Wrecked (11 page)

The man she’d planned to marry hadn’t loved her. And now she realized she probably hadn’t loved him, either. She’d just loved the
ideal
of it. Of him. Of them.

That wasn’t enough.

“You want to talk,” she said softly. “After three weeks, after you called off the wedding and I had to handle all of that mess on my own, you want to
talk
.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to talk to you. I’m done with you. I want to go out with Zach. I want to see a movie, or have dinner, or just go for a drive through the desert—I want to do something that doesn’t involve thinking about you, looking at you. I want to be with him.”

She glanced over at Zach and smiled a little. “He never expected me to be anything more than what I am, Roger. He was happy with me just being me. And I’ve finally realized the truth . . .
you
never were.”

“I just wanted you to be
happy
. This life isn’t you,” Roger said. His fingers tightened on her arm.

Too tight now, almost painfully tight.

Looking down at his hand, she said quietly, “You need to let me go now, Roger. And you need to leave. Don’t call me. Don’t write. Don’t come by. You obviously don’t know
anything
about me because that
life
you think I want? It made me miserable.”

Jerking her arm, she tried to break free.

“Abigale, please, I—”

“That’s enough,” Zach said, his voice calm and easy. The look in his eyes was anything but and Abigale knew him too well to mistake that calm, level tone for apathy.

Mentally, she swore and then looked up at Roger. He was still staring at her. Good. She moved in toward him, giving him a smile. He blinked, caught off guard. And the feel of him, so much closer now, left her cold. But . . .
yes
, she caught him by surprise and the grip he had on her arm loosened just enough so that when she jerked back, he wasn’t able to keep hold.

“Okay, Zach . . .” She turned and gave him a bright smile. “Let’s go.”

He stroked a hand down her hair, along her shoulder. Then his fingers stroked her arm. The touch sent fire singing through her. And just
when
had that happened? When had Zach developed the ability to turn her blood to lava with one simple touch? she wondered.

“In a minute, Abs,” he said quietly, his gaze locked on her arm.

She followed his look and she could have groaned.

She had sensitive skin. Always had. A bump into the wall would leave a bruise on her.

And now her arm bore a vivid red mark where Roger had been holding her arm. He hadn’t been hurting her, not really. Yeah, his grip had gotten tight there for a second, but she’d handled it.

As he went to go around her, she caught his arm. “Zach . . . let it go.”

He was still staring at Roger like he was trying to decide if he should cut him into two parts, three parts, or four.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” he said, flashing her that mean little grin, the same one he had on his face when he spoke with her mom. It spoke of bad, bad things, she knew. “You can wait in the car if you want to.”

“No.” She squeezed his arm. “Zach . . . he’s not worth it.”

Roger seemed to have been frozen into silence, watching Zach with an expression of macabre fascination and fear. The fear was smart, Abigale knew. Roger had absolutely no idea what Zach was capable of when it came to those he loved.

None.

Under her hand, the muscles in Zach’s arm tensed and bunched and she could feel the tension radiating off him. Then he sighed and slanted a look at her. The gold-streaked brown of his hair fell into his eyes and she was tempted to reach up, push it back. But just then, she was afraid to move, afraid to do anything to distract him.

Slowly, he nodded, reaching out to brush his fingers across her arm. Then he looked back at Roger and said softly, “You don’t want to touch her again, my friend. Not ever. And if you leave another mark on her, I’m going to turn you inside out. Your own mother won’t be able to recognize you when I’m done.” A smile curled his lips, one that was so deadly and so beautiful, Abigale felt her blood go cold. “Are we clear?”

Roger didn’t say a word as he beat a retreat off her porch.

Seconds ticked away and finally, a heavy sigh escaped Zach.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to look at her. “I want to hunt him down and beat the hell out of him. Just so you know.”

“I know.” She smiled at him and closed the distance between them as Roger laid rubber, backing out of her driveway. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, “Just consider it an exercise in patience. I had to have one all damn afternoon.”

“Hmmm.” He rubbed his cheek against hers and murmured, “And why is that?”

“A bunch of reasons.” She could name about fifty-two dozen and they all started with Zach. But instead of listing those, she rested her head against his shoulder and said, “My damned mother called.”

