Wrecked (28 page)

His lids drooped and the look on his face was almost as seductive as a kiss, as intimate as if he’d stripped her bare. “Yes.” He reached up and pushed a hand into her hair, but when he tried to tug her head back for a kiss, she turned away so that his lips glanced off her cheek.

“I went to Albuquerque,” she said quietly. She’d reached the final button and now she slid her hands up, pushing the shirt back and off his shoulders as she went.

He sighed and released his grip from her hair, rolling his shoulders back, letting her push the shirt off. “I figured as much. Abby, why are we talking about this? Don’t you want to yell at me about Saturday?”

Smiling a little, she leaned and pressed her lips to the heart branded on his skin, just above
his
heart. “Oh, we’ll get to that, although I can’t really blame Keelie for having a thing for you. She touches you again, then that woman and I are going to have a problem. But that’s not my main concern right now,” she murmured.

* * *

As Abby reached up and traced the tip of her finger
over the heart tattoo, blood roared in his ears. So loud, so fucking loud, he almost didn’t hear the warning firing in his brain. And it was a damn loud warning.

She tipped her head back and once more, her dark brown eyes glinted with challenge. “You think maybe there’s something you need to tell me, Zach?” she whispered, her voice husky and raw.

He reached for her, curved his arm around her waist as he dragged her against him. His legs felt too new, awkward beneath him even though he’d been walking on them for more than thirty years now. Stumbling back, he settled his weight against the edge of his desk and studied her face.

She didn’t give him much chance to think anything through, though. A few seconds passed and then she lowered her gaze back to the tattoo on his chest. She didn’t touch the heart, though. Or the dagger. Her fingers sought out the
A
that he’d designed to hide in plain sight. The lines and curves of it were part of the design and if you
looked
at it, the right way, you’d see it. But if you weren’t looking, it was easy to miss.

Kind of like the way things were with him and Abby. She’d never seen it . . . because she hadn’t looked.

But so many others had seen it. He hadn’t been as able to hide it from them.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he opened his mouth to try and force the words out as she trailed the tip of her nail along the
A
. “You’ve had this tattoo for a decade, Zach,” she murmured. “Ten years.”

She flicked a glance at him. “Walking around with a scarlet
A
on your chest for a long time there, pal. Somehow I don’t think it stands for
adulterer
,” she drawled.

He caught her wrist in one hand, twisted it back behind her as he searched her face. He saw something in her eyes, damn it. He knew he did. Under that glint of anger, yeah, he saw something. He thought he also saw uncertainty and nerves, but it was more than that.

The pictures, damn it.

“You know what it stands for,” he rasped, stroking his hand up her back and tangling it in her hair.

“Do I?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, tried to figure out just what he was supposed to say here. Damn it. This . . . damn it. He’d tried to picture this moment, but it hadn’t come because she’d
sprung
the damn thing on him. He’d planned it out. Practiced it. Had a nice, pretty little set of lines all laid out.

And he was standing here empty. With nothing.

Nothing . . .

Staring into her dark eyes, he pressed his brow to hers. “Abby . . . hell, I . . .” The words had been trapped inside him so long, trying to force them out
now
, when he knew it was actually time to
let
them out, was almost painful. He cleared his throat and then lifted his head, watching her face. Where to start? Hell. How did he tell her that he’d loved her forever?

Maybe by just doing that.

Sliding his hand down her neck, he rested it there. Instead of looking into her eyes as he spoke, he watched as he stroked his thumb along the smooth line of her collarbone. “You remember that day that jackass boyfriend of your mom’s tried to hurt you?” he asked softly.

She went tense. It wasn’t a moment she liked to think about, he knew. But this talk, it had to start there. He’d started hiding it then. If he was going to come clean, he had to start at the beginning.

“Yeah.” She reached up, gripping his wrist. “Zach, we need to talk about—”

“We are.” He dipped his head and buried his face against her neck, remembering that day. It was something that was still all too vivid for him. Way too vivid and he’d cut it out of his memory forever if he could. “I’d gone over there for a reason. I . . .”

He stopped and sucked in a desperate breath.

Abby stroked a hand up his back and then eased away, putting a few inches between them. Her hand touched his cheek and when she guided his face to hers, he couldn’t look away.

He’d hidden it long enough. Too damn long. “I was going over there to see if you’d go out with me,” he said gruffly. “Like a date. A real one. And then I walk in and . . .”

She stared at him. Her gaze blank, like she wasn’t following anything he’d said. Needing to get some distance before he did something stupid, like pounce on her or just fall to his knees and beg, he nudged her back and moved away, starting to pace. “I’d been crazy about you almost from the get-go. Mom and Dad thought it was sweet at first. Then they got worried. Then they adjusted. My brothers gave me shit about it. Dad would sometimes tell me that it would go away if I’d just look for somebody else.” He stopped pacing and slid her a look. “There
is
nobody else. There can’t be. Not for me.”

