Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel (18 page)

Slipping out the door, followed by the others, Cord left the house. Surprisingly, Que gave her a little nod and a compassionate look before following them and leaving her alone with Zack.

“I think I need to lie down.” Her voice was too rough. She could feel the tears, so close to spilling.

She had to get away from him before that weakness showed itself and she completely broke down. She wasn’t certain if that break would spill her rage or her pain, though. A combination of both would be simply disastrous.

“Keep the curtains closed. A sniper can’t get a heat signature from you as long as you keep them secured. I’ll be up later,” he promised, his tone rough but quiet.

“There’s no need for you to come up, Zack. I’ll be fine,” she stated, staring up at him, the thought of what would happen to her if she lost him ripping her to shreds.

Would it even affect him if she died? Other than the general grief of having lost someone he knew? It wasn’t as though he would be grieving for someone he’d loved. Her family would grieve, but despite what Sawyer had said, she wasn’t a sister to them. She’d always known that.

And in that second, she realized she’d spent so long waiting for Zack that her passing wouldn’t be noticed by any man who’d loved her. She didn’t have her own family. Her parents were dead—one before she’d even been aware of what the loss meant—and her mother must have truly hated her to put her in this position.

But this man? It would kill her to lose him, it would shatter every corner of her heart, there would be nothing left for anyone else.

Who loved her to that extent?

“Why don’t we just stop this charade now,” she told him, her voice hoarse. “I’ll go to the spare room, and you can sleep alone. There’s no sense in making this situation worse for either one of us.”

“And what the hell do you mean by that?” He grabbed her arm, holding her in place when she attempted to break free.

“Exactly what I said!” she cried out, fury and pain both escaping. “Six years of waiting for you and being teased by you as though I were no more than a teenage crush that amuses you? Do you think I want in your bed now? That I want to play some kind of damned game just to convince someone else you finally deigned to come off your fucking high horse long enough to realize I was alive?”

And she could be dead tomorrow.

“Dammit, Grace, that’s not the only reason you’re there,” he growled, not that the snarly, rough sound didn’t have the power to intimidate her at the moment.

“Like hell. It’s exactly why.” She pointed her finger at him, furious at that knowledge. “And it’s the only reason, or I wouldn’t have lain up there for the past two nights while you slept like a damned baby. And I won’t do it anymore.” She was shaking, horrified at herself and at the rage exploding from inside her. “No more, Zack. From here on out, I sleep somewhere else.”

*   *   *

“I wouldn’t attempt it if I were you.” The harsh rasp had her pausing as she started to turn toward the stairs.

“Really?” she drawled, flicking a glance over him and taking in the impressive erection those jeans were doing little to hide. “If you were me, Zack, you’d know that staying and dealing with the bullshit wasn’t in your best interest.” She made certain her smile was anything but polite. “Perhaps later.”

Or next week.

Or next year.

Sometime after she managed to forgive him for leaving her hanging and reneging on that promise he’d made to show her how good he could be. She should have known better, she scolded herself. Men rarely kept their promises; she should have learned that lesson by now.

“Perhaps we ought not tempt my patience,” he warned her rather than letting her go.

Perhaps they ought not tempt his patience?

She stared back at him, feeling that crack in her self-control widening as her anger surged past her common sense. “Your patience can go straight to hell, Zack,” she informed him, lips curling in contempt, heat flooding her face in waves. “Better yet, you and your patience can fuck yourselves, because I’m tired of dealing with both of you!” She turned and stalked to the steps, trembling with the anger, fear, and furious, ever-present sexual heat.

His patience?

She should worry about his patience?

He should worry about her baseball bat connecting with his—

She was swept off the floor, tossed over his shoulder with enough care not to pull at the stitches in her leg, but firm enough to hold her in place, and before she could make sense of exactly what he was doing, he was striding up the stairs.

“You bastard…” Her fist struck his muscled ass.

His hand connected with her bottom, and the sting should have enraged her. It did enrage her. Sure it did. Right after it went straight to her clit, slammed into her belly, and stole her breath.

