Falling for Rachel
Page 35

“Which is why you’re wearing a sweater that comes up to your chin.”
“It’s very fashionable.”
“Peel it off, babe, or I’ll have to do it for you.”
Her eyes lit. “Ah, threatening a public official.” After kicking off her shoes, she tossed up her chin. “Try it, Buster. Let’s see how tough you are.”
She didn’t put up much of a fight, but the initial wrestling was enough to arouse them both. By the time he had her pinned to the couch, her arms over her head and her wrists cuffed in his hand, they were both breathing hard.
“I took it easy on you,” she told him.
“I could see that.” Her jacket was crumpled on the floor beside them. Smiling, Zack began to inch her sweater upward, letting his fingers skim over the silky material beneath.
Her breath caught, and released unsteadily. “That’s not my neck,” she managed as his hand cupped and molded her breast.
“Just checking.” Watching her, always watching her, he teased the nipple until it was hot and hard. “You’re quick to the touch, Rachel.”
His touch, she thought, trembling. Only his.
Slowly, determined to savor every moment, he slipped the sweater up. He released her wrists to tug it off, then clasped them again.
“Zack.”
He ignored her flexing hands. “My turn at the helm,” he said quietly. “I told you once I wanted to drive you crazy. Do you remember?”
He was. He already was. “I want to touch you.”
“You will.” He skimmed a fingertip over her neck first, carefully studying the bruises. They were fading to yellow. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.” Gently he lowered his head to trail a necklace of kisses over the marks. “Not ever again.”
“It doesn’t hurt.” Her pulse jackhammered under his nuzzling lips. “I don’t need to be seduced.”
“Yes, you do. But you’re afraid to be, which makes the whole idea damn near irresistible. You’re just going to have to trust me.” He shifted so that he could unzip her skirt and slip it off. “I have places to take you.” His mouth lowered to hers, rubbing, then nibbling. “Strange, wonderful places.” Then diving deep.
The journey wasn’t calm, but she had no choice but to go where he took her. This eagerness for pleasure, this immediacy of need, was still so new that she had no defense against it. His hand slid over her, lingering here, exploiting there, while his mouth devoured hers with a relentless hunger.
No escape, she thought desperately as he brought her close, painfully close, to that first tumultuous release. She was trapped in him, utterly lost in a tangled maze of sensations. She writhed beneath his hand, too steeped in her own needs to know how deliciously wanton her movements were.
“I didn’t have time to appreciate these last time.” Zack trailed his fingers up the sheer stocking to the pristine white garter. She would think them practical, he knew. He thought them erotic.
With an expert flick of his fingers that had her moaning, he released one stocking, then the other, before tormenting them both by peeling them, inch by lazy inch, down her legs.
He had to kneel on the floor to taste her calves, the backs of her knees, the glorious satin skin of her thighs. She cried out when he slid his tongue beneath her panties to sample the hot, sensitive flesh underneath. Fighting impatience, he tugged them off to give himself the freedom to taste more of her.
As the first wave swamped her, she arched like a bow, leaping into Ukrainian when the aftershocks shuddered through her. Freed, her hands groped for him until they were struggling together to strip off his clothes. Heat to heat, she pressed against him, overbalancing him, until she straddled him and her mouth could merge hotly with his.
“Now” was all he said, all he could say, as he gripped her hips.
“I really did mean to take you out,” Zack said when they lay on the couch in a tangle of limbs.
“I bet.”
He smiled, recognized the sleepy satisfaction in her voice. “Really. We can get dressed and try again.”
With a half laugh, she pressed her lips to his chest. His heart was still thundering. “You’re not going anywhere, Muldoon. Not till I’m finished with you.”
“If you insist.”
“That’s what free delivery’s for. How about Chinese?”
“You’re on. Who’s going to get up and call?”
She shifted for the pleasure of rubbing her cheek against his skin. “We’ll flip for it.”
He lost, and Rachel took advantage of the moment to grab a quick, bracing shower. When she came back, her hair damp and curly, a plain white terry-cloth robe skimming her knees, he was pouring them both a glass of wine.
“I think I’m repeating myself,” he said, offering her a glass. “But you sure look good wet.”
He’d tugged on his jeans, but hadn’t bothered with his shirt. Rachel trailed a finger down his chest. “You could have joined me.”
“We’d have missed the delivery boy.”
“Since he’s bringing egg rolls, you have a point.” She moved to the kitchen to get some plates, then set them on the table by the window. “And I do have to refuel. I only had time for a candy bar at lunch.” Because the mood seemed right, she lit candles. “Nick dropped by the office.”
“Oh.”
“I wish I had had more time….” She touched match to wick and watched the candle flare. “He caught me between phone calls and before a plea-bargaining meeting.”
He watched her move around the room in her practical terry-cloth robe, turning the light into romance with her candles. He wondered if she realized how compelling that contrast was. “You don’t have to explain to me, Rachel.”
She shook out a match, struck another. It wasn’t that she was superstitious, but there was no use taking chances with three on a match. “I have to explain to myself. He wanted to go to lunch, and I just couldn’t swing it. I did talk to him about…the situation.”
“About the fact that he’s fallen in lust with you.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.” She sighed heavily when the intercom buzzed. After flipping it on, she released the security lock for the delivery boy. “He’s simply misinterpreted gratitude and friendship.”