Swap Out (11 page)

“I can’t stay,” she breathes, half-asleep, just as I’m pulling the comforter up to her shoulder.

I kneel down beside the bed. “You
are
. I’m going to sleep on the couch,” I whisper, brushing her loose hairs back and carefully removing the pen holding her make-shift bun in place before setting it on my nightstand. But when I look back to Zoe, her brow is furrowed, eyelashes fluttering open until her gaze settles on me.

“You can’t make me love you, Luca,” she says, then burrows a little deeper. “Maybe before, I could have, but I can’t trust you right now. I can’t trust the why, and you can’t prove it to me.”

I exhale, my fingertips lazily pulling through the hair by her temples, and I lean forward to press a kiss against her forehead.

“You can’t save me,” she murmurs, and I shift so my lips hover by her ear.

“Hoo-Yah,” I breathe, then get up and walk away, softly closing my bedroom door behind me.

I reach behind my head and pull off my shirt, flinging it onto the couch. Then I fall forward: my palms catching my weight as I begin a long string of push-ups, my muscles burning hungrily as I drop and surge faster, my dog tags kissing the carpet in welcoming.

She has no idea what I’m capable of.

Something tickles my nose, and I huff at it. But the soft giggle that follows has my eyes opening drowsily, smiling when I see Zoe crouched down beside me as I stretch out on the couch.

“You talk in your sleep,” she whispers with a grin, and I nod.

“Anything dirty?”

She gapes playfully at me, then shakes her head. “Mostly it was ‘Hoo-Yah, Sergeant.’”

I laugh, then reach a hand over to find one of hers: crossed at the wrist, balancing on her knees and keys already in hand. “Stay,” I breathe, and she arches an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Stay,” I say again, and she rolls her eyes.

“I can’t, I have stuff to do. And any second you’re not going to want to be anywhere near me because it is
not
going to be pretty when my stomach realizes I’m awake.”

I wave her off. “Don’t care. And I’ll make you a deal: if you stay, then afterwards I promise I’ll make you feel so much better. Worked like gangbusters last time.”

“Luca!” she whispers, and I bat my eyelashes innocently. “We’re not going to—”

“
Why?
” I whine, shifting and propping a hand behind my head. “It’s been forever and I’m in pain. Save me.”

“I’m not talking about this, and I’m leaving.”

She stands up and I tug on her hand I still have ahold of. “Wait, wait, wait…” I rush out, and she sighs. “Come back later and go swimming with me.”

“No, Luca.”

“
Why
, Zoe?” I reply mockingly, and her face locks into the mode declaring I’m in dangerous territory.

“I have things to do.”

My brow furrows. “What kinds of things?”

“Adult things.”

I sit up, my feet swinging around and planting on the floor. “Are you
going
?”

“Home, yes.”

She clears her throat and tucks her hair back with her free hand, and my heart slams in my chest.

“Are you planning on leaving the state this afternoon?” I ask starkly, and she swallows. I exhale, my head hanging, and I sweep my thumb over the back of her hand.

Not now. Not yet.

“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask, barely able to get the words out because I don’t know if I’ve ever said anything more wrong, and I’m a little shocked when Zoe is suddenly in front of me again, kneeling down.

“I’m going to look at some furniture, have lunch with my accountant, buy more furniture and pay more bills and then go home and hopefully get some cleaning done before I fall asleep face first on my floor.” She tilts her head at me, the corner of her lips pulling up while I wrap her hand in both of mine, resting her knuckles against my lips with my elbows on my knees. “Does that sound acceptable to you?”

“Depends,” I grumble, and she arches an eyebrow. “Accountant: guy or girl?”

“Ugh,” she says and stands, but then she runs her nails through the back of my hair before she turns, heading towards my door. And just before it closes behind her, I hear her call out, “She’s a woman.”

I fist pump, then lay back down.

Today’s gonna be a good day.

*              *              *

Leave it to Scott to be late when he’s the one who said what time we should leave.

Never fails. I don’t even know why I bother being ready on—

Finally.

