Finding Zoe (Atlantic Divide) (16 page)

His dazed eyes fluttered closed as she pushed his pants down over his legs and stripped them off his feet, shiny black shoes included, and then nibbled her way back up to his knees, where she paused to tease and then moved on, her teeth scraping over the taut muscle of his thigh, making him jerk and his erection bounce.

Clenching his jaw, he opened his eyes and looked down the length of his body to watch her keen, wicked smile while she crawled up between his legs, her bright gaze pinned on the prize. He couldn’t control his penis as it bobbed enthusiastically and urged her onward as she approached. She nipped at the tender flesh of his groin and had his eyes rolling to the back of his head. A hoarse groan erupted from the pit of his stomach and raged its primal way up through his chest and out of his throat as her mouth encompassed him.

He tangled his fingers in her bright hair and prayed she didn’t stop as her tongue laved, her lips caressed, her hand glided and flexed.

His stomach muscles corded, tensed. Blind rapture scraped his insides as his entire body, engulfed in flames, bucked and heaved, twitched into spasm as he plunged out of control, off the edge of sanity.

He wasn’t even sure if he was in the same universe as he floated back down to earth. Zoe sprawled facedown on top of him, her cheek resting on his stomach, her fingers feathering over his still-twitching flesh. He felt the vibrations through his sensitive skin as she hummed softly to herself, waiting for him to return.

“Hi.” She smiled.

“Hey.”

Muscles lax, he didn’t have any inclination or ability to talk, but when he could, he was going to let her know how good she’d been. He felt the movement of her mouth as she smiled against his skin and wondered if he had the energy or muscle tone to even smile back. If she’d just give him a moment. His eyes drifted closed, and he allowed himself to float, heavy limbed as his brain cells took a moment to regenerate.

His fingers, still entangled in her hair, soothed over her head and kneaded her nape. Languid and warm, he mustered up a smile and gave thanks his body hadn’t simply liquefied into a pool of melted wax.

He wasn’t sure he could take control yet, but miraculously, as Zoe’s strong fingers smoothed over his skin, he could feel a definite interest starting to stir. She skimmed up his body and propped herself over him, smiling indulgently, and the stir became more of a throb. He could barely open his eyes, but his penis was interested, and he watched lazily as she got to her hands and knees again and straddled his body, her breasts grazing him, her lips skimming over his skin to set him on fire once more.

“Are you going to keep it on?” He nodded at the basque still slicked over her body. She sat upright, straddled his thigh, and gyrated. Her hot, wet center caressed him, pleasured her. Breath came short and fast from her parted lips as she rocked again, experimentally.

“I don’t know how it’s fastened; you might just have to umm…peel it off.”

“Christ.” His body vibrated with need as he shot up to vertical, almost upending her. Unperturbed, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You could always”—she scraped a nail down the center of his chest—“tear it off with your…” Her mouth rubbed against his. She nipped his bottom lip, tugged. “Teeth.”

Beyond reason, he threw her off his lap, delighting in her squeal of surprise as he flipped her over onto her front, slid his fingers under the lacings holding the entire contraption together, and yanked.

As it sprang free from her body, he fixed his teeth on her shoulder and bit. She thrashed, but he held her still and traced the line of her tendon up to the nape of her neck with his lips.

Reveling in the feel of her smooth, tender skin, he skimmed his fingers along her arms and captured her fisted hands in his as he continued his assault with his mouth.

She relaxed under him and he released her hands, smoothing his down the velvet skin of her inner arms. Placing small kisses across her shoulder, he ran a light finger down her spine and dipped it neatly into the crevice below.

Delighting in her sultry moan, he held her body down as she tried to turn over, restrained her by throwing his leg over the backs of her thighs.

Dark pleasure rolled over him as he nipped her flesh with his teeth and slid two fingers into the heat of her and then held still as she shuddered beneath him. He rubbed his beard-roughened cheek over the soft, creamy skin of her back and flexed his fingers inside her.

Desire churned his stomach as she mewled. Her fingers gripped the sheets, her hips pressed into the mattress, and he slowly withdrew, thrilled in her disappointed groan, and plunged his fingers back inside her, deep and seeking. Her body vibrated under him in a turmoil of desperate need.

