Chapter 22
Ignition Point
She kissed him.
Hard. Almost violently. Like a challenge. Like she was claiming something he’d tried to keep from her.
For half a second, Zach froze. Shocked, no doubt.
His restraint broke. His mouth opened under hers, and his fist bunched in her hair.
The wall was solid behind her back as he pressed closer.
The kiss turned desperate, buried tension igniting all at once.
Emma grabbed his shirt, pulling him harder against her, and he made a sound low in his throat that sent heat rushing through veins.
No gentleness. No careful exploration. Just raw need and anger.
Zach’s hands slid to her hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks. A dark thrill shot through her at the thought.
She bit his lower lip, not gently.
He growled, and her feet left the floor.
Zach lifted her like she weighed nothing, and Emma wrapped her legs around his waist on pure instinct.
Her back hit the wall harder this time, the impact stealing her breath for a moment.
The new position locked them together in ways that made coherent thought impossible.
She could feel every rigid line of him, exactly how much he hungered for her.
“Emma,” he groaned, half warning, half plea.
“Don’t stop.” She punctuated the words with another nibble, no softer, no less demanding. “Don’t you dare stop.”
His restraint cracked. His hands clasped her thighs, his hips pressed forward, crushing her against the wall.
“We should—” He tried to speak, but she claimed his mouth again, swallowing whatever reasonable thing he’d been about to say.
She didn’t want reasonable. She wanted him. The man who looked at her like she was both salvation and damnation.
Emma broke the kiss just long enough to gasp. “Should what? Talk about it? We’re done talking, Zach.”
She rolled her hips against his hard length, deliberate and demanding, and something dark and hungry flashed across his face. His pupils blew wide; his normally gray-blue eyes now hammered slate, smoldering with need.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice was gravel and smoke, barely recognizable.
“Don’t I?” She did it again, his erection hard and ready against her core, straining against his zipper. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through her body. “I’m asking you to stop hiding behind excuses. Stop pretending you don’t want this as much as I do.”
One of his hands released her thigh, sliding up her side, over her ribs, deliberate and possessive. Even through her shirt, his touch burned. A warrior's hand, palm rough with calluses, the hand of a man who trained daily with weapons. And it trembled as it mapped her curves.
“You have no idea,” he rasped into her mouth, “how much I want this. How many times I’ve thought about—” He cut himself off with a harsh sound.
“Tell me.” Emma grabbed his face, forced him to look at her. “Tell me what you’ve thought about.”
His jaw clenched. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.
“This. You against a wall, looking at me exactly like you are now. Your legs wrapped around me. The sounds you’d make when I—” His breath was ragged in her ear. “I’ve thought about it so many fucking times I’ve lost count.”
The confession sent heat flooding through her. To know that he craved her, had been tormented by wanting her while maintaining that infuriating restraint—it was intoxicating.
“Stop thinking,” Emma commanded, “and do something about it.”
Something in him snapped. She saw it happen—the moment the chain cracked.
Zach’s mouth crashed into hers again, but this time there was nothing held back.
This was claiming, possession, raw need unleashed.
His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head to the angle he wanted.
His other hand gripped her thigh hard enough to bruise, holding her where he needed her as he ground against her.
The friction was maddening. Perfect and absolutely not enough, as the ache between her thighs grew insistent.
Emma yanked at his shirt, pulling it up. They had to break the kiss for him to tear it over his head, and she whimpered from the momentary loss of contact. Then her hands were on his bare skin, and coherent thought scattered.
He was all sculpted muscle and old scars, the hard body of a warrior. She traced the bullet wound on his shoulder, the knife scar across his ribs, claiming each mark as part of the man she wanted, her lips following her fingers.
“My turn,” Zach said roughly, and before Emma could respond, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and stripped it over her head. It hit the floor somewhere behind him. His gaze raked down her body, and the heat in his eyes sent her own temperature soaring.
“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself. His mouth was on her throat, her collarbone, moving lower with devastating intent.
