Rhythm of My Heart: Speed, Book 3 (9 page)

“Zachary…”

“Your scar doesn’t scare me. But the thought of your walking away because you’re embarrassed by it does.”

Eve stared at him in wonder. This devastatingly sexual specimen of a man, who inspired hysteria in his fans, desired Eve. He wasn’t fazed by the disfigurement of her chest. Not even one bit.

The man standing before her—with his heart in her hand—made her feel things the scarred, traumatized girl hadn’t felt in, well, ever.

He made her desire things she hadn’t felt worthy of desiring.

Even if the visible scar was just the tip of the iceberg, the sense of being wanted, of being appreciated made her dizzy. It made her emotions crash around like crazy.

“I don’t want to walk away, Zachary.”

Stupidly, speaking out loud made her eyes fill with tears. Which in turn brought back a wave of panic. For the first time in so very, very long, Eve was happy. And sexy. And beautiful. And she had Zachary Pace to thank for that.

The last thing she needed to do now was destroy his image of her with tears. Because if those tears spilled over and wet her cheeks, that image would be torn to shreds—just like her face had been, eleven years ago.

“Oh, shit.” Zachary looked stricken. “Now I’ve made you cry.”

Hastily she brushed at her eyes. Much as she hated to move her hand away from the rhythm of his heart, it would do her no good whatsoever ruining her makeup now. Zachary may have accepted the scar on her chest. There was no need to subject him to the other ones.

“They’re good tears,” she insisted. “Emotional, not sad.”

He frowned. “There’s a difference?”

“There is. You’re making me feel things I’ve never allowed myself to feel. It’s good. Liberating. Scary, but good.”

Obviously Eve wasn’t doing a good enough job convincing him. Zachary’s erection began to shrink.

“You make me feel beautiful,” she told him. “Make me feel like my scars…this scar is just a natural part of me.” Time to be brave. “You make me want to show you more of myself.” Well, more of her body anyway. Her face—her real face—could remain hidden.

Some scars were way too hard to reveal.

Eve reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let it fall to the floor between Zachary and herself.

His harsh intake of breath as he looked his fill was all the reward she needed for her courage, yet he showered her with more.

“Jesus.” He swallowed. “You’re beautiful.” And slowly, almost reverently, he cupped her breasts, groaning hoarsely in appreciation. “You feel so good. So right.”

“I don’t have red hair,” she reminded him. “Or green eyes.”

Zachary dismissed yet another of her concerns. “You have everything I need or want right now. More than everything.”

He ran his thumbs over her nipples, and Eve shuddered as shivers rippled through her.

“Give me your mouth, Tiny.” Zachary’s eyes were closed, his face creased with pleasure. “Let me taste you while I touch you.”

Impossible to resist such a request. Eve leaned forward, pressing her breasts more firmly into Zachary’s hands and melding her lips to his.

He kissed her so tenderly, Eve forgot to breathe.

Zachary released her mouth only to press heated kisses down her jaw and over her neck. He nuzzled his nose beneath her ear and inhaled deeply.

“You smell so good. Better than a garden full of roses.”

Eve caught his arms, ran her hands over his biceps and beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt, confirming what she’d suspected all along. Now that she’d touched him, she never wanted to let go. She itched to run her hands all over his arms, his shoulders, his chest.

It was her turn to remove his shirt, and he released her to help shrug it off. As soon as the shirt hit the floor, Eve leaned in even closer, molding her breasts to the shape of his chest, hiding her scar with his body, imbibing the sensation of flesh against flesh.

The man was ripped. Abs of steel. Arms the same. Yet his skin was almost satiny smooth beneath the light sprinkle of hair that covered his chest and forearms.

“Zachary?”

He ran his hands down the length of her back, slowly, seductively. “Mmm?”

“We have a problem.”

“We do?”

“We do,” she whispered against his shoulder. “You know how you liked the fact that I wasn’t trying to get you into bed?”

“Yeah?” He lifted her hair away from her back and planted a warm kiss on her neck.

“Please, don’t hate me for saying this, but…but…getting you into bed is about the only thing I can think of right now.” Her skin was covered in goose flesh, her nipples were tight beads and her pussy was slick with need.

“Jesus!” Zachary growled, pulling away from her. “Thank fucking God for small miracles.”

He was carrying her again.

This time it wasn’t because he doubted Eve’s ability to walk. He simply doubted her ability to get them into the bedroom fast enough.

If Eve had hesitated even a second getting off that table, he’d have fucked her on top of it. Just pushed her back, stripped them of their jeans and fucked her, right there.

But instinct told Zachary Eve wasn’t about a fast fuck on a handy surface. She was a woman to be appreciated. A treasure to be loved leisurely for hours and hours and hours.

But just because he aimed to spend the rest of the night loving her, discovering her body, tasting every inch of her skin, didn’t mean he could wait to get her naked.

Even the sixty-odd feet to the bedroom was hell. Thankfully the bed was now close enough to lay her down on it. Lay her down and whip off her white jeans. Get them as far away from her legs as he could toss them.

Fuck, he wanted this woman. Wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone.

Yeah, six months of abstinence played a role in his desperation, but with Eve it went way beyond the simple need to fuck. Something about her, something inexplicable had him hooked. It also had him feeling…protective.

She’d been hurt. Badly. And God help him, he never wanted her to experience pain again.

He took maybe half a second to appreciate her panties, then whipped those off too, almost forgetting to breathe when she lay naked on his bed.

He couldn’t take her scar away, couldn’t reverse the damage that had been done. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Didn’t mean she didn’t taste like every fantasy he’d ever had, or feel better than the finest silk money could buy.

Silky, soft, slick.

Fu-uck!
She tasted good.

