Out of the Blue (9 page)

In a second,
he'd
be the one begging. He couldn't stop his fingers from roaming, from skimming over as much of her as he could.

"Zach…"

"No," he whispered, forcing his fingers still, though it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

She let out a rough sound of wanting, but she rose with grace and dignity, took her book and left him alone.

Sleep was impossible.

* * *

The next afternoon, Hannah ran across the bluffs to the stairs, then down to the beach. The sand sank between her toes as she walked to the water's edge.

She swam like clockwork every day—except when beautiful men named Zach Thomas came to town and messed up her thought process—which was why she could tear off her clothes and have her bathing suit already beneath.

Today she had the beach to herself. And though she loved their guests, loved talking to them, for once she was grateful for the solitude.

The water was icy, and did exactly what she'd banked on—cleared her brain in one quick wave that sucked the air right out of her.

She held her breath and dove into the next wave, gliding beneath the water she knew better than the back of her own hand.

Here she was at home. Alone. No demands on her time, no one needing her.

It went without saying that she needed no one in return.

There was a storm brewing, and the water was choppy, but she could handle it. She
needed
to handle it. She swam straight out.

From shore, someone called her name.

Zach.

He was standing, some twenty-five yards back now, watching her with grim worry.

"I'm fine," she shouted.

"Too far," she thought she heard him call. He glanced up at the churning sky.

"I'm fine," she said again, but he ripped off his shirt, toed off his shoes and dove in after her. Hannah sighed in annoyance, but there was something else there, too, something far too close to a thrill.

He
was coming after
her.
She glanced at the sky and decided maybe he was right, there was a storm moving in. Just as she turned back, Zach called her name.

She couldn't help it, laughter bubbled, and enjoying that he'd come for her, she pumped her arms and legs faster, heading toward him now.

That's when it hit, a cramp that shot up her entire right leg and nearly paralyzed her with shocking pain. She couldn't believe how much it hurt—it was everything she could do just to breathe.

A swell towered over her head, but she couldn't duck it, couldn't body surf it, couldn't do anything but double over with agony.

The wave hit full force, dragging her under.

When she managed to surface, Zach was right there in front of her, his face filled with terror.

She had time to think he must be a fantastic swimmer to have covered that distance in a fraction of the time it had taken her, before she went under again. Then Zach had her.

"What is it?" he demanded as he reached for her. "What's wrong?"

"Cramp." She gasped, struggling to take in only air and not the entire ocean.

The wind had picked up, and so had the size and the frequency of the waves. She squirmed to try to alleviate the pain, and went under again.

"I've got you." Zach's arms slipped around her, and they were firm and filled with welcoming strength.

The storm hit with a vengeance, sending a harsh, driving rain in their faces in tune with the choppy swells.

"Hold on to me!" he yelled, as he started toward shore.

But she couldn't hold on, couldn't do anything but convulse with pain. Another swell hit them. They both went under then, but he had her, had her tight to him, and she knew he wouldn't let go. The pain was incredible, but it blocked out the heavy current, the stinging rain, everything but the shore wavering in and out in front of her.

Zach never hesitated, just swam with long, sure, powerful strokes, though she could feel the tension radiating from every bone in his body.

Another huge swell hit them, and Hannah was certain she'd be ripped away from Zach, but he held tight, refusing to let her go.

"Almost there," he said breathlessly.

Hannah was lost in her world of agony. When she finally felt the sand beneath her feet, she nearly burst into tears,
would
have burst into tears, but she couldn't breathe for the pain.

They dropped heavily to the wet sand, gasping for air.

Zach leaned over her, holding her still. As it continued to rain down on them, he pushed his fingers hard into her cramping muscles, so hard she saw stars, but finally, long moments later, bit by bit, she was able to relax. "Better," she managed.

Completely spent, he collapsed next to her. His arms came around her hard. Together they lay there beneath the rain and wind, shivering, but without the energy to move.

"Well, that was a nice swim," he was finally able to say.

Hannah was busy concentrating on the heat of his chest, the very lovely sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, his arms snug and secure around her.
"I'm
glad you were there."

"Me, too." He rubbed his cheek over her hair, but still neither of them moved.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Without you—"

"Don't.
I
don't even want to think about it."

A few moments went by while they concentrated on being alive. "Zach?" she asked after awhile.

"Yeah?"

"This didn't have anything to do with … you know."

"Seducing me?"

"Yeah."

"I
know." He smiled. "Saving you didn't have anything to do with me continuing to try to resist you."

She managed a rusty laugh. "Okay. As long as we're straight."

The wind whipped over them and she shivered. Zach let out a low sound of remorse. "A shower," he decided, surging to his feet.
"Hot
water."

She couldn't help imagining them in her shower, together, all slick, sleek, hot, drenched, soapy skin…

"Hannah." His voice was ragged. "Stop those thoughts."

"Okay." But she slid her chest against his, just to get closer to his warmth.

His gaze dipped down to her bathing suit.