“Ah. She who shall not be named.”

Abigale grimaced. “She called and instead of ignoring the call, I answered it.” She breathed in his scent and felt a punch of heat spread through her. He was wearing cologne, she realized. Something subtle. Something faintly exotic and dark. It teased her senses and made her want to press her face against him and seek out the source of it.

His palm came up and rested low on her spine. “If it would make you feel better, I could go call her. Yell at her. Snarl or swear or do something worse. Would that help?”

A gurgle of laughter escaped her and she tipped her head back, staring at him. “No.” She touched her hand to his cheek. “I think I’m okay. Mostly.”

Dark eyes searched hers for a long, long moment before he nodded. “If you’re sure. You really do look amazing, Abby. And I think I need to distract you.”

“Distract me, huh?” She arched a brow at him. “And just how are you going to do that?”

“I’ve got my ways,” he said easily. He stroked a hand down her back, up and down, slow, teasing strokes that felt like they’d drive her out of her mind if she wasn’t careful. “I’m going to have a hard time doing anything but staring at you.” Then he smoothed a hand down over the skirt, cupping her butt in his palm. “Are you wearing panties?”

She jolted in his hand. “Well . . . yeah.”

“Go inside and take them off.”

She blushed and jerked back, staring up at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” He flashed a wicked grin at her. “You want a hot, wild affair, right? Why not go out to dinner without your panties on?”

“No.” She pulled away from him, only to have him catch her elbow and pull her back against him.

“Oh, come on . . . it’s a pair of underwear,” he teased, nuzzling her neck. “And I can’t tell you what it would do to me to think about you sitting across from me without any panties on . . . you can take the stockings off and . . .”

She pulled back and wrinkled her nose. “No. But you come inside and I’ll show you something that might make it hard for you to think anyway.”

* * *

Maybe he should be careful about the games he was
going to play, Zach thought after Abby had shut the door behind her and disarmed the alarm. She shot him a nervous look. Nervous . . . and hot. There was both dismay and heat in her eyes, as though she wanted to bolt and plunge right into this.

Whatever this was.

Deciding to make it easy on her, he moved a few feet into the house and sprawled on the staircase. “So what were you going to show me?”

She fingered the material of the full skirt flaring around her legs. The material was pale pink, glowing against her skin like a rose. Zach smirked to himself as he thought it. She went and made him start thinking poetic thoughts like that, turned him into a knot with just a smile. He was a mess.

The heels of her shoes clicked on the floor as she came toward him and he found himself mesmerized by her legs. The skirt was modest, just an inch below her knees, but still, the heels and her legs . . .

“Ah . . . you know, if you don’t show me soon,” he said, dragging his eyes up to stare at her face. “I think you should have to take the panties off. Just on principle.”

“That’s a weird principle.” She smiled at him, still fingering the skirt and watching him with that hot, almost fevered look in her eyes. “But I’m going to show you. Or better yet . . . you can see for yourself.”

She caught a fistful of her skirt and dragged it up and Zach felt his heart all but stop.

That grin on her face danced into somewhere just shy of devilish. “I need some help, Zach,” she said. “The skirt and the petticoat are a handful.”

He blinked, a little dazed. “Petticoat . . . ?”

Then he looked down and saw the black sliplike thing under it. Petticoat. Yeah, he knew what that was. Peeking out from under the skirt, tangling around her legs. He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth and started to drag it up and then his heart really
did
stop.

Yeah, she was wearing stockings . . . and garters. And they . . . He closed his eyes and said hoarsely, “You’re keeping the damn panties on. You need to tell me where in the hell you got them because I want to buy stock in the place.” Tangling his hands in the layers of skirt and petticoat, he held all of it up to her waist and stared.

Black silk stretched over the round curve of her hips. He could see himself gripping those hips, holding her steady as he settled between her thighs and started to ride her. She’d cradle him just perfectly, all lush curves and sweet heat. Dark silk encased her thighs and those thighs . . . damn. A thing of beauty, he knew.

The straps of her garters ran down from her panties to hold up her stockings and he slid one finger under the strap lightly as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her.

