Wrecked (10 page)

“Spread your legs, sugar.”

He felt her weight shift and then he lifted his head, stared into her eyes. Soon, damn it, he told himself as he eased his finger down and started to circle her entrance. Soon he’d be preparing her to take
him
inside . . . not just his finger, but him. All of him.

And please, please . . . let her want to keep him. Forever.

Because he couldn’t think about that and keep her from seeing more than he was ready to show her, he shoved it all aside and focused just on this. The slick, clenched feel of her sex as he pushed one finger inside. She tightened around him and the feel of it was sheer bliss, glory . . . perfection. He wanted more. Needed it, but he settled for burying his finger inside her and then slowly retreating. Then again . . . again . . . as she started to rock against him, he added a second finger and started to rotate his wrist, screwing them in and out of the sweet, slick well and listening as she cried out.

“That’s it, sugar,” he muttered, watching her face, watching as her eyes took on that dazed, lost look, watching as a flush spread up her neck, across her breasts. “Come again. I want to see it, I want to feel it . . .”

She gave him all of that and more. And when she sagged against him as it ended, she wrapped her arms around him and let him carry her back to the bed.

Chapter Seven

“You never answered me.”

Abigale lay sprawled on her belly, her head on Zach’s chest, and for once, her brain was a dazed, blissful blank. “Huh?”

She looked up to see him watching her. The smile on his face was one that made her heart flip over in her chest, for the oddest damn reasons. It wasn’t that wicked grin, and it wasn’t the mischievous one, either. She loved both of those, but this was a smile that was a little more rare from him and it was one that had always melted her heart.

It was almost the same smile she’d seen on his face when she saw him holding his baby nephew for the first time. A lot of pleasure, mixed with awe . . . but this was different, because he was looking at her, a grown woman and there was something possessive in his gaze, too. She couldn’t quite define it, but having him look at her like that was doing bad, bad things to her.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said again, reaching up to brush her hair back.

She caught his hand to distract herself. Her brain had just realigned with her body and she knew what he was talking about. And everything in her screamed . . .
Stall!
So she did. The brilliant red burn along the back of his hand had her wincing in sympathy. And sure enough, it was starting to blister in a few places. “We should be more careful.”

Zach grunted and tugged his hand away. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten worse helping my brother on his bike.” Then he grimaced and wiggled his fingers. “Granted, it’s usually not as big as this but still.” He stretched his arm over his head and focused back on her face. “You’re still avoiding the question.”

“No.” She wrinkled her nose and sat up, heaving out a sigh. “I’m actually trying to figure out the right answer. I . . . damn it, Zach, you went and got in the way of a good plan, you know that?”

“And how did I do that?”

She closed her eyes. There was no getting around this. She either had to come clean and explain about the journal or just screw the idea entirely. But he might be mad . . .

“Fuck it.” She shoved up off the bed and walked over to the little secretary where she kept her journal. As of a few weeks ago, her pretty little leather-bound journal had picked up a partner, the paperback one titled
Wreck This Journal
. “By the way, just so you know ahead of time, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t bought me this goofy journal. So keep that in mind if you get mad at me when I go to explain all of this.”

She turned around to see him pushing up onto his elbow, gold-streaked brown hair falling around his face, blue eyes locked on her face, and that long, lean body showcased in jeans and a black t-shirt. Once more, she found her gaze drawn to the tattoos twining around his arms and she wanted to go to him, kneel down by him, and just spend hours learning his body.

“Be mad about what?” he asked, lifting a brow at her and drawing her attention back to the matter at hand.

A conversation.

They were having a conversation. Right?

Tapping the journal against her palm, she sighed. “My new plan.”

“Why would I be mad about your new plan?”

It wasn’t so easy to force the words out now. Wasn’t so easy at all . . . a knot the size of baseball lodged in her throat and she could feel her breath coming in harsh little bursts as she stared at him. “I . . .” She stopped and licked her lips. “I—
shit
.”

She covered her eyes with one hand and tried to find the words. “Look, damn it, I wasn’t planning on this. None of this. I just . . .” Lowering her hand, she stared at him. “I felt empty inside and I . . . I wanted to not feel empty. So these ideas . . . they kind of came to me. The tattoo. The thing with Roger.”

