Chapter Twenty-two
Make yourself findable.
That was what Zane had said.
Zach had spent half the day at home, but Abby hadn’t shown up.
It was Tuesday. Tuesdays were a workday.
So maybe he should do the smart thing and get his ass to the office.
Of course, the last thing he wanted to do was work.
Still, he stomped through the back door of Steel Ink, up to the front, and watched as the employees scattered. All but Javi. Javi looked at him with a sidelong glance. “You look pissed.”
Zach didn’t respond to that. There wasn’t any point. “Has Abby called?”
“Nope.” He shrugged and said, “But if she does, I’ll make sure you get the call, boss. Promise.”
Zach grunted. As he turned around, he saw Keelie standing in the doorway to the hall. She held his gaze and he wanted to just push around her, but she had her tall, skinny frame planted there and unless he physically moved her, she wasn’t going to budge. He could tell that from the look in her eyes.
“What?” he bit off.
“Have you been able to talk to her?”
Baring his teeth at her in a mockery of a smile, he replied, “No. She’s avoided my calls and me ever since Sunday. Happy?”
“No.” Keelie looked away and took a deep breath. “I’ve tried to call her a few times, but she’s not answering the phone. Is she okay? Has anybody talked to her?”
He debated on whether or not he should just avoid answering that to make her feel bad. Part of him wanted to make her feel bad, part of him figured she deserved it. But the bigger part of him felt guilty for thinking that way. He didn’t need to feel more guilty on top of everything else. When he could think without being pissed, worried, scared, he figured maybe Keelie hadn’t really meant any harm and maybe they could get past this. Maybe.
“Oh, she’s talking to people,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at her lowered head. “She’s just not talking to me. She’s talking to Marin. She’s talking to Zane. But she won’t talk to me.”
“Zane . . .” Her lashes flickered.
Okay. Now he was ready to get mad at her again, all because of that look in her eyes. He didn’t want his brother feeling gutted the way he did. “Yeah. Zane. Do me a favor, Keelie. Leave him alone.”
“Leave him alone?” Something flashed in her gaze.
“He’s got a thing for you.” Zach crossed his arms over his chest. “Now he’s hurting. He’ll get over it, but since you don’t give a f*ck about him, don’t keep acting like there might be something there when there’s not.”
Keelie opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head like she wasn’t following the conversation. “What . . . you . . . damn it, Zach, I don’t know what in the hell you’re getting at here, but Zane and I are friends. I’m allowed to be friends with him.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Friends. That’s why he sounded like I’d sucker punched him when I told him what happened. He’s interested in you. You don’t feel the same and that’s fine. Look . . .” He blew out a breath and said, “I’m not ready to talk to you yet, but I might be. Later. Just don’t mess around with my brother, okay?”
She gaped at him and, unwilling to stand there any longer, he nudged her aside and headed to his office. He couldn’t remember if he had any appointments scheduled that day or not. He didn’t want to be there. He needed to be out looking for Abby, but Zane had said she’d find him.
So he had to be findable.
The only place he ever was on Tuesdays was at his shop.
So he’d stay at his shop.
Until it was time to go. Shit. Then what did he do? Go home? Go to her place?
Swearing, he pushed through the door and slammed it shut. He headed for the desk but he hadn’t been there any more than a minute before he found himself remembering that day. Forty-eight f*cking hours ago. How could life go straight to hell in forty-eight hours?
Groaning, he closed his hands around his skull and tried to shove those thoughts out of his head. Tried and failed. Rubbing the heel of his hand over his chest, he bent over his desk and decided he’d deal with work. Work would keep him occupied for a little.
* * *
“His car is here.”
Swiping her hands down the sides of the slim-fitting skirt of her dress, Abigale nodded.
“You need to breathe a little before you puke, honey.” Marin poked her in the shoulder. “You look almost as rough as you used to before a press conference with she-who-shall-not-be-named.”
“Blanche.” She slid Marin a glance and said, “It’s Blanche. I mean . . . I know you all know it and I know we were kids when we started that name, but it’s past time we stopped. She’s not the boogeyman.” She grimaced and said, “She’s not Voldemort. She’s just a shallow, selfish woman who never cared about anybody but herself. She called earlier, you know.”
Marin laid a hand on her arm. Abigale smiled over at her. “It’s fine. That . . . well. It needed to be done. Ages ago. I told her not to call again. I don’t know if she’ll listen, but it’s done.”
