Butterfly Lane (24 page)

Chapter Fourty-Three

T
he TV was on, but John would have been hard pressed to say what they’d been watching for the past hour. His thoughts had been on Zanny, and he was feeling very nearly defeated by the separation. He ran his hands over his head, absently noting he was in need of a haircut. The realization that Zanny would have taken care of that for him just added to his pain.

Emma turned down the volume on the TV when he sat forward and rested his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

John couldn’t answer her. He thought there was a very real chance if he tried to talk right then, he would end up bawling like a baby.

His sister sighed, and her voice was sad when she spoke. “Looks like we both have a lot on our minds tonight.”

He looked at her, noticing then that she was rubbing her baby bump more than she usually did. “Are you okay, Em?”

“Yeah. Just a little introspective. Talk to me. What’s going through that hard head of yours?”

“What do you think?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “How can I help?”

Lacing his fingers together between his knees, he studied his palms. “Tell me how to fix things. I don’t know how to reach out to Zanny. I’ve given her space. I’ve tried being patient. I’ve tried flirting some when I see her…and nothing. It’s like she’s behind a brick wall and doesn’t trust a word that comes out of my mouth. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Emma was quiet for a while, her brow furrowed as she studied him. “You really want her back, don’t you?”

John would have thought that was obvious. “Em, I’m going crazy here. I miss my family, and I want to go home. And right now, I don’t see any way that’s ever going to happen.”

She grunted a little as she stood, then stretched carefully. “I’ll be right back. Sorry.”

“I’ll be here.” He had nowhere else to go.

When Emma came back, she had the look on her face that told John she was debating on whether to say anything. Since his sister had never been the most tactful person, he figured whatever she was holding back wasn’t good. He motioned to her.

“Go ahead. Whatever it is, I can take it.”

To his surprise, her cheeks flushed. “Look, Zanny’s been my best friend longer than she’s been your wife. And we talk about things. Private things. Not in detail, not when it comes to you,” she hurried to explain as John felt his eyebrows pop up to his hairline, “but kind of. God, this is awkward.”

She paced away, then back. “So after you two split up, we talked. And a big part of the reason Zanny has doubts about you is, um, well…”

“For crying out loud, Em, just spit it out.” John couldn’t look at her, but he was going to strangle her if she didn’t tell him whatever it was she’d started to say.

“Evidently, there’s not as much passion between you as there used to be. And Zanny kind of has taken it personally.”

The words didn’t make any sense, not at first. Then as the meaning dawned, he slowly raised his head, incredulous, to stare at his sister.

“It isn’t that she doesn’t enjoy…things. But she doesn’t feel like you want her the way you used to before Noah was born. God, I wish I could drink. I need a beer or three about now.”

John rose slowly, not taking his eyes off Emma as he took it in. “She—I. Not as much passion? Are you shitting me?”

Oh, the irony. He’d been so careful the last few years, afraid he was going to hurt Zanny if he was too zealous. And that consideration was one of the reasons she’d pushed him away? The anger that had largely disappeared the last few weeks rushed back in.

Emma saw it on his face. “Johnny, what are you thinking?”

He shook his head, a short bark of laughter escaping him. He could feel his jaw tightening up, and all the pent-up frustration and worry boiled up and rolled over inside him. “Not enough passion. That’s rich.” He cursed long and low, and Emma took a step closer to him, scowling, as he turned and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going? John?”

Hand on the doorknob, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

Chapter Fourty-Four

Z
anny had turned the TV off and was getting ready to go to bed when the flash of headlights moved across the window behind the couch.

“Who in the world?” Moving aside the curtain, she was surprised to see John get out of his car and start toward the door. Her thoughts flew instantly to the boys, who were staying with Owen and Sarah. She hurried to the door.

“What’s wrong? Are the boys okay?”

His frown, which was pretty impressive to begin with, deepened. “They’re fine, as far as I know. Aren’t they here?”

“Your parents have them. Sarah kidnapped them this afternoon, said she needed some baby time.”

“Oh.”

They paused awkwardly, him on the porch, her inside. Feeling uncomfortably close to naked, even though she was covered by her sleeveless nightgown, Zanny put her hand up to her throat.

“Why are you here? It’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

The frown became a scowl. “I know what time it is.”

He didn’t say anything else, and Zanny rolled her eyes. “Would you like to come in?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Stepping back, she let him in, and closed the door. She leaned against it and studied him. Something was definitely off. He was clad in his dress pants and shirt from the day, and the shirt was unbuttoned over his white T-shirt. Hands in his pockets, he moved into the living room and glanced around then back at her. Not sure she would be able to control her temper if he smarted off to her again, she waited him out.

“So I wanted to ask you something. Get some clarity on something you said a couple of months ago.”

Well, that was mysterious. “Okay.”

He walked back to the entryway, bringing a hand out to trace the edge of one of the cheerful silk daisies in the arrangement she’d put on the small table opposite the front door. The gentleness in his touch set off a yearning inside her that she tried to stamp out. She crossed her arms over her chest and did her best to ignore it.

“You told me a few weeks ago that I got a free pass. That if I found someone I wanted to be with, if I wanted to go out and screw whoever, that was fine.”

Zanny swallowed, remembering her anger as she’d told him that and her fear that he would actually do just that. Her pulse sped up, and she nervously tightened her arms. “I did.”

“You said that if I had the opportunity and wanted to, I should take it. Get it out of my system, so to speak. Right?”

As much as it galled her, that was exactly what she’d said. “That’s right. Better to find out now than later.”

John nodded slowly, seeming to take in the words. He turned from the flowers and moved so that only a few inches separated them. It was the closest they’d been in months, and Zanny could smell his cologne.

