Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) (23 page)

“Yes.”

His hand slid up her arm and over her shoulder to her cheek. Both of them were breathing heavily now.

“Sixteen?” he asked. His knee bumped hers, then his thigh. His face was inches away.

“That’s what I sa—”

His mouth came down on hers. The kiss was deep and slow, unhurried, unbelievable. Her body responded like dry leaves blasted with a flamethrower after months of drought. If his other hand hadn’t come up around her waist, pulling her firmly against his body and unbalancing her in the unfamiliar heels, she would’ve fallen over.

And then he lifted his head a few inches. “What luck,” he said softly. “That’s the same room I’ll be in.”

Chapter 19

H
ANDS
SHAKING
, Z
ACK
MOVED
AWAY
from her and scanned the reception hall.

She wasn’t pushing him away. He was going to have her. Tonight. Right now. Desire burned through his veins.

Most of the guests had followed Mark and Rose out to the car, but some remained. If he stayed another minute, they were about to get quite a show. He’d never kissed a woman like that in his life. What was it about April that pushed him over the edge, over and beyond who he thought he was?

She was watching him with serious, vulnerable eyes—he didn’t see any hint of the sarcastic, careful, tough girl in combat boots.

He didn’t want to hurt her. She looked like a woman who could be hurt.

“April…”

She grabbed him by the lapels. “Don’t you dare. Don’t even think about it.” She released him abruptly and turned on her heel, keeping her gaze locked on his as she walked away. “
Sixteen
.”

Heart pounding, he watched her disappear through the doorway.

Then he followed.

Ghosts tried to tag along: women in matching pink taffeta from a different wedding years ago, his best friend still hungover from the bachelor party; his parents in their Sunday best; Meg. But he broke free of all of them, waking up from the bittersweet dream, seeing only the curve of April’s neck under the flowers in her curly hair, the flow of her silk dress, the living, breathing movement of her body.

By the time she reached the curved redwood stairs that led up to the second floor, he was fully in the moment, an amnesiac who was grateful for what he had in the present.

She shot him a guarded smile over her shoulder. “Still with me?”

He stepped up directly behind her and brought up his hands to her waist, resting them on the flare of her sexy hips. Then he reached around to caress her stomach, leaning close to whisper in her ear, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She pressed her round ass into his pelvis. “Good.” Her voice wavered.

He was going to have her
.

The sound of people returning to the hall to continue the party drove them up the stairs, hand in hand. He was in the lead now, his fingers entwined firmly in hers, pulling her along. When she tripped on the top stair, she kicked off her shoes without stopping, leaving them where they lay on the landing.

He paused, but she said, “Leave them,” and rushed ahead.

He wasn’t going to argue. They reached her door only a few seconds later, both breathing heavily, their hands roving close to one another in clumsy anticipation.

It seemed to take her an hour to find her key card—apparently wedged in her bra—and open the door, but then finally they were inside in the dim bedroom, quiet but for their labored breaths, and he had her in his arms.

Fears he hadn’t admitted to himself vanished in the heat of her touch. When her tongue darted between his lips and danced across his teeth, he remembered what to do. When her breasts rubbed against his chest, his hands instinctively cupped them, when her fingers found the fly of his trousers…

He tore off the layers of his tuxedo, his shirt, his underwear, choosing to get himself naked first, which had always seemed more polite.

You’re so silly
, Meg had said once, laughing at him.
Flashers aren’t polite
.

He waited for the surge of guilt to chill his body to uselessness.

Promise me you’ll be happy,
she’d said at the end.

I can’t promise that
. He wanted to. He wanted to give her anything. But he hadn’t promised, hadn’t been able to lie.

April was watching him, waiting. Eyes locked on his, she began to undress—not like a boy about to jump in a lake, as he had, but slowly, deliberately. Fingers trailed down her throat to unfasten the tiny button between her breasts. It was a pearl, and there seemed to be dozens more dotting the front hem of her dress, all the way down to her knees.

Tilting her head to one side, she pushed the delicate fabric off the opposite shoulder, exposing the thin, lacy strap of her bra. Then she slid her fingers across her collarbone, stroked her throat, and rubbed her lips until they were shiny with saliva.

Seeing the effect this had on him—his body, though rigid in parts, had not been paralyzed with guilt—she smiled around her fingers. “Get on the bed.”

His pride woke with a start. If she thought he was going to roll onto his back like a service dog, she was going to be disappointed.

He moved closer to her, took the next button between his fingers, popped it open, and lowered his mouth to hers in a crushing kiss as he continued unbuttoning his way down until her dress fell away.

She melted against him, soft but enthusiastic. Her tongue tangled with his, her hands dug into his shoulders, her hips pressed closer. Finally the dress was off and the curvy body under his hands wore nothing but some flimsy fabric, which felt good, but wasn’t her skin.

“Take this off,” he said roughly.

She put a hand on his chest and pushed him away. “Get on the bed.”

“You said that already.”

“Yet here you are,” she said, taking another step back.

He ran a hand through his hair, unable to look away from her nipples, tantalizingly erect under the thin fabric. He didn’t want to argue with her. That would only delay things. Like his mouth tasting what he saw and what he was imagining and had been imagining for quite a while.

With a fierce look that told her he wasn’t her slave, when of course he was, he turned and went to the bed. He tore off the duvet like a bullfighter with a red cape and lay himself down, face—and erection—up. Very up.

She followed him and stood at the foot. Tiny flowers still clung to her hair. Her eyes were huge, luminous, knowing. She was beautiful.

Under his ribs the lock snapped, the cell door opened, light poured in.

He reached for her.

Chapter 20

L
OOKING
DOWN
AT
Z
ACK
RECLINING
on the white sheets, April wondered why she’d insisted on being on top. Maybe because this way she was able to get a really good look at him, naked in every way except for his glasses.

