Ruthless (17 page)

A
UGUST 16

The second Jess closed the door behind her friends—which wasn't until the god-awful hour of one in the morning—he pounced, sliding up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, and tugging her back into the cradle of his hips. He nuzzled her neck while his hands wandered up to caress her amazing tits.

Jessica moaned and arched back into his arms. “I think that went okay. Don't you?”

“Mmm hmmm.” Zag slowly walked backward in the vague direction of her bedroom. She could've asked him for anything at that moment. He couldn't think above the painful throbbing behind his fly. He'd been hard ever since the moment Jess had stood up for herself in the kitchen. Her flashing brown eyes and the passionate way she spoke had him wanting to clear the room and take her right there on the table.

But he hadn't.

He'd waited like a good guy until her friends had finally left the house. Each minute had felt like twenty. And it'd been damn awkward to hide his hard-on behind furniture, like he was some out-of-control teenager. But he'd done it.

And now they were gone, so he could be as fucking bad as he wanted.

The back of his legs slammed into the end of the couch. Fuck it, this was close enough.

He enclosed her tightly in his arms and pitched them backward over the arm of the couch. Jessica let out a startled squeal as their legs lifted off the ground. Once they rested on the couch, Zag pivoted and braced himself on his left elbow, keeping his other arm on the back of the couch and effectively boxing Jessica in.

He stared down at her and tried to ignore the pounding pulse below his belt. What was it about this woman that got him every time? Hell, half the time she didn't even have to say anything. She'd just give him a look, and he was lost.

Jessica blinked and tilted her head as confusion clouded her eyes. “What's wrong?”

Zag had to smile. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you were tonight?”

“Are you nuts? I was having dinner with my friends. How was that hot?”

“You telling your friend off—that was so hot. I might just make you into a biker babe yet.”

Jessica laughed and shook her head. “You're crazy.”

“Crazy about you.” Where the hell did that come from? He sounded like some lovesick fool. That wasn't him.

Jessica's eyes widened and she took a breath to say something.

Zag didn't want to know where that was going, so he swooped down and took advantage of her open mouth. Using his lips and tongue, he teased her until her she had to pull away to catch her breath.

While she was occupied trying to remember how to breathe, he left a trail of kisses across her cheek to her ear, where he nibbled on her earlobe. A rash of goose bumps broke out down her neck and she shivered.

Apparently she'd decided to get the show on the road as her wandering hands pulled at his shirt and then his belt underneath. Deciding to help her, he knelt and ripped his shirt off, and his belt soon followed. Next he undid his fly and wriggled his jeans down his legs, but got caught up on his boots. Calling himself three kinds of fool, he pivoted on the couch to reach for his boots.

And promptly fell off.

His breath left him in a whoosh and he found himself on his side still tangled up in his jeans like some clumsy, lovesick teen. For the second time that night.

Fuck.

Jessica's giggle as she peeped over the edge of the couch at him with sparkling eyes didn't help. More than anything, it underlined the differences between them. He was hard, nasty, and now. He didn't do light. He didn't do hopeful. That shit was a pipe dream for someone like him.

Now, more than ever, he knew that this—what was between them—was temporary.

And that pissed him off.

He reached down and tore at his bootlaces. In no time flat, his boots were off. Then, shedding his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion, he stood. His chest heaving, he stared down at Jessica through narrowed eyes.

The merriment left her face as her eyes darted from his face to his naked chest to his throbbing erection. No words were spoken because none were needed. Her thoughts were written right there on her face. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Zag lost it.

He covered the distance separating them, then reached down and lifted her into his arms. For what he had planned tonight, the couch just wasn't going to cut it.

An hour later, Jessica held up Zag's hand and examined it in the faint moonlight. He had a web of scars spanning his knuckles—some bridged a few knuckles, while others bisected and ran toward the top of his hand. He could easily remember how he'd come by them. The ones on his index and middle fingers were from his work as a mechanic—which was also where the calluses on his fingertips came from. Others were combat prizes. The long one on the top of his hand was from a fight with a nasty son-of-a-bitch Saddletramp two years ago. A few others were courtesy of a night on the town with Reb his first year in the club. He couldn't even begin to catalogue the ones on his right hand.

Having gorgeous, pristine Jessica examining the tools of his trade was too much. He didn't need to be reminded that she was too good for him.

But then, she couldn't be totally perfect if she was naked in bed with him. Especially considering the things they'd just done. He tugged his hand from hers and laid it over her naked breast, branding her with his touch.

Jessica groaned. “The spirit is willing, but I don't think I have another one in me tonight.”

“What?”

She raised her head from his shoulder and looked at his face. He might've been in another room for all the attention he paid her. He looked somewhere off into the distance as he tried to make sense of where these crazy thoughts were coming from. Certainly not the very naked woman in his arms or the breast he was currently fondling.

“Zag? Is everything okay?”

He couldn't seem to form a coherent thought. How could he tell her what was circling in his mind? She already knew he wasn't worth a second of her time. He didn't really feel like reminding her of that fact.

“Zag, do you have any kids?”

He sat up with a start. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Jessica bit her lip and stared up at him with wide eyes. She swallowed hard, then answered. “Something Nicole said at dinner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Given what happened tonight, why the hell would you take anything that crazy bitch said to heart?”

She blushed and opened her mouth, but thought better of it and closed it again. She took a second, like she was weighing what she wanted to say before answering. “Because she's been one of my best friends since grade school? Because I don't know anything about you. We've been together for over two months and I still know so very little about your life. You're all spaced-out over there and I have no idea why.”

Zag closed his eyes and groaned. “Is this the ‘Where's this going' conversation? Because I can assure you, princess, it won't be a long convo.”

