Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals) (17 page)

That hole in his chest hadn’t gone away and that simple statement just made it larger.

He’d never thought he was and yet . . . No one else knew his demons. Not Gideon. Not anyone else. Until Tamara.

“You saved yourself,” he said, deciding to ignore that because he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Yes, but I
killed
him. It wasn’t even his fault. He was sick.”

“You had to protect yourself.” He leaned down, holding her wrists crossed above her head, his free hand cupping her chin. “Sometimes that’s all you can do. Sometimes it’s the
only
thing you can do.” There had been no one to protect Madison. He’d never even known she was in danger.

Tamara jerked her chin away. “My brother is still dead. I still shot him.”

“So is Madison. And I didn’t even get to protect her because I didn’t know my motherfucking father was gonna kill her.”

Her lashes came down, quivering on the pale skin of her cheeks. “You can’t make it better, Zee. Nothing can.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t have that very same thought, every fucking day?”

She lifted those long, thick lashes again and the darkness in her eyes was like the darkness in himself. She didn’t say a word, just looked at him.

He could feel the warmth of her skin against his, bare and soft and hot. And the scent rising from it, drowned flowers and musk.

No, she wasn’t like Madison. She wasn’t in any way, shape, or form like Madison.

On the surface she was all blond innocence and privilege, but inside . . . Inside she was darkness just like him.

“I know one thing that can make it better,” he said roughly. And he gripped her chin again and forced her head back. And he kissed her, hard and deep, pushing his tongue into her mouth and taking everything. Taking the darkness inside her into himself.

All the rigidity melted away from her and suddenly she was arching against him, making desperate sounds in her throat. Pulling against his hold, the desperation that was rising in himself rising in her, too.

Fuck his father and fuck this life he was trying to make for himself. Fuck trying to do right, be a good man. That wasn’t going to make it better and it wasn’t going to bring Madison back. Maybe in the morning he’d change his mind, but right now, he was ready to throw himself into that darkness and drown in it. With Tamara.

Zee lifted his mouth from hers, jerked her head to the side. Then he bit her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. She shuddered in his grip, tugging at the hold he had on her wrists, but he didn’t let her go, closing his teeth around her again, then licking her, tasting her. Going lower, he licked his way over the curve of one high breast, taking her taut nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.

She gasped, her hips lifting against his, trying to grind her pussy against his cock. Electricity whipped through him as the damp heat of her pressed against him, the rough silk of her curls grazing against the sensitive head of his dick.

Maybe this would be all they would ever have, this chemistry, this pleasure. But it was enough. Right now, it was the only thing he wanted.

He pulled away from her, looking down into her face. The color was back in her cheeks, but the darkness in her eyes was never ending. “You’re right,” she said huskily. “It does make it better.”

“Then come here.” He let go of her wrists, curled an arm around her waist, and tugged her into the bathroom, positioning her so she was in front of the vanity, in front of the mirror with him at her back. He met her gaze in the mirror for one long, uncounted second.

Then he pushed her down.

* * *

Her heart thudded in her chest and she was trembling so bad it was a good thing she had the cold porcelain of the vanity to lean against because otherwise she’d be a heap on the floor.

She shouldn’t have told him about Will; she knew she shouldn’t. But she hadn’t been able to help herself, not after hearing about his girlfriend. She hadn’t wanted him to feel alone, because she knew what guilt felt like and she could see it written all over his beautiful face.

It didn’t matter whose son he was or what he had done before, he’d lost someone like she had and he felt responsible. He was trying to right the balance like she was and he had to know she knew what that meant.

She hadn’t expected him to cross the room to hold her, to try to make it better, and it had taken her off guard. No one had ever done that for her and it felt like he’d reached inside her chest and pulled her heart out. All her defense mechanisms had kicked in and she’d tried to push him away. Except of course, being Zee, he wasn’t to be pushed.

Now here she was, bent over the vanity with him standing hot and hard behind her, his silver gaze catching hers in the mirror. And she was trembling, shaking with desperation for him no matter that it had only been a matter of minutes since the last time. But she knew now it wasn’t only because of their physical chemistry. There was something more here, something deeper.

They’d shared secrets and that forged a bond, no matter how much they didn’t want it or tried to deny it.

It was there in his eyes as he stared at her, into her. As his hand trailed down her spine in a long, stroking movement. Bracing herself for hard and rough, the gentle touch made her shiver uncontrollably. Reminding her that for all that he was rough and dirty, there had been moments of gentleness. Moments when he’d taken care of her, been concerned for her comfort. He’d noticed her fear when he’d held her down the first time, and then afterward he’d run her a bath to soothe her tender skin. And then, just now, he’d crossed the room to hold her, an instinctive move to offer comfort.

She stared at him in the mirror, a sudden thought catching at her.

Was anyone gentle with him? Did anyone comfort him? Hold him? Did anyone look after him at all? He was a hard man all over, physically and emotionally, and given his past, it was no wonder. But everyone needed someone to hold them sometimes. Everyone needed to feel that there was someone there for them.

Zee’s fingers trailed down her spine again and over the curve of her butt, sending another shiver through her, and she kept her gaze on those fascinating eyes of his, metallic, glittering.

Was anyone there for him? He had those friends of his at the garage, but she got the feeling that the relationships there were complicated, difficult. That they might be his friends, but they all had their own problems.

But she couldn’t. She had her own problems, her own debts to pay. Her own atonement to make. And if she wanted to be there for Zee, it could only be for tonight.

It would have to be enough.

His hand stroked the back of her thighs, still gentle, the tips of his fingers brushing her sex, making her shake. God, she’d have to do this now before he distracted her.

“Zee,” she said softly. “Stop.”

His hand on the back of her thigh halted. “What?”