Withdrawing his fingers, he spun her around and took her mouth before she had time to even focus on him.

“I need a condom.” His voice was barely more than a gravelly whisper as his fingers reached across the bedside table for one.

“Let me.” She took it from him and surprised him when she pushed him onto his back once more, and as she sheathed him, he thought he might die. She’d overwhelmed him, controlled him, consumed him, and still she continued. He thought it was his turn, but in the flip of her body, she’d taken control. He wasn’t sure he could allow it.

She sat astride him and slid herself sinuously over his flesh, undulating to take his length in deeper. She rocked her hips against him and sent his control spiraling into outer space as he held her firmly and thrust fiercely into her, unable to wait, unable to let her set her rhythm.

Ruthless, he took over, hips thrusting; he thrilled at the sound of her shocked cry and watched her body bow back, her skin heat and flush as he bucked under her, no control left as he cupped her breasts. Her body squeezed him and he moved, fast, furious, matching her, overtaking her, demanding more, his breath keeping pace with her short, choppy gasps. Determined to possess her, brand her as his, he almost lost his mind as her wet heat contracted around him. His chest bellowed, his primal need consumed him as he emptied himself into her. His heart filled, stuttered blindly to a halt as she collapsed, limp across his body, her dampened cheek plastered to his chest.

“I love you.” she whispered.

* * * *

His phone rang, jarring and persistent. He leaned over, trying not to disturb Zoe. It was Astral.

Zoe stirred, her eyes still closed, her body warm and inviting as she stretched against him. He was tempted to stay a little longer. Maybe twice in one night wasn’t enough.

The phone jangled again. This time a text. Astral again. She was downstairs waiting for him in a private sitting room. It was urgent.

Twice would have to do.

“Astral wants a meeting; I’ll be back in an hour.” He trailed his fingers down her warm, silky skin, tempted, so tempted. He placed a light kiss on her shoulder and felt his heart melt with tenderness as she smiled lazily but kept her eyes shut. She nuzzled the pillow and hummed as he slipped out of bed, knowing the woman he’d left behind was satiated for now. When he returned, he was going to make sure she was fully awake before he told her he loved her and asked her to marry him.

* * * *

“Mac, thank God I’ve got hold of you. I just hope it’s in time.”

Astral’s sharp twang grated on his ears.

“What’s the problem, Astral?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, knowing her penchant for drama would draw their meeting out to at least an hour. He glanced at his watch.

“This.” She threw down a handful of photographs, and he peered at them with disinterest. Nothing new. The paparazzi were always snapping him. He tipped his head sideways; felt a warmth spread through his body as one of the photos revealed both Zoe and Ryan last night on the red carpet next to him. Pride swelled his chest. The kid was a replica. Zoe stood regal and calm; not a sign of her earlier nervousness showed in her deportment, the line of her neck, or the angle of her head.

Astral slung a newspaper down on top. The same photo held the caption CORMACK BLUNT REUNITES WITH MOTHER OF LOVE CHILD. He felt the twitch of annoyance.
Distasteful
, he thought, but consoled himself with the fact that he knew this was coming. It was unavoidable. It would flood the papers for the next few weeks, and then it would blow over.

Maybe an interview with one of the more reputable magazines would set the record straight. Once Zoe accepted his proposal, they’d both be his anyway. It didn’t make much difference.

“What do you think?”

He stared at his agent, lifted an eyebrow. She really needed some time off; the stress seemed to be getting to her lately. Her entire skinny body seemed to vibrate.

“Chill.” He smiled as he found himself repeating one of Ryan’s favorite words. “There’s nothing I don’t know about.”

“I think there is.” The snappishness in her hard New York voice made him stop. Wait.

Her eyes, sharp and piercing, met his. Her throat contracted several times before she spoke, pointing a shaky finger at the newspapers.