“It’s open!” I yell out in response to the knock on my door, filling up my water bottle. I turn away and grab the lid, spinning it on when I hear the door open. “Since when do you knock anyway? Or do you just try to refrain from doing it in public because you knock like a—
Zoe
.”

She smiles, stepping a little farther into the apartment. She’s fidgeting restlessly with her keys, her ponytail full with soft waves and falling over her shoulder, draping down the front of her long-sleeved shirt. And as I watch, her long legs are stealing my breath with every step she takes, hugged by the jeans she has on.

God, does she ever look like anything but a damn model? It’s so unfair.

“I didn’t know someone was capable of knocking like a Zoe,” she teases, her eyebrow arched playfully as she sets her keys down.

I smirk and lean against the far counter, crossing my arms. “It takes talent. You gotta get the smug rhythm just right.”

“Ah ha,” she says, and I chuckle and set down my water bottle. I reach one hand forward to drift down her arm, snagging her hand and pulling her closer into me.

“Care to tell me why I’m so lucky as to have you show up on a Sunday? You’re more of a Monday through Friday kind of bonus.”

She ducks her head as her cheeks blush, and I have no idea what has her all flustered and nervous, but I’m sure I’m gonna love it.

“I just thought…” she trails off, then shrugs and peeks up at me. “I thought I’d see if you were busy, you know, since yesterday…I was.”

I chew the inside of my lip because
God
, this sucks. I’d be more than happy to tell Scott I need a rain-check so I could hang out with Zoe, but he’s going to be here any second and…I really wanted to go climbing today. Scott found a new crack climbing area that he swears is going to make me drool with anticipation, and I don’t know if it’s just the stress of the last few weeks, but I’m crazy with restless energy.

Then again, maybe that’s just a backlog of sexual frustration. Not being helped by the fact that Zoe looks incredible and smells even better, and suddenly my heart is pounding and all the blood in my body is heading south. I don’t think it knows any other direction to go when she’s around.

“Which you obviously
are
,” she says and shakes her head like she’s embarrassed, and I’m such a dick for not immediately saying I’ll cancel for her.

I take her other hand, smiling at her softly. “How was yesterday?” I ask instead. “Get lots of shopping done?”

She nods, looking a little more relaxed. “I found this studded gray leather couch that is just…I can’t wait until we pick it up. Plus, I finally found the dining table we’ve been searching for—”

“The ML-120?”

“Yeah,” she says, her face all lit up.

We’ve been searching for this table for weeks under the specific request of a client for a decorating job, and it’s the table that cannot be found. Here, anywhere else in the States where we can have it shipped to us, because it’s a borderline antique and back in style and the few ones still in good condition are always snatched up the second they see the light of day.

“Where did you find it?”

“An estate sale,” she says, and I groan. “No, Luca, I swear it’s in perfect condition.”

“Not possible.”

“Would I lie about the condition of a table like that?”

I narrow my eyes at her playfully. “For the ML-120? Absolutely.”

She giggles. “I totally would. I was only even there because I was interested in these lamps they had advertised, and I swear I started to tear up when I got there and saw it. The guy just looked at me like I was crazy. But they had it stored in a garage and draped with a ton of sheets, and it’s
gorgeous
.”

I sweep my thumbs over the backs of her hands. “When do we pick it up?”

“We don’t,” she says, beaming. “It’s already at the warehouse.”

I gape at her. “You let someone else deliver furniture into
my
domain?”

“He offered!”

I shake my head. “Probably dropped it straight on the floor. Shattered the legs, cracked the top…”

“Wow,” she says with a giggle, “you’re territorial today.”

“You let a stranger encroach on my Kool-Aid!”

“I’ll remember that the next time someone offers to deliver something on a
Saturday
. ‘Sorry, you’re going to have to wait until we can come and get it because Luca is feeling protective of his Kool-Aid.’”

I snort, my fingertips tickling her palms before I lace my fingers through Zoe’s, loving the fact that she’s just smiling more and more.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I tell her softly, and she blushes a little, shrugging.

“I feel good. I…” She bites her lip, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so nervous before. It’s killing me with how freaking adorable it is. “I had a really nice time Friday.”