Slowly, Zach pushed up into a sitting position, his eyes narrowing on her face. Drawing his knees upright, he braced his elbows on them and continued to watch her. “The photographers . . . not worrying. All of that sounds fine. What’s to get mad about?”

“I also planned on having an affair.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw and something dark moved through his eyes. But to her surprise, it wasn’t anger that she got from him. “Abby, you’re thirty years old . . . that’s plenty old enough for an affair.”

“Except I can’t think about anybody else anymore,” she snapped, glaring at him. “The past few weeks all I can think about is
you
. And I can’t have a damned affair with
you
. You’re my best friend. I love you and I can’t—”

He rolled off the bed and the words lodged in her throat as he came prowling across the carpet toward her.

When he reached out and caught her arms in his hands, the book fell from numb hands to bounce onto the carpet. Abigale barely even noticed. “Why not?” he murmured, stroking his thumb along the skin of her arm.

Who in the hell would ever have believed such a simple touch could be so amazing? But it was . . . it was like he was stroking her everywhere else, all at once. “Why not what?” she asked, dazed.

“Why not have an affair with me?” His hair fell around them as he lowered his head and caught her mouth. Right before he kissed her, he muttered, “I think I’ve made it pretty damn clear that I want you like hell.”

“But . . .”

He stole the breath from her with a kiss. “But what?”

“We’re friends, Zach.”

“Yes.” He eased her closer and the feel of him against her was nothing she could even describe. One hand slid around to press against her back, his fingers splayed wide and she shuddered at the feel of it.

“I . . .” She shook her head and said, “I don’t want some friends with benefits thing with you. You’re my best friend and I . . .” Her voice trailed off because she just didn’t know what else to say.

“Friends with benefits . . .” He laughed, hooking his other arm around her neck. “Sugar . . . friends with benefits is too casual for the kind of friendship we have. The kind we’ve always had. But I still want you.”

He boosted her up into his arms and reflexively, she wrapped her legs around him, groaning at the feel of him between her thighs.

Staring down at him as he carried her back over to the bed, she tried to let her brain catch up to everything that was happening, but it just didn’t seem possible. He lay her down and bent over her, watching her with a stark, hungry look on his face as he started to drive his hips against hers.

Heat streaked through her and she gasped, reaching up and catching onto his arms, her fingers digging into the swell of muscle there. “Zach!”

He drove his hips against hers again and again and she was so damned wet, she could feel the fabric of her skirt sliding back and forth over her slick flesh. It was so damned erotic, it sent every last nerve ending aflame.

“Do you feel that, sugar?” he demanded, hunkering down over her and catching her chin in his hand. “Nothing casual . . . not in what we have friendship-wise, and not what I want from you. You want to live? You want to have an affair? Do it with me, Abby. I’ll make love to you and leave myself branded on your skin and when you’re ready, if you want to walk, you can walk. But nothing will change our friendship or what I feel for you.”

* * *

Her eyes were glassy as she stared up at him. Slow
ing down to a stop, Zach cradled her face in his hands and brushed his thumb over the curve of her lower lip. “Abby . . .”

“Zach.” Her lids fluttered down and for a long moment, she lay there, her breath coming in hot little pants, her breasts heaving under his chest.

He had to fight back the urge to start kissing her all over again, strip away her clothing, and take everything that he had wanted for so long. Because he’d wanted this, needed this . . . needed
her
, though, he had to wait and he knew it. So he contented himself with staring down at her gently flushed face, the dark fan her lashes made against her cheeks, and the pretty bow of her mouth.

Finally, she lifted her lashes and looked up at him. “You’re making this damned hard, you know.”

“You’re one to talk,” he teased, nudging his hips against the soft heat between her thighs.

A blush lit up her face and she jabbed him in the side. “Stop it. I’m trying to be serious.” Then she slid her hand up his side, along his neck to slide it into his hair. “And what happens if we do this and things get screwed up, Zach? You’re the most important person in my life. I can’t lose that.”

“You’re overthinking this . . . but to answer that . . . you’re the most important person in my life, too, and you know it.” He pressed his brow to hers. “We’ve handled everything else life has thrown at us and plenty of it wasn’t fun. This could be damn fun. Sex doesn’t have to screw things up. We just lay the rules out now . . . and we stick to them.”

“Rules?” She wrinkled her nose at him and then nudged his chest. “Rules and an affair don’t seem to go hand in hand very well.”