Abby gasped and braced her hand against his shoulder. “Zach . . .”

And before he let himself do anything else, he stood up.

* * *

Dinner was at an exclusive little spot overlooking
the desert. The music was low, the conversations were muted, and Abigale found herself tucked into a little alcove with Zach where the waiters were silent and the food appeared almost like magic.

There had been a few times when she’d been wined and dined before, but never like this.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Zach turned toward her, half curving his body around hers as he leaned in to murmur, “I keep thinking about what you’ve got on under that skirt and it’s killing me.”

Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. “Well, now you have an idea how I’ve felt ever since you left me high and dry.”

The flash of his smile in the dim room had a fist closing around her heart. “So is this about punishment, sugar?”

“Maybe.” She reached for her wineglass and took a sip. She was so parched, she could have downed the entire thing and still needed more. But her head was already spinning. Because of Zach. Getting tipsy on wine wouldn’t be wise. Especially since she had every intention of getting him inside her house tonight. And doing more than showing him her panties.

A reckless thought occurred to her and she almost blurted it out. She didn’t want to
show
him her panties. She wanted him
in
her panties . . . inside her. Muffling a groan, she took another deeper drink of the wine but it only made her feel even hotter.

Zach’s hand curved over her thigh, resting just above her knee.

Turning her head, she stared at him under her lashes.

He watched her from under a hooded gaze and murmured, “Just what are you thinking right now, Abby? That look on your face is pure sin.”

“I’m thinking about you.” Biting her lip, she reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m having a hard time processing all of this, but it’s like you’re inside my head all the time. Ah . . . are you going to come home with me tonight?”

He turned his face into her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I brought you on a date . . . I have to see you home, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “I know. But there’s no rush on this . . . no timetable.”

Chapter Nine

“This is
insane
,” Abigale muttered as she slumped in
the shower.

One more burning hot dream.

One more trip to the shower just to get through the day without falling down in a quaking spasm. Those nifty showerheads were like the most amazing gift to womankind ever, she had to admit.

But after two more dates with Zach, and no sex, she was getting desperate. It had been a
week
since they’d decided to have an affair.

And she
hated
that word. Hated it. With a passion. But still, it was what it was and they hadn’t slept together. She’d set out to have a sexual escapade, right? But there wasn’t any sex going on and there wasn’t much in the way of escapades, either, unless she counted the solo ones.

She was dying bit by bit from terminal horniness and she hadn’t been successful at trying to coax him into staying the night or anything. Maybe she should just—

Her phone chimed.

Wrapping the towel around her breasts, she picked it up. And despite her frustration, she had to smile when she saw Zach’s name on the screen.

What are you up to?
his message read.

Just got done showering
.

A smiley face appeared.
Are you naked?

She rolled her eyes and glanced down at the towel. What the hell?
Well . . . you usually shower naked, right? At least, I know I do.

There was a two-beat pause before his response.
That means yes, right?

Yes
. She laughed a little.
I’m naked. I just climbed out of the shower, I’m dripping wet, I’m cold, and I’m naked.

Fffffuuuucccckkkk, Abby.

Well, I’ve been trying to do that, but you’re not cooperating
. The second she sent it, she cringed. She couldn’t believe she’d just done that. Damn it, Zach was turning her into a damned tramp. And she loved it. The more she thought about
him
, the more she thought about sex. Not just
any
sex, of course. It had to involve him. But she was thinking about it
all
the damned time
.

What in the world was wrong with her?

Just how wet are you?

Her heart slammed against her ribs at the next question and although she usually wasn’t much for self-pleasuring outside the damned shower, she found herself aching. Almost desperate for it. Her chest ached as she caught her breath.

Abby?

She licked her lips and responded back.
Up until a few minute ago, it wasn’t that bad. Then you got to texting me and . . . I dunno. And like I said, it would be better if you were more cooperative.

The screen glared at her, silent for so long she started to get even more nervous, her heart banging against her ribs and her palms slick with sweat. Then finally, another little message bubble popped up.
I’m plenty cooperative, sugar. I just don’t see any reason to operate on whatever crazy timetable you’ve got going in your head. Now . . . tell me, how wet are you
?