She was chilled through to the bone.

They both stared at her hard nipples, pressing against the material. He groaned softly and closed his eyes. "Shower," he said again. "Hot one for you, cold one for me."

Chapter 9

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^
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Z
ach got his own room the next day. It should have taken his mind off his troubles, but his mind was occupied with the image of Hannah sprawled across the sand the day before, water beaded across her body, her eyes filled with hunger.

She'd still wanted him. He'd wanted her.

Even with the storm, she'd been hot and bothered, and so had he.

He still was.

And yet, whether she wanted to realize it or not, she wasn't the quickie affair type, and he was discovering that neither was he.

It was all so complicated, and complicated, in Zach's opinion, was to be avoided, at all costs. Especially here. But his heart didn't seem to be in agreement with his brain.

Which was the only reason he didn't just leave. He could go back to Los Angeles early, could certainly prepare to return to work, to his life, but he couldn't seem to do it. He could tell himself he wasn't quite ready for the physical demands of being a cop, that he wasn't all better, but that was a big, fat lie.

It was Hannah, the first woman in far too long to stir his passion, his heart and soul.

She reminded him there was far more to life than burying who he was to do his job.

Hannah walked him to his new room, though he could have easily found it himself. He could have also done without that smirk in the Schwartzes' eyes as they passed the upper sitting area.

But he had bigger worries. Hannah had that stubborn look in her eyes, the look that said maybe she wasn't finished with him yet.

Only he couldn't resist another sweet, unbearably erotic attempt, he just couldn't. At least she was dressed modestly, in a blouse and slacks, with not a candle or condom in sight.

They stepped inside his room. Zach dropped his bag and realized he could hardly hold his head up.

"Sleep," she whispered, gently pushing him toward the bedroom. She must have had mercy on him because she stayed by the door. "I'll let myself out."

His body warred with his mind, wanting to take her with him to the bed, but thankfully his mind won out.

He was asleep before he could even cover himself up.

* * *

The most wonderful and strangest dream came to him.

Hannah's hands were moving over his bare chest, followed by her mouth, and he was unable to hold back his own frenzied reaction. He didn't want it to end, this amazing dream.

She touched him again, dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses down his belly, that left him panting. Too long, it'd been too long for him. No one should have to be so strong as to resist this.

If she so much as touched him one more time it would be over, and he tried to tell her so, tried to hold her back, but she wouldn't allow it. Sliding him onto his back, she followed him down, down, entwining their legs, rubbing her cotton-clad torso over his until he could do nothing but moan her name.

It was heaven, absolute heaven.

And it was a dream.

Wasn't it?

He'd thought so, but his heart was pounding, hands gripping soft
skin
—real
skin—his body tight as an arrow. Hannah was over him, her long hair teasing his chest, her hips in his fists, her legs spread to accommodate his.

Reaching up, she pulled off her shirt, baring her breasts to him before he could draw another breath. Pale curves shimmered in the moonlight, tight, dusky peaks beckoning him. Then she shimmied out of the rest of her clothes.

"Hannah, wait…
"
She was perfect, beyond perfect. And he was already so aroused his toes were tingling, his body just one touch away from exploding. "We're dreaming.
I'm
dreaming—"

She took his hands and slid them up over her flat belly, past her ribs, letting out a hum of pleasure as his fingers took over and cupped her breasts in his palms. "Not dreaming," she whispered fiercely. She lifted up on her knees so that his erection nestled at her hot, wet center, poised for entry.

He was gasping for breath as if he'd just run a marathon, every inch of him dying,
dying
for her. "Wait," he pleaded into her hair, sucking in a harsh breath when she shifted her hips, taking the very tip of him inside her. He gripped her hips and with his last ounce of control, held her still.

Stop,
his mind commanded.
Set her away from you.

"I don't have any … protection," his body said instead.

"You
…
don't?"

She sounded so frustrated he let out a low laugh. "No, I— No."

"I do." Her eyes were so dark and round he could have drowned in them. "Alexi gave me a box of condoms last Christmas. It was supposed to be a joke because I never need them…"

God bless Alexi, was Zach's only rational thought as Hannah held up a foil packet. Then her hands were on him, inexpertly but oh-so-deliciously touching him, and because he was so close, so very close, he pushed her fingers aside and finished the job himself.

Then finally, finally, he pulled her down for a long, deep, wet kiss, completely forgetting why this was a bad idea. Forgetting why he'd ever thought he could walk away from Avila without having her. He rolled her beneath him, ran his hands over her and thrust inside her body.

He didn't get far.

Lifting his head, he stared down into her glazed eyes. Her face was flushed with pleasure, her eyes alight with glowing need. She was biting her full lower lip, and she looked so incredibly turned on, he could barely speak.

"Please," she whispered, arching, thrusting up, running her hands over him. "Oh, please."

As if he could resist. Everything had become a haze of desire and need and friction. She gripped his hips as he cupped her face. Together they surged, and together they broke through the wall of her resistance.

