He exhaled and gripped at the steering wheel with both hands. “Do you know, if I concentrate hard enough, I can perfectly picture the way the sun shone on the wood of my parents’ coffins at the funeral? I remember standing at the graveside wrestling with the idea that they were in those boxes—Mom and Dad, and they were about to be separated from me forever. Buried under the earth, while I was forced to live above the ground. I was mad at Grandpa Joe, and the minister… at everyone, because I believed they were deliberately splitting us apart, and making a damn ceremony of it all, to boot.”
“You were barely ten years old. It must have been so hard to make sense of it.”
He nodded, his fingers flexing around the wheel of her car.
“Then we moved in with Grandpa Joe and Stephen. And one thing Stephen always told me was that if I missed my mom and dad, I could still talk to them. I just had to go to a quiet place, and talk about whatever was going on in my head, whatever was bothering me. And of course, I had to have faith that they heard me.
“But I was too pissed off at the world to ever believe a load of crap like that. I acted like Stephen was an idiot every time he brought it up. But part of me always perked up a little whenever he mentioned it. Deep down, I guess I wished it was true, you know?”
Ursa nodded when he glanced over at her.
“You probably remember how mad I could get at times, as a teenager. One time, when I was around fifteen, I got in a fight during a football game. That night, Stephen sat me down, and he told me the reason I always had so much of a problem with my anger was that it was easier to feel my rage over my parents’ deaths than it was to feel my sadness. But I knew everything, of course, and Stephen was just the sap who tried to convince me that fairy tales were true. I told him he couldn’t be more wrong, because I hardly even thought of my parents anymore. I was way past that.
“Then Stephen said that I’d walled off my grief over their loss, and that anger was the fuel that not only built those walls, but kept them reinforced and strong. And I sort of lipped off about how if that were true, than I was fine with it. What did Stephen want, anyway? For me to cry and melt into a puddle every time I thought of my parents? And do you know what Stephen said then?”
Ursa shook her head, her heart feeling thick in her chest and her throat raw. It moved her deeply, seeing this side of Z, witnessing him unfold and showing her the depths to his character of which she’d previously only guessed at.
“He said that I needed to go inside that wall. Not everyday, and not even every week, necessarily. But I needed to get in touch with that grief every once in a while. Yeah, it was hard to think of Mom and Dad being gone, and desperate, and sad. But in trying to wall off all those bad feelings, I’d walled off everything great about them, too. Everything I’d loved.”
“And then Stephen told me the real kicker: the thing that always stuck with me, to this day. He said that was the reason I couldn’t ever talk to Mom and Dad. That was why I couldn’t feel them present still, in my life: I’d let anger take over. I’d built the walls too thick, and I couldn’t imagine Mom and Dad speaking to me anymore,” Z said, glancing over at her.
“So that’s why you just let me cry. Because you knew from personal experience that it was important, just to go to that walled off place once in a while, and let some of the grief out,” Ursa said softly. She reached and spread her hand on his thigh. “You’ve gotten pretty wise in your old age, haven’t you?”
He grimaced. “If that’s the impression I gave you, I was fooling you. I still struggle with managing my grief over Mom’s and Dad’s accident and my anger. Maybe it’s a lifelong lesson. I’m not sure. One thing I do know,” he said, letting go of the wheel and covering her hand with his, “Is that you can’t make those walls so thick that they’re impossible to breach. You’ve got to go to that dark place, every once in a while. And you’ve got to have faith that you can leave it again, live your life, and bring a part of your dad back with you.”
“Does that mean you feel like you can talk to your parents once in a while these days, if you need to?” she asked, a small, hopeful smile on her lips.
He lifted her hand from his thigh and squeezed it.
“It’s gotten better and better over time,” he admitted gruffly. “But yeah. If I had to say right here, right now, I would say Mom and Dad are still a part of my life. They didn’t disappear under the ground, like I was afraid they had, when I was a kid. We weren’t cleaved apart, you know? Part of us always stays joined. It’s the same with you and your dad.”
Ursa blinked back tears, that fullness returning to her chest. Unable to speak at the moment, she leaned across the console and took his face in her hands. Holding his stare, she ran her thumbs over his goatee. She kissed him, trying to convey to him how much his words and his thoughtfulness had meant to her.
How much he meant to her…and how that meaning increased every second she spent with him.
When she finally leaned back from the kiss, she’d grown warm and her breathing was choppy. That somber, enigmatic look was back on Z’s face, but now she also recognized the glint of naked desire in his striking blue eyes. He moved his head in the direction of the café, never removing his gaze from her face.
“I know you’re probably exhausted from this morning, but do you think we could—”
“Yes,” she hissed softly, understanding his question perfectly, even though he didn’t finish it. Need had sprung up in her, as well, during that hungry, heartfelt kiss. “Where?”
“My office?”
“Okay.”
His fingers closed in her hair, causing her neck to stretch back an inch, exposing her throat. His nostrils flared slightly as he looked down at her. “It’s the damnedest thing,” he murmured as if to himself, his gaze roving over her face and sticking on her lips.
“I know,” she agreed, again understanding without words that he referred to the uncommon heat between them, this unnamable, magnetic need.
