Off Limits (10 page)

She was awakened by a phone call Sunday morning. Groggy from her late night, and maybe a little too much to drink, she didn’t look at the caller ID before answering it.

“I tried to call you last night but there was no answer,” Zach said petulantly.

She sat up and tucked her arms around her knees. Of course he’d call now, when she wasn’t her best. “I went out,” she said.

“And didn’t take your phone?”

She drew the phone away to look at the display, but didn’t see any missed calls noted. “I must have been in a place with bad reception. I don’t see your call.”

“I was just wondering how CeCe was feeling,” he said, pique still in his tone.

His reason softened her a little. Not that it took much. She was a sucker when it came to Zach Purser. “Better. We found out that she snuck out after you and I—came in here, and she ate two more pieces of pizza. Made herself sick. Thanks again for doing the laundry.”

He grunted. “Do you want to go to dinner tonight? I can get us reservations at a nice restaurant downtown.”

“Can get or did get?” she asked.

“Would that make a difference?”

It would make her think he was maybe too sure of her. But she wasn’t one to play hard to get. “Not really.”

“So do you want to go, or did you meet someone last night?”

She took a deep breath and called herself a fool, but said, “I would like to go.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” But instead of staying on the line to talk, he disconnected.

Well. At least she had the day to pick out a gorgeous new dress.

Two days without seeing Paige was interminable. Zach stopped for flowers on the way to her apartment, and he couldn’t remember the last time he brought a woman flowers. Couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to see someone this bad. Couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone this bad. No other woman would satisfy him. He hadn’t even been tempted.

Paige opened the door wearing a pretty red halter dress with a flowing skirt, her hair pinned away from her face but tumbling down her back. And damn it, he couldn’t help himself. He curved his hand around her waist and lowered his mouth to hers, not caring that he messed up her lipstick, just wanting the taste of her.

She looked up at him with a sigh of appreciation and smiled with her whole face, her hands on his arms. He presented the Gerber daisies to her with a flourish and a bow. Her eyes brightened in delight.

She introduced him to her roommate Gloria as she turned to put the flowers in water, and he was too aware of Gloria’s disapproval as she watched him.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t you raise her expectations and then destroy them,” Gloria warned. “I know men like you.”

His shoulders stiffened at the broad brushstroke with which he’d been painted, his delight in seeing Paige’s excitement dissipating. “I have no intention of hurting her.”

“You may not, but it’s going to happen anyway. You don’t stick around, do you? And Paige wants someone who’ll stick around. She wants you to be that someone.”

His stomach knotted at the truth of the words. Paige deserved so much better than him. But he couldn’t walk away yet. He didn’t have the willpower.

She returned and looped her arm through his, facing Gloria. “I can take care of myself, Glo, and you know it.”

Gloria made a sound that told him she knew of no such thing. Paige broke away from Zach and crossed the room to kiss her friend on the cheek.

“I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

“Does everyone feel like they have to protect you from yourself?” Zach asked as they walked down to his car.

“Everyone but you,” she replied brightly.

“That’s because I’m the big bad wolf and you’re Little Red Riding Hood.” He opened the passenger door, and when she climbed in, he gave her skirt a playful flip.

He couldn’t keep his gaze off her. He’d chosen an intimate place for dinner, and they were tucked in a booth near the dance floor, where he had every intention of getting his hands on her.

“Are you going to stare at my cleavage all night?”

“I’m hoping to rescue any bits of dip that land there.”

“I’ve had these boobs for years. I know how to eat with them.”

He leaned on the table. “Just a little drop. Give me a thrill.”

She only smiled and returned the wonton to the bowl. He grinned in return and signaled for another drink when a man slid into an empty chair at the table. Zach straightened, not recognizing the newcomer at first. He sat back, some of the pleasure of the evening leaching from him.

“Brandon. Good to see you.” His voice conveyed a different message entirely. He didn’t want this man anywhere near Paige. She was different, and while he wasn’t ashamed of the things he’d done, he didn’t want to imagine how she would see his past.