She straightened and turned around, staring up into his face. Then she put her hands back on the vanity and pushed herself up on top of it. He frowned. “What the hell are you doing?”

Spreading her knees, she held out her arms. “Come here.”

“Pretty girl, you’re not in charge here. You don’t get to give me orders.”

So he was going to play hard to get, was he?

She leaned back on her hands, allowing her knees to fall open, letting him get a good view. “Why? Scared I might make you do something you don’t want?”

His gaze dropped between her thighs. Stayed there. “Don’t play with me, baby. You might not like what happens if you do.”

“I’m not playing. But we’ve done this your way all night so far. I want to do it mine for a change.” She paused, shifting her hips in a deliberately sensual movement. “Unless you’re not secure enough in your manhood to let me have a little control.”

Slowly he looked back up at her. “Jesus, Tamara.”

“Well?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going to ask again.”

The intensity in his face eased, his mouth curving in an almost smile. Then he shook his head. “Fuck. Well, when you put it like that.” Stepping forward, he came to stand between her thighs, sliding his hands up her legs, his fingers gripping her.

She looked up at him, held his gaze. Then she closed her legs around his hips, pressing her sex right up against the hot length of his cock. The flame in his gaze burned higher and his fingers slid farther up her thighs, pushing beneath her butt to gather her in his hands, squeezing her.

Bastard. He was hoping to distract her, no doubt.

Tamara put her hands on his chest and pressed them there, the heat of his body slowly seeping through her. His skin was hot and smooth, the flames and feathers of his phoenix reaching across his right pec. She touched it, tracing the lines, stroking gently. It was beautifully drawn, a work of art. “This is gorgeous,” she murmured.

He squeezed her again, his hips shifting, his cock pressing a little harder. Oh yeah, definitely he was trying to distract her. “I like it.”

She ran her finger along the flaming wing that ran from his shoulder and down. “You said Rachel did it, right?”

“Yeah.” He pushed his hands farther beneath her, his fingers heading for her sex.

Sneaky.

Tamara shifted on the vanity, angling herself against him. “She’s an amazing artist.” She ran her fingers along his collarbones, tracking the lines of them, the dips and hollows, the only fragile architecture in his strong frame.

He shivered. “What are you doing?”

“Admiring you.” She let a finger rest in the vulnerable hollow of his throat, feeling the beat of his pulse. “What about the words on your back? What do they mean?”

“Stop.” His hands on her butt squeezed hard in warning. “I’m not a fucking art gallery.”

She looked up at him, keeping her fingers moving on his skin. The expression on his face had gone tight. “You don’t like me touching you?”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” He flexed his hips again, his cock pushing insistently against her. “Let me in, baby. Stop screwing around.”

“I’m not screwing around.” She spread her hands, slid them up over his broad shoulders and down his arms, caressing. “I think you’re beautiful and I want to touch you.”

“You wanna touch me, then how about you wrap that mouth of yours around my dick.”

She could feel his muscles shifting and moving under her hand, the tension beginning to radiate off him. He didn’t like her doing this, that much was obvious, and probably, if she kept it up, she’d lose him. He’d either walk away or turn it back on her, and this moment would be lost.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

He was going to accept this from her whether he liked it or not.

Tamara ran a hand up behind his neck, curving her fingers around his nape. Then she urged his head down, his mouth meeting hers, and she kept it there, unmoving.

He stilled and she got the impression he was waiting to see what she’d do.

Gently, she traced his lips with her tongue, before deepening the kiss gradually, keeping it sweet and gentle, an exploration rather than a demand, rubbing her thumb against the back of his neck in a caress. Showing him that this wasn’t just about mutual hunger and satisfying her desires.

That this was about him.

Another shudder went through him. “Tamara,” he murmured roughly against her mouth, and she could feel him tense even further. “What the fuck?”

She exerted more pressure on the back of his neck, keeping him there. “Let me do this, Zee,” she whispered. “Let me do this
for
you. Touch you. Kiss you. Please, let me give you this.”

He pulled back and just for a second she saw the pain burn bright in his eyes. And grief and longing, and something in her own chest tightened in response.

“Why?” His hands were hard on her. “You don’t need to give me anything.”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. You ran me a bath last time and you . . . held me.” She swallowed. “Why can’t I hold you?”

“Because I don’t want you to.” The words were bitten off, abrupt.

She didn’t know how she knew, but she could tell he was lying. “Just for tonight.” She raised her other hand, slid it over the short, black velvet of his hair. “Just this once. Please. For me.”

He didn’t speak, the look in his eyes unreadable. But he didn’t pull away and eventually, when she pulled his mouth down again, he let her. And when she kissed him again, his mouth opened, letting her in.

Such a sweet kiss. Deepening into something hotter, more intense.

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, tightening her thighs around his waist, desire clenching hard inside her as she held him, all that powerful strength between her hands.

Then she drew away, kissing down the strong column of his neck, licking the hollow of his throat. When his hands tangled in her hair, she thought he was going to pull her back. But he didn’t, he just wound his fingers in deep and let her kiss him farther down the wide expanse of his chest, let her graze her tongue over his flat nipples, then feeling them harden. Hearing the harsh hiss of his breath.

Her hands slid down his sides, tracing the contours of his six-pack before sliding around his lean hips and down over the tight muscles of his butt. Stroking, caressing.

He was so beautiful, so strong. And though he might be rough, he was hugely protective too. A man who cared. A man who let things matter to him.

Tamara closed her eyes, his skin salty and spicy beneath her tongue, and she was suddenly desperate for more of him. To get closer to him.

Zee’s fingers tightened in her hair and beneath her palm she could feel the beat of his heart, getting faster. “Tamara.” His voice was harsh. “Pretty girl . . . I gotta be inside you. Please . . .”