herself that she’d just had sex. Just had him.

  He caught the towel from her. “Let me,” he murmured.

  She stood quiescent as Zach stroked the towel over her, drying her hair, her body. In front of the mirror, she could see him behind her and she decided then and there that it was painfully erotic to watch a man do this.

  Her breath hitched a little as he passed the towel over her breasts once more and then paused to drape it around her.

  “I want to check your tattoo,” he murmured against her ear.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, but he was already looking down at her hip. She moved forward a step and braced one hand on the edge of the sink, turning her head to see it better.

  All she could see was a glimpse of black ink and skin. It wasn’t as swollen as it had been so that was good, she figured.

  “How does it look?” she asked as he trailed his fingers along the slope of her hip.

  “It looks good.” His fingers flexed and he stroked another hand down over her hip. Before he could let go, though, she reached back and caught his wrist.