Brandon looked appreciatively at Paige. “Who is this?”

“Paige, this is Brandon. He clearly doesn’t pick up on social cues.” He turned to his, well, friend was not the right word. “We’re on a date.”

“A real date?” Brandon’s brows lifted, and his even white teeth flashed.

“Yes, a real date. Beat it.”

“Oh, come on, Zach. She’s a knockout. You don’t want to share?”

“Time to go.” Zach pushed his chair back. He couldn’t look at Paige, didn’t want to see her reaction.

Brandon had shifted as Zach moved his chair, but didn’t rise. “Are you sure she’s not willing?”

“I’m not willing.” He didn’t want anyone else. Being around Paige had seen to that. Zach rose and reached a hand to her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her eyes were wide as she looked from one to the other. “We’re going to dance. Don’t be here when we return.”

He turned Paige into his arms on the dance floor and sensed her impatience. He didn’t have long to wait before she asked.

“Did he want a—three-way?”

“Yes.”

“With—me?”

His gut clenched. Surely she wouldn’t consider such a thing. “Yeah.”

“Have you—before? Of course you have, or he wouldn’t have mentioned it. How does that work?”

He hadn’t expected the curiosity, only judgment. “The way you might imagine.” He hoped she’d hear in his voice that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I thought a guy’s fantasy was two girls. Have you done that too?” She angled her head, studying his face.

He eased back from her a bit. “Paige.”

“I guess, with your looks, it makes sense.”

Crap. He could hear the doubt in her voice. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“When was the last time?”

“Way before I saw you at the engagement party.”

“How way before?”

“Last winter. An ex-girlfriend, her new boyfriend.”

“I guess I can’t imagine how you’d even approach something like that.”

“Paige.” He shifted her in his arms, finally looking into her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it, don’t want him to spoil our evening, all right?”

“Okay.” She cupped his shoulder and moved a little closer, but he could feel tension in her, could practically hear the wheels in her head turning as she imagined it. He didn’t want her thinking about it but didn’t know how to make her stop. He wasn’t used to being uncomfortable in his own skin, not with her.

Until tonight, he hadn’t realized his past might be just that. Those experiences no longer held the same appeal.

Maybe they both needed time to think this over. “You want to go? We could try this again tomorrow.”

“No. No, I don’t want to go. I’m good.” She edged in a bit more and smiled up at him, more of a Paige smile, just a hint of doubt remaining. “No Adam to punch you in the face this time.”

“And I actually like this dress better.” He forced a smile, then relaxed into it when he saw the affection in her eyes. Pushing his discomfort to the side, he let his thumb brush the bare skin at the small of her back, and she eased closer, her fingers toying with his hair. He angled his head so that her breath brushed over his lips, just the hint of a kiss, a tease, that made him hard, made his blood sizzle. He wanted to drag her to his apartment and get her naked. At the same time, he wanted to dance with her all night and savor every moment in her arms. He looked into her eyes and saw heat there, and decided to build the anticipation, and pray that no one else interrupted them.

He didn’t even hear the music anymore, didn’t know if it was fast or slow, just moved with Paige at the same pace, her breasts—braless beneath the halter dress—against his chest, the skirt swaying about his legs, her hand warm on his skin. He feathered a kiss across her cheek, another across her temple, and felt her breath hitch.

“I’m ready to go,” she said, her lips brushing his ear, making his erection strain.

He wasn’t, but couldn’t resist a kiss to the shell of her ear. “We didn’t eat yet.”

Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck in reflex. “I’m not hungry.” Her voice was breathy, almost panicked.

His self-control frayed. This was what he’d wanted for days, and just when he’d decided to drag it out, she’d gotten desperate. God forbid he deny a lady’s request. He turned her so she walked in front of him, hiding his hard-on as they made their way back to the table. He motioned for the check, paid with cash, adding a generous tip, and led Paige to the car.