She groaned.
Zach . . .

Go lay down on your bed
.

Her breath hitched in her chest and she almost told him to stop. Almost.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she tugged off her towel and hung it back up in the bathroom. What the hell . . .

Back in her room, she stretched out on the bed and lifted the phone.
You know, this would be easier if you were here
.

Yeah, but if I was there, I’d be inside you and I’m not ready for that yet. Are you on the bed?

Not ready? What in the hell did that mean?

Scowling, she tapped out the response.
I’m on the bed. And I think I’d rather you BE here
.

Touch yourself.

Her breath froze. Right there, in the middle of her chest, a black wall seemed to echo through her mind at that simple command.
Touch—

Licking her lips, she shook her head, even though he wasn’t there to see.

A second ticked by.

Another.

Another.

After nearly fifteen, a message popped up.
Are you listening?

She groaned and responded,
No
.

Why not?

She could think of a bunch of legitimate reasons. But
none
of them seemed to really fit. Raggedly, she whispered into her iPhone, “Send Zach a message.”

She slid a hand down her belly. “Yes . . . I’m touching myself.”

And under her own touch, she was hot and wet.

Zach’s message flared on her phone.
Are you wet?

“Yes . . .”

Good. I’m going to make you hotter. Wetter . . . Speaking of which . . . you doing anything this weekend?

“Crazy timetable?” she muttered, whimpering a little as her fingers slicked over the swollen bud between her thighs, shuddering even as it just made her need ratchet even higher, swell tighter.

She didn’t
have
a timetable. Granted, she’d figured once they’d decided to have an affair, they’d be doing it already. And
whoa
, was she ready to do it. With Zach. Even thinking about it turned all the female bits inside her body to hot, burning lava.

“No,” she said, opting to use the voice-to-text. Seemed safer that way. “I’m not doing anything. Why?”

I made arrangements to have Keelie run the shop for the weekend. Come away with me?

A weekend away with Zach.

Oh, yes. She’d like that.

She licked her lips and replied. And already, her mind was burning. If he thought he’d keep her on pins and needles much longer, he was out of his mind.

* * *

He’d brought her to the mountains.

Abigale sighed as she climbed out of the car and stared at the little cabin in front of them. It was perched on the mountainside with a view of the mountains spread out around Flagstaff.

After the heat of Tucson, the cool air was a welcome change, but the skimpy tank top she had on wasn’t much protection against the chill in the air. It was closing in on nine o’clock and at this elevation, it could go from mild to outright cold all too fast. Shivering a little, she wrapped her arms around herself as she moved off the path to stare around her.

The wind blew her hair into her face but before she could brush it back, Zach was there. He caught it and tucked it behind her ear. “You need a jacket,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her waist.

“Hmmm. I don’t know if I packed one.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You didn’t say we were going to the mountains.”

“I’ve got one for you.” He pressed his lips to her neck. “But then again, you might not need it. Once I get you inside . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.” She’d been living in a state of near-constant arousal for a week, and hovering just under that for the past few weeks. She didn’t see him changing his tune just because he had her at some pretty little cabin in the mountains.

The wind kicked up and she shivered, despite the warmth of his embrace.

“Come on . . . let’s get our stuff and head inside,” he said. “We can look around later.”

She glanced over toward the west, watching as the sun dipped closer and closer to the horizon. “It’s going to be a gorgeous sunset, though.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Come on. You won’t miss it.”

A few minutes later, she understood. Huge windows dominated the back of the cabin, facing out to the west, leaving it impossible to miss the sunset. It was also impossible for her to miss the rather lush feast spread out on the table in front of those windows.

A tantalizing scent filled the air and her belly rumbled. “You sneak,” she said, sliding him a look. “How did you set this up?”

“I have my ways.” He took her bag from her and then caught her hand. “You hungry?”

* * *

The trick, Zach had figured out, was to keep her off
balance. He knew Abby too well. If she got comfortable enough to think, she was going to try and work all of this into some nice, neat little place in her head and that wasn’t going to happen. Not until he’d had time to make her fall in love with him.

She already loved him. And he knew that. Half the time, that hurt more than anything, knowing she needed him, knowing she loved him. Just not the right way.

