One Night in Paradise (14 page)

She forked her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her as he continued to lavish attention on her breast.

“Oh, no … I could not do this by myself,” she breathed.

He lifted his head and captured her lips, sweetness clinging to his tongue, his grip tight on her hips as he tugged her body against his. “You’re beautiful,” he said, abandoning her mouth to skim kisses down her neck, across her collarbone.

“You make me believe it.”

He raised his head, his expression serious. “You should never doubt it, not for a moment. You make me lose control.”

The words hung between them, an admission that held power. Because she knew Zack, and she knew what he prized. His control. Above everything. She knew why now, too. She even understood it. And he was saying that her beauty, her body, took it from him.

“Me?” she asked.

“You,” he repeated, his voice hard. “Everything about you.” He moved his palm over her breast and she shuddered. “Now that I’m allowing myself to look … I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop at just looking, I have to touch you, then I have to taste you. And it’s still not enough.”

Zack’s heart raged out of control. It was more than just arousal. His chest burned, the need going so much deeper than sex. It was pleasure and pain, heaven and hell. But he couldn’t turn away from any of it. He didn’t want to.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen tonight. He’d missed Clara, Clara his friend. The companionship she provided, the safety. She was the one person he ever let his guard down with. The one person he laughed with. Relaxed with.

It wasn’t supposed to turn into this. But his desire for her was like a storm, devastating everything in its path. Devastating his control.

And he’d admitted it to her. Because what else could he do? She’d brought him to his knees.

“It’s a nice apartment,” he said, trying to lighten the moment, to bring himself back to earth. “I bet the bedrooms are really nice.”

She snorted a laugh and buried her face in his neck. “You’ve been in my bedroom.”

He sifted her hair through his fingers. “I’ve never slept in your bed.”

“Do you want to?” She posed the question as though she was asking if he wanted something purely innocent.

“After we get some other business taken care of.”

“I’m in complete agreement with that.”

He swung her up into his arms and she squeaked, looping her arms around his neck and laughing as he dashed to her bedroom.

Zack set Clara down when they got inside her room. A room he’d been in more times than he could count. But never like this. She kissed him, her mouth hungry, pulled his shirt off
him in one swift motion. Trading piece of clothing for piece of clothing until they were both naked, limbs entwined, her full breasts pressed against his chest.

It was almost enough for a while, to simply lay on the bed with her, moving his hands over her bare curves, kissing her. Doing nothing more than kissing.

It was almost enough, but not quite.

He swore sharply. “I don’t have anything. I didn’t plan this.”

“It’s okay,” she said, wrapping her hand around his length, squeezing him. He groaned, her soft flesh against his almost making up for the fact that he couldn’t be inside her. Almost.

He put his hand between her thighs and drew his fingers over her clitoris, then repeated the motion.

She gasped and arched against him, tightening her hold on his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. “Oh, Zack,” she breathed, his name on her lips like balm to his soul.

Everything after that was lost in a frenzy of movement, sighs and graphic words that he’d never heard come from Clara’s mouth before. But it was only more exciting, because it was her. Because he knew that he was able to do that to her, to make her say things, feel things no other man ever had.

They reached the peak together, his body shaking down to his bones as he found his release.

He held her soft body against his afterward, a sort of strange contentedness spreading through him that he’d never felt before.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he asked, pushing her hair to one side and kissing her neck.

She turned to look at him, rolling to her side, making the curve of her hip rounder, her waist smaller. And her breasts …

“You keep saying that.”

“So that you can’t doubt it.”

“I’m starting to believe you, actually,” she said, a smile curving her lips. She reached out and put her finger on his biceps,
tracing a long line up to his shoulder. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I’m flattered.” He leaned forward and kissed her nose, the contentedness morphing into something else. Something that felt light and … happy.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and rolled onto his back. She planted her palms on his chest, her body half on his.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“I just want you to know that you’re not second to anyone,” he said, cupping her cheek. “There’s no other woman on earth I would rather be with.”

Her brown eyes glistened. “You really are good for my ego.”

“I’m glad. Someone has to be.”

He wanted to say something. Something bigger than he should, than he could. He just wanted more. In that moment, with her body, so soft and bare and perfect, pressed against his, with her smiling at him like he could solve all of the world’s problems, he wanted to offer her the world. He wanted more than temporary, more than distant for the first time in his memory.

She rested her head on his chest, her fingertips moving lightly over his skin until her breathing deepened and her eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t until she was asleep that panic slammed into him. The full enormity of what had happened. He’d lost control. More than that, he’d been letting go of it, inch by inch, with Clara for the past seven years.

With everyone else he was guarded. He never dropped his defenses. He never talked about his past.

He’d cried in front of her. He had allowed real, raw weakness and emotion to escape in her presence when he never even let himself give in like that in private. She was under his skin. So much so she felt like she was a part of him.

A necessary part.

What if he lost her? No, it wasn’t even a matter of if, it was when.

The terror that thought evoked, the absolute, gut-wrenching horror was a sobering as a punch to the jaw. He was playing a game he had no business playing, flirting with things he shouldn’t be. Tempting feelings he couldn’t risk having.

He slid out of her hold and she stirred briefly, stretching, arching her back. His mouth dried. He shook his head and bent to collect his clothes, dressing and walking out of her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, ignoring the continual stab of pain in his chest.

He paused in her living room for a moment, the weight of the familiarity of his surroundings crushing him, a feeling of claustrophobia overtaking him.

He had to leave. He had to think. He had to find his control.

He walked out her front door, closing it behind him and making sure everything was locked so that she would be safe. He walked out into the cold night, sucking in a deep breath and blaming the cold for the pain that came with it.

