Promoted to Wife? (15 page)

He sucked in a breath then rolled his eyes heavenward, muttering something incomprehensible. “Not that again?”

“You need to.”

“No,” he said. “I don't.”

She leaned back on her car. “I see the way you react every time you deal with your father. You get all tense and jittery, like someone stuck a key in your back and wound you up too tight. He's been calling for the past few months and yet you refuse to talk to him. Look.” She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “I admit what I did tonight was thoughtless and stupid, but at least I did
something.
I faced the problem.”

He said nothing, just stood there with a hard jaw and hooded eyes in the pale streetlight, thumbs hooked in his belt loops.
Finally he said, “When I was seventeen, I told my dad I wanted to study in Sweden. So he pulled considerable strings to get me into Sydney University instead. I left anyway and he disowned me. Just like that.” He clicked his fingers for emphasis.

She knew verbatim his career highs and triumphs, knew he'd gotten his degree from the exclusive Lund University. But she hadn't a clue what had driven him to the other side of the world.

“So why did you return?”

His response came easily, as if he'd been expecting the question. “Five years is a long time. It gives you distance and clarity. And Australia has always been my home. I thought coming back would change things. I thought he'd changed.”

“But…?”

“Victor Prescott is—” He scowled, pausing to kick at the chipped curb with one toe. “A brilliant businessman. A clueless father. My mother left when I was seven.” He sucked in a breath, his troubled expression suddenly hardening. “I remember begging her to take me, too, but instead she left me with a man who divorced her within weeks, then destroyed every photo of her I had.”

Emily's heart went out to him. “Oh, Zac.”

“Yeah.”

Zac crossed his arms. Damn. He'd let this go, had moved on. Yet somehow the bitter betrayal still clung like sticky cobwebs inside.

“Did you ever go looking for her?” Emily was asking softly.

He wrestled with the memories, indecision warring. But Emily's expression, eyes wide and open in the pale light, somehow comforted him. He trusted her with his most confidential business transactions, so why would he not trust her with this?

“Between study and classes, every spare hour I had, I looked. But she'd vanished and I barely had enough money to live, let alone offer as an incentive. Then, after I returned to Sydney I got a letter from her lawyer telling me she'd died and left me all her money.” He paused, catching the mixture of poignant sadness
and understanding fleet across Emily's face before her expression cleared.

It was enough for him to continue.

“You know what the worst thing was? While I'd been studying, my mother had been alive and well, living on a small farm in the next town.” He clenched his fist briefly then let it go. “So Victor and I argued and I nearly punched him out. Not my finest moment,” he said with a humorless smile. “I surfed my way around Australia with the money she'd left me, trying to forget who I was, who my father was. Then I started Valhalla.”

Emily was silent for a moment, digesting that information as things slowly clicked into place. His confession answered so many questions, put a lot of things in perspective.

“Zac, I am so sorry,” she began. “But I still think you need to do this. There's nothing worse than regret, thinking you should've done something differently. Trust me, I know.”

His gaze turned astute as he searched her face. “What do you regret?”

“Lots of things.” She jingled the keys. “It doesn't matter.”

He stilled her hand, his fingers warmly covering hers. “It does, otherwise it wouldn't get to you.” He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “So it matters to me.”

“I don't…” Lord, she was so tired of maintaining the walls of silence. Making love with Zac made her forget the truth of who she was and where she'd come from. For a few hours she could be someone desirable, someone wanted.

Someone loved.

Yet how would that change if he knew who she really was and how she felt about him?

So instead of answering, she leaned in, grasped his neck and dragged him down for a kiss. He frowned, resisting, but when she gently pushed apart his lips and slipped her tongue in, he yielded with a frustrated mutter.

They kissed, out in the open, on the darkened street where anyone could have seen them. Emily didn't care. All she cared about was the here and now, Zac's hard, warm body pressing her up against the cold car door, not the ghosts of her shadowy past.

“Let's go,” she finally murmured. “I'll meet you at your place.”