“Let’s go,” he said, planting one more hungry kiss on her parted lips before he flung back the car door.
Chapter Nineteen
The café was still pretty crowded when they entered. Z held her hand as they made their way past the bar and the booths toward the hallway that led this office. Ursa had to jog every few steps to keep up with him. She felt her hand burn in his the whole way. It’d been the first time he’d ever touched her that way in public, and it struck her as highly significant.
“Z,” someone called breathlessly from behind them. Ursa’s feet faltered. Z halted in the hallway. From her position next to him, she saw his jaw tighten as he ground his teeth together in frustration at the interruption.
They both turned around. Erica stood there holding a piece of paper. “That delivery of parts you were talking about—”
Z lunged, reached, and snagged the paper out of her hand. Erica started. “Thanks. Now do me a favor? Pretend you didn’t see us come in?”
“Z,” Ursa muttered under her breath, embarrassed by his terseness. But Erica didn’t take offense. Her observant gaze bounced between the two of them, her expression never shifting, and then she nodded once.
“No problem, boss.”
Z’s hand tightened on hers, and they were again flying down the hallway.
By the time they reached his office, her anticipation had risen off the charts. The sound of him closing the door behind them, and then the snick of the lock, sent a shiver through her. He turned to her, his back pressed against the door, his light eyes shining in the shadowed room. He didn’t move for a few seconds, but she felt the tension rolling off his big body. She realized she’d been holding her breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a hushed tone when he still didn’t move.
“When we agreed to this thing, you said it was because you wanted the experience with a man. You wanted a better understanding of sex.”
“That’s right.”
He stepped toward her, and her breath hitched. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She could never really be scared of Z. It was just that his power struck her as awesome-bordering-on-ominous in that moment. He reached and delved his long fingers into her hair, tilting back her head.
“Because there’s something you should know,” he said gruffly, stepping even closer until his body ghosted hers.
“What?”
“Sometimes a man can get so worked up, he wants it fast and hard and furious. That’s just a fact of life.”
“Oh,” she murmured, straining upward when his face lowered over hers. “I thought maybe that’s how you always liked it.”
His white teeth flashed in his swarthy face, and she realized what she’d said had wryly amused him. He ducked his head and seized her mouth in a quick, heady kiss.
“So far, that describes things pretty well when it comes to you,” he growled against her lips. He dipped his knees. She shivered at the feeling of his hand snaking beneath the hem of her dress. He caressed the back of her thigh and then her ass. “At least the hard and furious part. I’d like to think I wasn’t always fast.”
Two long fingers slipped beneath her panties. Boldly, he touched her entrance with his fingertips. She gasped. “But what I’m talking about right now is going to be fast.”
He pierced her with one finger.
“Oh…you mean like…like a quickie?” she asked shakily as he drove his finger inside her to the knuckle. Ursa gasped. His fingers tightened in her hair.
“That’s right. A quickie. Fast. Hard. Furious,” he murmured before he dropped another drugging kiss on her mouth. “And do you know why it has to be that way, baby girl?”
Ursa tried to focus in order to answer him. Despite his threat of a quickie, his finger stroked her channel slowly and thoroughly, and his kiss had been hot and unhurried.
“Uh, why?’
He slid his mouth against hers. “Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I can’t stop thinking about what we did this morning in the woods. The memory has been killing me…especially the last part. I’ve wanted to do it again from the second I exploded inside you. I thought about doing it the second you walked into the design lab earlier.” His finger shifted, sliding between her labia, spreading her juices on her clitoris. It felt delicious. Ursa shook next to him and whimpered.
“I thought about bending you over again, and watching my cock slide into your hot, wet, little pussy. I seriously considered locking the door of the design lab and doing it against the computer table, even with everyone working just outside the door. That’s how crazy you make me. I’ve barely been able to think of anything else. So that’s what I’m finally going to do. Right here. Right now,” he said quietly next to her upturned lips. She shifted anxiously against his hand at her sex, feeling his flagrant erection pressed against her stomach. He stroked her clit faster, stirring her with furious precision. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Any objections?”
“No,” she told him emphatically. His dirty talk was having an unexpected effect. Her mind had left her. She existed as a quivering, fevered bundle of nerves, her entire awareness centered exclusively on Z’s moving lips, pressing finger, and full, obvious arousal.
“Then come over here.” Suddenly, his heavenly touch was gone, and she was left bereft and dazed. “Shhhh,” she heard him say, and she realized she’d cried out in protest. He nibbled gently at the corner of her mouth. Then his hands were on her hips, guiding her. He urged her across the room, over to his desk. He placed her hands palm down on the edge. Then his hands were beneath her dress again, and he was lowering her panties down her legs.
“Step out of them,” he instructed gruffly behind her. He sounded strained. Urgent. She moved hastily to kick her panties off. “Hold on a second,” he said when she started to bend at the waist. She spun around when she realized he’d walked away. He was on the far side of the room.
“Z, what—”
But then he was walking toward her, a shallow wooden produce crate dangling from one hand. He dropped it on the floor next to her feet. “There’s no rock here, like there was at the creek. It’ll bring you up closer to my…height.”
