A Little Wild (21 page)

As he bit into the roll, his thumb caressed the jumping pulse on the underside of her wrist. Her heart beat crazily. She’d always loved sushi, however, sharing the delicacy with Zach Halliday elevated her appreciation of Japanese cuisine to a new level.

The need to be alone with him—really alone this time—carved through her so deeply, it hurt. She hoped he didn’t mind cold yakitori, because the skewered chicken was about to find a new home in a Tanaka’s doggy bag.

Where should she suggest they go? Last night, at her request, Zach had driven her home from the art-gallery opening. However, citing this morning’s climb with Blake Ashton and some bogus theory about prolonging anticipation, he’d declined her invitation into her apartment. Instead, he’d left her standing at the door with a chaste kiss warming her lips and a vulnerable pang hollowing her chest.

About equivalent to how she felt right now.

A million butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Suddenly, asking him back to her place felt entirely
too
intimate. Too much, too soon.

Too damn close.

She wanted him—but on her terms. Where she said, how she said. Completely sexual.

No crawling inside her head, and definitely staying the hell away from her heart.

“Should we have dessert?” he asked. “They make great tempura fried ice cream.”

“Sounds wonderful, but no.”

A sexy light in his eyes, he placed his hand over hers on the table. “What do you want, babe? Tell me, and you’ll have it.”

“Promise?” She’d better not hear one word about anticipation.

He nodded.

She inhaled deeply. “You.”

Chapter Thirteen

To hell with anticipation. He was a reformed man.

Zach stored the Tanaka’s doggy bag in his fridge and retrieved a bottle of merlot from the counter rack. Fetching two wineglasses, he returned to the living room.

The incentive for his rehabilitation knelt on the birch floor beside the leather sofa. Her beautiful ass protruded as she reached behind the side table. The tiny floral pattern of her summery dress provided an innocent-looking contrast to the arousing position.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She glanced back. Her blazing-sunshine tresses tumbled over her shoulders. “I heard purring. It’s your cat.”

“Ah.”
Great timing, feline.
“Yeah, sometimes he sleeps there.”

“He’s gorgeous. What’s his name again?”

Mood-Killer.
“Lump.”

Tess crouched on her sandals, lugging the animal into her arms. “He’s huge!” Lump’s resulting purr rumbled like a Harley.

“Eating everything in sight has that effect.” Zach set the wine bottle and goblets on the bronze-legged coffee table. The clinking of crystal against the glass surface tinkled beneath the bluesy strains of an old Jonny Lang CD. The seductive tempo of “Breakin’ Me” mirrored Zach’s need for Tess.

Laughing, she sat on the sofa with the cat. Her movements reflected a trace of self-consciousness she hadn’t displayed at Tanaka’s.

Zach didn’t mind. Despite that she’d inspired him to beat a hasty exit from Anticipators Anonymous, he wouldn’t rush her. When she wanted him, she’d let him know. If she had second thoughts, he could live with that, too. His body craved hers like he craved water during a scorching-hot climb, but his mind preferred she knew without a doubt that making love with him was exactly what she wanted.

“What’s this?” She extracted a chewed toy from Lump’s maw.

“Catnip mouse. Was one, anyway.” Zach sat beside her. The couch cushions creaked.

“Aw. He needs a new one.”

“He’d murder it in ten seconds. Damn thing thinks he’s a dog. You should have seen what he did to the coaster.”

“Coaster?” She cradled Lump like a baby. One slender arm curved beneath the beast’s front paws while the other supported Lump’s cat butt, tail trailing.

An image of her holding a chubby infant—Zach’s child—zapped through his mind.

Man, he had it bad. He’d never visualized any woman holding his baby before.

He’d never envisioned a baby, period.

“The coaster you gave me at Danver’s,” he reminded her.

Her gaze lowered. “Oh yeah. Right.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No.” She looked away. “Maybe.” She stroked Lump. “I was feeling brave that night.”

Zach chuckled. “I’ll say.”

“But that wasn’t the real me, Zach.”

“Oh? Who is?”

Several silent seconds passed. “I guess that was partly the real me.”

Didn’t he know it. The wild part she concealed beneath her Teresa persona.

