Wrecked (21 page)

“I think there’s some bruising down lower,” Zach teased, cupping his hand over her head.

She laughed, blushing a little as she straightened. Placing her hands flat against his chest, she tried to stop thinking about the bruises and focused just on him. Under her hand, she saw the edge of the dagger piercing the heart. The scrollwork around it was stylized, some of it all but lost in the color, and the dim light made it even harder to see, but she still took her time, tracing the line of the dagger down to where the blade pierced the heart. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to it and reached for the snap of his jeans.

“Bruising down here, huh?” She dragged the zipper down and grinned as she felt him jump against her fingers. Laughing a little, she said, “Well, I can tell you’re definitely up for this.”

“I’d have to be dead not to be up for you.”

She shoved the jeans down his hips and he nudged her back to finish the job but when she went to move back in, he caught her around the waist and spun them around, backing her up until she found herself against his dining room table. The long, solid length of mahogany felt cool against her naked butt as he lifted her up and set her on the edge.

“Lay down,” he said, staring down into her face.

Licking her lips, she eased herself backward, first to her elbows, then going flat, watching his face.

His eyes remained locked on hers for a long, long moment, but instead of touching her, he moved away.

Abigale frowned, watching his naked back as he disappeared around a corner.

When he came back in, he had a long wooden box under his arm. Eyeing it nervously, Abigale went to push up on her elbow. “Ah . . . what’s that? If this is your way of telling me that you’ve got some kinky sex secrets . . .”

He laughed a little. “Oh, there might be a few kinky fantasies, but anything you don’t want to do can remain a fantasy as long as I’ve got you in my bed.” He put the box on the table and opened it. She blinked at what she saw inside.

Paint.

Cocking a brow, she said, “I dunno . . . being into finger painting and sex might be called kinky.”

He snorted and put his hand on the middle of her chest, nudging her back down. “Do you trust me?” he asked, leaning over her and staring down at her.

Golden brown hair fell into his face, and against the stark bruising and swelling around his left eye, his blue eyes looked even more blue, even more compelling. Licking her lips, she caught his face in her hands and tugged him down. “Like I never trusted anybody else.”

“Then close your eyes and let me do something . . .” He quirked a grin at her. “Call it a kinky sex thing if it makes you happy.”

Nerves fluttered in her belly, but she hadn’t lied about trusting him.

Slowly, she pulled her hands from his hair and lowered them to her sides. Then, after one last look at him, she closed her eyes.

The familiar scent of rubbing alcohol filled the air and she wrinkled her nose. “That’s not exactly a comforting smell, Zach.”

He laughed and swiped something down her breasts, along each curve, her nipples. She hissed as she felt the flesh pucker and draw tight. He continued down and as whatever it was dried out, he swapped it out for another. As the alcohol dried on her skin, she said, “If I feel another tattoo needle, I’m going to beat you. I wanted
one
tattoo. Just one.”

“Relax,” he said easily. “Not like I can do anything permanent here anyway. And you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

She pursed her lips and tried to relax.

Then she felt him swabbing her skin again, followed by the press of something that felt an awful lot like paper. He’d done something like that when he’d done her tattoo back at his office. “Zach—”

“Shhh. Give me a second to do this first thing and I’ll grab you a drink.”

“Who said I wanted a drink?”

“Does that mean you
don’t
?”

She stuck her tongue out. That resulted in him crushing his mouth to hers and she groaned, reaching for him, but he was pulling away before she had a chance.

Frustrated, she went to put a hand behind her head and he caught her wrist. “Can’t do that. You’ll mess up the lines. I’ll get you a pillow.”

She heard him moving away and she went to push up.

“No peeking, Abby.”

Groaning, she stayed flat and kept her eyes closed. “You know, when you stripped me naked and spread me out on the table, I thought we were going to get down and dirty and have sex.”

“Oh, we’ll get to that,” he promised and his voice was a husky murmur just inches away.

Opening her eyes, she found him bent over her. He grinned down at her and said, “You’re peeking.”

“Just at you.”

“You always did cheat at things.” He kissed her temple and said, “Eyes closed and lift up.”

“I do not cheat,” she muttered, easing up. He helped her and when she settled back, there was a narrow, but fluffy pillow under her shoulders, neck, and head.

“That better?”

“Yeah.”

“Want a drink?”

She thought it through and then decided against it. She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out in his direction. “No. Because I can’t figure out how I’d drink it and lay down with my eyes closed without it dribbling down my chin. That’s a sexy picture, I tell you.”