“And when she calls back?” Marin asked doubtfully.
“Then I decide then. But I’m done ignoring or hiding from her.” She blew out a breath and stared at the shop.
Marin squeezed her hand. “Are you going to go in the back?”
She nodded.
And just sat there.
“Well.” Marin drew the word out slowly, studying the back of the building with pensive eyes. “I could be wrong here, but I think the best approach would be actually getting out of the car.”
“I’m scared.”
Marin reached over and caught her hand. “I can tell.” Then she turned her head and pinned Abigale with a level stare. “But this is the absolute last thing you need to be scared of. I know you don’t know what’s waiting for you inside there, honey, but I do. It’s somebody who’s loved you for your entire life . . . now go get him.”
* * *
Bills paid.
That ate up an hour.
Supplies ordered.
That ate up another hour.
He sketched out a couple of designs for a client who lived over at the army base. That took up forty-two minutes. The client was still debating out in the shop. Zach wished he’d make up his mind, because if he wanted the work, doing the tattoo would take up the next couple of hours and then he could go home.
But now, with his mind empty and his hands free, he found himself bent over his sketchbook and the image taking place wasn’t anything he could ever put on anybody.
It was Abby.
The way she’d been in that last portrait. Her gaze locked on him, eyes dark and full of love. Need. Like she was staring into the very soul of him.
The curve of her lip. The line of her jaw.
Her hair, the way it glinted in the light . . . even though it was just a pencil sketch, he could see the dark, rich auburn and his hands itched to feel the softness of it again.
The door opened and he kept his gaze on the portrait. “Did the guy decide on which design he wanted?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
Dropping the pencil, he lifted his head.
Abby stood in the door, her head cocked to the side, arms folded over her chest. It was a dangerous pose, because in that dress, her breasts looked like . . . whoa. Yeah. He thought that summed it up pretty much.
As a matter of fact, the entire package was just whoa. She was wearing one of those pinup girl–styled dresses again: a formfitting black sheath that fit her form oh so nicely, all the way down to her knees. Against the black, her skin glowed like ivory and he was about ready to fall down and worship her.
She had on a pair of red heels . . . f*ck. Red heels. Had he ever seen her in a pair of red heels?
He didn’t know, but now it was his life’s ambition to see her in just those heels . . . and nothing else. Assuming she wasn’t going to kick his ass to the curb. If she tried, his life’s ambition was going to be getting her to forgive him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t wanted Keelie to kiss him. It had happened and . . .
Focus, Zach. He dragged a hand over his face and swallowed the knot in his throat. “Abby.”
And his voice cracked.
This was going to go just fantastic. Clearing his throat, he pushed back from the desk, although he thought it might be wise to keep his distance for a minute, especially judging by the glint in her eyes.
“Ah . . . I’ve been trying to call,” he said softly, eyeing her nervously as she came inside. He dodged a look at her hands. No sharp objects. No wooden bats. That was good . . . right? Very few people understood just how hot her temper burned. Zach was one of them and he respected that temper of hers.
Abby lifted a brow. “Yes,” she murmured. “About fifty times. I noticed.” A smirk curved her lips and he swallowed back a groan as he realized she wasn’t just wearing a pair of red f*ck me shoes. She’d slicked that pretty mouth of hers down with the same shade of red.
Abby rarely wore makeup anymore, but she’d gone all out tonight, it seemed. He wasn’t quite certain he understood the reasoning. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he stared at her for a minute, trying to read the look on her face but he couldn’t.
The glint in her eyes had him confused.
She looked pissed. Very pissed. But then he thought about the pictures . . . shit, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d just painted that tattoo on her, he’d almost think she’d done those before the mess with Keelie.
But that wasn’t the case. He knew it.
“Saturday night wasn’t what it looked like,” he said, forcing the words out in a rush. “Keelie was the one behind that and I was pulling away even as she did it. I know it didn’t look like that but I don’t have any feelings for Keelie. I—”
He stopped, clamping those words shut behind his teeth just in time. Abby arched a brow, that smirking little smile on her lips. She turned away and sauntered over to the door and despite his best intentions, his gaze zoomed down to lock on her ass. That dress . . . damn it, it ought to be illegal when the woman had a body like Abby’s.
The door clicked shut and he jerked his head up just in time to see her lock it.
“You what?” Abby said quietly, turning around to face him.
He stared at her.
She leaned back against the door and waited.
“I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t what it looked like. I swear.”
