Wrecked (17 page)

Hearing Sebastian get to his feet, he spun around and glared at him. “What the hell, Seb? You want to tell me why in the
hell
you’re trying to fuck my life up?”

“This isn’t your fucking life!” Sebastian glared right back. “You sit in a damned hole-in-the-wall and play with needles and ink and act like that makes you happy while you wait for that woman to notice you’re alive. If she hasn’t done it yet, when is she going to?”

It was a punch in the gut and a blow to his pride and damn it, Zach knew there was truth to it. Had he been waiting a long-ass time for Abby to finally
see
him? Damn straight. Were there days when he thought it was just never going to happen? Hell, yes.

And he’d been willing to deal with that, willing to live with it, because he couldn’t see himself anyplace else. Where she was, that was where
he
had to be.

Things had changed and damn it, he was going to make the most of it. And what the hell was Sebastian doing, trying to screw it up for him?

Gut in a knot, he glared at his younger brother. “And just what in the hell do
you
think I ought to do?” he demanded. “Go back to a life where the only women interested in me were interested because of
what
I was?
Who
I was? They didn’t give a damn about me. And here’s another problem, Seb . . .
I don’t want that life
. It suits you, but I grew out of it. It’s not
me
anymore.”

“And sitting around waiting for
her
is?”

“I’m not exactly waiting right now!” Spinning around, he slammed his fist into a wall. For about five seconds, that helped. A lot. But then, as the adrenaline faded and pain bloomed in his hand, he had to bite back a groan.
Smooth, Zach. Real smooth
. That had been the hand he’d burned and the healing skin was no longer
healing
. The scabs across his knuckles split open and as he stared at the blood, he muttered, “Now that just tops it off.”

Sighing, he headed over to the bar and grabbed one of the towels from under it.

“She just got dumped by her fiancé,” Sebastian said, his voice flat. “Do you really think you’re going to have a chance building anything there?”

“Seb,” Zach said softly, taking his time as he wrapped the towel around his hand. “You don’t even have a clue what I
want
out of my life, you know. Not a damned clue. You think because you’re happy with where you’re heading, that life is going to suit me, too.”

Sliding his brother a look, Zach shook his head. “You’re wrong. You’re so very wrong.”

A muscle pulsed in Sebastian’s jaw and finally, he looked away. “Maybe you don’t want that anymore, but I’m not wrong about Abby. She’s never going to see what you feel, Zach. I . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”

There were a thousand things he could have said. Probably a million. But he didn’t want words between him and his brother that couldn’t be taken back. So instead, he just chose the few words that
had
to be said. “You need to keep out of what’s going on between me and her,” he warned, still focusing on the towel. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re my fucking brother,” Sebastian snapped. “How am I
not
supposed to be concerned with shit that affects you?”

“You’re my fucking brother.” Zach laughed a little. “And you’re acting out of concern for shit that affects me? Oh, that’s rich, Seb. Because what you just pulled had a pretty damned big effect. She makes me happy, damn it. You’re trying to fuck it up and she makes me happy.”

* * *

He found her in the backyard.

She wore another one of those dresses that just drove him nuts and all afternoon, he’d been watching her in the kitchen and having insane fantasies about that lovely, pale green dress and the pretty white apron.

Just then, she had the skirt hiked up to her knees and she was sitting with her feet in the water while she watched some of his cousins playing in the pool with his nephew, Clayton.

Lowering himself down onto the edge, he took a minute to pull off his socks and boots, rolling his jeans up to the knees and sliding his legs into the water. Abby didn’t look his way.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.

A sad sigh escaped her and she reached over, caught his hand. “Why would I be?”

“You don’t like it when I fight with my brothers.”

He watched as she ducked her head. She’d pulled all of her hair into a thick, complicated twist but a few wayward curls were starting to escape, trailing down her neck, curling around her ears. He wanted to catch one of them and wind it around his finger, but just then, he hesitated to touch her.

“Right now, I’d almost like to fight with one of your brothers.” Then she nodded at his hand. “Did you hit Seb?”

He glanced at his hand. He’d taken a minute to go into the bathroom and actually bandage it, then he’d cut a wide berth around his mom, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t counting on it. Moms noticed
everything
.