“Screw you. I know exactly where this is going. And we would've been there already if you weren't such an asshole.” Jessica kicked the covers off, then apparently had second thoughts and snatched the top sheet as she got off the bed. But Zag wouldn't let go of his end. She tugged a few times but didn't gain any ground.

She could've been sending him a glare at the moment, but Zag wouldn't have known. His attention wasn't on her face. No, he was watching her breasts jiggle. Giving up, she threw her end of the sheet over his head and searched the floor for her clothes.

“Come on, princess. Come back to bed and I'll make it all better.”

“Screw you. This needy, grasping woman is getting dressed and kicking you out of her bed. You can go home. Alone.”

“I never called you that. Come on, princess.” Zag got off the bed and came around to grab her arm.

“Do not”—she wrenched her arm out of his grasp—“touch me. You wanna play your Tarzan, King of the Jungle thing, fine. You need to find yourself a new Jane. Get out.” Stepping into her panties, she looked around, then huffed her irritation as she wrapped the sheet toga-style around her body.

“Fine.” Zag held his hands up. “You want me to leave, I'll leave. But first tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Seriously? You're an asshole. That's what's going on. I ask you one little personal question and you get all pissy. Apparently this is a sex-only thing and since we've already had sex, you're going.”

“Because that's what we're about. You come to my house for sex, we fall asleep. I go to your house, we have sex and fall asleep. It's what we do. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. But maybe tonight I don't want you to sleep here.”

“I don't remember asking you.”

“Great. Lock the front door on your way out.”

Zag stomped completely naked and totally unselfconsciously to the connecting bathroom.

When the door slammed shut behind him, he stood at the sink and stared at his reflection. If he was honest, he didn't much like what looked back at him. He was an ass. Jessica was the sweetest, most thoughtful, most sensual woman he knew. She deserved someone a hell of a lot better than him.

Him with his fucked-up childhood—his drug-addicted mother and whoever the sperm donor was who'd knocked her up. Probably some john with a faulty condom. He'd grown up in one hellhole crack den after another.

But Jessica…Jessica was still friends with the same girls she knew from grade school. Her mom and dad lived in the same house with the manicured lawn and huge backyard all her life. They had a fucking dog, for crying out loud.

Not that he'd ever ridden by her parents' place on his motorcycle. No, that would've been weird.

She was right. He knew so much about her life, and she knew very little about his. In their down moments, she was always prattling away with tidbits about her life—past and present. Whereas he hardly shared a thing about his own. And why would he want to? His past was shit, and his present had gotten her attacked in a parking lot.

But he wanted to be worthy of her. Wanted to be part of her white-picket-fence, fairy-tale life. He had to shape the fuck up.

Beginning with the answer to her little question.

Taking a deep breath, he turned from the sink and opened the bathroom door.

And found Jessica perched on the edge of the bed, shaking, the sheet still wrapped around her body. He could tell from her sniffles that she was obviously trying to hold her tears at bay, like she was tough and he hadn't affected her.

Shit. He felt lower than a snake's belly. He really was an asshole.

“I don't have any children.”

Jessica flinched and looked up at him with wet eyes. “What?”

“Your question. No kids. At least not any that I know of.”

She shrugged like she didn't care one way or another.

“Come on.” Zag grabbed her hand, climbed into bed, and tugged her in after him. “Get some sleep, princess. I think we both need it.”

Zag settled into the bed with Jessica at his side. He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the tension between them was like a living, breathing thing. It vibrated so loud, he couldn't relax enough to fall asleep. Apparently it was bugging Jessica as well, since she shivered.

“Can't sleep?” Zag whispered.

“No,” she whispered back.

But instead of trying to distract her with sex like he'd usually do, he cleared his throat, then spoke. “I've never been in a long-term relationship.”

She startled but kept quiet. Almost like she was afraid of spooking him and he'd stop.

“I mean not a real relationship. I don't date, so I don't know how to even mark time with a woman. But it's always like this.” The bed jostled slightly as he gestured in the dark. “We meet up and have some fun, and then she leaves…”

The silence stretched between them. There was so much more to say, but he didn't know where to start. He didn't really want to get into his fucked-up childhood. Or why the club was so important to him. He didn't do vulnerable, dammit.

Then Jessica spoke, breaking the silence. “My longest relationship was with Randy Delamonte.”

“How long?”

“Four years.”

Zag stiffened. It was like she was rubbing his face in it. He'd tried to share, for once in his life, and she had to one-up him like it was a fucking competition. This sharing shit was overrated.

“We broke up in the sixth grade when we started middle school. He wanted to play the field.”

Zag let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Sixth grade? But then that means you guys were together since—”

“The second grade,” she finished for him. “He was the cutest boy in my class, but he couldn't color inside the lines. I guess I've always had a soft spot for the bad boys.”

“Fuck, I don't think I've ever been that innocent.”

“Ah, come on.” Jessica snuggled up against his side once again. “I can picture you as a little tyke. I bet you broke little girls' hearts left and right.”

And just as quick, all that tension was back in his body. “No. I had more important things to think about than cute girls in pigtails.”

The silence stretched between them once again, and he could've kicked himself for ruining the moment. But he didn't know what to say to get it back. He sure as hell wasn't opening up about himself anymore. Those wounds were scabbed over, and he didn't want to pick at them.

Jessica breathed deeply, but he was pretty sure she was only feigning sleep.

After a few minutes, when he was almost certain she really was asleep, he turned his head and asked her, “Do you?”

It had been so long since they'd talked, she couldn't possibly know what he was asking. “Do I what?”