Shock.

Excitement.

Maybe anger.

Anger, she decided, as soon as she figured out why the hell that slap had excited her with a dark, burning heat, to leave her trembling and all too aware of the fact that they were heading for his bedroom.

chapter thirteen

They needed to talk, Zack tried to remind himself as Grace bounced on his bed, her flushed, furious expression only fueling the lust he was fighting to hold back.

Damn her. He could have lost her today. He could have lost that bright spot in his life that he always looked for and tried so hard to protect. From him, from the truth. And she had no idea what truths he still hadn’t found a way to tell her.

It was like that first break in a dam.

The pressure was just too much, the need pushing against that fracture in his control, slamming against it, determined to be free.

Going over to her before she could lift herself into sitting position, Zack had his nose within inches of hers, the weight of his body straddling her on the mattress as he braced his hands next to her shoulders. “Stop pushing me, Grace,” he warned her, feeling desires he’d refused to consider with her. “You will not like the consequences.”

Sweet, unimposing, tactful Grace glared up at him rather than dropping her eyes and avoiding this particular confrontation.

He should have expected it. He should have known he’d never be this attracted to a woman he could easily control, even in bed. But sweet heaven, this just wasn’t a situation where she wanted to assert her own stubborn willfulness.

“No doubt!” she snapped back, pushing at his shoulders. “Considering the fact I’m beginning not to like you.” The dark ire burning in her gaze was like a red cape to a bull in rut. Son of a bitch.

They needed to talk. He needed to explain what was going on, at least prepare her for what might be coming before he took her into his bed and tried to quench the lust tearing through him. At this rate, he’d end up fucking them both stupid rather than explaining a damned thing. And stupid wasn’t where he needed to be once the subject of the true extent of the danger surrounding her was broached.

“Let me up, you overgrown oaf!” She pushed at his shoulders again, snarling up at him when he refused to move.

“Overgrown oaf?” He glared down at her. “That’s what you call those morons your girlfriends run with.” That much he knew about her. The few friends she had rarely dated men she didn’t call morons.

Her smile was so damned mocking, it set his back teeth on edge.

“Well, now, that should tell you something, shouldn’t it?” she snarled up at him, displaying her teeth much the same way her pet did. With a little curl of her lip and the promise of retribution in her eyes.

It told him that Grace was far less cautious where he was concerned than she should have been in this particular situation.

“Grace…” he tried to warn her.

“Do you know, Zack, I think I’m just entirely sick of dealing with you and your damned hot again, cold again attitude,” she informed him, despite the feminine lust burning in her eyes. “And I’m really sick of being teased like some damned schoolgirl virgin. Get off me or fuck me already, because I have things to do.”

*   *   *

Grace wasn’t certain what she’d expected.

Hell, she didn’t even know what made her say something so outrageous.

It was the truth, though. She was tired of being teased by him, sick of having him pull her toward him only to have him push her away again. She was beginning to feel like a damned yo-yo.

She didn’t expect the sudden rending of the silk blouse straight down the front, though, or the lash of white-hot sensation that burned through her senses as Zack brushed the edges of the shirt aside and with a flick of his fingers released her bra.

“Teasing again?” she asked, trembling beneath him. “I don’t have time for it—”

“Make time.” His voice was harsh, a rasp of primal male lust and intent.

Before she could reply, his lips were covering hers, his tongue parting them and surging inside in a kiss that claimed, that branded her and left her reeling.

Sensation washed through her body as his hands stroked and caressed, removing the rest of her clothes, removing his own as his lips worked over hers and drugged her with a dark, greedy hunger she had no idea how to control.

She didn’t even know if she wanted to control it.

Once he had her naked, the fact that she was bare beneath his heavier, harder body didn’t register. Self-consciousness had always plagued her when contemplating sex with anyone else. The thought of being naked, of having their eyes on her always bothered her. The thought of being naked now, of having Zack’s hands on her only amplified the sensuality washing through her.

Just as it gave rise to a curiosity about his body that she’d never felt before. She wanted to touch him.

