Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Louise
“Hey…”
He doesn’t move other than to swirl the tumbler of amber liquor around slowly, the faint light from the moon filtering in through the window next to him glinting off the glass.
There’s no other light in the house except one nightlight plugged into the wall in the kitchen, so the living room is cast in deep shadows.
“What are you doing here, Louise?” he asks, his voice low, words drawing out slow as he lifts that glass to his lips. He takes a long swallow, the ice in the bottom of the glass clinking softly.
“You uh, you never said to come over. Everything okay?” I ask, stepping closer.
Zach lowers the highball from his mouth, letting his forearm rest on the arm of the chair he’s reclined in, glass dangling from his fingertips. “Oh yeah. Everything’s great.” He lifts that glass again, taking another swallow. “Go home.”
Ohhhkay. Well, everything is most definitely not great.
I swallow hard and take another step forward, then shake my head. “No.”
“Go home, Louise,” he says again, his voice sharper this time. He rolls on his spine and sits up in the chair, spreading his knees and leaning forward to rest his elbows on them, highball glass suspended between his fingers.
“I thought you said tequila was your go-to choice for bad days,” I say quietly, ignoring his command and taking another step closer. I nod toward the glass between his hands. “That doesn’t smell like tequila.”
He chuffs out a derisive laugh, and I hate the sound of it. Whatever is wrong… this isn’t the normal Zach. “Bourbon. Needed something stronger than tequila.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the P and lifting the glass to his mouth again. He drains it, then finally raises his eyes to mine. They’re so incredibly blue, the moonlight highlighting his face on one side. His mouth twists up in a disdainful smirk. My heart twists in my chest painfully. “Go. Home.”
“No,” I say again, my eyes flitting across every inch of his face. “No, Zach.”
“I’m not good company tonight.”
“I can see that,” I whisper, trying for a teasing tone. It falls flat. Oof. “Was umm…was that their mom?”
Zach’s eyes drop from mine to the glass in his hand. He inhales heavily, chest expanding with the breath, and he rolls the tumbler of bourbon around in his fingers, the ice clinking against the glass. He nods.
Taking another small step forward, I ask quietly, “How many of those have you had?”
He snorts another laugh then and pushes to his feet, stepping around me and heading toward the kitchen. I follow a few steps behind as he pours another couple fingers worth of the bourbon into the glass. “Two. Why?”
I shrug, crossing my arms over my stomach. “Just wondering how much catching up I need to do.”
“There is no catching up, because you’re leaving,” he mutters, taking a drink from the freshly poured glass.
“We were supposed to… to—”
He leans his hips against the counter, much like he had last week when he’d come home from the fire. “Yeah, well, plans change, Louise.”
I know whatever is bothering him has everything to do with his ex that showed up earlier, and not me specifically, but the sharp tang of rejection seizes my throat, my chest tightening like its caving in. Rubbing at my sternum, I nod, backing away a step. “Got it.”
He sighs heavily, letting his head tip back so that he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Goddammit. I told you I’m not good company tonight. I’m sorry.” Zach lowers his head and fixes his eyes on mine. “I want nothing more than to do exactly what we planned on doing tonight, Princess.”
That ache of rejection eases, just the slightest, and I suck in a deep breath before letting out in a heavy exhale. “Okay…?”
Zach pulls his bottom lip through his teeth as he stares at me from across the kitchen. His words are quiet when he finally speaks into the darkness. “Tonight… tonight isn’t a good idea. I don’t think I can be gentle with you, Louise.”
Oh.
Oh.
Dropping my arms to my sides, I take a step toward him, then another. Until I’m standing directly in front of him. Raising my hands, I place my palms flat on his chest. His heart is hammering beneath my right palm, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze.
“Good,” I whisper. “Don’t be gentle with me, Zach. Ruin me.”
Zach squeezes his eyes shut, a growl rumbling out of his chest beneath my palms. Sliding one palm up over his chest and around to the back of his neck, I wait for him to open his eyes again.
When he does, he simply stares at me for a long moment, those blue eyes flicking between mine. Heat and lust and a touch of anger still circling in those depths.
And then his mouth crashes down on mine, his hands sliding around my back and down to cup my ass in both palms. He squeezes handfuls as he kisses me, leaving me breathless.
With his hands still gripping my ass, he lifts me, hauling my body up and into his arms like I weigh nothing.