Rolling off to the side, he watched as she sat up and shoved her hair back from her face. “Anybody who doesn’t lay some sort of ground rules is asking for trouble.”
I promise I’m not going to rush you. That’s rule number one for me . . . not that I’m going to explain that just yet.
Then he reached over and caught a lock of her hair, winding the dark curl around his finger. “It’s not like we’re writing a guidebook for it or anything. Just laying things out so we understand things. If we do this, then we have a right to know what to expect from each other. I won’t be seeing anybody else when we’re together . . . I’d appreciate the same from you.”

She slid him a look from under her lashes. “Well, seeing as how so many men are beating a path to my door, that’s going to be hard . . . but that’s a deal.”

“So does that mean . . . yes?” His heart just about jumped into his throat and it was a damn good thing he was laying down because if he hadn’t been, he might have found himself falling over his damned feet. Abby . . . shit. Abby was going to—his brain blanked out.

He was going to have an
affair
with her? Like hell. What he was going to do was make her fall in love with him, damn it.

But she hadn’t answered . . . jerking his eyes up to her face, he found her watching him, that hesitant look in her eyes. Hesitant. Watchful. Like she didn’t know what in the hell to think.
Think about
me
.
He wanted her to be as caught up in him as he was in her. That was what he wanted. What he needed.

Rubbing his thumb over the silk of her hair, he waited.

And then she leaned down, pressed her mouth to his. He held still, letting her take the lead, although it almost killed him when he felt the tip of her tongue teasing his lips. He opened for her, but still just waited . . . played the willing recipient and when she took the kiss deeper, he groaned and slid his hand up to cup the back of her head.

Just when he thought he was going to lose control, she broke the kiss and lifted her head, her gaze full of heat and smoke and wonder. “Yeah, Zach,” she whispered. “I think it’s a yes.”

Then she bit her lip and laid a hand on his chest, stroked it down.

Chapter Eight

Abigale glared at her reflection.

Nothing worked right.

Zach wanted to take her out to dinner and damn it, even though she had a damned closetful of clothes,
nothing
worked.

The black jersey dress that was her fallback just seemed too hot and clingy.

The green silk was too dressy.

And—

“Damn it,” she swore, spinning away from the mirror and tearing at the zipper of the dark blue sheath she’d just tried on. All of the colors were the right ones for her, but nothing seemed to suit her.

Part of the problem was
her
, though.

She was edgy and had been ever since he’d left her house without doing much more than kissing her again—
after
she’d told him,
Yes, I’ll have an affair with you
.

Maybe not in so many words, but she’d agreed to have an affair with Zach. Her best friend. The person she turned to when everything in her world was falling apart.

And here she was. Falling apart. Falling for
him
, it seemed. And what was she
doing
?

Having an affair . . . with him. But they hadn’t even had sex yet.

Yet.
She wanted him so bad, so damn bad, she ached with it and they hadn’t done anything more than some killer make out sessions. Her body was all tight and achy just thinking about it, her heart kept jumping into these odd little twitchy races that stole the breath out of her and if she didn’t know better, she’d think she was having a heart attack.

No, she was just dying from want, but had Zach done anything?

After the make out session to end all make out sessions, had he done anything to follow through?

No.

Damn it.

Throwing the dress down, she moved into the closet and stared at her clothes. She had plenty of them. Nice stuff. Not designer stuff like she might have had if she’d stayed in LA but that didn’t matter. It was still seriously gorgeous clothing and—

The ringing of the phone interrupted her train of thought.

Zach.

She rushed over to the phone but the racing of her heart did a slow, hard thud before everything faded to ashes as she saw the name on the caller ID.
Blanche Levine
.

Curling her lip, she turned away.

Mommy Dearest.

Storming back to the closest, she tried to focus on her clothes again, ignoring the ringing of the phone. She might have done just
fine
if her mother hadn’t decided to leave a damned voice mail.

Hello, darling. It’s Mommy. I heard about the wedding . . . I’m so sorry. You know that if I’d had any input—

Abigale curled her lip. “If you’d had any input, you would have sold me to the highest bidder when I was eighteen.”

This Roger just doesn’t seem like he was the right man for you. But I’m so sorry you were hurt.

“Yeah. I bet.”