I grin, wrapping my arms around her waist, her fingers staying locked with mine even as they settle against her lower back. “You are welcome to cook me dinner any time.”

She laughs, looking away. “This is so not fair, you’re too good at this.”

“At what?”

“The whole charming thing.”

I arch a smug eyebrow. “Is that what I am? Charming?”

She tries to glare at me, and I just wrinkle my nose at her.

“And a pain in the ass, yes.”

“Ooh,” I tease and flare my eyes. “And now the real Zoe comes out to play.”

“And who is she exactly?”

I duck my head so my words cascade right across her ear. “The feisty little badass who ruled my bed long before she ever let me swindle a date.”

She sucks in a breath and I lean back to catch her eyes, gasping mockingly.

“That was a date?” she bursts out and I nod, then tilt my head.

“Not in the traditional sense, just more how we would do it. Little fighting, tons of sexual tension, you taking up my entire bed while I get sent to the couch. You know, our standard status quo.”

She bites her lip again, and my ego flares out of control. I tighten my arms around her, shifting my legs so hers are between mine and I’m a little lower.

“Want to know the best part?” I stage whisper.

“No.”

“You want to do it again,” I drawl with a wide grin, and she rolls her eyes. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I came to tell you about the table. I have no interest in dating you.”

I make a serious face that is pure sarcasm, then nod. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Ugh! You are just so—”

“If you want something, then ask,” I interrupt, pulling her the last few inches forward so her body is fully pressed against mine, and she swallows. “I mean, I’ll probably say no because then you’ll get that pissed off little crinkle above your nose like you have right now that drives me crazy, but you never know.”

She rips her hands free of mine, and I let my palms slide to her hips but I don’t let go.

“You know what I want?” she snaps and I shrug.

“A 9mm Beretta and a potato peeler?”

A sound rips from her throat that’s half growl, half scream, a glare burning from her gaze I know is danger in its purest form, and then her hands are against my jaw and her mouth is pressed to mine and I can’t believe it worked.

I blink in shock and then let my eyes fall shut, instinct taking over as I sink into the taste and feel of her. The edge of her thumbnail is slicing into my cheek but her lips are full and soft, hiding the promise of sharp teeth I know aren’t far behind. Truthfully, she’s a little terrifying. But the best things in life are usually scary at first, and as my hands flatten on her back and push her up and closer, her lips part and it was nothing I was expecting. She’s vulnerable and patient, her moan melting across my tongue and I want more, want all of it.

I rewrap her in my arms, surging deeper as my grip tightens. Because more than being afraid of her destroying me, I’m scared she’ll disappear. But she doesn’t and instead she just sort of…gives in. Her body softening into mine as she winds her arms around my neck, stretching up on her toes like it’s her last chance or a long-awaited first. And as I feel her mouth curve into a grin against mine, I can’t help but to think that she kisses like the smiles only I get: coy and powerful,
real
and with a little bit of love. But just a little.

And not only does it turn me on and loosen all the knots in my stomach, it pisses me off because I want her to give me the rest of it, and she won’t, not yet. I growl and kiss her harder, feeling her smile grow and it infuriates me because she doesn’t get to decide she’s won. She hasn’t won anything.

I spin us so her back is to the counter, her teeth scraping my lip and I think I taste blood and it’s intoxicating. Even as I know it’s wrong. But I don’t care because I want Zoe: dangerous and inviting; slick, warm heat that grips me like a glove; needle-esque stilettos that sound like the cock of a hammer on a Colt .45 when she’s on tile. She’s my dream of a beautiful death. The wind in my face, sun on my back and the most gorgeous sky I’ve ever seen God paint, even as I fall to my demise.

I don’t know how to be with her at anything other than terminal velocity.

I boost her up on the counter and then tug her forward, pressing my hips between her thighs and swallowing her moans as my hands scrape over denim because I want to shred it off her body. And I know she wants the same because she bites my lip before her hands slip under the back of my shirt, her nails drawing across my spine and shoulders before she’s tugging my shirt up and off. I fling it away and go back to her, my tongue as deep in her mouth as my cock wants to be buried in her, and I harden to the point of desperation when I feel her wind the chain of my dog tags around her hand.