One Night in Paradise (12 page)

“T
HANK
you for doing that,” Zack said, once they were back in the car and away from the presence of the man they were putting on the show for.

Dinner had gone well, and it looked like everything was on track for Mr. Amudee to sign the exclusive deal with Roasted. It turned out he was thrilled that Zack was marrying a woman he worked with, a woman who understood and shared his passion for the business. It was one of the things, they’d found out over dessert, that had placed Zack slightly ahead of his rival at Sand Dollar. Because Amudee felt Zack and Clara were working together, and the owner of the other coffee-shop chain would be spending more time away from his family.

So, just another way their farce had helped. She still didn’t feel good about it.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m serious. I should have thanked you before.”

“Gourmet dinner after a week in Thailand? I’m not all that put out by it.” A big lie, and they both knew it.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “About freaking out about the dress.”

“Not a big deal.”

Tension hung thick in the air between them. She just felt … restless and needy. The kiss, the one they’d shared in his office, still burning her lips.

It was only supposed to be the one time. Just once. In Chiang Mai, not here.

“I really liked my … salmon,” she said. It was lame but she didn’t want to leave Zack yet. Didn’t want to get into her cold, empty bed and slowly die, crushed beneath the weight of her sexual frustration.

A dramatic interpretation of what would actually happen, but she felt dramatic.

“You didn’t have salmon.”

“I didn’t?” she asked.

“No. You had … I think you had chicken.”

“Oh.”

The only thing she could remember about dinner was trying not to melt every time Zack looked in her direction.

“So … I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said slowly, reaching for the door handle.

“Wait.” She froze. “I have a nice vintage wine at my house. I’ve been meaning to have you come and try it,” he said.

She moved away from the car door, letting her back rest against the seat again. “Really?”

“Yes. Do you want … You could come over and have some?”

Zack could have cut his own tongue out. As pickup lines went, it was a clumsy one. He shouldn’t be handing her pickup lines at all, clumsy or otherwise. They’d committed to only sleeping together one time, and the fact that he was so turned on his entire body had broken out into a cold sweat shouldn’t change that. Once should have been enough. But it wasn’t.

He watched her face, watched her eyes get round, her mouth dropping open. As if she’d just realized what the hidden question was.

It was hidden. If she said no, they could both pretend that it wasn’t another night he was after. They could brush it under the rug. Simple.

“Now?” she asked.

He nodded once.

“I don’t.” She looked at her apartment building for a moment, her hands folded in her lap, toying with the fabric of her skirt, twisting it. “I’d love some wine.”

“Good.”

He turned the key over and the engine purred as he pulled away from the curb and headed out of the city, toward the waterfront.

Zack’s house was a marvel, grand and pristine, massive windows with views the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a physical testament to the wealth he’d accumulated since he started his business. How much he had done. How far he had come on his own.

Every time she came over, she stopped and looked at the gorgeous, stained-glass skylight in the entryway. Not this time, though. This time, she didn’t have energy to focus on anything beyond Zack and the desire that was roaring through her body. Desire that was finally going to be satisfied tonight.

A week without him, without him inside of her body, had been far too long of a wait.

He closed the door behind them and stood still, poised near the door. He looked like a predator lying in wait. The thought of it, of being the object of his desire, heated her from the inside out.

When he moved, it was quick and fluid. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deep and long, his tongue stroking against hers, the evidence of his arousal hard and tempting against her body.

“You’re sure?”

“No,” she said.

“I’m not, either.”

“But I want to.”

“Me, too. You know where the bedroom is,” he said.

“I do. But I haven’t spent that much time in it.”

“You’ll be lucky if I let you out of it tonight,” he said, his
voice a low growl. Feral and uncontrolled. It sent a shiver of pure need all the way down to her toes.

It was crazy. Stupid crazy and not at all what they’d agreed to.

Just one more time. One more night.

“I don’t mind.”

She walked ahead of him, to the winding staircase that led up to his room. She heard him following behind her as she walked up the stairs, and she knew the action was making her dress ride up, made it hug the curve of her bottom, and barely covered it at all.

He grabbed her arm and turned her to him. He was on the step below her, which, with her heels, made them close to the same height. He put his hand on her lower back and pressed her to him, kissing her again, his mouth hot and hungry on hers.

She cupped his face, his stubble rough on her fingertips, a potent, sexy reminder of his masculinity. He reached up and took her hands, lacing his fingers through hers and backing her against the wall as he stepped up onto the stair she was on.

He pressed his body against hers, hard and long, perfectly muscular. She started working the buttons on his shirt, popping a few of them off in her haste to get him undressed. He helped with the sleeve cuffs and tossed the shirt down to the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, running her hands over his bare chest, the crisp hair tickling her palms. “You’re so hot.”

He chuckled. “I could say the same.” He gripped the zipper tab of her dress and tugged it down, letting her dress fall off her body. She hardly had time to think about it, to worry about how she looked to him.

She kicked the dress down to the next stair, still wearing her heels, a strapless bra and a pair of underwear that may as well not exist for all that they covered.

But tonight, she really did feel sexy. She didn’t feel the need
to cover herself, to hide anything. And she really didn’t want him hiding anything. She made quick work of his slacks, pushing them down his muscular thighs, her body heating when she looked at him, dressed in nothing more than a pair of tight black boxer briefs that revealed the outline of his erection in tantalizing detail.

She put her hand on him, sliding her palm over his cloth-covered length, reveling in his harsh, indrawn breath.

“Do you know how many times I thought of you?” she asked, the question requiring a whole lot of boldness she hadn’t realized she possessed. “Of touching you. Having my way with you. You’ve kept me up a lot of nights, Zack. Imagining what it would be like if you kissed me.”

“You thought of me?” he asked, his words rough.

“I did.”