Emma’s head fell back against the wall as sensation overwhelmed her. Every kiss, every nibble, felt like a brand, like he were marking her as his. His stubble rasped over sensitive skin; the slight burn made everything more vivid, more real, more necessary.
He took her breast in his mouth through the thin lace of her bra, tugging at her sensitive nipple. Her moan begged him to continue as her fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks she hoped he’d see tomorrow and remember this.
“Zach—ah—” She couldn’t form complete sentences. Didn’t need to. Her body said it all.
He growled, and her entire body vibrated in response. His hands were everywhere—her back, her waist, sliding up to unhook her bra with surprising dexterity. The garment fell away, and nothing remained between his hot mouth and her except air and demand.
“Look at you,” he nuzzled her breasts, savagely licking and sucking the tips to hardened pebbles. “Perfect. So damn perfect.”
Her nipples tightened further, and she arched her back, thrusting her breasts more tightly into him. Zach groaned—a hungry sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He raised his head, met her eyes. “How hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”
“Then don't,” Emma demanded. She reached between them, found his belt buckle. “Touch me.”
She fumbled with the buckle, fingers clumsy with urgency. Zach helped her, yanking his belt free with one hand while pinning her against the wall with the other. The sound of his zipper lowering sounded impossibly loud in the charged air.
His cock sprang free, and he hissed as she wrapped her fingers around his erection. She slid her hand up and down the length of him, and he grew thicker, harder, longer.
“Emma.” Her name was a warning. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breathing ragged. “If you keep— I can’t—”
“Good.” She stroked him, and his cock jerked in response. “I don’t want you controlled. I want you.”
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away. Before she could protest, he hooked his fingers into her waistband.
“These need to be gone,” he growled. “Now.”
He set her down just long enough to strip away her pants and underwear in one smooth motion. Emma kicked them aside, gasping as Zach dropped to his knees in front of her.
“What are you—oh, God.”
He licked his way up her inner thigh, nibbling and sucking his way higher, as his fingers found her throbbing clit and worked it. She gripped his short hair, clasping him closer. When his breath ghosted across her core, she shook.
“Zach, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He looked up at her, and the raw hunger in his eyes weakened her knees. “I want to taste you. Feel you come apart on my tongue.”
His mouth was on her, and she stopped thinking entirely. His thumbs parted her wet folds. His tongue, skilled and relentless, lashed inside her, working her open, driving her wild. Her thighs clenched around his head.
“Zach—oh God—I can’t—” Emma’s head hit the wall, body trembling. The pleasure was building too fast, too intense, spiraling higher and higher—
She came hard, crying out his name, frantic hands gripping his shoulders as the orgasm ripped through her. Zach worked her through it, gentler now, until the aftershocks faded and Emma was a shaking, gasping mess.
He rose to his feet, his mouth covering hers again. She tasted herself on his tongue, and the intimacy of it made her heart stutter.
“Beautiful,” his voice was thick with desire. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”
Her hands roamed his body, relearning the geography of muscle and scar. Her fingers wrapped around him again, and he stifled a hungry groan against her lips.
“Emma—wait—” He caught her hand. “I need—we need—”
Protection. Right. Emma’s brain was still fuzzy with pleasure, but that cut through.
“Right,” she managed. “Ah…”
Zach kissed her once more, rough and possessive, before reluctantly pulling away.
Emma leaned against the wall, her legs still unsteady, as he strode naked to his gear bag by the door.
The view was spectacular—all lean muscle and controlled power and predatory grace.
What would it be like to have all that strength surrounding her as he buried himself inside her? Her pussy clenched.
He was back in seconds, tearing open the wrapper with his teeth. He rolled on the condom, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him—thick and hard and ready for her.
He lifted her again, pressing her into the wall, and Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, spreading her thighs wide.
“Look at me,” Zach ordered, his voice rough as gravel. “Give me your eyes.”
She lifted her lashes to meet his heated gaze. His face was inches away, those molten steel eyes dark with want and something more complicated. He held her where his cock teased her entrance, rubbing without entering.
