His gaze rakes my body like a solid caress, stopping on the swell of my breasts, then my skirt and down my legs. I want his hands, his mouth on me, his cock in me, but I just hold my breath when he turns in the seat to face me and trails his fingertips up and down my bare arm.
His face is a study in light and shadow, broad cheekbones, the slight curve of his nose, the straight dark brows over the hooded eyes, the elegant curve of his mouth. His chest rises and falls, stretching the thin fabric of his T-shirt over his sculpted pecs.
He strokes his hand down the inside of my elbow, making me shiver, all the way to my wrist and across my palm. He tangles his fingers with mine and draws my hand to his lap, on his thigh.
The pen glides over my skin, drawing straight and wiggly lines, and I wonder what bird he’ll draw this time. It tickles a little, but his other hand distracts me, his thumb rubbing up and down my wrist, sending electric shocks to my core. My eyes fall shut, and I swallow down a moan.
Soon—too soon—he stops, and I open my eyes. He’s looking right at me, the pen and the drawing forgotten, his eyes dark pools of desire. His hand travels up my arm once more, and he tugs me toward him.
My first reaction would be to lift my arms to place around his neck, but I stop myself in the last second. Unsure of what to do, I let him maneuver my body. He nudges and pushes me, until I turn my back to him, then he pulls me between his legs so that I lean against his chest. His hardness is thick and hot in the small of my back, the feel of it sending bolts of heat down my belly.
I know why he likes this position—why he prefers my back to him. Like this, there’s no way I can throw my arms around him and touch his scars. No way can I trigger a flashback.
And yet… “Zane, I can’t—”
“I know,” he mutters. “You need to see me. It’s in your folder now.”
What folder? I want to ask, but his breath brushes my neck, and he shifts, one hand circling my waist, then moving to the front, lifting my skirt.
A tremor goes through me, and my head drops back against his shoulder. I’ve dreamed of him touching me again, and even though I can’t see his face, I might go against my own rules and let him do what he wills with me.
One hand presses between my legs, and I splay them, giving in, helpless with need. Fingers tangle in my hair and tug my head sideways. Lips press against my neck, teeth graze my skin, and I shudder.
It’s not Collin. I just have to remember that, trust the knowledge. Besides, Zane’s scent fills my senses, and Collin never held me like this—like he can’t let go.
“Dakota,” Zane whispers, and his lips move up my neck to my jaw. His teeth sink into my earlobe, tugging on my silver hoops, and I gasp, throbbing with need.
Then he pulls away, and his other hand, still tangled in my hair, gently turns my head toward him.
Our eyes meet, and he grins. My heart does a weird little flip in my chest. Then it flips again when his gaze zeroes in on my mouth, and he licks his lips.
I want him to kiss me so badly.
As if he can hear me, he bends his head and puts his mouth on mine. My breath catches when his lips press to mine, warm and soft, his stubble a rough counterpoint. I can’t help leaning into the kiss, but he jerks back, and I blink dazedly.
He’s staring at me, but I’m not sure he’s seeing me. His hand in my lap twitches, and the one in my hair tightens until I whimper.
“Zane,” I murmur, not sure he can hear me. My heart is hammering. Damn, I never thought the reason he doesn’t kiss girls might be serious—another trigger? “Look at me. You know me.”
I lift my hands and place them over his, stroking his knuckles.
“Dakota,” he breathes, his gaze sharpening again, thank God. I don’t like this place he seems to go to when he’s lost in a painful memory.
I shift, intent on twisting around, but his hold on me turns to steel, and he closes the distance again, fastening his mouth to mine. His tongue coaxes my lips open and thrusts inside, stroking me, making me moan. It’s pierced, and the barbell feels delicious, rubbing on every nerve.
He tastes smoky, musky and bittersweet, and… Oh God, Zane is kissing me, really kissing me, with tongue and teeth and all, like he’s dying of hunger, and I’m his favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. And all the while, his hand is in my hair, keeping my head still, keeping me where he wants me.
Keeping the kiss under his control.
It’s scorching hot and unbearably sweet at the same time. He’s going on instinct, and our teeth clash, out tongues chase each other, and I wonder if he’s ever really kissed anyone before.
As if knowing my thoughts, he chooses that moment to distract me, slipping his hand from my lap under my skirt into my panties.
Into me.
He swallows my moan as his fingers slide in and out. His thumb drags over my clit, and I arch my back as I come undone. I cry out in his mouth, shaking with pleasure, and he’s still kissing me. It’s like he can’t get enough of it now he started—or is afraid to end it.
My mind is fuzzy, and my body is still trembling. Zane’s eyes are closed, and he’s kissing me like he can’t stop, his tongue licking the roof of my mouth, sending bolts of fresh heat through me. His body shakes at my back, his cock digging into my spine, rock-hard and hot.
I want him to come, too. I push back, and he lifts his hand, pressing it into my belly, clutching me to him. I squirm and rub my backside on his hard-on.
His mouth goes slack on mine, and I feel his cock jerk where it’s pressed on my spine. He groans and shudders, and I feel every tremor going through him.
Our mouths finally part. His dark eyes are hazy, and I tense, not sure what he’s seeing now. But then a side of his mouth tips up in a faint smile. I know he sees me, especially when he whispers my name and wraps both arms around my middle, holding me close.
I stumble into Tessa’s apartment in a daze. I was hoping she’d be in bed by now, but she’s sitting on the sofa, flipping through a book.
She throws the book on the sofa when I enter and gives me a long look. “Hey… Whoa, what did I miss?”
“What?” I realize I’m grinning and turn to close the door, hoping to hide it. “Nothing.”
“Oh, shut up, and come tell me everything,” Tess says, seemingly unaware of the contradiction.
“Nothing to tell.” I inch toward my bedroom. I need time to process what happened tonight, and it’s not like I know Tessa so well, even if I’m hogging her guest bedroom.
“If you were with Zane, I’m not letting you sleep unless you tell me.” She gets up and pulls a bottle from a cupboard. She brandishes it at me. “Truth serum.”
Oh God, it’s Limoncello, an Italian lemon liqueur. I love that stuff. Mom always has it at home. “Not playing fair.”