“You’re naked and spread out in front of me. There’s no way this can’t be sexy,” Zach said, pausing to trail the tip of his finger down her middle. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”

Adjusting a little, she tried to be patient. She figured it lasted maybe thirty seconds before talking again. “How long will this take?”

“As long as it takes. And I’m having fun, too.”

She shivered as he stroked his fingers down her side. A few more minutes passed and she figured he’d repeated whatever he was doing with the paper things maybe four or five times over, in a line that spread over from her left breast down to her right hip. Finally, though, he seemed to be done. “Is that it?”

“Not even close,” he said. And if she wasn’t mistaken, his voice was hoarse. Hoarse and ragged.

“Zach?”

“No talking, Abby.”

This time, when she lapsed into silence, it was strained . . . but not for the same reason. Something wet stroked across her skin and she hissed out a breath.

“Cold?”

She nodded, a knot swelling in her throat. “A little. Tickles.” She cracked a smile and said, “And let me guess . . . you’re going to tell me to be patient, because you’re not done, right?”

“Not done. But I can grab you a blanket or something.”

She shivered again as she felt something stroke around her nipple. “No . . .” A tug of arousal centered down low in her belly, sharp and strong, so sharp. So insistent. “I’m fine.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful . . . you got any idea how long I’ve thought about doing something like this with you?”

As the ache in her chest threatened to expand, she tried to tease him. “Zach, if you wanted to do finger painting, all you had to do was ask.”

“Ha, ha.” Abruptly, she felt something hot . . . his mouth. Closing around her right nipple, sucking, tugging, his teeth working it for a second before he pressed it against the roof of his mouth and suckled deep.

She moaned his name and yet again, when she went to reach for him, he pulled back and nudged her hands down to the table.

“On to the next one,” he said, his voice a little ragged but cheerful.

Abigale whimpered.

* * *

The lotus blossoms spread out along her torso in a
delicate rainbow of color. He was just about done and most of the ink had dried. As he finished the one just above her right hip, he bent down and blew on the ink to help it dry quicker. Had to be dry because his hands were shaking and in about five more seconds, he knew he was going to just lose it if he didn’t get his cock inside her.

“Are . . .” Her voice broke a little. “Are you done?”

He tossed the brush down and capped the inks. He ought to clean everything, tuck it all up nice and neat, but he didn’t care. If he had to buy new supplies, he had to buy new supplies.

“Yeah,” he said raggedly, straightening up and staring down at the temporary tattoo he painted across her skin. It was a vivid rainbow across her pale torso and he was absolutely certain it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the pleasure to create. “I’m done.”

A nervous smile curled her lips and she asked, “Can I look?”

He shot her a look and then eyed the tattoo, feeling a little nervous himself. He never felt nervous about his work. Especially something as temporary as this. He had the kit on hand for parties and stuff, or for when he had a friend who wanted a tattoo but wasn’t sure. Nothing like seeing how you’d look with ink for the rest of your life to help you decide if you wanted it or not.

But Abby wasn’t just anybody and she sure as hell wasn’t just a friend.

“Yeah.” He went to pass a hand over the back of his mouth and then stopped, remembering the cut just in time. “Come on, we’ll go to the bathroom so you can see it all. But no peeking yet.”

With her eyes closed and her hand in his, Zach guided her to the bathroom. He hit the lights, revealing the sprawling, custom-designed bathroom with its glass-enclosed shower and the tub almost big enough to swim in, all of it done in colors of copper, rust, and gold.

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he guided her to the double sinks and swallowed the knot in his throat. “Okay . . . just remember, it’s temporary. It will wash off . . .”

Her eyes opened.

And her jaw dropped.

Her fingers shook a little as she lifted her hand and a look of wonder crossed her face as she trailed them over the blossom that covered her left breast. A sucker punch of lust struck him right in the gut and he swore, gripping her hips and spinning her around. “Fuck, Abby,” he snarled, lifting her up and pushing her legs open.

“Zach, I’m still . . .” Then she gasped as he pushed up against her and surged inside. “Oh . . .”

“Look later,” he rasped as she closed around him, so soft and wet, every bit as aroused as he was. Slamming one hand against the mirror beyond her shoulder, he stared down at her. The rainbow of color danced over her skin, rippling with each breath she took and he shuddered.

“I need you . . . damn it, I need you so much.”
I love you . . .
those words danced on his tongue and he managed just barely to keep them restrained.