“Emily…”

“Please.” She lifted large eyes to his, unashamedly using every seductive trick to sway him.

He stepped back with a groan and dug in his pocket for his car keys. “Hurry.”

 

They made love frantically, barely getting their clothes off and making it to the bed before he was on top of her, then inside her. She cried out, thrusting her hips up, wanting this, wanting him.

When they came, it was like a violent explosion, with tangled limbs, racing breaths and crashing heartbeats.

Finally, they lay replete in his bed, Zac nuzzling her neck as their bodies cooled.

“Hungry?” he murmured.

She shivered. “Starving.”

“Then let's eat.”

When he slid from the bed and the cool air rushed over her damp skin, she wanted to weep.

He must have caught her shiver because he gently pulled her to her feet, bringing her flush against his naked chest. Still warm, she realized, her palms automatically going to those firm muscles, gently sprinkled with dark hair. Then, to her surprise, his arms went around her, he buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, like he was imprinting her scent on his brain. As if she was truly desirable and he couldn't get enough of her.

He placed a soft cotton robe around her shoulders, tying it in front before giving her a wink. “Stay here.” And he headed for the stairs.

They ate picnic-style in the middle of his huge bed, devouring crusty bread, dip, olives and four different cheeses. She'd expected to be uncomfortable, eating seminaked in Zac's bed after what they'd just done between the sheets. But instead, they shared stories about their respective houses and the local wildlife that dropped in on occasion.

Emily finally reclined on the pillows with a groan, an odd feeling of contentment seeping into her limbs.

“I can't fit any more in.”

“Not even cherries?” He held up a bag with a grin.

Emily grinned right back. “No.”

He rattled the bag. “Just one?”

His boyish charm worked its magic: with a dramatic sigh and an eye roll, she sat up and stuck out her hand. “All right.”

“Nuh-uh.” He plucked off the stalk then beckoned. “Closer.”

She leaned in a few inches.

“Closer.”

Another inch more, straining from her cross-legged position.

His gaze darted to her neckline and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Emily glanced down and noticed the robe had parted, revealing more than she cared to. Chomping down on a soft groan she dragged the robe closed.

Suddenly the comfortable moment disappeared like vapor in the air, replaced by something warmer, more heated. Intimate.

Zac crooked his finger. “Closer,” then stuck the ruby-red fruit between his lips, eyes dancing.

She hesitated for one breath, maybe two. But the temptation proved too much.

Her hands went down to the mattress as she eased her legs out, shifting until she was on all fours. Zac's gaze turned quizzical but his smile remained, the cherry sitting ripe and tempting between his lips. But when she leaned forward, gave a mischievous grin and started to crawl toward him, that smile slowly dropped.

His gaze fell to her neckline, then snapped back up to her face. Oh, she knew what she was doing, all right. The heady feeling of empowerment was like a shot of pure adrenaline through her veins as she eased her way forward, finally stopping a breathless inch away. His ragged breath bathed her cheek as she paused, her mouth close but not touching the cherry offering. His whole body glowed warm, like someone had lit a fire inside. It reflected in
those eyes, all-seeing eyes that probed hers, studying, cataloging, waiting for her next move—almost relishing it, judging by the way his expression tensed as she exhaled gently before inching her mouth closer.

When she latched onto the cherry and gently bit into the flesh, he choked out a throaty groan. She grinned and eased back, chewing as the deliciously sweet juice coated her lips.

The moment solidified with sudden clarity as Zac battled through the steadily growing waves of lust. Emily in his robe, her hair tousled and falling around her shoulders, the neck gaping to reveal generous breasts. Her bright blue eyes, twinkling with mischief.

And one bright-red drop of cherry juice shimmering on the curve of her bottom lip.

Her tongue was nearly out before he acted, dipping his head to steal the juice, licking, then sucking her swelling bottom lip. Her answering groan was like gasoline on glowing embers.