“You’re still wearing your glasses,” she said, lifting the hem of her slip over her thighs, not quite high enough to show him her panties.

His eyes followed her every move. “The better to see you with,” he said in a low voice.

She shivered. He should’ve looked less intimidating, being butt naked, but he wasn’t. Even with the glasses. He was just too beautiful.

She waited to catch her breath before lifting the slip the rest of the way and pulling it over her head. After flinging it onto a chair, she tried to regain her earlier confidence. The blazing look in his eyes made her falter, and it was hard to strike the seductive pose she’d intended without giggling.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Come here.”

She had to fight giggles again. And the urge to run. What was the matter with her? She’d done this a million times.

Well, not a
million
.

It’s just he didn’t look like himself sprawled out like that. Looking at her like that. Wanting her like that.

She focused on his eyes behind the glasses and realized that his expression wasn’t too different from his usual one. Had he wanted her all this time? She liked the idea of him lusting over her—secretly, just as she had for him.

Holding that delicious thought, she gave him her back as she unfastened the bra and shimmied out of it, throwing him sultry looks over her shoulder. His gaze made her hot. She stopped worrying and fell into the moves of the dance. Men loved this foreplay she did, but she loved it more. It transformed her from goofy chick to woman, delivered them both to a sensual, intimate sanctuary.

“April—please—”

She fingered the waistband of her panties, moving her touch around her hips, behind her back, rotating for a moment to show him the strain of the shell-pink lace. She didn’t have much on top, but her ass, she’d been told, was miraculous.

Zack groaned from the bed. “Oh my God.”

Down went the panties. She waited a moment, her back to him, then turned. Fighting down another wave of nerves, she got on the bed and crawled up his body on her hands and knees. His hardness brushed her nipples, her belly, and then, just slightly, between her legs. She held herself above him, not touching, and moved her face close enough to feel his breath. Then she shifted her weight to one hand and gently removed his glasses, setting them on the bedside table.

There. Now he
really
looked naked.

“April,” he said roughly.

She rearranged her self above him. “Yes?”

He hooked a hand behind her neck and pulled her down to his mouth in a hard kiss that knocked the strength out of her arms. She fell on him, chest to chest, hearts beating against each other, lost in the onslaught of his tongue in her mouth. She felt his hands slide up her body and find her breasts, her nipples, then down and around to the swell of her ass. Caressing her, he slowed his kiss, gentle and light, and then he rolled her onto her back.

“April,” he said, running one hand through her hair, kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks.

She couldn’t think. It was moving so fast. Who was this guy? Where was this passion coming from? Why—

His tongue drove into her mouth. She spread her legs, suddenly urgent for him. “
Zack.
” Her voice sounded like a stranger’s. “I want you.”

His hand was there.
There
. She fell into a mindless pool. Who was this, what was this, why was this—

He raked his mouth across her cheek to her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“So are you.” She was dead serious, almost angry, but she felt him laugh against her throat.

“I want everything you have. All of it. Every piece of you.” He stroked her skin from hip to shoulder, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. “Can I…”

She flung her head back on the bed, shaking with desire and need and fear, and forced her muscles to relax. “Do it,” she whispered. She’d had sex, lots of it, she’d had quick times and fast times and hard times, but none of them felt like she’d been dipped in hot chocolate and set on fire and shot into space, none of them had been like this.

“Not yet.” He stretched out along her, skin to skin, his long limbs pressing down on hers. His voice was husky. “I want to feel you.” His feet stroked her calves, his knees caressed her inner thighs, and his belly, rough with hair, slid against hers until she cried out and begged him to just
do it
.

He paused, chest heaving. She watched him close his eyes. Then he was in motion, tearing open the condom, sliding his palms over her inner thighs, between her legs, exploring her with his fingers. Her thoughts splintered again, her awareness narrowed to the hot burning spiral in the center of her universe. And then his mouth found the pulse in her neck, and the slight pressure of his teeth ignited her like an explosive, his hands were in and out of her, everywhere. She let him take over, let herself sigh and moan and smile and gasp, let the pleasure rise up and arc higher until she was blinded, obliterated.

When he entered her with a well-timed thrust, she rose up to meet him, shocked to realize how much she wanted him, how much she didn’t want it to ever end.

* * *

He slept the sleep of the erotically sated: joyful but turbulent. Wild dreams galloped through his mind, breasts and smiles and soft hands, the smell of sex, the taste of a woman’s skin.

He dreamed of April’s dark eyelashes, her pink nipples, how it had felt to be sunk deep within her. To want her and to have her, again and again.

But then she was gone, and Meg was there wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties. He was stretched out on a leather couch at IKEA, trying to decide if they should buy it or wait for the wedding registry, when she climbed on top of him. Her lips found his.

“I love you,” she whispered.

With a breathless jolt, he woke up. April’s silky shoulder was under his mouth, her sweet perfume filling his nose.

Heart pounding, he flung out a hand to the nightstand, feeling for his glasses to read the green numbers on the clock radio.

1:34 a.m.

I should go
.

He wiped the sweat off his brow, trying to clear his head.
Why?
a voice inside him said.
She’s right there, soft and round and warm…

He sat up, kicked his feet free of the sheets, watching April’s form in the bed next to him, glowing from the faint bathroom light. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow. Suddenly she sighed and reached out a hand, curving it around his upper thigh. His body sprang to life, wanting her again.

She could seduce him in her sleep.

He watched her, saw her flushed cheeks, her tousled hair, and felt cold at the thought of leaving her. But he shouldn’t stay. The family would gather for breakfast in the morning, and not even he would have the self-control to disguise the erotic charge that was humming unhindered between them right now. He needed a little time to recover before he could attempt that.