He peeled the foil cap off the wine bottle. “You don’t need to hide who you are from me, babe.” He reached for the corkscrew. “I’m attracted to every part of you.” He inserted the stainless steel spiral and twisted it downward. “I want to know every part of you.” The spiral sank into the cork. He eased it out. The rich, plum-like aroma of merlot teased his nostrils.

Her gaze monitored his actions. Again, she grew quiet. She kissed Lump’s head, and the cat’s motorcycle imitation kicked up a notch.

“What did he do to it?”

Christ, she was gorgeous. “Who?” And to what?

“Lump. The coaster.”

“Practically gnawed it in half. It’s probably under the couch by now.”

“Why do you call him Lump?”

Another diversionary question. She had a talent for them.

“He was a black-as-coal kitten when I found him, so I called him Lump of Coal.” Zach poured the wine. “Eventually, I shortened the name to Lump.” Once the feline began resembling Marlon Brando.

A bewitching smile graced her lips. “Zach, that’s sweet.”

Returning her smile, he offered her a glass. She released the cat. Lump meowed and slunk into the kitchen.

Tess sipped the merlot. “Mm, nice.”

“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites.”

He couldn’t stop staring at her—she was so beautiful. Her blue eyes captured the soft living room light in a way that brought out gray and impossibly light purple flecks when she sat this close. Her perfume was so subtle, he swore it had become part of her skin, and the tiny, twisted-gold hoops she often wore hung from her dainty earlobes.

Pale freckles scattered across her upper chest, drawing his gaze to the tiny buttons lining her dress from neck to waist. The pearly sheen of the buttons beckoned his fingers to flick them open and discover the exquisite treasures beneath.

He forced his gaze upward.

A blush dusted her cheeks. “Remember last night, when I said you’d get yours?” she asked.

“Definitely.”

An emotion he couldn’t identify flickered in her eyes. Something was going on in her beautiful head, but he could no longer think through the haze of his need for her to figure it out.

Not when her softly spoken words had him hard as a boulder.

“Would you like it now?” she murmured.

“Oh yeah.” Primal heat surged through him. He took her glass and set it alongside his on the coffee table. In the background, the blues guitar thrummed a melodic beat. The slow rhythm dug into Zach’s veins as he reached for the top button of her dress. His big fingers felt clumsy, but her nipples peaked beneath the floral-dotted fabric, her gaze luminous.

He opened the first two buttons, revealing the tops of her pale pink bra. Unlatching the third button exposed her cleavage. Light freckles gave way to lush mounds of creamy skin yet to be kissed by the sun.

Four, five
, and he brushed back the dress, fully uncovering her bra cups. Her rosy nipples peeked through the translucent nylon, and he burned with the need to taste her.

Not her breast through a fabric barrier, though, like he had last night.

No, he wanted her mouth. Only the lips. Tender, soft, gentle.

Six, seven, eight.

He’d never undressed anyone so slowly. After undoing the tenth button, he stripped the dress off her shoulders and arranged the fabric around her upper arms like a shawl.

Settling his mouth on hers, he placed a hand on her hip and cupped her breast with the other. Not kneading or caressing, just holding her there, absorbing her heartbeat.

Wanting to pull it into him, feel it claim him, make her his.

He feathered her lips with a light, brushing motion. She opened her mouth, straining to deepen the contact, but he resisted. For now, he only wanted this—the barest of touches, the lingering flavor of her sweetness.

They had all night. They could take their time.

Be mine.

Suddenly, her lips trembled. She pulled away. “Zach? I need you to stop.”

Tess’s heart squeezed with a tenderness she didn’t appreciate. She needed to end this insane reaction to Zach Halliday’s caresses
now
.

Luckily, her request didn’t appear to insult him. Desire shone in his coffee-toned eyes.

“You want me to stop?” His husky voice spiraled through her. “Or move on?” His fingers brushed her nipple as his hand fell away.

She licked her lips. “I want…to move on. Right now, it feels like you’re in control. I need to feel like I am.” If they continued this gentle lovemaking, her emotions would betray her. She’d start thinking she felt things for him that would put her sex-for-sex’s-sake plan in jeopardy.

Zach’s deep voice flowed like silk. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“You’ll let me set the pace?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“And the mood?”