Wiggling his fingers, he shrugged and said, “Nah. I hit the wall. It’s almost as hard as Seb’s head, and it wouldn’t cause problems when he heads back to work. If I busted his pretty face, it would cause a headache and a half and it’s not worth it just because he’s an ass. At least not yet.”

He stroked his thumb down the back of her hand, looking across the pool. Sebastian had finally come out of the house and their mom was heading for him. The kid had the look on his face of a deer caught in the headlights of a car bearing down on it, at oh . . . two hundred miles an hour.

Zach could pound him into the ground and Sebastian would fight right back.

Put their mother in the mix and the two of them felt like they were back in middle school.

“I can still go punch him if you want,” he offered, watching as Sebastian tried to get lost in a crowd of the cousins.
They aren’t going to protect you, kid
. Nobody got in their mom’s way when she was on the warpath.

“Yeah, sure you will.” Abby snorted. “I see what you’re looking at. Denise’s after him now. You want me to believe you’d go punch him now when she’s about to get a piece of him?”

He ran his tongue across his teeth. “Sure.” She was bluffing. Abby wasn’t that mad.

She let go of his hand. “Have at it, slugger.”

Aw, hell.

Panic shot through him. Now what in the hell did he do? Slowly, he pulled his feet out of the water, his mind working rather furiously as he tried to figure a way out of it. But he’d said he’d do it, and damn it if Sebastian didn’t deserve it and—

Abby caught his wrist, laughing a little. “Damn it, Zach. The look on your face is just about priceless. Enough. You don’t have to go risk your mom’s wrath on my account.”

He was only a little relieved. Okay. A lot. Zach would slay just about any dragon for her.

But his mom wasn’t a dragon. His mom was . . . hell.

Blowing out a breath, he tried to put on a brave face. He could still act, right? “I can go do it,” he lied through his teeth. “It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Oh, he deserves it, all right,” she agreed. “Stupid ass.” Then she blew out a breath and shrugged. “But being a stupid kid and having you punch him in the face and cause problems on set isn’t worth it. Besides, then people would start wondering how it happened and we don’t know everybody here. It would get out and that would just lead to a hassle there. For all we know, they’d start speculating on
why
you punched him in the face.”

“According to the media, I’m on everything from drugs to human blood.” He shrugged and shifted in closer, bracing one hand on the ground behind her. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “What’s it matter if I punch him in the head?”

She shrugged and smoothed out a crease in her skirt. “What was he rambling on about, anyway? He’s acting like I dragged you out of California or something.” Her eyes cut his way, lingering for a second, before she went back to toying with the full material of her skirt. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t kidnap you and lock you in the trunk of my car when I headed out here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, dancing around the edge of the subject.
Don’t ask . . . don’t ask . . .
He couldn’t very well tell her that the very second she’d told him she was leaving California and had found a place in Tucson, he’d started looking for a place there as well. That wasn’t going to help matters any, was it?

“Look, Sebastian is just being . . . Sebastian. You know how he is. He gets an idea in his head and it’s like he can’t see anything else. It warps everything he does, everything he sees.”

She opened her mouth, but this time, before the words could escape, he leaned in and kissed whatever questions she had away.

Sooner or later, he thought. He’d explain it all sooner or later.

Just not yet. This was all too new and he needed to give her time first. If he knew a damn thing about Abby, it was how she reacted and if he told her that he’d been in love with her for well . . . forever? Yeah. That was the kind of news that was best delivered after she’d had some time to get used to things. Used to having him in her life like this, as something more than just her friend.

* * *

Questions.

Damn it, Abigale had been planning to ask him a question . . . or five.

But as his hand caught her face, all thoughts of questions, all thoughts of Sebastian and everybody else seemed to fade away.

Only
one
thought seemed to exist for her now.

Only one
thing
.

Zach.

That was it.

Groaning, she opened for him as he twisted and leaned into her body, his warmth wrapping around her. The noise of the party, the high-pitched giggles of the children, the low hum of music, everything faded away . . . nothing but Zach existed.