The feel of the powerful muscles of his back shifting beneath her fingers was incredible. She could feel the tight, lust-taut ripple of movement beneath his flesh and let her nails scrape over it.

His kiss deepened at the caress, pulling a whimpering sound of pleasure from her lips that she knew she’d never made in her life. Pleasure surrounded her, infused her. The feel of his larger, harder body covering her sent a feeling of feminine, sensual weakness surging through her, and it went to her head like a narcotic.

“God, Grace.” His lips slid from hers to her jaw, where he spread stinging kisses down along the column of her neck as his tongue licked against her flesh. “Keep touching me, baby. Show me how much you like it.”

Her nails clenched against his back involuntarily. Arching to his wandering lips as they stroked from the curve of one breast to the other, she could feel her nipples growing harder, more sensitive as his lips moved closer.

“Like it a lot, do you?” he asked, the guttural tone of his voice another caress to her senses. “Talk to me, Grace. Let me know how you feel.”

Let him know how she felt?

She was supposed to think? To actually form words? She didn’t think she could—

“Should I stop?” he questioned her, his lips pausing just above one hard, aching peak.

“No!” Grace shook her head, desperate now. “No. Don’t stop.”

She arched beneath him, the feel of her nipple stroking over his lips—or was it his lips stroking over her nipple?—had another of those whimpering little sounds spilling from her lips.

“Tell me how you like it,” he demanded again, and this time, the heated stroke of his tongue over the tight point was a deliberate promise of pleasure. “I wouldn’t want to do anything you don’t like.”

The suggestiveness in his tone was simply wicked. Dark, demanding, the assurance he would stop if she didn’t find a way to speak—

“Oh God!” The cry tore from her as his teeth captured one hard bud, exerting just enough pressure that the wave of pulsating pleasure that rushed through her and left her breathless. “I like that. I like it.…”

“Hmmm.” A low sound of approval vibrated against the bundle of nerves with a lash of added sensation. “Good girl.” He kissed her nipple, licked over it. “What about this?”

Grace’s hands jerked to his hair. Moist, brilliant heat surrounded the pebble-hard bud and sent fingers of such violent sensitivity racing through her that she found herself suspended within the lush promise of complete ecstasy.

“So good,” she moaned, her head grinding into the blankets beneath her as Zack held her arching hips to the bed by lowering more of his weight between her thighs.

She loved it. Loved feeling him so close to her, restraining her as she fought for pleasure.

“More.” Instinct guided her, formed the words, and made the sounds. “Harder, Zack. Do it harder.”

His tongue lashed at the painfully hard tip before the inner heat of his mouth began sucking at her with firm, hungry pulls that sent those fingers of electric sensation to race harder, faster straight to the clenched depths of her womb.

Mewls of pleasure spilled from her as his lips moved from one hard nipple to the other, torturing each with the steadily building tension and rapid-fire arcs of sensation whipping through her.

“No. Don’t stop.” Desperation filled her voice as the hard, fiery draws of his mouth were suddenly gone. “Zack—”

“It’s okay, baby.” He caught her hand with his and drew it to her breast. “Let me see you do it. Work those pretty nipples for me, Grace. Let me see how good you like it.”

Her thumb and forefinger found the aching point of one nipple before he caught her other hand and made it do likewise.

“Show me, baby,” he demanded, voice harsh. “Work those tight little nipples, and we’ll see how good I can work that hard little clit with my tongue.”

Sensation detonated in her stomach, jerking her tight with such an increase in erotic need that she could barely breathe. Her fingers tightened on her nipples, the sharp pleasure tearing a moan from her lips as Zack began kissing his way down the center of her body.

“How do you like that pretty clit touched, Grace?” The sandpapery sound of his voice pulled her deeper into the dark, brutally sensual storm gathering through her. “Come on. Tell me how you like it.”

How did she like it?

She was supposed to know how she liked it?

“No one—” She jerked as a whisper of breath stroked over the swollen bud. “Wouldn’t let anyone…”