“This is the woman who came to me eleven years ago and blackmailed me into giving her a check for fifty thousand pounds to keep quiet about your affair.” His heart slowed to a dull thud, thud, thud in his constricted chest. His eyes centered on Astral, his trusted agent and friend for the past fifteen years. She’d better know what she was talking about. Better have her facts straight.

“I assume you have proof?” His voice sounded strained even to his own ears, and he tightened his jaw to stop it from dropping open. The events of eleven years ago were a blur. He’d still been a kid and life had been a roller coaster of rising fame and churning emotions. He swallowed, hoping beyond hope the woman was wrong.

“Of course, I have proof. You know me, dot my i’s and cross my t’s.” Back to normal, her sharp twang reported out like machine-gun fire.

Superior, back in charge, she flung a few black-and-white photographs on top of the rest of the pile and waited as he held his breath. He leaned forward and inspected them, feeling a chill slide up his spine. He picked up the photograph on top, glanced at the others strewn across the table.

There as clear as day was an eighteen-year-old Zoe facing a younger, plumper Astral in a sequence of photographs showing Zoe accepting a piece of paper.

Silent now, Astral placed another document on the table. A faded photocopy of a check made payable to Miss Z. Chance, dated eleven years previously.

Confused, he rubbed his fingers across his brow and automatically smoothed out the creases created by his frown.

“Why would she do this? Why wasn’t I told?” He flapped the photo at her.

Astral hesitated; her gaze slid away from his. She took a moment to gather herself and clear her throat. She flicked a hand toward the photograph of the check exchanging hands between herself and Zoe.

“She came to see you. You were on set at the time, so she asked to have a word with me.”

He stared at her, his heart raging; disbelief filled his very being.

“She said she was pregnant.”

Fury filled him. She’d known. All these years, and Astral had known.

He could barely squeeze the question out past the tenseness of his throat.

“Why wasn’t I told?” he repeated.

“Because it would have hurt you. She told me she was in London to get an abortion; she was on her way to the clinic after speaking with me. She just wanted money; she said it was to pay for the abortion. I had no reason to believe she would lie about it, it never occurred to me she had no intention of having an abortion.”

He nodded; his clenched teeth made his face ache. His mind reeled as it sought the fault in the story. A justification for Zoe to want the money, yet not go ahead with the threatened abortion.

“She told me she was going to spend the rest of the money on her education.”

His head whipped up, and he gazed hard at Astral.

Memory rushed in, overwhelmed him with its strength. She’d told him. So many times. They’d talked about her wanting to be a vet, but she was concerned the financial pressure on her parents would be too much. Her mother didn’t work, had been ill several times over the previous year. They had started to pay privately for medical tests.

“She told me she wanted to be a vet.” Astral’s short, sharp tone sealed the lid and hammered the next nail in the coffin of his relationship.

His teeth gritted, his jaw flexed, and he breathed heavily through his nose, trying to contain the nausea threatening to rise up his throat and choke him as his stomach muscles contracted.

Blind, he rushed for the door.

He couldn’t remember responding to Astral. Her voice had followed him along the corridor, but his next conscious thought wasn’t until he traveled in the elevator up to the penthouse.

All he wanted was to get rid of Zoe as quick as possible in case he wrapped his fingers around her delicate throat and squeezed the life out of her.

Money.

He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was there, gripped in his hand. He leaned back against the side of the elevator, his heart filled with despair. She’d only wanted him for his money. Then, and now.

His fingers clenched in his hair, almost wrenching it from his head.

He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest ached, his ears pounded like a thousand drums had taken up residence in his skull. He tried to relax his fists, but just as he achieved it, they curled up tight again, crushing the paper in his palm.

He wasn’t sure he could face her. He wasn’t sure he was capable of letting her go. He glanced down at the wrinkled picture in his hand.

As he walked in through the suite door, she was there. Her face freshly scrubbed and glowing, her hair persuaded back into her usual braid. She was dressed, cool and elegant, waiting for him. She stepped forward, a bright smile flooding her beautiful, treacherous face.

“Ryan and Flynn went to the swimming pool. I thought I’d wait for you.”

He ran his gaze up and down the length of her in silence. Pain raged through his veins. He could barely unlock his jaw to respond to her.