“Oh . . . I believe you.” She waited a beat and then pushed off the door, swaying her way across the floor to him. Each click of her heels seemed to make his heart race even harder and he was almost certain the damn thing was going to leap right out of his chest by the time she reached him. She laid a hand against his chest and murmured, “I believe you . . . about Keelie. But Zach, there’s something you’re not being honest about and I think it’s time we just get this out in the open.”
* * *
A storm fired in his eyes.
Abigale watched it play out as her heart raced and her hands went all damp and sweaty again. Fear and terror, frustration and desire, they all tangled inside her and beneath it all was a love that all but stole her breath away.
All this time, Zach had been right here.
And part of her realized she’d known. Some part of her had known. But she hadn’t wanted to look at that because it scared her. If it fell apart, if it didn’t last, so many ifs . . . if she lost Zach . . .
He was her everything and losing him would rip the soul out of her.
But she couldn’t hide from this anymore. She couldn’t, and she didn’t want to.
As he continued to stare at her, she fisted her hand in his shirt, thought about the tattoo she’d seen so many times before, but had never really noticed. Thought about the tattoo she had on her chest—the one that still itched and hurt, healing already under the dressing she wore.
“Anything to say, Zach?” she whispered, looking up into his eyes.
His lashes flickered and for a second, she thought he was going to make this easy, but all he did was reach up and cup her cheek. “I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, Abby.” He stroked his thumb over her lower lip.
She sighed, swaying closer so she could rest her head against his chest.
Okay, then.
It’s somebody who’s loved you your entire life . . .
Breathing in the sexy, warm scent that was Zach, she steadied herself again. She had to go through with this, because she had to know. That was all there was to it. Mentally squaring her shoulders, she lifted her head and stared up at him.
He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt for once. It was a black button-down, the tails hanging out, the sleeves rolled up. Holding his gaze, she reached for the buttons and watched his eyes as she slid the first button free.
The blue of his eyes darkened to near black and his chest rose on a harsh, unsteady breath as she moved onto the second button. “Abby . . .”
“Did you get anything from Zane today?” she asked softly.
His lids drooped and the look on his face was almost as seductive as a kiss, as intimate as if he’d stripped her bare. “Yes.” He reached up and pushed a hand into her hair, but when he tried to tug her head back for a kiss, she turned away so that his lips glanced off her cheek.
“I went to Albuquerque,” she said quietly. She’d reached the final button and now she slid her hands up, pushing the shirt back and off his shoulders as she went.
He sighed and released his grip from her hair, rolling his shoulders back, letting her push the shirt off. “I figured as much. Abby, why are we talking about this? Don’t you want to yell at me about Saturday?”
Smiling a little, she leaned and pressed her lips to the heart branded on his skin, just above his heart. “Oh, we’ll get to that, although I can’t really blame Keelie for having a thing for you. She touches you again, then that woman and I are going to have a problem. But that’s not my main concern right now,” she murmured.
* * *
As Abby reached up and traced the tip of her finger over the heart tattoo, blood roared in his ears. So loud, so f*cking loud, he almost didn’t hear the warning firing in his brain. And it was a damn loud warning.
She tipped her head back and once more, her dark brown eyes glinted with challenge. “You think maybe there’s something you need to tell me, Zach?” she whispered, her voice husky and raw.
He reached for her, curved his arm around her waist as he dragged her against him. His legs felt too new, awkward beneath him even though he’d been walking on them for more than thirty years now. Stumbling back, he settled his weight against the edge of his desk and studied her face.
She didn’t give him much chance to think anything through, though. A few seconds passed and then she lowered her gaze back to the tattoo on his chest. She didn’t touch the heart, though. Or the dagger. Her fingers sought out the A that he’d designed to hide in plain sight. The lines and curves of it were part of the design and if you looked at it, the right way, you’d see it. But if you weren’t looking, it was easy to miss.
Kind of like the way things were with him and Abby. She’d never seen it . . . because she hadn’t looked.
But so many others had seen it. He hadn’t been as able to hide it from them.
Swallowing the knot in his throat, he opened his mouth to try and force the words out as she trailed the tip of her nail along the A. “You’ve had this tattoo for a decade, Zach,” she murmured. “Ten years.”
She flicked a glance at him. “Walking around with a scarlet A on your chest for a long time there, pal. Somehow I don’t think it stands for adulterer,” she drawled.