She braced her hands on the copper-colored marble of the counter, staring up at him with wide, dazed eyes, her hair falling down around her back in a tumble and the sheer, erotic beauty of her was like a fist to the gut. In the middle of the red and gold of his bathroom, her hair a deep, fiery banner, her skin as pale as ivory, and the delicate rainbow hues of the lotus blossoms stretching across her skin, he knew he was staring at the most amazing sight he’d ever seen.

His muscles shook and need gripped him, turned him into stone as he fought the urge to take, to savage.

“So fucking beautiful.” He stroked a hand up her thigh, over her hip. He danced his fingertips over the lines of the paint he’d swirled along her flesh before he captured her curls in his hand and tugged her closer.

Dipping his head, he took her mouth and this time, he didn’t care about the fact that the cut on his mouth split, didn’t care about the pain.

“Zach,” Abby whispered. “Your mouth . . .”

“I don’t give a damn.” Then he pulled back a little, stared down at her. “Do you?”

She twined an arm around his neck and tugged him closer. “No.”

* * *

As Zach covered her mouth with his again, Abigale
was almost certain she’d just die from the pleasure of it.

Where had this been . . . all of her life? Where had
he
been? Except he’d been right here . . . and this hadn’t ever happened.

She tried to tug him closer, but he kept the distance between them. “No . . . I want to see that on you . . . again.”

For a second, she didn’t know what he meant and then she felt his fingers tracing along her belly, her hip, back up over the lines of her breast and the look on his face was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was a memory she’d carry forever. The way he looked at her . . . the way he watched her. She looked down, watched as he traced his way across the blossoms crossing her chest. Even as he swiveled his hips and drove his cock inside her, his touch was gentle, so damned gentle.

Involuntarily, she clamped down around him, twisting against him. She felt him swell, felt him stiffen and then he groaned, reaching for her thighs and hooking his elbows under her knees, drawing her close . . . opening her. She sucked in a breath as it forced her weight up back, until she was balancing on her hips and her hands as he surged inside her, so deep, so full. The ridge of his cock throbbed and swelled, stroking over sensitive, delicate tissues and she cried out at the sheer, utter bliss of it.

“Abby . . .”

Forcing her eyes open, she sought out his gaze.

And he was staring at her. Like he saw nothing else. Nobody else.

Dazed, she surged, desperate to get closer. He moved faster, closer . . . still taking care not to press his body to hers, but she felt surrounded by him.
Not close enough—

With a breathless cry, she sobbed out his name and exploded, coming with a desperate sob.

And he wasn’t far behind.

Chapter Seventeen

He took the next day off. There was only so much he
could get done with the repairs and shit on a Sunday anyway. Abby wasn’t around—she had a wedding to cater and he was so sore, so damned sore, it hurt to move. Why in the hell was today even worse than the past two days? Unless of course it was because he was pushing it so hard, and that was entirely possible. Not that he’d mention it to Abby because she’d
absolutely
say
I told you so
.

All in all, it was a wise, wise decision, because he spent most of that day in more agony than he cared to think about. Between hot baths, a couple of narcotic-induced naps, and a lot of cussing and swearing, he made it through.

But he wasn’t happy about it.

One thing that distracted him was thinking about the conversation he planned to have with Keelie that night. He wasn’t going in to work. He wasn’t going in to do a damned thing except talk to her.

It was a conversation that was past due, he figured.

Sebastian was nosing around in his business. Granted, brothers did that, but still, enough was enough.

Keelie, she was like a kid sister to him and had been since they’d met six or seven years ago. But again . . .
enough was enough
.

Sundays were their shortest business day and he waited until five thirty before he headed over. Javi would be hanging around until Keelie left, because they weren’t doing this shit anymore. Nobody was going to be in the shop alone from here on out, not even him. Zach was seriously thinking about moving, although that wasn’t ideal for business. He couldn’t risk one of his employees getting hurt, either. Up until the other day, nobody had ever been around during the break-ins, but this . . . yeah. He needed to reconsider.

It was just after six when he pulled into his spot behind Steel Ink. Javi’s bike was there and so was Keelie’s Jeep. He let himself in the back and checked out the front of the shop. A quick look in Javi’s work space told him that he was finishing up. Keelie was in the process of explaining the aftercare . . . perfect timing.

They had time for their little chat and then he could get back home and be there when Abby got in, whenever the hell that was. He continued to stare at the back of Keelie’s head until she realized he was there. When she turned her head to look at him, he lifted a brow and jerked his head toward his office. She nodded and he turned around, satisfied she’d gotten the message.