But now she wanted him . . . the attraction was there. If they had the friendship and they had the attraction, could he get her to fall for him?

He was betting everything he had on it, including his heart.

Right now, with the lights in the cabin off and nothing but the setting sun to illuminate the room as they ate, he just hoped he wasn’t fucking this up. So far, nothing
seemed
terribly different. Except the way she’d watch him. They’d be talking the way they always did and then she’d get this look in her eyes, this hot look that just about drove him insane. Then there was this other look . . . this puzzled, bemused sort of expression, kind of amazed, kind of pleased. He couldn’t decide which one he liked more, but he liked seeing them both.

Most of all, he just liked being able to be there with her without having to completely hide everything he felt. As she leaned back from the table with a satisfied sigh, he decided all the wrangling, hassling, and begging he’d done to get this thrown together at the last minute had been worth it. Very much worth it.

When she went to pick up her plate, he caught her hand. “Just leave them. Somebody’s coming to take care of the dishes in about ten more minutes.” He’d timed that perfectly, too.

“Come on.” He stood up and held out a hand. On the way to the deck tucked against the side of the house, he grabbed a blanket. She hadn’t put on a jacket and he didn’t want to be in the house when anybody else was there. It would wreck things, he thought. And wasn’t that stupid?

Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t have plans.

Waiting just by the door was a covered silver tray and he tucked the blanket into Abby’s arms so he could grab it. Her brows arched as she studied the tray. “More surprises?”

“Yes.”

“And what’s in there?”

“Open the door for me and you’ll see,” he said.

A few minutes later, as they stretched out on one of the lounges, he put a glass of ice wine into her hand and handed her a plate. It held a variety of bits of fruit and a few cookies, all dipped in chocolate. Simple and basic, and if he knew Abby, that would suit her just fine.

Especially the wine. It was too sweet for him, but she loved ice wine with something bordering on obsession. He hadn’t let her see the label and now he got to watch her sip it, watched her eyes widen as she took the first taste. “Oh . . .” Her lashes fluttered closed and a slow smile curved her lips. “That’s yummy.”

He pressed his lips to her shoulder and hummed in appreciation. “I agree.”

She snorted and bumped her elbow against his belly. “I’m going to make a new rule to go along with this affair thing—no teasing. Until you’re ready to follow through, you can’t touch. You’re killing me.”

Zach chuckled. “That’s not a good rule. Teasing is half the fun. Did we ever make all the rules?”

“I never wanted rules,” she reminded him, pausing to take another sip. “
You
did. Which is crazy. I’m the rule girl. You’re not.”

“No, I’m definitely not a girl for rules,” he agreed. He stroked a hand down her belly, glancing at his watch. His phone buzzed. He eased away and pulled it out, read the message.
Coming in for the cleanup—be there in a few.

He responded and put the phone down.

Abby eyed the phone. “Who is that?”

“The elves who took care of the meal.” He heard the motor a few seconds later and reached for one of the strawberries on the tray. “Here . . . try one. You love this stuff, right?”

She took a bite and he almost groaned as a bit of the juice clung to her lips. Leaning in, he licked it away.

She turned her head away. “You’re breaking the new rule.”

“I never agreed to the new rule.”
Five minutes, damn it. It should take them five minutes to clean the fucking place up
.

He fed her the rest of the strawberry and reached for another one, eating that one himself as he listened to the noise coming from inside the cabin, just a few feet away.
Hurry the hell up.

“Were there other rules, Abs?” he asked hoarsely as he fed her a piece of pineapple. Anything he needed to know while he was still capable of thinking?

She looked down, focusing on her glass. “What happens when this ends? How do we decide that, anyway?”

“We’ll know.”
If I have my way, it ends when my heart stops
. That seemed a good time limit. He took one of the cookies and broke it in half, feeding one half to her and popping the other piece into his mouth. He wasn’t hungry, but if he didn’t distract himself . . .

He’d been working up to this point all week, although the decision to go out of town had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. But now that it was here . . .

Fuck
.

He lay his hand on her belly. “When it ends, if that’s what happens, we’re just back to us. Nothing is going to change, Abby.”