I keep trying to get in touch with you. Did that nasty Zach boy—

Spinning on her heel, she stormed over to the phone and snatched it up. “That nasty Zach boy treated me better than you
ever
did, Mother.”

“Oh. You are there. Abigale, how are you?”

At some point in the past twenty years, her mother’s Midwestern twang had changed to a soft, breathy little drawl that just didn’t suit her. Abigale couldn’t care less.

“I was doing so much better until
you
called. How in the hell do you keep getting my number? You have any idea how annoying it is to keep getting it changed only to have you track it down?”

A few seconds ticked by before Blanche bothered to answer. This time, she responded in a flat, level voice. “Perhaps if you didn’t persist in treating me like a pariah, it wouldn’t be needed. Abigale, I’m your mother, I have every right to expect to be treated with the respect that position deserves.”

“Oh, really.” Abigale smirked. “Mother . . . I’m your daughter. I had every right to expect to be treated with the kindness that position deserves. Instead, you stole my money, you let your boyfriend paw me, and you did every damn thing you could think of to get me to earn more money . . . for
you
. There was
nothing
left for me when I got away from you.
Nothing
.”

“I put a great deal of time into your career,” Blanche said, her voice cool. So calm and disconnected.

Sometimes, Abigale thought that was what hurt the most. Her mother’s complete inability to see why this had hurt her so much. With a sad smile, she shook her head. “You don’t get it, Mother. You never will. I’ll be calling the phone company on Monday. Save us the headache between now and then . . . don’t call again.”

Then she cut the call off and tried to brush it aside. Her mom, in the end, didn’t matter, really. And for the most part, she even accepted that. But as she went to lay the phone back in the cradle, her hands were shaking. Trembling, like a leaf in a storm.

“Good-bye, Mom.”

This time, she hoped she meant it.

A few minutes later, and a few mental kicks in the butt later, her iPhone chimed a reminder and she groaned, snatching it off her bureau to check the time. Twenty minutes. He was going to be here in twenty minutes and she hadn’t even done her hair.

She was still torn between grieving for a relationship she knew she’d never have and kicking herself for even
caring
.

And she had twenty fricking minutes.

Storming into her closet, she stared at the dresses and in desperation, she grabbed a pink one off the hanger. Pink and her didn’t always work. It was bullshit that redheads couldn’t wear pink.
Some
redheads shouldn’t, but she did okay with it, depending on the shade of pink and this one was her shade. The problem was the style of the dress.

Marin had bought it for her and although it fit like a dream, it was so full of subtle sexuality that Abby had never felt right wearing it. It was modest, but there was something about it.

Fingering the material, she sighed and then headed back out into the bedroom. “Once more into the breach.” She had to change her bra. It had to be strapless to work with the dress and since she was wearing a different bra, she needed different panties, too. She could feel herself blushing as she found herself pulling out a pair of panties that had garter straps attached. It was sexier than anything she’d worn for Roger, sexier than anything she normally wore.

“That means it’s perfect.” She was having an affair. Right? That called for sexy. Making up her mind, she found a pair of silk stockings to wear with the rest of the clothing.

Ten minutes later, she found herself standing in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection and panicking.

The dress, just as she’d remembered, fit like a dream. It looked almost whimsical, almost sweet with the pink material dotted with black polka dots. It was cut with a full circle skirt and nipped in at the waist.

The bust had a black lace overlay and it cupped and curved around her breasts like a lover. She wore a DD bra and the dress’s bodice showcased her assets to perfection, she had to admit.

She looked hotter than hell. She knew enough about appearances that she could admit that. Although the makeup was wrong. She hurriedly washed it off and went for a more old-fashioned style, using neutral colors on her eyelids and a darker eyeliner than normal. She echoed the neutral color with her blush and went for bold, bold red on her lips.

There wasn’t any time to deal with her hair. Just as she finished applying her lipstick, she heard the doorbell.

Frowning, she checked the time on her phone. Zach only knocked half the time. Why was he bothering now?

She opened the door with a smile.

And it fell immediately as she found herself staring at Roger.

Roger.

Today.

Of all the days. She had to deal with her mother
and
Roger?

What was life trying to do, just grind her into the dirt?

The scumbag stood there with a smile on his face, one that froze as he stared at her. His gaze dropped down to linger on her chest and then jerked back up as she crossed her arms.

