Bed of Lies (10 page)

He held on tighter, his arms like steel bands wound tightly around her waist. Her ribs were crushed against his, her hair falling around them both. She felt him shudder once more and pressed his face against her neck.

"It's all right. I'm right here. I won't let you go."

His shoulders were heaving, his whole body, with every breath. It didn't seem to be slowing at all, this storm raging through him.

This was what happened when you cared too much. It ended badly, and you hurt like hell.

She didn't want anything to ever hurt him. She wanted him to have a perfect life, that illusion she'd believed in for so long. If anyone deserved it, it was Zach.

She ran her hands up and down his back, pulling at the tension here and there, trying to work out the knots. His breathing finally slowed. He pressed his wet cheek against her neck and her collarbone for a moment, and finally eased away, wet, weary eyes finding hers.

"Sorry," he said, staring at her.

His hand came out, brushing the moisture from her cheeks, the side of her jaw, his tears from her neck, her collarbone. He still looked like he was ready to shatter completely.

"It's all right," she said.

But it wasn't. He shuddered once more, took a gulping breath, and then hung his head. She pulled him back to her, nestled his head into that hollow below her chin at her neck. His breath was warm against the top of her breasts, and his cheeks were wet. A minute later he lifted her off the floor to tuck her against him on his lap and held on tight, lashing them together like they were facing yet another brewing storm.

This is what it felt like, she supposed, when the world just came apart, even though people had tried as hard as they could to hold it together.

"Don't leave me," he said in a harsh whisper she scarcely recognized. "Not yet."

"I won't. I promise."

She kissed his temple and then his cheekbone, wanting nothing more than to soothe him. His hands were trembling, but they were soothing, as well, working their way up and down her back, as if she were in need of comfort, too. His breath was warm, hot even, and her thin blouse was damp with his tears. She started to become aware of her body in a way... She couldn't help it. It was completely involuntary, completely inappropriate. She had tried so hard not to feel anything like this, especially not now. But she felt her nipple bunch up and tighten as he exhaled, his breath rushing across that damp spot.

She ignored it, thinking that he wasn't likely to notice, not in the shape he was in. A woman couldn't help what her body did in such close proximity to a man. It was nothing.

But he felt good. The side of his face was pressed against her chest, and all that warm air coming out of his lungs was funneling down her blouse, between her breasts.

She must be hard up when a man breathing could do this to her.

Much as she tried to block the sensation, it was there. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen. It had been a long time since morning, since he'd shaved. The stubble on his jaw was slightly abrasive against her sensitive skin, but in a nice way, in a way that makes a woman know a man is touching her.

He'd gotten very quiet, very still. The hands at her back were no longer moving. Hers had stilled, too. He still held her, but something had changed.

"Julie?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

She had no idea what he intended. Honestly, no idea. She just opened her mouth to answer him, and he lifted his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

She was so shocked she just sat there with her mouth open and let him do what he wanted. Which was to taste her in the most desperate way, a help-me-I'm-lost-and-about-to-drown kind of kiss, needier than any she'd ever felt before.

No one had ever really needed her. Not like this.

He was devouring her, pushing deep down inside her, with just a kiss. And it went on and on, like he had to know everything about her, just from this kiss. His mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth in a way that was purely sexual, shockingly so.

She'd tried so hard not to feel anything like this from him that night, tried most of her life not to feel anything at all. It was so much safer not to feel. It didn't hurt nearly as much, wasn't as scary or as sad to just be numb.

And here he was, blasting through every defense she'd ever built against feeling too much. He burned through all the barriers she'd ever erected between herself and the world, herself and a man.

She was still reeling from the insistence of his mouth when she realized his hands were on her breasts. She'd been aching for that touch. No way she could lie about that. Sometimes it felt so good to be touched.

At one time, that kind of need had made her do things she later regretted, just because she'd been so desperate to have someone touch her, hold her, for just a little while. To escape from life as she knew it.

Usually, it had made her feel lonelier and sadder in the end, but sometimes the only thing that mattered was making it through one more long, dark night. Maybe that's where he was.

And she was... Julie couldn't say exactly where she was.

He seemed to have scrambled her brain, left her with too many sensations piling on top of too many pleasurable sensations. She liked to be touched. What lonely, neglected girl didn't? It was something the grown woman never outgrew.

But it made her uncomfortable, too, being vulnerable to anyone, especially a man. She'd learned over time that she could let herself feel this sort of pleasure, that it didn't have to mean too much, be too important. It was sex. It was fine. It felt good. People did it. It was just a part of life, a normal woman's life, and she wanted very much to be a normal woman.

But it scared her a bit, too. How could it not? A woman who didn't want to feel too much would have to be threatened by it, at least a little bit.

She definitely felt threatened now, because this was so much more than anything she'd ever felt with a man. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. His hands were firm and sure, urgent and just a tad rough and reckless, cupping, holding, rubbing at those nipples begging for his touch. Her blouse came undone and then her bra, and then they were skin to skin, those strong, sure hands of his on her flesh.

She'd never thought of herself as a terribly responsive woman. Her sense of reserve was too strong for that. Surely she could maintain some sort of detachment here, she thought, let him do what he wanted, what he needed, and still keep some sort of wall between them.

His hot, eager mouth slid down the side of her neck. He used his teeth, just hard enough that the touch sent a thousand sensations shooting down her body. Involuntarily, she pressed herself even closer, shivering from head to toe, like her body wasn't her own anymore, but his to do with as he wished.