He did a detour by the break room, eyeing the quick fix somebody had done on the door. Probably Javi. It was enough to let the door close, keep it locked so they could keep the system armed, but that was it.

Sighing, he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He half expected to see it was running low since he hadn’t been able to make the supply run he usually did on Saturdays, but everything was in there, freshly stocked. He twisted the top off the bottle and turned around to find Keelie standing in the doorway.

“I picked up what we needed before I came in today,” she said, rocking back on her heels and tucking her hands into her pockets. “I didn’t figure we’d see you until tomorrow. You don’t need to be here, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.” He edged around her and moved down the hall. “Let’s go to my office.”

He didn’t bother to look back and see if she was there. He knew she was.

He listened as the door shut behind them and made his way over to his desk, pausing at the site of the manila folder sitting there. “What’s this?”

“The insurance forms.” She jerked a shoulder in a shrug as she flopped in the leather chair tucked up close to his desk. “I called our agent, asked her to come by and do whatever she had to do so we could get things rolling.”

He quirked a brow at her. “Damn, Keelie. I didn’t know you even had any clue about what we’d have to do.”

“I’m not an idiot, Zach,” she snapped. “Just because I prefer
not
to handle the business end of things doesn’t mean I
can’t
.”

“You never showed much interest in it, that’s all I meant.” He flipped through the forms and grimaced. “What am I doing, just signing?”

“Yes. She’s coming back out tomorrow.”

He nodded shortly and then settled in his chair, raking his hair back as he tried to figure the best way to approach this. Subtle and Keelie didn’t have a passing acquaintance, but he knew if he just jumped on her, she’d get pissed and wouldn’t hear a damn thing he had to say.

And Keelie needed to hear this . . . needed to hear it very, very clearly.

* * *

It had been a wonderful wedding, a small affair that
had pulled her out of bed before the crack of dawn, but now it was done. As her crew went about cleaning up, she sought out her assistant Paul and asked, “Can you handle the rest?”

“Sure.” His brows arched over his eyes and he leaned a hip against the counter, studying her curiously. “Everything okay? You never cut out early.”

“Yeah.” She fidgeted with the tie on her apron for a second and then finally just shrugged. “My . . .”
Say it, you twit. It’s not that hard
. “My boyfriend had somebody break into his shop the other day. He was there when it happened and he’s fine, but I just . . . well, I want to be there.”

“Your boyfriend,” Paul said slowly, shaking his head. “What is this? You just broke off your engagement a few weeks ago and now there’s a boyfriend?”

“It’s been more than a month,” she said. Then she shrugged. “Yeah, there’s a boyfriend.” She licked her lips and then tugged off the apron, wadding it up into a ball. Tossing it into the bin where the dirty linens were collected, she looked back at Paul and said softly, “I’m seeing Zach.”

To her shock, he didn’t blink at her like she’d sprouted another head and he didn’t go,
Zach who?

Instead, a wide grin split his face and he started to laugh.

She stood there for about fifteen seconds, shuffling her feet and then she lightly punched him in the arm. “Damn it, knock it off. What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, shaking his head and looking back at her, that grin still dancing in his eyes. “I was just wondering
when
that would happen.”

Squirming, she turned away from him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on, Abigale. The guy’s only been crazy about you for years. Shit, I kept expecting him to blow a gasket every time I saw you with Roger, but . . .”

Abigale frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged. “Just that. I mean, I’ve been working with you almost since the beginning, right? When he first moved here, the way he looked at you and all, I thought there was already something there, but then . . . well. Anyway, I figured out it wasn’t a two-way thing. But hell, anybody with eyes can see it,” he said, reaching for a rag to dry his hands off. He studied her face for a minute and then added softly, “I’m just kind of shocked it took
you
so long to figure it out.”

Surprise had her going still and for a minute, she just couldn’t move.

When he first moved here . . .

The way he looked at you . . .

Slowly, she shook her head. “Zach hasn’t been . . .” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Zach hasn’t been waiting all this . . .”

I’ve only been waiting for you to kiss me for a good long while now . . .

I’ve been waiting for this for a lifetime
.

“Son of a bitch.” She turned around and braced her hands on the counter.

“Abigale?”

Slowly, she turned around to look at him. “I . . .” Licking her lips, she shook her head and asked, “Are you serious? I mean . . . really, are you serious?”