He didn’t have to ask why she hadn’t acted on it. Because what would the point have been? They didn’t want the same things. He wanted a loveless marriage, no family. She wanted more. There was still no point to this. No point beyond trying to satisfy the sexual hunger that was burning between them.

And the burning hope in her that she couldn’t quite snuff out that wondered if he could change his mind.

“Do you know what
I’ve
thought about?” She pushed his underwear down and he kicked them down with the growing pile of clothes on the staircase. She started to kneel down in front of him and he forked his fingers through her hair, halting her for a moment, the sting from the tug on her hair sending a sharp sensation of pleasure through her.

“Careful,” he said. “I’m close.”

“We have all night. I’m not worried. And I’ve had a lot of fantasies about this. You wouldn’t deny me a little fantasy fulfillment, would you?” She leaned forward and flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of his shaft. He sucked in a breath, his hold on her hair tightening again.

She took him into her mouth, loving the taste of him, the
power she felt. That she could make his thigh muscles shake, make his hands tremble. He kept one hand in her hair, one on the staircase railing, bracing himself as she continued to explore him.

“Clara … I need … not like this.”

She raised her head, her heart nearly stopping when she saw his face. He had sweat beads on his forehead, the tendons in his neck standing out. He looked like a man who’d been tortured with pleasure.

And she’d been the one doing the torturing.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do. I need to have all of you.”

“Maybe we can make it the rest of the way up the stairs?”

“If we hurry,” he growled.

So she did, walking in front of him, knowing her thong and high heels were making a provocative visual for him. The feeling of confidence she felt, the absolute certainty that he enjoyed looking at her, that, for now at least, she was the woman he desired, was amazing. New.

His bedroom door was open, and she walked inside and sat down on the bed, waiting for him. He stood in the doorway, his eyes hot on her. The lights were off, moonlight filtering through the window. The darkness felt like a cover, made her feel more confident.

“Take everything off,” he bit out.

She undid the front clasp on her bra and was gratified by the sharp rise and fall of his chest as she revealed her breasts to him. She stood and tugged her underwear down her legs, leaving the high heels for last.

“Want to help with these?” she asked, sitting again, holding her foot out.

He smiled and walked over to the bed and knelt in front of her, putting his hands on the curve of her knees, sliding them down her calf, he bent his head down and kissed her ankle as he took one of her shoes off and dropped it onto the carpet.

He did the same with the other one, slow, erotic movements making her shiver all over. And when he leaned in and pressed his mouth between her thighs she nearly came apart with the first stroke of his tongue.

“I’ll confess, I didn’t think about this very much until recently,” he said. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about it since last week. Every night, I dream of you,” he said, his voice rough as he continued to pleasure her with his hands.

“Me, too,” she said, panting, her body on the brink of climax, so close she felt it all through her, tension drawing all of her muscles tight.

Zack stood up, his smile wicked as he looked at her. He leaned over and took a condom from the nightstand. He tore the packet open and rolled a condom onto his length before joining her on the bed.

He put his hands on her thigh and pulled her over him so that her legs were bracketing his and his erection poised at the entranced to her body. Her eyes locked with his, she lowered herself onto him, a low moan climbing in her throat as he filled her.

She gripped his shoulders, enjoying the feeling. Enjoying the moment of being joined with him completely.

She moved slowly at first, trying to find the right rhythm, her confidence increasing as his grip on her hips tightened, as she started to move closer to the edge of climax.

She was saying things, words, about how good it felt, how much she cared about him, but she wasn’t sure what she was saying exactly. She didn’t care. She couldn’t think, she could only feel.

Could only hold on to Zack as her orgasm pushed her over the edge and into an abyss of light and feeling, where there was nothing, no one, except for her and Zack. There was no past, and there was no future. There was only the two of them.

In that world, in that moment, everything could work. Everything was perfect.

The ascent back to reality was slow and fuzzy, and she almost regretted it when it happened. But even reality, his skin hot and sweaty beneath her cheek, his chest hair a little bit scratchy, was pretty near perfect.

She didn’t have the assurance of a future. But for now she had Zack. And she would take him. She felt tears sting her eyes and she squeezed them shut, trying to hold them at bay.

She had him tonight. And it would be perfect. She wouldn’t ruin it by crying.

“I’ll go and take care of things,” he said.

Clara sat up and let Zack get out of bed and go into the bathroom. He came back a couple of moments later and slid back into bed. She looked at his profile. Strong, set. So handsome, so special to her. For so long she’d imagined that she knew everything about Zack. Now she found out there was a huge piece missing.

“Zack …” She knew she probably shouldn’t say what was on her mind, but they were naked and in bed together. If they couldn’t be honest now, when could you be honest with anyone? “What happened?”

“I told you,” he said, his voice stilted. He knew what she meant. No need to clarify.

“Sort of.”

“You want to hear more?”

“I want to know what happened. Have you ever told anyone?”

There was a long pause, Zack shifted next to her. “I don’t talk about this, Clara. Not ever. Not with anyone.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “And I don’t let men see me naked. Not ever. But I let you. So tell me.”

He paused and she thought, for a moment, he wasn’t going to say anything. “We named him Jake. He lived for forty-eight hours. No one at the hospital thought, even for a moment, that he had a chance. But I did.” Silence hung between them, heavy and oppressive. She didn’t interrupt it.

Zack breathed in deeply. Faintly, in the dim light filtering in through the windows, she could see a single track of moisture shining on his cheek. “I was wrong. There was no miracle. No beating the odds. I’d thought … I was sure he’d have to be okay. I’d changed all my plans, in my head, my whole future was different. And then it was back to being the same, except it wasn’t. It never would be again. And my parents … I think they were relieved. They’d been so angry that I was throwing my future away. I think they were relieved when my son died, Clara.”