His hand curled into the wide lapel of the button-up dress she wore, his thumb stroking back and forth over her skin, slow and steady. A simple touch. Almost innocent, but not quite. And she was melting inside. Melting and burning and shaking.

Finally, he eased back, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed that way, his brow pressed to hers, his eyes lingering on hers. “Abby, I . . .”

“C’mon! It’s time for me to eat Daddy’s cake!”

The moment shattered, but it was broken with laughter as they pulled back, grinning at each other for a minute before they looked over at Clayton, Trey’s son.

“Is that what it’s time for, pal?” Zach asked, reaching over and catching Clayton’s ear. He tugged on it lightly and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Yeah!” Clayton practically bounced on his heels as he looked around. “Meemee told me that I could eat it as soon as I got
all
of you ready so I gotta find everybody else!”

The four-year-old took off with the single-minded intensity of the young. Sighing, she looked back at Zach and reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You ready for some cake?”

He kissed her palm. “I’m ready for what I was just having.” Then he pulled his feet out of the pool and stood up. “But cake will work for now. The sooner we finish up the birthday stuff, the sooner we can go.”

Chapter Fourteen

He’s spent more than half of his life doing exactly
what you wanted him to do, Abby
.

Brooding, Abigale stared out the window over the bay.

Usually when they came up to San Diego for one of the family things, they stayed with Zach’s folks. There was even a room that Denise had set aside for Abigale. Abigale wouldn’t go so far as to say it was
her
room, but whenever she was here, that was the room she stayed in.

But Zach had told her he had reserved a room for them at a hotel and she had been just fine with that.

It had been . . . odd . . . all night.

Even after Sebastian had left, not long after the presents were opened, things had felt off. She suspected it was her, but still, she couldn’t brush off that odd, uneasy feeling.

Zane had kept his distance and Denise had chattered about everything under the sun. Nobody else had said a single thing about her being there with Zach. But everybody had watched them.

It was almost like they were seeing things she wasn’t.

He’s spent more than half of his life doing exactly what you wanted him to do, Abby
.

A warm pair of arms came around her waist and she closed her eyes, sinking back against the warmth of Zach’s body. Part of her wanted to turn to him, curl her arms around him, and just get lost in him so she didn’t have to think.

But her mind just wasn’t going to shut up right now.

“What was Sebastian talking about, Zach?” she asked. She’d tried to get the answer out of him earlier but he’d brushed it off. She wasn’t about to let him do it this time.

She felt his chest rise and fall against her back, felt the warmth of his breath stirring her hair. One hand smoothed down and curved over her hip. “Abby, Seb doesn’t even know what he’s talking about half the time. How should I know?” he murmured. He rubbed his lips over her neck and that felt so good, sending small little shivers down her spine. “Right now, he’s so fixed on the idea of dragging me back here, I don’t think he can see straight, much less think straight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d heard some of those stupid
Bachelor
rumors and thought maybe he’d see if he couldn’t work it from his end.”

“So you have no idea what he meant when he said I made you leave California.”

His hands curled around her waist. “Abigale . . . I’m pretty damn certain you were in Tucson for months before I saw the ad for the shop. You aren’t the one who told me to buy it. You aren’t the one who put the idea in my head of opening my own place.”

Some of the tension eased out of her and she managed to breathe a little easier.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” he asked.

Licking her lips, she shrugged. “Some. Although I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was ranting about. I . . .”

* * *

Zach turned her around.

In the dim light of the room, her dark eyes were almost black. As he reached up and slid his hands into her hair, he said softly, “I’m in a hotel room, alone with a beautiful woman. You know the last thing I really want to talk about is my baby brother and his hard head, right?”

He dislodged the pins in her hair and watched as the curls went tumbling down her back. Then, as she opened her mouth, probably to keep talking about the disaster that had happened earlier, he cradled her skull in his hands and rubbed his thumbs along her scalp.

Her lids dropped down. “That feels good.”

“I’ve been wanting to take your hair down all damned day.” He eased his way around to the base of her skull, worked there for a minute, and then nudged her back against the wall. She went, smiling a little at him as he reached for the wide black belt that nipped her dress in at the waist.