“Tell me you want this.” Despite the desperation, the urgency—he was still giving her an out. Her heart skipped a beat. “Tell me you want me. Not because you’re angry. Not because we fought. Because you actually want me.”
The question cut through the haze of lust, reaching something deeper. Emma cupped his face.
“I want you, Zach Steele. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. I want all of you.” She pressed her forehead to his. “Is that clear enough?”
His answer was to kiss her with bruising intensity as he brought her down onto his cock. He pushed inside, slow and steady, giving her body time to adjust to his size.
The stretch was intense—he filled her completely—but Emma welcomed the burn. It grounded her, made this real and immediate. And so fucking good.
“Okay?” Zach’s voice was strained, every muscle taut with the effort of holding still.
“Move,” she rolled her hips, taking him deeper. “Please, Zach, move.”
He pulled out almost all the way, then plunged deep, and Emma’s head fell back against the wall. The angle was perfect, hitting places that made her see stars.
Zach started slow, stroking in and out, but she didn’t want measured. She wanted the wild man who’d dropped to his knees for her, who looked at her like she was everything.
“Stop holding back,” she demanded fiercely. “I won’t break.”
“Emma—”
“I’m not fragile.” She met his eyes, making sure he understood. “Fuck me.”
The last thread of his control shattered beautifully.
His careful pace dissolved into pounding need and driving hunger. Zach rammed into her, pushing her into the wall with every thrust, and she gloried in it. This was what she wanted—the man beneath the armor, unleashed and undone and all hers.
“Is this what you want?” His voice was rough, each word punctuated by a brutal stroke. “Me wild? You want what happens when I stop holding back?”
“Yes.” Emma’s nails raked down his back, hard enough to leave marks. “Yes, exactly this.”
One of his hands stayed gripped on her thigh tightly, holding her steady. The other slid up to squeeze her breast, rolling and pinching her nipple. The dual sensations—him filling her and his rough touch on sensitive skin—had her clenching around him.
“You feel incredible,” Zach groaned against her neck. “So perfect. Like you were made for me.”
The words sent heat flooding through her. Emma tightened her legs around him, arching her hips, and they both gasped at the sensation.
“There,” she panted. “Right there—don’t stop—”
He adjusted his angle, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Pleasure coiled tight in Emma’s core, winding tighter and tighter. Her whole body trembled with it, balanced on a knife’s edge.
“Touch yourself,” Zach commanded, breath ragged. “I want to feel you come around me.”
She slid her hand between them, finding the bundle of nerves that was already oversensitive from his earlier attention. The first touch made her cry out. She worked her clit as he pounded into her.
“That’s it,” Zach ordered, his rhythm never faltering. “Let me feel it. Let me feel you come apart.”
The combination of her fingers, his voice, the perfect friction of their bodies—it was too much. Pleasure coiled impossibly tight, snapped.
Emma shattered.
She cried out his name as the orgasm tore through her, wave after wave of intense sensation. Her body clamped down around him, and Zach lost his own battle.
He thrust deep one last time, every muscle tensed as he came. He buried his face in her neck, his roar of satisfaction muted against her skin. His hands tightened on her—one on her thigh, one cupping a breast—holding her like she were precious even as they both shook with the aftershocks.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just breath and heartbeats and the scent of sex and satisfaction.
Zach lowered her legs until her feet touched the floor. Her knees buckled, and he caught her, one arm wrapping around her waist.
“Steady,” he murmured, his voice still rough.
They stood there, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. Emma’s hands came up to rest on his chest; his heart thundered under her palm.
Reality crept back in increments.
Her body hummed with pleasure and new soreness. His body heat seeped into hers. The wall was hard against her back—she’d have bruises there tomorrow too.
Emma pulled back enough to see his face. His eyes were guarded, jaw tight with tension that had nothing to do with what they’d just done.
He was already pulling back. Rebuilding his walls, brick by brick.
“Don’t,” she said softly.
His brow furrowed. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t retreat from me. Not now. Not after that.”
Zach’s jaw clenched. He stepped back, but she grabbed his wrist.
“That shouldn’t have happened.” His voice was rough. Wrecked.