He caught her wrist in one hand, twisted it back behind her as he searched her face. He saw something in her eyes, damn it. He knew he did. Under that glint of anger, yeah, he saw something. He thought he also saw uncertainty and nerves, but it was more than that.
The pictures, damn it.
“You know what it stands for,” he rasped, stroking his hand up her back and tangling it in her hair.
“Do I?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, tried to figure out just what he was supposed to say here. Damn it. This . . . damn it. He’d tried to picture this moment, but it hadn’t come because she’d sprung the damn thing on him. He’d planned it out. Practiced it. Had a nice, pretty little set of lines all laid out.
And he was standing here empty. With nothing.
Nothing . . .
Staring into her dark eyes, he pressed his brow to hers. “Abby . . . hell, I . . .” The words had been trapped inside him so long, trying to force them out now, when he knew it was actually time to let them out, was almost painful. He cleared his throat and then lifted his head, watching her face. Where to start? Hell. How did he tell her that he’d loved her forever?
Maybe by just doing that.
Sliding his hand down her neck, he rested it there. Instead of looking into her eyes as he spoke, he watched as he stroked his thumb along the smooth line of her collarbone. “You remember that day that jackass boyfriend of your mom’s tried to hurt you?” he asked softly.
She went tense. It wasn’t a moment she liked to think about, he knew. But this talk, it had to start there. He’d started hiding it then. If he was going to come clean, he had to start at the beginning.
“Yeah.” She reached up, gripping his wrist. “Zach, we need to talk about—”
“We are.” He dipped his head and buried his face against her neck, remembering that day. It was something that was still all too vivid for him. Way too vivid and he’d cut it out of his memory forever if he could. “I’d gone over there for a reason. I . . .”
He stopped and sucked in a desperate breath.
Abby stroked a hand up his back and then eased away, putting a few inches between them. Her hand touched his cheek and when she guided his face to hers, he couldn’t look away.
He’d hidden it long enough. Too damn long. “I was going over there to see if you’d go out with me,” he said gruffly. “Like a date. A real one. And then I walk in and . . .”
She stared at him. Her gaze blank, like she wasn’t following anything he’d said. Needing to get some distance before he did something stupid, like pounce on her or just fall to his knees and beg, he nudged her back and moved away, starting to pace. “I’d been crazy about you almost from the get-go. Mom and Dad thought it was sweet at first. Then they got worried. Then they adjusted. My brothers gave me shit about it. Dad would sometimes tell me that it would go away if I’d just look for somebody else.” He stopped pacing and slid her a look. “There is nobody else. There can’t be. Not for me.”
Abby wasn’t looking at him. Her shoulders were rising and falling just a little too fast, like she was having trouble breathing.
“You never noticed. Never seemed to see me, but I thought maybe if you’d just go out with me, give me a chance, I could get you to notice me. So I worked up the courage, spent all damn week psyching myself up for it. And that f*cker was there, trying to hurt you.” He stopped and stared at the design wall in front of him, but he wasn’t seeing the pictures. He saw that day, everything playing out as it had a thousand times in his nightmares. “I could have killed him. I wanted to do it and I swear, sometimes, I think if I hadn’t heard you crying, I might have done it.”
Hearing the ragged sound of her breathing, he turned back around and stared at her averted face. “And if I said I was sorry about that, I’d be lying.”
She finally looked at him. Her eyes were bright and hot, but dry. Thank God. If she’d been crying, he didn’t know if he could keep talking. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that you got into so much trouble over it, Zach.”
“I’m not sorry over any of it,” he snarled. Crossing the distance between them, he caught her face between his hands. Even now, he still saw the fear. She’d been so pale, so scared, fighting against that thick-necked son of a bitch, trapped between him and a table, struggling to get away. And all he’d had was a damned skateboard. Swallowing the bile rising up in his throat, he waited until the fury passed and then he shifted his gaze away from her again. “I was just going to wait a few weeks. Just a few weeks. But when I went back over to talk to you again, you told me that you were glad that I was just me . . . just your friend. Not like any of the jerks out there and you felt safe with me. Safe . . .”
“Zach . . .”
He shook his head. “So I wanted to stay that way. Safe. Not a jerk. Just your friend. For a little while longer, so you could feel safe.” He smoothed a hand down her back and because she was there, because he wanted to touch her while she wasn’t pulling away, he tugged her against him and when she let him do that, he dipped his head, pressed his lips to her neck. “I waited too long, though, and you had me shoved back into that corner as friend. Your dad died. You took off running. In college, you hooked up with that a*shole. Then you finally settled down here . . .”