“Zach . . . are you trying to distract me?”

“No. I
am
distracting you,” he said, shooting her a look. “I don’t see why we have to keep talking about Sebastian. He thinks he knows what my life should be about and I think he needs to go pull his head out of his ass. There’s nothing else to keep talking about.”

“Hmm.” She reached up and curled her hands around his wrists. “So he’s got his head up his ass. And that’s it?”

“Yes.” Leaning in, crowding her body against the wall, he took her mouth, quick and hard. “Now . . . can we stop talking? It’s been like three days since I had you naked.”

She smiled against his lips. “Wow. Three whole days? However did you stand it?”

“By fantasizing about what I’d do with you once I had you naked in a hotel room.” He twisted his hands out of her grip and reached for the buttons that held her dress closed. It was a cute little retro piece, a soft pale green that made her skin glow. It was pretty, sexy in a subtle, quiet way and all damned day, he’d thought about either unbuttoning all those buttons and fucking her while she still wore it, or maybe turning her around and bending her over . . . maybe both. The blood drained out of his head as he pondered the possibilities. By the time he’d eased the fourth button free, his fingers were shaking. A bra peeked through the vee of her dress now and he leaned in, pressed his mouth to the pale flesh, licked the outer curve of one breast.

He managed to free all of the buttons, but he wasn’t quite done, he realized. Pale, gauzy white material still separated him from her and he stroked one hand down it, feeling the firm length of her thigh underneath it before he slid her a look. “I’m thinking about taking you while you’re still wearing your dress, you know.”

“What . . .” Her voice cracked a little and she stopped, clearing her throat. “What’s stopping you?”

Besides the fact that he felt like he was about to come just looking at her? Not a whole lot. Crouching down in front of her, he slid his hands under the skirts of her dress and petticoat, catching her panties with his fingertips and dragging them down. She went to step out of the heels she was still wearing and he shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Those stay on, too.”

She blushed, her face flaming red and he laughed a little, stroking one finger down her foot. “You’ve looked so beautiful, so elegant, and so sweetly sexy all damned day. Now I get to muss you up and I’m going to enjoy it,” he said.

“And I have to wear the heels?”

“Well. No.” He went to catch her calf. “Take them off if you really want to.”

“No.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Then she laughed a little and the sound wrapped around him, settling inside his heart and warming every dark, cold place. “You know, I’ve never once had sex while I’m wearing so many clothes, never once—”

The rest of her words were a muffled shriek against his mouth.

He just couldn’t think about that. Tangling his hand in her hair, he used his free arm to boost her up. “Don’t,” he muttered. “I can’t . . . just don’t.”

He had to live with watching her fall in love with another man, although he knew she hadn’t loved Roger. The other guy before Roger, though? The jerk in college? Yeah, she’d loved him, and he’d hurt her. Zach had to stand by and watch it; had to watch her laugh with other guys, be happy with them while he bled and died silently inside. But he couldn’t listen to this.

He carried her over to the long, low gleam of the dining room table set up on the other side of the door. The hotel was one of the nicer ones and he’d thought they could order breakfast in, eat, and just enjoy the view over the bay.

Now, though, the only thought in his mind was the table was there. And it was close. Kicking the nearest chair out of the way, he sat her on the edge and bent over her, bearing down on her until she lay with her back flat against the surface. She whimpered against his mouth, her hands fisting his shirt while her knees came up and gripped his hips.

He tore his mouth away and lifted up, catching her legs and spreading them wide. His name was a strangled cry on her lips as he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the hot, sweet core of her. Her hands tangled in his hair and she went to arch herself closer, but before she could, he caught her behind the knees, shoved.

“Be still,” he growled against her. Open . . . he wanted her open for him. Open and vulnerable, just like he was for her.

Stabbing at her with his tongue, he worked her closer and closer, felt her climax moving in on her. Knew it was close when her body started to tighten, clench with every touch, every stroke of his tongue. Knew it was close . . . and he stopped. Surging upright, he tore at the fly of his jeans while she gasped for breath and lay there staring at him.