“Zachary.” Eve squealed his name. Not a loud squeal. Not even a high-pitched one. Just a yelp that made his balls draw tight and his cock stiffen uncomfortably.

“Mm?” He couldn’t talk. His mouth was full, his tongue busy. He’d buried his head between Eve’s legs and greedily helped himself to a serving of her pussy.

“That’s… You—! Oh, God.”

She gave up trying to form coherent sentences and bent her legs, spreading her thighs as creamed honey spilled on his tongue and spurred something primal in his chest.

Yeah, he lapped at her hungrily, loving the way her clit swelled against his lips and her slick folds invited deeper exploration. But he wanted more. He wanted everything from her. Zachary had an unshakable desire to stake his claim on her body and make her his, wholly and completely.

The idea of sliding his dick home, of burying himself in her heat and becoming one with her did crazy things to his blood pressure.

The physical side of his need he could comprehend. Feverish lust gripped him, throwing him headfirst into an unexpected infatuation with the gorgeous makeup artist. The emotional side he couldn’t. In his wildest fantasies he hadn’t imagined himself craving the company and the taste of any woman other than his redheaded destiny.

But Eve. Jesus, Eve was changing all the rules, changing the game. Zachary couldn’t even focus on the redhead with any clarity. Didn’t want to. Not while his mouth covered the most intimate, most secret, most delicious part of this tiny woman.

He lost himself to the flavor of her passion. Creamy. Sweet. A little salty. Her pussy had just hit number one on his list of temptations. A man could grow addicted to her taste. One lick would never be enough. Perhaps a sample once a day for the rest of his life might work. Okay, twice a day. Three times even.

It’d be worth it. Her essence could replace food. It would sustain him. Nourish him.

He stopped thinking and gave himself over to the gratification of licking her. Sucking on her clit. Kissing her pussy. Gorging on her.

Take your time, Zachary. Appreciate what you have before you.

Fuck, it was impossible. He couldn’t go slow, couldn’t take his time. He just needed to taste her. All of her. Make her scream with raw need. Rake her nails down his back with blistering desire. Make her come on his tongue, over and over again.

Eve writhed on the bed, shivers rippling up her legs, making them quiver against his arms.

He loved it. Grew fucking high on her response, her taste.

He placed his hands beneath her ass, filled his palms with two firm butt cheeks and lifted her higher so he could worship more of her.

He flattened his tongue against her slit and licked her from her pussy lips to her clit and back down again.

Eve squealed. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she pushed her groin harder against her mouth.

Zachary licked her again and again, loving the warmth beneath his tongue, the slick heat, the tight nub, the way her shivering increased until she trembled against his face.

And still he licked steadily, squeezing her buttocks, heady from her scent and her reaction.

“Oh, God…
Zachary
. I’m going to… Can’t stop. I…I! Oh, God. Oh, my fucking God.”

Ah, Jesus.
He wasn’t sure he could survive this. Wasn’t sure he could escape her release unscathed. Already she’d reached a part of him he’d never let a woman reach before. If she gave him everything, he might be forced to return her gift—with his heart.

She convulsed around him, her pussy spasming beneath his tongue.
A fresh burst of liquid heat spilled over his tongue as she came, her cries echoing through his ears.

He’d been wrong. He
could
survive this, survive her rapture, her release—so long as he survived it a millions items over. In fact, now that he’d witnessed her breaking around him, he wasn’t sure he’d survive without it.

But as her convulsions and trembling eased, a sense of arrogant smugness seized him. He’d done this to her. He’d brought her to this peak.

Not enough. Not even close to enough.

He needed to see her overwhelmed again—overwhelmed and coming on his tongue. Now.

Zachary flipped her over. Just rolled her from her back to her stomach and bit her on the ass, hard enough to leave a tingle but not a mark.

She gave a breathy laugh, and a fresh wave of blood hit his dick.

“Climb onto your knees.”

Eve tried. He could see the effort she made, but her legs were shaky and she flopped down on the bed with another breathless laugh.

Jesus, Zachary burned to bury himself deep, deep, deep inside her.

Instead he lifted her to her knees, supporting her before she collapsed again and urged her to lean forward so she was stretched out before him, her ass in the air, her breasts and shoulders resting on the bed.

Her pussy glistened, pink and puffy and perfect, wet from her juices and his tongue. Again he buried his head between her thighs and feasted.

He palmed her buttocks, kneading the flesh as he dipped his tongue inside her slit, fucking her with it.

She gasped and twisted. “Can’t. No…please. Too sensitive.” But even as she spoke she relaxed against him, letting him dip his tongue inside her once more. “God, Zachary.” Her voice was muffled against the sheets. “What are you doing to me?”

Whatever he could. This was just the beginning.

Zachary feasted on her. Like a starving man he lapped and laved, nibbled and nipped, kissed and sucked. He let one finger trail over the curve of her ass and lightly tickled her hole.

Eve jerked violently. Her moans reverberated through his ears and down his back. He slid his free hand around her hip and fingered her clit.

She broke on his tongue with a low yelp.

Her juices wet his lips and slid down his chin and he simply continued to lick her, caressing her clit as she came.

It was only when she collapsed forward, squeezing her thighs shut, that Zachary ceased his torture. He tore himself off the bed, racing to the bathroom. Yeah, he’d sworn off sex, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He always carried protection.

He was back in less than a minute, his jeans gone, his cock sheathed—and extra condoms in hand—and his chest ripped wide open, exposing his heart. She’d done it. Eve. She’d shredded his defenses, left his restraint in a pile backstage at the concert.

She hadn’t moved. She lay exactly as he’d left her, naked on the bed, her thighs slightly parted, her ass exposed and her arms stretched in front of her.