Ursa stood on the crate, his words—both the spoken and the unspoken—echoing around in her head. Cock. He’d meant the crate would bring her closer to his cock. Z’s long, beautiful, hard cock with the smooth, fleshy, mushroom-shaped head. She moaned longingly. She wanted to watch it all like he did. She wanted to see him sink into her, inch by inch.
His hand at her lower back, he urged her to bend at the waist and brace herself against the desk. A fine tremor of harsh anticipation shook her entire body. She heard the subtle sound of brushing fabric as he unfastened his jeans. Her breath burned in her lungs. Then she felt his hands lifting her dress to her waist.
“Z,” she gasped, sounding frantic to her own ears.
“I know. I feel it too, baby girl. I’m about to combust,” he said from behind her. She felt his hands at her upper back, and realized he’d tucked the hem of her dress beneath the top in order to keep it in place. His hands cradled her hips, and his thumbs pressed firmly into her ass cheeks. Then, one hand released her, and she felt the flaring crown of his cock press against her entrance.
She bent her elbows and cried out in wild, nearly unbearable need. Hearing her anguish, he thrust firmly, seating himself in her.
Ursa became aware that she howled into Z’s hand. He’d covered her mouth, anticipating her shout. He pulled back on her, so that her back arched. He buried his face against her shoulder. His teeth scraping erotically next to her skin made her even more acutely aware of his cock throbbing, high and hard, inside her.
“You know I love the way you scream, Ursa, but you’ve got to watch it. There’s a whole restaurant full of people out there,” he growled next to her ear.
She nodded, moaning feverishly. He waited for a moment, and then slowly removed his hand. “You okay?” he asked her gruffly. Ursa pushed against the desk and wriggled her bottom, tightening around him by way of an answer. His rough curse was all the reply she wanted.
“Hold tight, baby girl. It’s going to be a rough ride.”
He began to thrust with deliberate, forceful strokes, his pelvis popping rhythmically against her ass. Her ears began to ring. Or was that a strangled, high-pitched cry vibrating in her throat? She couldn’t tell anymore. All sensation blended together into a stifled roar of need.
She became aware of the feeling of cool, polished wood pressed against her hot cheek. Z took her with short, fierce strokes now, the angle of his cock slightly downward as he towered over her. He paused momentarily, both of them groaning at the cessation of the delicious, frantic friction they created together. He lifted her leg, placing her knee on the desk next to her hands. In the new position, he felt huge and overwhelming inside her.
Again, his hand slid over her mouth when he thrust, and Ursa soon knew why. When he plunged deep, she exploded like a firecracker. He continued to pump into her with hard, increasingly erratic strokes while she came, and he muffled her cries. He pierced the center of her pleasure, creating and amplifying it with each incendiary stroke. She shook around him, completely lost, but utterly at home with him at her core.
She was just starting to recover when Z thrust hard, cursed viciously, and slapped her right ass cheek once. Her eyes sprang wide at the sensation of him swelling high inside her. His rough, wild groan as he came rang in her ears and imprinted itself into her very cells. She loved the sound of a man’s abandoned bliss.
No. She adored the sound of Z at the moment he surrendered himself wholesale to this fire between them. That was a sound she could become addicted to.
“So that was a quickie, huh?” she asked Z amusedly several minutes later as she exited the bathroom located inside his office.
“
Yeah. What’d you think?” His back was to her and he was fastening his jeans.
“I now fully understand the term afternoon delight.”
He twisted around to look at her, chuckling. Ursa came to an abrupt halt. Her heart fluttered uncomfortably in her chest. He looked beyond beautiful to her in that moment: Strands of dark hair falling forward on his forehead, his face flushed, his eyes lambent in the shadowed room. A small smile lingered on his hard, sensual mouth after he stopped laughing…not a cocky grin, necessarily. But it was pleased, somehow, as his gaze ran over her. Satisfied.
Happy.
And that’s when Ursa realized with a start, and then a sinking feeling, that she was head over heels in love with Zev Beckett. This wasn’t the infatuated longing of her girlhood. This was the full-blooded, intense love of a woman who recognized the man she wanted by her side forever. In bed. Through joys and sorrows.
Through life.
And she realized all this because she’d seen that small smile on his face. She knew she was in love because she’d seen him happy, and recognized she’d contributed to his happiness, somehow.
It had hit her like a thunderbolt. She would do anything to see Z happy.
If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.
Z’s grin faded. He turned and stepped toward her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching to brush back her hair. She shivered at his touch, flailing for a way to respond, still stunned to the core by her sudden revelation. Oh my God, I’m in love with him. He was terrified he was going to hurt me.
He’d been right to be scared.
If he finds out the truth, he’ll see it as verification that he’s a selfish bastard for getting involved with me.
She stared up at him stupidly. He cupped her shoulder and squeezed.
“Ursa?”
“Yes?” she whispered.
He opened his hand at the side of her face. “What is it? What’s wrong? I was too rough, wasn’t I? I thought maybe I was, but I wanted you so much by the time we got in here. I convinced myself you were as into it as—”
Wild, Wounded Hearts Page 16