Wall of resistance.

If he'd still been groggy, even partly asleep, he came suddenly, sharply, shockingly fully awake in that moment, and froze.

Definitely not a dream.
He looked down into her face, saw the truth in her shining eyes. Groaning her name, he dropped his forehead to hers. "Oh, Hannah…"

"Please," she said again.

Tenderness, and a whole host of other things he didn't want to think about, flooded him. "Are you okay?"

Her hips were thrusting helplessly toward his, assuring him she was fine and needing more. "Zach … I need…"

"Yes," he whispered, dipping down to kiss her, to streak off her few tears with his thumbs. "I know. I know what you need." And to make sure she got
it,
he ran his hands over her, her breasts, her belly, everywhere, rearing up so he could slip a hand between her thighs, using his fingers to pay special homage to her very center, which was hot and slippery.

She cried out and he urged her on, whispering erotic promises, coaxing, teasing, keeping up the motion of his fingers while she began to shudder. Her contractions triggered his own undeniable explosion, and together they took that sweet,
wild plunge into ecstasy.

* * *

The next thing Hannah knew, she was blinking at the ceiling in orgasmic shock, having just had the most amazing experience of her very inexperienced life.

She'd done it.

It.

And it had been every bit as good as she'd dared to hope.
Better.

Her earlier exhaustion was gone, completely vanished into the same thin air her innocence had gone. Wide-eyed, she lay there on her back, still half covered by a large, warm, very cozy male body, and she felt great.

Zach's breathing had evened out now, becoming deep and steady. It hadn't been so just moments ago; he'd been breathing as erratically as she, and just the memory of that, the power of knowing she'd caused it, sent a delicious little aftershock through her.

But now he was asleep, his body possessively claiming hers even in dreamland. And it was that supposedly awkward and dreaded
afterwards
that Tara and Alexi always joked about. Well, she was determined not to suffer through it. Nothing was going to ruin the euphoria she felt.

Not even knowing that what she and Zach had shared was more than just a romantic interlude. When she hadn't been looking, her heart had jumped into the fray. Now it was still there, beating like a drum with joy.

Unable to resist, she stroked a hand down his long, sleek back. In his sleep, he arched toward her touch, making a deep, indistinct, very male sound.

Soon everyone would be up. She didn't want to share her magical night. In fact, she'd rather clean toilets for an entire year than admit what she and Zach had done, not because she was ashamed in any way, but because it had been so … well, amazing.

Earth-shattering.

And wasn't that just the problem? This was to have been just a simple thing, only there was nothing simple about it.

She'd actually learned something about herself, something she'd never expected—despite being basically man-shy, she
could
be warm and affectionate. Sensual. Even wild with passion.

She really could give a part of herself.

She'd always wondered. And in that wondering, had always held a part of herself back. Maybe it'd been self-preservation, she didn't know.

But she hadn't held back last night. And now she was facing the implications of that—that no matter what she'd promised Zach, her feelings for him weren't casual, and sure as hell weren't temporary. One night hadn't been enough.

And while she knew she could have more nights, a few anyway, she was deathly afraid that wouldn't be enough either.

And yet for Zach they would be.

What a mess.

But it was
her
mess, and she wouldn't drag him any further into it, nor would she ruin what was left of his time off.

Gently, so as not to awaken him, she tried to lift the arm he'd slung across her belly. It weighed a ton. Very quietly she wriggled, trying to scoot out from beneath him. She'd nearly gotten free when his arm suddenly tightened.

He opened one eye.

"Hi," she said inanely. "I didn't mean to wake you—"

"I've heard that one before." His voice was deep, husky.

And thrilling.

So was the way he lifted his arm to trace a finger over her jaw, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was just going to slip out of here—"

"No." He tugged her close again in a nice hug that made her want to melt.

"You need your rest," she insisted. "But I don't, I'm not tired—"

The way he was looking at her made her want to hold him forever. She had to get out before she gave herself away. "So I'll just—"

"Hannah."

"I forgot to water the fern on the landing, and I think that—"

"Hannah." With a sigh, he opened his other eye.
"Sleep."

"But—"

"Shh." Gently, he set a finger to her lips then managed to lift his head and look at her. "I know we need to talk, but I swear I can't put together a single, rational thought. Can we sleep first, just for a little while? Please?"

His eyes were dark and serious. His arms were strong around her, making her feel warm and safe in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. He wasn't trying to avoid her, or put her off, he was just plain exhausted.

And she was falling for him, big time. If he found out, or even got a hint of it, he'd regret their night together, and she refused to let that happen.

"You sleep," she said quietly, lifting her hand to touch his face just because she wanted to feel him one more time. "I'll just—"

He nuzzled his face against her neck. "You'll sleep too," he said, holding her tight. "Talk later."

"Zach."

"Sleep."

She'd never been one to follow directions or take authority well, but she didn't feel bossed around. The opposite actually.

She felt … cared for. And so she did what he said.

She slept.