“So have you?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer. “Found someone?”

He shrugged and brought his left hand out of his pocket, bracing it on the door behind her. “Maybe.” Much the way he’d touched the flowers, he traced the scalloped edge of her gown’s bodice. “But I wanted to stop by and ask you first. Because if there’s any misunderstanding, well, that wouldn’t be good.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Her voice was remarkably stable, Zanny thought, for someone who’d just had her heart ripped from her body. “So who is she? Anyone I know?”

“You’ve seen her around. So just to be clear, we’re not talking about starting a relationship. We’re just talking about finding someone to have sex with, right? Someone to expend some lust on, fool around with? Right? Just screwing.”

Zanny couldn’t answer. She knew John had been hurt by the separation and everything that had surrounded it, but she’d never seen him be cruel before—not like this. She flattened her palms against the door, needing something solid to hold on to.

He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her temple. “Someone I don’t have to court, someone I don’t have to romance. Just someone I can…Well, someone I can fuck. And then walk away from the next morning and go on like it never happened. Right?”

Zanny couldn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded. She cursed her traitorous body as it responded to his nearness, even though she had to clench her hands against the small of her back to keep from lashing out at him.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Without warning, he sealed his mouth over hers with a kiss that was so hot and  so full of angst that Zanny felt as if she were being burned alive from the inside out. He tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her head back for better access, and her hands came up to curl around his biceps.

It didn’t start to make sense to her until he pulled his mouth back just far enough to talk. “This isn’t romance, Zanny. This is just pure, raw sex. Screwing. Fucking. Whatever you want to call it. This isn’t a bid to win your affection back. I’m still determined to do that, but right now, I want to do very wicked things to you. And this won’t be roses and chocolate. I want to use you, and let you use me. So if you want me to leave, you tell me now.”

They were both breathing as if they’d run a mile uphill. Dazed, all her repressed need suddenly flaring awake, she answered him by raising up on her toes and kissing him back. From there, all she could do was hold on and burn.

John didn’t know if he’d ever been so scared as he waited for Zanny to accept or reject his offer. When she kissed him back, he nearly fell to his knees with relief.

He didn’t hold anything back. He let all the bound-up emotions from the last few months—hell, from the last few years—show. He whisked her gown over her head, tossing it aside. “Good thing you like to close the curtains when it gets dark,” he muttered.

“John…” Her voice broke on a moan as he wrapped his arms around her hips and lifted her, his mouth going to ravish her throat as he headed toward the bedroom. As he touched his wife’s bare skin for the first time in several months, he realized they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom. He lowered them to the rug in front of the couch, letting his full weight press her to the floor for a few seconds before need overtook him.

“Hurry,” she whispered, her hips moving frantically against him. “Please hurry.”

Lifting off her, he stripped off his shirts, sending them to the same fate as her gown. On his knees between her spread legs, he undid his belt and pants, shoving them down out of the way. His focus had been on her face and chest, but all his attention went to the pair of soft pink and utterly feminine panties she wore. The scalloped edge matched her gown, and he swallowed.

“Nice.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk.” The way she was eyeing his erection nearly undid him, but her words were so out of character, so close to a “shut up” that they tickled his funny bone.

He couldn’t help laughing. The amusement died quickly when he slipped the panties down off her hips and saw that new underwear wasn’t the only change she’d made.

“I got a wax.”

“I see that. I like it.”

Her face and upper chest were flushed with arousal, and Zanny raised her legs so that he could get the panties off. Once they were out of the way, John let his hands glide up her smooth legs to her hips. From there, it was a short trip to the neatly groomed patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. They both gasped as his fingers slid easily into her folds. John was shocked at the wetness he encountered, and all thoughts of drawing things out fled his mind.

With very little ceremony, he fitted himself to her entrance and slid home. From there, a primitive part of his brain took over. He didn’t worry about thrusting too hard, about being gentle. If Zanny had asked him to stop, he wouldn’t have been able to. Thankfully, she was as enthusiastic as he was. Her cries and the way she dug her fingernails into his back increased his arousal tenfold, and to his everlasting satisfaction, she was clenching around him in climax with very little effort on his part. Her orgasm triggered his, and with a shout, he buried his face against her neck and let it come.

When he came to his senses, his fingers were dug into the rug so deeply that he was surprised a chunk of material didn’t come up when he uncurled them. He was still buried inside Zanny, and her body was contracting in little ripples around him. Raising his head, he looked down at her.

Cheeks flushed, with a faint sheen of perspiration on her skin, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her eyes were half-closed with pleasure. Dipping his head, John kissed her temple.

“Okay?”

She nodded. “Mmm. You?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” He wasn’t capable of anything more at the moment. When she reached up to the chain around his neck, following it to the end where her wedding ring hung, he gently disengaged her fingers from around it and moved the chain so that the ring was on his back.

“That’s mine,” she remarked softly. “I thought I lost it months ago.”

“No. It’s mine for now. And we’re not talking about that tonight.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “I didn’t use anything.”

“It’s okay. I’m back on the pill.”

“Good.” Stretching, he snagged his discarded T-shirt and pulled it over to them. “Lift your hips.” Her legs were still around his, and he helped her leverage up so that he could slide the shirt underneath them. The movement caused her inner muscles to tighten around him, and he felt his arousal start to build again. He pulled out and tucked the shirt up between her legs, then held his hand out to help her sit up.

Zanny’s head moved languidly from side to side. “I can’t move yet. That was…mmmm.”

“It was. But we’re not finished.”

Her eyes widened for a few seconds, and then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. “Well, if you insist.”