“Where were you this morning? When did you leave?” Clara whispered the words when she went into Zack’s office in the early afternoon. He’d been out of the office all morning, and he had been very noticeably not at her apartment before that.

“I had some things to do,” he said, his voice flat. “Could you bring me a coffee?” His phone rang and he picked it up. She stomped out of the room and picked up the freshly brewed pot that was sitting in the main area of the office. She poured a half a cup and dumped powdered creamer in, no sugar, and stirred it halfheartedly with one of the little wooden sticks that was on the coffee station.

There were still little lumps of powder floating on the top.

She went back into his office and plunked it onto his desk, letting some of it slosh over the side. He didn’t flick her or the coffee a glance as he continued his phone call. He picked it
up and took a sip then grimaced and set it back down, shooting her an evil look. She responded with a wide, saccharine smile.

“I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, hanging up. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“Yes. Where were you this morning, and do not give me another half-assed answer.”

“Clara, there’s a way I conduct physical relationships. I don’t always stay for the whole night.”

She felt like he’d slapped her. Like she was just the same as every other physical relationship he had. But she wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t.

Anger made her scalp feel prickly. “Don’t give me that. Don’t even try. I made you shake last night. Made you lose control.” Boldness came from anger, and she could’t regret it.

His eyes glittered and he looked like he might pounce on her. But he didn’t. “I just went home, so that I could get a good night’s sleep. I have to go over some legalese in the contract I’m having drawn up for the deal with Amudee. That’s all.”

That wasn’t all. She knew it wasn’t all. But she didn’t know what the rest of it was, either, so that didn’t help.

“And that looks like it’s going to go through?” she asked, looking down at the ring again, the ring she was starting to hate, willing to let the subject drop, for now.

“Looks like, but nothing is finalized. So we’re still in this until the ink is dry.”

She nodded. “I know.”

It was all about the contract to Zack. Last night … she could have sworn that last night something had changed. There had been more in their lovemaking. There had been fun. Their friendship had been in it.

It had been special.

Well, today things felt different. It just wasn’t the sort of different she’d been hoping for.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” she said, eager to get away.

It was going to take a whole lot of cupcakes to make this day feel okay.

The next few days Zack really did manage to be busy and stay busy. He didn’t stop by her apartment late at night, or any time of day. Her head hurt and her bed felt empty. Which was silly, since her bed had been empty of anyone other than her for twenty-five years.

It was just the past couple weeks she’d had Zack sometimes. And she found she really liked it, and it wasn’t just because of the orgasms. It was just listening to him breathe. Feeling his body heat so close to hers. Just being with him, finally, finally able to express how much she wanted him. To not have to hold such a huge part of herself back from him anymore.

She loved the way he made her feel about herself. That he wanted her in a sexy red dress, or yoga pants, or nothing. That he made her feel beautiful. That he made her see things in herself she hadn’t seen before.

And if she told him that he’d undoubtedly run away screaming.

Tonight, the contracts remained unsigned and that meant they still had plans to go to the big charity event. Something to do with a children’s hospital. She wondered if that was by design. If it would bother him. Make him think of his son.

Her heart hurt every time she thought of Zack’s past. Of what that false front of his was created to hide. To hide what he’d been through, who he really was. He had perfected a persona, controlled, light, charming, and even she had bought into it. Not even
she
had seen everything.

But she was starting to.

Tonight was going to feel more like a real date. A public event with just the two of them, not with Mr. Amudee sitting by, watching their performance as a couple. She was dressing up in a dress she’d selected this time. Something between her
usual fare and that screaming, sex-on-a-hanger number Zack had picked out for her.

It was a full-length gown with a mermaid-style skirt that conformed to her body before flaring out around her knees. It swished when she walked, and a halter-top neckline showed her cleavage. And she felt sexy in it. She felt like a woman who was ready to conquer the world. One who could outshine other women, at least for the man she was with. And that was what mattered, anyway.

She heard a knock on her door and she tried to shove her feet into stilettos, while standing, and fastening dangly diamond earrings. “Coming!”

She opened the door and all the air rushed out of her body. Zack was a wearing a suit, black jacket, crisp white shirt and a perfectly straight black tie. He was the epitome of gorgeous. He always was, half dressed, all dressed or completely naked. But there was something about a man in a suit.

It sort of reminded her of his wedding. The wedding that wasn’t.

“You look … you look great,” she said.

“So do you. I brought you something,” he said.

There was something strange about his tone, something formal and distant. It matched his clothing. Cool, well-tailored, nothing out of place. And yet, that in and of itself felt out of place. Zack wasn’t formal with her. Why should he be? They’d known each other for years. They had slept together for heaven’s sake.

She held her hand out and smiled, trying to make him smile. It didn’t work.

He took a flat, black box from his jacket and opened it.

“Oh, my … Zack this is … it must have cost.” None of her words would gel into a complete sentence, everything jumbling and stalling half thought through.

It was a necklace, a truly spectacular necklace, not the sort you saw under the display case of just any department store.
Not even the sort of thing you saw at Saks. It was too unique, too extravagant.

She reached out and touched the center stone, a deep green emerald, cut into the shape of a teardrop and surrounded by glittering diamonds.

“I don’t think I can accept this.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his voice still tinged with that unfamiliar distance. “Turn around.”

She did, slowly, craning her neck to look at him. He swept her hair to the side and took the necklace from the box, draping it over her, the stone falling between her breasts, the chill making her shiver. He clasped the necklace, his fingers brushing the back of her neck as we worked the tiny clasp.

“This isn’t … this isn’t a friendships gift,” she said, her voice trembling.