Zach wraps my legs around his waist, and I circle my arms around his neck, our mouths never breaking as he strides out of the kitchen.
Down the darkened hall, he shoves the bedroom door open, sending it bouncing off the wall as he stalks us toward the massive bed against the far wall.
One hand leaves my backside, returning with a sharp crack against the fleshy part of my ass.
I gasp and moan at the same time, my breath mingling with his before he steals my mouth for another voracious kiss.
“I’ve thought about this for weeks, Louise,” he breathes against my mouth, breaking the kiss but not removing his lips from mine. “I can’t be gentle with you tonight, Princess. Tell me you understand. Tell me it’s okay for me to fucking wreck you.”
Nodding my head frantically, I whisper, “God yes, it’s okay, Zach—”
Releasing the hold he has beneath my ass, he lowers me to my feet beside the bed and takes a step away from me.
I reach for him, worried he’s going to tell me to leave again, when he husks, “Strip, Louise. Now. Show me what’s mine to ruin.”
Gripping the bottom edge of the t-shirt with shaking fingers, I don’t even hesitate to pull it up and over my head, dropping it to the floor. I’m braless, and my unrestrained breasts perk against the slight chill in the air, nipples pebbling rapidly.
“Fucking Christ you’re so pretty,” he breathes, those blue eyes roving over every inch of me, sending butterflies twisting in my belly. “More. Take everything off. I’m done waiting.”
Shoving the leggings down over my hips, I bend at the waist and kick them off before sending my panties the same direction.
I straighten, my hands clasping into loose fists at my sides to keep myself from covering my body from the man standing in front of me.
He hasn’t moved, but his gaze travels over me, to my toes and back up, so slowly.
I shiver as his eyes meet mine again.
“Such a good girl, doing as you’re told.” I swallow hard at his words. “It’s not going to save you from the spanking coming your way.”
My lips tip up at the corners, and his eyes narrow on my face.
“Such a fucking brat,” he breathes, shaking his head slowly. “Undress me.”
Unable to restrain the smirk that tugs at my lips, I step forward, my fingers reaching for the hem of his shirt.
Sliding my hands, palms flat, beneath the material, I slide them up slowly, bringing the shirt with them.
Until my fingers reach his pecs, and I grip the material then and shove it up and over his head, letting it drop to the floor to land next to mine.
Leaning forward, I move to press my mouth to the center of his chest like I’ve fantasized about a million times.
His fingers wrap around my throat, halting me, and I whine pathetically. Tipping my head back by tightening his grip beneath my chin, he growls, “Did I tell you that you could touch?”
“Please?” I whisper, dragging my fingertips along the expanse of skin stretched taut over his ribs. Feather light. He shivers in response, but tightens his fingers around my neck, shaking his head.
“I gave you a direction. Undress me, Louise. You’re not done yet.”
Commands such as this, coming from any other man, would have me rolling my eyes and telling him to fuck off straight to hell.
Coming from Zach? In that low rasp and his eyes doing that thing where I swear to God he’s looking straight into my soul?
The feminist in me takes a dramatic exit stage left.
Yes, sir.
I drop my hands to the button on his jeans, the backs of my fingers digging into the band where it rests against his abdomen. Slipping the button loose, I waste no time dragging the zipper down, taking a moment to cup my palm over the bulge straining there.
“Keep that up and you’re going to end up with an ass sore enough you won’t be able to sit without thinking about it,” he warns close to my ear. “I don’t think you understand just how precarious my restraint is tonight, Louise. You are treading very thin ice.”
“I already told you I don’t want you to be gentle, Zach,” I whisper back, shoving my palms into the waistband of his jeans and beneath the fabric of his underwear—of course he’s got on tight as fuck boxer briefs—dragging both items down his thighs as far as I can reach with his hand still bracketing my throat.
“I can’t undress you if you don’t let me go. ”
His hand drops from around my throat and I drop to my knees in front of him, dragging the jeans and his underwear down his legs. He steps out of them, kicking them away. And then he’s backing away before I can reach for him.
I make another petulant whine as he backs away just far enough that I can’t reach. “Eyes on me, Louise.”
Sitting back on my heels, I raise my eyes. All the way up his magnificent body, but I get thoroughly distracted by the hardness between his thighs.
Reaching forward, he grips my chin between hard fingers and snaps my face up the rest of the way. “I said eyes up here, Louise.”