“Abigale,” he said, clearing his throat. He gave her that charming smile, one she remembered all too well.

Once it had made her sigh with happiness. Roger all but
oozed
normal, nice, controlled. But every once in a while, he’d flash her a certain smile that had just seemed to burn with dirty thoughts. Granted, he’d sucked on the follow-through.

Now she found herself staring at him and thinking,
that looks just a little too practiced
. She wanted to kick herself, too. If
anybody
should realize when somebody was a fake or not, it was somebody who had lived their life selling a lie.

Still staring at him, she arched a brow and waited.

His smile faded as the silence dropped between them, heavy and thick. “I . . . I guess you’re not happy to see me,” he said softly.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” She tapped her fingers against her arm and wondered where in the hell Zach was.

“Look, Abigale, if you’d give me a few minutes, I can explain. I just wanted what was best for us and I thought—”

The sound of a throaty, powerful engine interrupted him and he frowned, glancing behind him. The sight of the car pulling up in front of the house had him clamping his mouth shut. “You have plans with Zach.”

Abigale smiled as Zach climbed out of the car, and then, to her bemusement, she felt her heart skip a few beats—ten at the most—at the sight of him. Black shirt stretching across those lean muscles, covering all those lovely, lovely tattoos, but he looked so damned hot, it was almost okay. A pair of slate gray trousers and Italian leather shoes completed his outfit and she realized she felt the urge to fan herself. Zach rarely put on anything but a t-shirt and jeans and the sight of him now had her libido doing bad, bad things.

“Yes.” Abigale stared at Zach as he came her way. “I absolutely have plans with Zach.”
We’re having an affair.

Abruptly, she realized she didn’t like the way that sounded, not even in her own mind.
Affair
sounded cheap. Easy. Disposable. Nothing she’d ever felt for Zach had been cheap, easy, or disposable. Especially not this.

Zach mounted the steps and Roger continued to stand where he was, keeping his body between them. “I take it another one of your brothers is getting married or something and you need a date?” he asked, his mouth pinching a little as he stared at the other man.

Zach lifted a brow and then looked over at Abigale. “What the hell is he doing here?”

She sighed and shrugged. “Beats me. He just rang the bell and I assumed it was you, so I opened the door without looking.” Wrinkling her nose, she added, “I won’t make that mistake again anytime soon.”

Zach grunted and then, ignoring Roger, he studied her, his gaze lingering first on her mouth and then traveling over her body until he’d reached her feet, clad in a pair of simple black Jimmy Choos. “You look wonderful,” he murmured. “Are you ready?”

“Once I get rid of . . . Roger.” Her skin hummed a little under that look and she hung on to that nice, pleasant buzz as she looked back at her ex-fiancé. “Roger, Zach and I have a date, so whatever you want, it will have to wait. You can call or e-mail, or whatever. But I’m busy.”

She reached for the purse she’d left by the door and grabbed the key fob. She’d arm the system once she was outside. She shut the door, but because Roger hadn’t moved, she was trapped uncomfortably close to him as she set the locks.

“Did you say you had a
date
?” he demanded.

Just behind him, she saw Zach standing there. Waiting. The look in his eyes was murderous and his face was set in stony lines, but he held himself still and she appreciated that. Very much. Taking a second to focus her thoughts, she shifted her gaze from Zach’s face to Roger’s. “Yes. I have a date. With Zach. And you’re sort of standing in my way.”

“What in the hell does that mean . . . a
date
?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the look on Zach’s face and she shook her head.
Don’t
, she thought, hoping he’d understand. She had this under control. “It means just that. A date. We’re going out.”

“Since when did you two
date
?” Roger snapped.

She circled around him, her arm brushing against his since he wouldn’t move out of the way. “Since today,” she answered. “Although it’s none of your business, really. After all, you can’t marry me . . . I’m not being
true
to myself, remember?”

“Damn it, Abby, that’s why I’m here.” He caught her arm before she got more than a foot away. “I wanted us to talk.”

Staring into his beseeching eyes, she realized it. She’d never seen him before, not clearly. But she did now. This
nice,
normal
guy that she’d tried to plan her life around had only been out for one thing.

He’d wanted to use her.

Just like her mother had.

Just like so many others had.

She waited for the pain to slam into her—it should
hurt
, damn it. But it didn’t. All she felt was . . . resigned.