Paige’s pulse tripped double-time on the silent ride. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. All she could think of was the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d held her on the dance floor, the way he’d teased her with those almost-kisses. Her blood hummed through her veins, drowning out every thought of coherent conversation, blinding her to the image she’d formed in her head of him sharing a woman with another man.

He didn’t speak either, just pulled into his apartment complex. He parked, sat behind the wheel for a bit—he’d better not be talking himself out of this—then pulled the keys from the ignition and walked around to open her door. She put her hand in his, wanting to squeeze—seeking reassurance or giving it, she wasn’t sure. But she was aiming for sophisticated here. She let him lead her to the second-floor apartment, and watched as he unlocked the door.

She had imagined his apartment as many things, from the Dudley-Moore-like bachelor pad with everything designed to seduce, to a leather-and-black elegance. She was unprepared for the comfort of the place, the plush rust-colored leather couch, angled toward the pine entertainment set with the flat-screen TV, the granite-topped pass-through bar with a cast-iron wine rack and neat stack of newspapers. A pair of athletic shoes sat on the floor at the end of the couch. So—unpretentious. She got the feeling he always wore a mask, tried to be someone he wasn’t. But here at home, here with her…

He turned her into his arms and curved his hand under her jaw, lifted her face for his kiss.

Again, not what she expected, soft, gentle, reverent as his lips moved over hers, fit over hers. His fingers tangled in the soft hair at the back of her neck. She sighed and leaned into him, her palms pressed against his chest, trapped between them. He was every fantasy come true as he explored her mouth, stroked her skin. His touch trailed down her bare shoulder, her arm, before he closed his hands over her shoulder and broke the kiss. Without a word he turned her away and drew her back against his chest. She gasped when he traced the line of her shoulder with his lips.

“Wanted to do that all night,” he said against her skin. “You take my breath away.”

She tried not to think that he probably said that to any number of women, only gripped the bar in front of her as his lips coasted down her spine, tingles following his touch. Her skin anticipated it, until there was nothing but his mouth and hands. He turned her again and rose at the same time to claim her mouth. She wound her arms around his neck just to stay upright and opened for his kiss.

She could taste her skin on his lips and moved against his erection until he growled a warning. She thought about growling back. After all, he wasn’t even touching her, only braced his arms on the bar behind her. She was the one clinging to him, her touch restless on his chest, his shoulders, seeking the warmth of his skin, wanting to feel his naked flesh against hers. Impatient with his pace, she slid her fingers between them and worked loose the top few buttons of his shirt. She dipped her fingers inside to stroke his chest hair. God, she loved his chest hair. She wanted to be greedy and rip his shirt open, but remembered how much he spent on clothes. Pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate that. So she unbuttoned a few more, aching to feel the rasp of his hair against her nipples, which he was completely ignoring as he kissed her.

He shifted his attention to her jaw, then the sensitive skin below her ear, his stubble rasping. Her nipples were so hard they hurt, and she shifted her weight on her heels to ease the ache between her legs. Why was he torturing her?

He dragged his lips forward to tease her throat, then her collarbone. She let her head fall back as he kissed his way along the bodice of her dress, teasing her with his proximity to her nipples, still not touching her. She pushed her hips against him, but he only huffed a chuckle against her skin. She hooked her ankle around his, opening herself to him, and pushed again. This time the sound he made was almost one of pain, like he needed to be inside her as badly as she needed him.

“Touch me, Zach. Please.”

“I’m touching you,” he said, his mouth grazing the inside of her right breast.

“Hands. Everywhere. God, you’re making me crazy.”

“Payback for the last two weeks.” This was said against the side of her throat.

“It hasn’t been two weeks.” She fisted her fingers in the front of his shirt so she didn’t grab his wrists and drag his hands to her breasts.

“Feels like two years,” he said against her ear.

“I’m going to come as soon as you touch me.”

“I have no problem with that.”

Of course not. Because she already knew one orgasm wouldn’t be enough tonight.

He straightened and covered her mouth with his and finally—finally cupped her jaw. She shifted to rub against his touch, savoring the warmth of his skin before she angled her head, encouraging him to explore further.