And how immature was it to be a little bent out of shape that the need had been removed? Heck, it wasn't as if she wanted to pick up where they'd left off. She stared at the pale scar that bisected his upper lip. Did she?
No, of course she didn't. But really, was she the only one who remembered the way they'd been all over each other just a few short hours ago?
Impulsively, she reached out and touched his chest. "Zach," she said… then realized she didn't have the first idea where to go from there.
Before she could decide, Zach's hand whipped out to grip hers. He jerked it away from the soft red material covering those hard, muscular planes. 'You don't want to be doing that," he growled. "Or maybe you do. Either way, be damn careful what signals you send out, Lily, because I'm not in the mood to be teased."
His eyes, when hers snapped up to meet them, were no longer the least bit avuncular. They were molten and intense, and seemed to see right down to her skin.
And suddenly she didn't have a doubt in the world that he remembered every single thing about that encounter.
Chapter 14
ZACHREMEMBERED, ALL RIGHT. He REMEMBERED every single second. And staring down at Lily, with that curvy body that made his fingers itch, and those electric-blue eyes that seemed to see into his darkest corners, he wanted nothing more than to pick her up, toss her on the bed, and have at her.
Jesus. He was a man who took pride in his self-control—so what the Sam Hill was it about her that brought him so close to throwing it all away, time after frigging time? To prevent himself from grabbing her, he crossed his hands behind his back and assumed the time-honored "at ease" position. But damned if she got to wiggle off the hook and just bebop on her merry way.
"Why are you really in my room?" he demanded. "You looking to pick up where we left off?" Say yes , he thought fiercely. Just say the word, sweet thing, and I'll be happy to oblige you .
"No, of course not," she snapped indignantly. "I told you—" Cutting herself off, she shook her head and blinked up at him thoughtfully. Then she shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted with the inherent honesty he was beginning to understand was an integral part of her. "Maybe. I'd like to say you're crazy even to suggest it… but maybe I am."
His hands came out from behind his back and he took a step forward, crowding her so closely she had to tip her head way back just to maintain eye contact. But she didn't step away, and triumph exploded in his chest. "Good," he said in a low, intense voice. "Because that's sure as hell what I'd like to do. I'd like to pick right up where we left off before we were interrupted—and then some. I want to strip you naked and touch you every place I've ever thought of touching you. Spread you out on that bed and lick you from head to toe." His gaze took a slow, leisurely journey down her body, and the sheer lust that roared through his gut tempted him to jettison his control, if only for a while. Hell, self-restraint was probably overrated, anyhow.
Christ, Taylor. Wise up. "Or maybe"—he snapped his gaze back up to pin her in place—"I should leave you in those cock-teasing shoes you always wear and just lick you from head to ankle."
There. That oughtta do it. He'd noticed that Lily never swore, so his deliberate crudeness ought to put some distance between them. And as much as it galled him to admit it, he needed her to be the one to do it, because he simply didn't have the strength to voluntarily pass up the chance to get naked with her.
Her eyes flared hot, and she made a soft, yearning sound low in her throat. "Maybe…" She licked her lips. Cleared her throat. "Maybe you should go with that idea."
Zach's much prized constraint hit the skids. His right hand whipped out and hooked her by the back of her neck. Pulling her flush against his body, he bent and rocked his mouth over hers.
It was like splashing white lightning over the coals of a fire believed to be extinguished, but which had only been banked. When Lily's mouth immediately opened beneath his own, red-hot lust exploded in his veins and incinerated the last bit of common sense he had left. He was all urgent need as he licked into her, all burning sensation as he felt her plush breasts flatten against him when she rose onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. With a rough sound deep in his throat, he picked her up by her hips, took two giant steps forward, and toppled them both onto the bed.
Immediately, he rolled until he was half on top of her, throwing one leg over her thighs to pin her in place and pressing his forearms to the mattress on either side of her shoulders. He plunged his hands into that soft, cotton-candy hair and held her head still for his kisses. Triumph rolled through him when she kissed him back with unbridled enthusiasm—until a soft sound that struck him as more anxious than aroused purled in her throat. Frowning, he raised his head and looked down at her.
Lily's eyes were still closed, the fine skin of her eyelids looking fragile and vulnerable. Her Marilyn Monroe do clung in soft strands to his fingers, and her mouth was reddened and swollen. Shit. He was behaving with all the finesse of a high school geek who'd suddenly found himself getting lucky with the hottest cheerleader in town.
"Lily?" He stroked his thumb slowly over her cheekbone and down to her full bottom lip. "Are you all right?"
Lily was slow to drag herself from the hot quagmire of sexual enthrallment, but surprise at the question pried her heavy-lidded eyes open, and she blinked up at him. His pale gray irises, ringed in darker charcoal, were full of fire. They stared back at her, hot, horny… and full of concern.
Ah, jeez. How was she supposed to not care about this guy, when he disrupted his own gratification in order to worry about her welfare? There was no question that Zachariah Taylor could be tough, hard-nosed, and occasionally downright impossible to get along with. But the man was also a caretaker right down to his big old size-thirteen combat boots. And more than anything else—more than his hard body and knowledgeable mouth, more than his propensity for smart-aleck remarks and his occasional loss of temper— that was the thing about him that really got under her skin.
So just how the heck am I supposed to stop myself from caring?
A cool dribble of unease trickled through her hot blood, but she shoved it aside. It wasn't a crime to care; heck, she'd probably never be able to feel this level of attraction if she didn't . That didn't mean she was in love , or that this was anything more than a temporary fling. Whatever this thing was that she and Zach had going between them, it would no doubt end once Glynnis was brought home safe and sound.
So until then, why not enjoy it? Did it really matter that flings weren't her usual style? Zach could be her exception.
Face it, the man was in a class all his own, anyhow.
Parting her lips, she gave the rough-skinned pad of Zach's thumb a tiny suck, then curled her arms around his strong neck and arched slightly to press her breasts against his chest. "Are you worried about me?" she asked with a slight smile. "I'm not sure how we got from 'lick you from head to ankle' to being anxious about—"
"I'm not anxious" he growled. "But when you made that little noise in your throat, it sounded as if you were—I don't know—in pain or something. I don't want to hurt you, or push you somewhere you don't want to go."
"Why, Zach, that's so sweet of you." And it was— sweet and accountable. But sweetness from him was the last thing she wanted at this juncture. Thankfully, as she suspected, simply using sweet and you in the same sentence made him react as if she'd just complimented the size of his penis by squealing, "Isn't that precious?"
"Sweet?" His head reared back and his eyes darkened. He was fully upon her now, and when he pressed his hips forward she felt the hard bulge behind his fly. "Men aren't sweet !'