Paul blinked, shaking his head as he looked at her. “What, you didn’t know? Hell, Abby. It’s like . . .” He paused like he just didn’t know what to say. One hand lifted like he thought that might make it easier to pull the words out of the air. “I remember the way I’d see him watching you. There was this party once. At your place. I was standing there talking to him, asking him about a tattoo I wanted to get and all of a sudden, he just stops talking to me. He’s staring over my shoulder and I look back, thinking maybe that gorgeous friend of yours . . .” He grimaced and added, “Not that you aren’t beautiful, but I thought maybe it was Marin Del Marco or something. But you were standing at the door, and he just stared at you. It’s like when you’re there, nobody else exists.”

She never seemed to notice that I was staring at her when she walked into the room.

Zach had said those words to her. Just over a month ago when she’d asked if he’d been in love before.

Oh, shit.

Other bits and pieces seemed to connect inside her head.

“Hey, Abby . . . are you okay?”

Jerking her head up, she met Paul’s gaze and nodded. “I’m fine. I . . . um. If you’re sure you can handle this, I’m heading out.”

She didn’t even bother to wait for an answer, just grabbed her keys and hit the door.

She never seemed to notice that I was staring at her when she walked into the room.

Those words echoed in her mind every step of the way as she ran for her car.

Zach
 . . . 
?

Was that even possible? she wondered. But her brain already had the answer for that. Yes. It was possible. It had been there, she realized, for a very long time. And she hadn’t seen it.

The real question was just how did she
feel
about it?

But the answer to
that
question wasn’t so hard.

A warm, lovely sensation bloomed through her and she pulled out of the lot so fast, she practically left rubber on the pavement.

She could hear that voice of his, so low and familiar, soft as velvet and sinful as Death by Chocolate, as he murmured,
When you walked into a room, it would have showed on his face . . . if he really loved you.

It would have showed on his face . . . And it did show. It just showed on the face of a man she hadn’t bothered to look at for far too long. Zach. The man who’d always been there.

Her throat was tight as she thought back over the past few weeks. Zach’s face. He could be talking to somebody,
anybody
, and he’d know when she was there. He’d look up at her, and that smile would come across his face.

Something warm and easy, but . . . more than that.

It made her heart ache more than once, and there was something in his eyes, too: possessive, hungry, proud, and wondering. It might have been too much, but when she looked at him now, she felt the same way.

She never seemed to notice that I was staring . . .

“Me.” She slowed down at a red light. Had he really been talking about
her
?

But then she thought back to last night. Just last night. She pressed the heel of her hand to the tattoo he’d painted across her torso and thought back. He’d never really given her a straight answer, she realized.

She went to turn right, but abruptly realized she didn’t want to go to the shop wearing her work clothes, smelling like she’d just spent the entire day cooking. Hell, the muleheaded man ought to be home but she knew he wouldn’t be.

Groaning, she checked the time. He’d be there for another couple of hours. She could go home, but that would take most of those hours and she couldn’t wait.

His place, though, that was close.

She usually kept an extra outfit for work, and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt there, although that wasn’t exactly ideal. She’d make do.

On the drive, she replayed the conversation from last night through her head.

Sometimes, sugar, people come into your life and they mean everything.

So she means a lot to you.

People come and go all the time. But there’s only been one woman who came and stayed and mattered . . . it’s you.

That’s not what I was asking, Zach. I know I’m important to you. I just—

Important . . . Abby.
Important
describes what I have to do by April 14. Important describes getting my license renewed, my bills paid, payroll . . . Abby. You’re not important. You’re everything.

Everything . . .

Yeah. The way he made her feel when he looked at her, when he touched her. She could believe that.

* * *

The drive to his condo took far too long, at least in
her opinion. The clock said it was only fifteen minutes but what did the clock know?

Five minutes after she’d parked the car, she was letting herself inside. She reset the alarm and she tore into his bedroom, dumping her spare clothes on the bed as she stripped out of her dirty ones. With her fingers working the buttons of her shirt, she headed to his closet. Maybe she’d borrow a shirt . . .

Yeah.

There was a green silk one that she thought would work just fine.

He spent most of his time in t-shirts and boots, but he knew his way around nicer pieces of clothing. And he could rock a suit like nobody’s business. She stroked a hand down the sleeve of a steel gray jacket and thought about seeing him in that . . . maybe soon, she thought. Maybe soon.

But for now, she was going to have to get her butt ready and go corner him in his office. And if he thought he could put her off
this
time, he was out of his skull.