She sat up, reaching for him and he let her, shuddering as she sank her teeth into his lower lip, as he felt the press of her breasts against his chest, the scratchy material of her petticoat caught between them. Abruptly, her kiss eased and she lifted a hand and cupped his cheek. “Zach . . .”

The look in her eyes was almost his undoing. He could have gone to his knees before her and everything he’d felt inside for far too long was boiling inside him, threatening to spill out.

Swearing, he tore back and pulled her off the table, spinning her around and urging her forward. She made a startled sound and he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her nape.

“Shhh . . . shhh,” he murmured as he guided her forward. “Bend over for me, Abby. Just . . .”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark and unreadable. So dark. But then, as a sigh shuddered out of her, she bent forward, bracing her hands on the table. He urged her lower, until she was flat against the surface and he slid his hands under the tangle of skirt and petticoat, pushing it up to her waist. Then he swore, long and low, at the sight of her ass, the sleek, wet core of her, exposed to his sight.

On her hip, he could see the elegant lines of his tattoo and he dipped his head, kissed the soft skin just next to it before he straightened and moved in, tucking the head of his cock against her gate. Soft, wet heat greeted him, closed around him and then, eyes closed, he surged forward—

“
Fuck
,” he snarled, slamming a hand onto the table by her head.

Abby moaned and rotated her hips back, clenching down around him.

“Abby . . . don’t. Be still.” Sweating, shaking, he braced his hands on her hips. “Rubber. I need . . .”

“Zach.” Her lashes lifted and she turned her head a little, watching him through her lashes.

And despite his best intentions, even as he pulled put, he found himself surging back in. Silk. She was slick, wet, smooth silk and she felt so damned good. “I need to stop,” he panted. “I don’t . . . I didn’t put a rubber on.”

“I’m on the pill.” She licked her lips, blood rushing up to stain her cheeks red. “And . . .”

He froze, bent over her. “Abby . . .”

“I had a physical done a couple weeks ago,” she whispered. “When I . . . well. I had one done. It had been a few months since Roger and I were . . .
oh!
”

He shuddered and swore as he drove back inside her. “Don’t say his name when I’m inside you, Abby. Just don’t.”

“It’s been a while,” she said, glaring at him. “And I’m good. You don’t need . . .”

He knew what she was saying. And it shouldn’t matter. Smart adults didn’t do this.

But when it came to Abby, Zach wasn’t a smart adult. Bracing one elbow on the table, he rotated his hips against her again, felt her clench around him and he groaned.

“Do I stop?” he demanded.

“No.” She held his gaze and when he pulled out, eased back in, she clamped down on him like she never wanted him to leave.

That worked just fine for him.

But not like this . . . not now.

Straightening, he pulled out and listened to her ragged groan, the soft sound of disappointment. But then, as he turned her over, her eyes widened. He reached for the hem of his shirt and dragged it off before pulling her hips to the very edge of the table. Her legs hung off the edge as he tucked the head of his cock against her gate. “Like this. Watching each other . . .”

Her gaze caught his, held his as he slid his arms under her knees, holding her open . . . vulnerable . . . as he surged deep inside, the soft, slick tissues of her pussy yielded to him and she cried out his name.

Naked and smooth, tight and hot, she closed around him. Perfect.

So damned perfect . . .

I love you
, he thought, staring down at her.

And he had to fight to keep those words trapped inside. Lifting one of her legs, he pressed a kiss to her calf, stroked his palm along her smooth skin. Her eyes, dark and wide, locked on his face and he hated the dim light, wished he’d turned it on so he could see her, see all of her, the way the lacy, flouncy material of that insanely female petticoat tangled around her waist as he rode her, wished he could see the way her skin was so pretty and pale against his own.

“Fuck, Abby,” he muttered, and his own voice shook.

But she didn’t seem to notice as she twisted and arched under him, a soft, desperate little moan escaping her.

“Zach,” she whimpered.

And he knew. He heard it and the need in her voice just hit him in the heart, in the gut. Releasing his hold on her knee, he slid his hand along her inner thigh and sought out the hard little knot of nerves just above her entrance. Slowing down the rhythm of his strokes, even when all he wanted was to
take take take
, he stroked her clitoris and felt the answering tension in her body.