He stopped, fisting a hand in the back of her dress as he fought for the words.
* * *
Settled down here . . .
The light clicked on in Abigale’s head. Sebastian . . . what he’d said.
You got him to move away from LA.
“You left LA for me.”
He lifted his head, gold-streaked hair tumbling into his eyes. “I’d leave heaven and earth behind for you. You were the only thing that ever mattered to me.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs as the hand on her neck slid up to cradle her face. The way he touched her . . . the way he looked at her. All this time. Yes, he’d made her feel safe all those years ago. Zach had always been her haven. Her sanctuary. He was her everything, but she’d never seen that until recently. Never let him see it, either.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, she closed a hand around his wrist and asked raggedly, “And acting? Everything else you left behind? How much of that was because of me, too?”
“I left it behind because that wasn’t my life,” he said gently. Dark blue eyes watched her. “You know that. I never once regretted walking away. It doesn’t suit me anymore. It doesn’t fit me. I found the life I wanted. And the woman I’ve always wanted is standing right in front of me.”
Her breathing hitched. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “Damn it, I asked you . . . just a few days ago. Hell, I asked you a month ago and you didn’t say anything about . . .”
“About the fact that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?” A wry grin tugged the corner of his mouth up. “Come on, Abs. A month ago, you’d just had that a*shole fiancé of yours all but kick you in the face. If I’d said . . . hey, Abby . . . I know I’m not Roger, but I’ve loved you forever. Will you give me a go?”
She glared at him even as her heart skittered around her chest like it was trying to take flight. I’ve loved you forever . . . “And what about the other day, damn it?” She slammed her fist against his chest. “I . . . I was trying to work up the courage to tell you that I . . .”
She snapped her mouth shut as the words tried to break free.
It was hard, she realized. Harder than she’d expected.
Fire burned in his eyes and hard, strong hands closed around her hips. The room whirled around them and seconds later, she found herself seated on the hard, unyielding surface of his desk. “Tell me what?” he rasped.
She leaned back, sucking in a breath as she tried to calm the racing of her heart. But all Zach did was brace his hands on the desk and lean in over her, crowding in around her until he was all she could see. All she could feel. And all she was ever going to want, she realized. Everything.
His gaze rapt on her face, he rested a hand on her thigh as she remained silent. “Tell me what, Abby?”
“I . . .”
He stroked his hand higher, a small, almost sad smile curving his lips. “It’s not as easy as you think, is it?” The tight material of her skirt caught around his wrist and he stopped.
Almost desperate for air, she watched his face. “That’s why I didn’t say it then,” he murmured as he stroked his thumb over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “It’s something I held trapped inside me for seventeen years, Abby. Seventeen long years and letting it out was almost impossible. Even though there were times the words wanted out so bad, they all but choked me.”
“Are you going to say it now?”
“Maybe . . .” He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. “I guess maybe it’s time. Past time even.”
Her heart stuttered and slowed to a stop as he kissed her, soft and slow. It was almost like the first time they’d kissed. Not that breathtaking free fall like that first kiss, but still. It was like everything else in the world just stopped. Nothing mattered but the touch of his lips on hers, light, easy . . . and sweet. Her heart ached inside her chest, swelling until she could barely breathe around it and then he lifted his head and stared down at her. “Abby,” he murmured, lifting a hand to curve around her neck. “I love you.”
A sob slipped free and she wrapped her arms around his waist.
One of his hands cupped the back of her neck and cuddled her in close. As he bent around her, he whispered, “I’ve loved you so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to not love you. And I’ll go to my grave loving you. You’re my everything.”
“Zach . . .”
Blindly, she sought out his mouth and when he met hers, she almost cried, it felt so good.
All this time.
He’d been here . . . all this time.
Desperate for him, she reached behind for the zipper of her dress, but he caught her hands, eased them back down. “Zach, please . . .” she whimpered against his lips.
“Shhh . . .” He eased the zipper down.
Splaying a hand wide over his chest, she stared at the tattoo of the heart, at the dagger before shifting her attention to the A. Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to it and she would have done more, but he eased her off the desk and reached for the hem of her skirt, dragging it upward. “Damn it, Abby, what did you do, paint this on?” he muttered, his voice a ragged growl in her ear.