They sat there, joined only by a kiss, one that seemed to go on forever. Sweet, sticky, exploratory cherry-kisses in between soft laughter and knowing smiles. But then the mood changed, the kisses becoming deeper as their breath mingled, tongues tangling.

She tasted of cherry juice, white wine and olives. Zac breathed deep, dragging in the musky reminder of their lovemaking combined with the remnants of their meal. Senses reeled as his body weighed in, his groin demanding action.

It took superhuman effort to pull back from her heavenly Cupid's mouth. Her small whimper, eyes wide and dark with arousal, shattered him.

He quickly rose and stuck out his hand.

“Come with me.”

His rough command made Emily shiver. Without hesitation she took his hand.

He led her into the master bath, soft bedroom light spearing into the darkness, illuminating a massive chrome and white-tiled extravaganza complete with skylight and huge corner spa, another view of the Pacific Ocean serving as the backdrop.

When he went to turn on the light, she stopped him. “Can people see in?”

His mouth quirked. “What do you think?”

“I think…no.”

“Ah, but do you know for sure?” He peeled off her robe with expert hands, backing her up against the sink until her bare bottom hit the cold tiles.

Her shock drowned in a groan as his hands went to her arms, pinning her as his mouth descended. With a tiny click, he'd flicked the lights on, bathing them in a soft golden glow.

“Does it bother you, Emily?” He asked between hot kisses. “That anyone could walk along the beach and see us together? Or is it…” She gasped as his hand slipped between them, fingers going straight to the core of her heat. “Exciting? Arousing?”

“Yes.” He knew her body too well, knew when she was eager for him. His rough chin grazed her neck, his mouth dipping to capture one swollen nipple.

She whimpered, hips jerking as lust exploded, those exquisite sensations quickening her blood.

“Wait, my sweet,” he whispered, before grasping her shoulders and turning her to face the mirror.

She stared at her shadowed reflection, a wide-eyed, disheveled reflection, naked and bent over at the waist. Behind her, Zac swept a hand over the curve of her bottom, then across her back, his eyes heavy with desire.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, before glancing up to see her watching him through the mirror. His eyes locked on hers, lingering, and suddenly Emily knew what he was waiting for.

“Yes,” she breathed.

His mouth curved into a sensual grin.

Emily's breath caught when he grasped her hips and nudged her legs apart with one knee, only to explode out as he swiftly entered her from behind.

Ohhhh… The wicked delight of his hot naked flesh in hers, their eyes locked through the mirror, shadow and soft golden light shafting across his face, freezing his expression in a moment of ecstasy.

Everything felt suddenly too hot, too sensitive, yet Zac couldn't withdraw. She surrounded him completely, her hot warmth, her pliant body beneath his hands. Inside and out.

He rocked back, slowly withdrawing, and her breath hissed out. “Zac…”

His name on her lips, pleading, wanting him, nearly sent him over the edge. Instead he gritted his teeth, took hold of her hips and began to thrust.

She was exposed and vulnerable, yet she held his gaze through the mirror, bold, languid eyes watching as he made love to her.

That only turned him on more. When he eased the pace to drive in deeper, she hauled in a stuttering breath, eyes closing, head back as she braced herself on her elbows and went with the rhythm. She rocked with him, completely in sync, and it was all he could do not to lose it then and there. Instead he bent forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, planting long, languorous kisses along her spine as he quickened the pace. He felt her shudder, then gasp. And all of a sudden, she cried out, her eyes springing wide open.

When he felt the orgasm quake through her, her entire body clenched in exquisite torture around him, he finally let go, their cries echoing off the tiles.

Eventually they shared a hot bath in that massive spa, lazily washing each other between wet kisses. Then Zac wrapped his arms around her and dragged her to sit between his legs. They languished in the bubbles, his chin on her shoulder, his hands absently stroking her arms.

Emily breathed in the damp heat, the curls of steam smelling faintly of sandalwood and vanilla, and wondered if the moment could be any more perfect—lying wet and naked with the man she loved.

The frightening realization dawned just as the fiery red sunrise began to streak across the sky.