“You can give me explicit directions if you’d like. Tender, wild, hot—however you want it. I’m about to burst out of my jeans.”

She lowered her gaze to his bulge.
The man speaks truth.

She held her breath. She could definitely do this.
Just focus on the sex.

“Hot,” she replied. “Yes, absolutely. The hotter, the better.”

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured.

She hesitated. “Stand up.”

He obliged. One leg touched the coffee table.

“The table’s in the way,” Tess said. “Move aside a little.”

He did so.

“Now, take off your clothes.” She bit her bottom lip. “Please.”

A sexy smile crooked his mouth. “Any preference which item goes first?”

Her heart pounded. “Your shirt. Strip it off for me…nice and slow.”

His hands plunged to the waist of his jeans. As the heavy background beat of the blues guitar strummed from the stereo, Zach tugged loose his polo shirt and slowly pulled it up.

His torso stretched. His pectorals bunched as the shirt rode higher, exposing dark chest hair.

His brown nipples puckered. The shirt covered his face, and his abdomen contracted. His loose-fitting jeans crept down his hips, revealing deeply tanned skin—and nothing else.

Bonus.
One less item to strip off.

Needing more freedom of movement, Tess tugged her dress back onto her shoulders but left the placket unbuttoned. The fabric fell open on either side of her bra. Her rigid nipples remained exposed to his gaze through the see-through cups.

Zach dragged off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. He gazed at her. “What next? And don’t take too long.”

She smiled. “Your shoes.” She picked up her wine and sipped. The merlot pampered her taste buds while he toed off his loafers.

“Now the jeans.” She drank her wine, blood humming as she swallowed. She tracked his slow movements—his fingers resting on the denim waistband, then working open the buttons top to bottom.

With the first button, she glimpsed the bulging head of his thick erection. Her pulse tripped. She drew in a steadying breath, and his eyelids lowered. As his hands grazed his stiff flesh, his breathing roughened.

He undid the last button and pushed the jeans down his hips. His magnificent cock sprang free.

“Come here,” she whispered. She uncrossed her legs and set her wineglass within reach on the coffee table.

He returned to the space between the couch and the coffee table. She trained her attention on his cock. If she looked up now and their gazes locked, she might lose her courage.

“Closer.” She tugged her dress above her knees and spread her thighs. “Between my legs.”

“I think I’m going to like this.” Sensual appreciation deepened his voice.

As he stepped into position, the coarse hair sprinkling his strong climber’s legs grazed the insides of her thighs. Clit throbbing, she gazed at his erection. With her sitting and him standing, the head rested nearly level with her mouth.

How handy.

Visions of last night in the art-gallery closet assailed her. He’d dipped her musk in champagne and licked it off his fingers.

She’d have her retribution—and everything else he’d denied her last night.

She wrapped a hand around his cock, luxuriating in the contrasting textures of velvet skin and a steel-hard core. He moaned. Sitting up higher on the couch, she lowered her head and ran her tongue over the swollen tip.

Her hair fell forward. Her scalp tingled as Zach tunneled his fingers through the strands.

She reached around him for her wine, and his fingers dragged back through her hair. Desire stringing tight, she drew in a mouthful of warm wine. She grasped his erection again and quickly swallowed the wine. A fine coating of merlot lingered on her tongue.

Sucking his cock into her mouth, she pushed her tongue down the groove of the protruding head and along the thick shaft. Hands in her hair again, he groaned.

Not daring to look up, she pulled away and dipped her fingers in her half-empty glass. She massaged his cock with her wine-slick fingers then licked the wine off his skin. Tongue swirling, lips nipping.

His moans vibrated down his body and into her mouth.

“Babe.”
His hips pumped.

Tenderness engulfed her, and she shoved away the disturbing emotion. He was on the edge. Time to take him over.

Not this way, though. She still wanted him deep inside her.

She licked his erection base to head then sank back onto the couch. She looked up. His jaw clenched, his neck tendons taut.

“Relax,” she said. “Drink your wine.”

His hooded gaze consumed her. “Relax? Sorry, babe. Not possible.”

“Well, don’t relax too much. But sit and drink.” She patted the couch.