“Just about.” She could hardly breathe, she thought, sagging back against the desk and bracing her hands on it as he tossed the dress on the chair nearby.
And then . . . nothing.
She sucked in a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze. Lifting her head, she found him staring at her.
More pointedly, at the bandage on her chest. “What . . . ?” Something fired in his eyes. That storm again.
She cleared her throat and reached for the edge of the dressing. It had been long enough, if she remembered right. But when she went to peel it back, Zach was already doing it. “You had me written on your skin all this time . . . I decided I was going to do the same.”
His lashes lay low over his eyes.
“I didn’t want you doing this one. I . . .” She swallowed and went to touch it, but he caught her hand, guiding it back down. Nervous, she babbled on. “I needed it on me when I came to see you. You’ve been here, right in front of me, all along. And part of me knew, damn it. I knew, but I didn’t let myself see it. You didn’t let it show, but I didn’t let myself see and now I’m—”
His mouth crushed against hers.
The words died in her throat and anything, everything else she might have died in her throat under the impact of that kiss. If the last one had been soft, sweet, and gentle, this was the opposite. Stealing the very breath out of her and burning her from the inside out. His hand tangled in her hair as he wrestled them away from the desk. She stumbled and fell against him and he caught her, twisting them so that when they went down, it was into the fat leather chair dominating the corner between his desk and file cabinet.
He used it for when he was having nervous clients that he needed to talk down.
He figured it had just about enough room for what he needed to do with Abby.
She had a pretty little heart tattoo on her right breast. It was delicate and sweet, with the word Zach etched inside it. There wasn’t any color and that was just fine. It had his name in it . . . she’d written him on her skin, just the way he’d done with her all those years ago.
Tearing his mouth away from hers, he urged her up so that she was sitting astride him. “Unzip me,” he demanded, staring into her eyes.
She swallowed and then eased away.
He caught her hips, reluctant to let her go.
A smile curved her lips. “Zach . . . I need to move a little. This works better if I’m not sitting right on top of you.”
He groaned and let go. Resting his hands on the armrest of the chair, he busied himself staring at the tattoo. That pretty little heart . . . then he hissed as he felt the back of her hand brush against his cock. She took her time and when she finally had his fly open, he was digging his fingers into the leather just to keep from reaching for her.
* * *
Abigale traced her fingers over the thick ridge of his cock and smiled as it leaped against her touch. Gray cotton covered him and she smiled at him as she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his shorts, dragging them down with a wicked glint in her eyes.
Dragging them down slowly . . .
Swearing, he shoved them down and reached for her, hauling her into his lap and crushing her laughing mouth to his. He guided her legs down on either side of his hips.
“What’s your hurry?”
“Seventeen years worth of hunger.” He tucked the head of his cock against her entrance and stared up at her as he drove straight home.
Her back arched and she bit her lip to stifle a ragged cry.
He wanted to hear her moan, wanted to hear each broken sigh as he f*cked her. Instead, he rocked against her a second time, a third time, as he stroked his hand up her middle and circled the tattoo on her breast with his finger. He didn’t touch it . . . the new ink needed time to heal before anybody else went messing with it but damn it, he wanted to press his mouth to that mark.
“I love you,” he rasped, reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair and tug her down. “Damn it, do you hear me? I love you.”
She pressed her mouth to his, her elbows braced against his chest. “I hear you.” She whispered it against his lips, her gaze locked with his. “I hear you, Zach . . . I see you. And I love you. I want you . . . more than I want my next breath.”
Love and desire ripped through him, so desperate and raw and wild, he didn’t know if he could stand it. Twisting his hips, he drove deep inside her, hard, fast. She gasped and when he saw her mouth falling open, he caught her lips with his, swallowing the scream down.
Later, he thought dimly. Later, he’d take her home. To her place. To his. It didn’t matter. Someplace where they were alone and he could make her sigh, make her moan, as he made love to her all night. While he told her that he loved her as often as he wanted.
For now, he focused on working her body into a burning frenzy, which wasn’t hard. She was so hot, burning against him and whimpering into his mouth, her fingers digging into his skin while she swiveled her hips against his, hard and fast.
Faster . . .
Faster . . .
She broke over him with a ragged, breathless scream and when she tore her mouth away to breathe, he buried his face against her neck and let go.
The climax ripped through him, almost painful in its intensity.
And for once, the ache in his heart wasn’t so raw and empty.
He held her as she shuddered and gasped for air. And he felt complete.