He was too good at this. Some men just knew how to touch a woman, how to hold her, how to kiss her, when to linger and when to push onward. She'd seldom found one who did, had run in the other direction when she did, coward that she was. Or maybe sometimes two people were just in sync with each other, instead of being hopelessly awkward and out of tune.

His lips were at the base of her neck, his hands lifting her breasts, his mouth moving over the tops of them, and she knew where he was going. It was like she could already feel his mouth closing over her distended nipple, knew just how good that would be.

"Zach," she said, because she was still thinking on some level. She ought to tell him to think about whether he really wanted to do this.

Sad, lost people did this, just reached out for the first person they could find. She doubted he'd ever made a habit of it, and it wasn't the smartest thing either of them could do at the moment. One more mistake to add to a long, long list of hers, and one that would likely have him feeling even worse in the morning.

"Let me," he begged, his mouth opening over her breast, taking it inside, sucking hard, using his teeth. "Let me do this."

She shuddered, sheer pleasure shooting through her, all the way to her toes. She bent her head, so that it rested on the top of his and let him hold her body up when she might have simply collapsed onto the floor.

His mouth... how could a man create such havoc in a woman's body with nothing but his mouth on her breast? She felt the pulling sensation deep down inside, heat, wetness, spiraling down inside her from the point of contact with his greedy, talented mouth to a pool of awareness settling between her legs.

She thought about just letting him go ahead and do whatever he wanted, honestly thought about whether he was so lost, so far gone, she couldn't stop him now even if she tried. She wondered, even as she whimpered and cried out and held his head to her breast, her whole body throbbing, feeling so much it terrified her.

No, she wasn't going to stop him.

He would never really hurt her, and what did it matter anyway?

It was just sex, and not even that, really, she reasoned. It was a lost, desperate man reaching out for someone, drowning his sorrows in her body. Much better for him than a bottle. He could use her for that. She'd certainly let him.

Except it didn't feel like she was being used. It felt like he needed her. She blocked out all thoughts that any willing woman lying beneath him would do.

He stripped her body of her blouse and tugged off her bra. His mouth settled over her other breast, as greedy as ever. That wonderful tugging sensation started up again. It was like he'd hot-wired her body. Sensations were zipping. She couldn't control herself anymore, couldn't pretend, and no longer thought of protesting.

She couldn't find any kind of mental distance, rationalization. She wanted him to touch her, everywhere, all at once. She wanted his big, powerful body stretched out over hers, and wanted to open herself to him and take him deep inside. She wanted him straining and groaning and pushing her up and over the top, never letting up, showing no mercy in his quest to make her come apart in his arms.

That was pretty much the way it went.

It was awkward, there on the floor with the sofa on one side of them and the coffee table on the other, but there was no way they were going to take the time to find a more comfortable spot.

He stripped her bare and then shoved his pants and briefs down, and she found herself beneath him, just where she'd wanted to be. The carpet dug into her back, abrading it, but she ignored that, because the feel of that hot, hard, perfect body of his on top of her was every bit as magnificent as she'd imagined.

She'd been aware of his erection, heavy and pulsing between them, for some time. How could she not be? And then he freed himself from his clothes, and she let her thighs fall apart, her hands on his hips urging him forward.

"Let me," he said again, his body poised over hers.

She felt him at the entrance to her body, felt the width and breadth of his cock pressed against her. There was heat and wetness and a scary kind of need.

"Yes," she said, and he slid inside just a bit.

It was a tight fit. She whimpered a bit, and he withdrew.

"No." She grabbed his hips, wanting him back there anyway.

"You're not ready."

She could not imagine being any more ready for anything, and if she could have formed the words, she would have told him that. She didn't get any more ready.

But all she knew was that he was suddenly pulling away from her completely. She grabbed at him, catching his arms, ready to beg him to come back. But he merely eased himself down her body, kissing hungrily, licking the skin of her abdomen and finally settling his mouth between her legs.

He pushed her thighs apart with his shoulders, his hands palming her hips, as he attacked greedily with his mouth and his tongue. She felt warm breath at her center, and at the first touch of his soft lips, she gasped and rose up off the floor. It was too much, so wet and luxurious, the best of touches. She couldn't stand it, couldn't let it go on. Her body curled into itself, pleasure rolling through her. She'd nearly died from the pleasure of his mouth on her breasts, but this...

Sounds came from deep in her throat that she scarcely recognized as ones she could make. Part of her was scrambling to get closer to him, her hips rising up off the floor, her legs straining, closer and closer, and the other part of her wanted to just roll away. She tried that, rolling to her side to make it stop. What would happen if she didn't make it stop?

He came with her, following her to the left and then pulling her back to center with his shoulders, his hands on her hips. He gave her long, smooth, hard strokes with his tongue, and then sucked hungrily, the stubble on his face rough against her tender skin. Still, it felt so good.

She was coming apart, had no control left, no senses remaining. She was nothing but a body being pleasured beyond belief. Barely, she held back a scream, had to press her hand to her mouth as tears seeped out of the corners of her eyes. He pushed on and on, wouldn't let her up, wouldn't let her get away.

"Zach, please. Please," she cried, but honestly, she didn't even know what she was begging for. For it to stop? Or for it to never end? "I can't. I just... can't."

And then he pressed inside her with his tongue, thrusting in the way he would be any moment now with that big, hard cock of his. He kept pushing inside her until she actually did scream. Her entire body was caught there, within the climax that rushed through her, wave after wave.