Abby wasn’t looking at him. Her shoulders were rising and falling just a little too fast, like she was having trouble breathing.

“You never noticed. Never seemed to see me, but I thought maybe if you’d just go out with me, give me a chance, I could
get
you to notice me. So I worked up the courage, spent all damn week psyching myself up for it. And that fucker was there, trying to hurt you.” He stopped and stared at the design wall in front of him, but he wasn’t seeing the pictures. He saw that day, everything playing out as it had a thousand times in his nightmares. “I could have killed him. I wanted to do it and I swear, sometimes, I think if I hadn’t heard you crying, I might have done it.”

Hearing the ragged sound of her breathing, he turned back around and stared at her averted face. “And if I said I was sorry about that, I’d be lying.”

She finally looked at him. Her eyes were bright and hot, but dry. Thank God. If she’d been crying, he didn’t know if he could keep talking. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that you got into so much trouble over it, Zach.”

“I’m not sorry over any of it,” he snarled. Crossing the distance between them, he caught her face between his hands. Even now, he still saw the fear. She’d been so pale, so scared, fighting against that thick-necked son of a bitch, trapped between him and a table, struggling to get away. And all he’d had was a damned skateboard. Swallowing the bile rising up in his throat, he waited until the fury passed and then he shifted his gaze away from her again. “I was just going to wait a few weeks. Just a few weeks. But when I went back over to talk to you again, you told me that you were glad that I was just me . . . just your friend. Not like any of the jerks out there and you felt safe with me. Safe . . .”

“Zach . . .”

He shook his head. “So I wanted to stay that way. Safe. Not a jerk. Just your friend. For a little while longer, so you could feel safe.” He smoothed a hand down her back and because she was there, because he wanted to touch her while she wasn’t pulling away, he tugged her against him and when she let him do that, he dipped his head, pressed his lips to her neck. “I waited too long, though, and you had me shoved back into that corner as friend. Your dad died. You took off running. In college, you hooked up with that asshole. Then you finally settled down here . . .”

He stopped, fisting a hand in the back of her dress as he fought for the words.

* * *

Settled down here
 . . .

The light clicked on in Abigale’s head. Sebastian . . . what he’d said.

You got him to move away from LA.

“You left LA for me.”

He lifted his head, gold-streaked hair tumbling into his eyes. “I’d leave heaven and earth behind for you. You were the only thing that ever mattered to me.”

Her heart thudded against her ribs as the hand on her neck slid up to cradle her face. The way he touched her . . . the way he looked at her. All this time. Yes, he’d made her feel safe all those years ago. Zach had always been her haven. Her sanctuary. He was her everything, but she’d never seen that until recently. Never let
him
see it, either.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she closed a hand around his wrist and asked raggedly, “And acting? Everything else you left behind? How much of that was because of me, too?”

“I left it behind because that wasn’t my life,” he said gently. Dark blue eyes watched her. “You know that. I never once regretted walking away. It doesn’t suit me anymore. It doesn’t fit me. I found the life I wanted. And the woman I’ve always wanted is standing right in front of me.”

Her breathing hitched. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “Damn it, I
asked
you . . . just a few days ago. Hell, I asked you a
month
ago and you didn’t say anything about . . .”

“About the fact that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?” A wry grin tugged the corner of his mouth up. “Come on, Abs. A month ago, you’d just had that asshole fiancé of yours all but kick you in the face. If I’d said . . .
hey, Abby . . . I know I’m not Roger, but I’ve loved you forever. Will you give me a go?
”

She glared at him even as her heart skittered around her chest like it was trying to take flight.
I’ve loved you forever . . .
“And what about the other day, damn it?” She slammed her fist against his chest. “I . . . I was trying to work up the courage to tell you that I . . .”

She snapped her mouth shut as the words tried to break free.

It was hard, she realized. Harder than she’d expected.

Fire burned in his eyes and hard, strong hands closed around her hips. The room whirled around them and seconds later, she found herself seated on the hard, unyielding surface of his desk. “Tell me what?” he rasped.

She leaned back, sucking in a breath as she tried to calm the racing of her heart. But all Zach did was brace his hands on the desk and lean in over her, crowding in around her until he was all she could see. All she could feel. And all she was ever going to want, she realized. Everything.

His gaze rapt on her face, he rested a hand on her thigh as she remained silent. “Tell me what, Abby?”

“I . . .”

He stroked his hand higher, a small, almost sad smile curving his lips. “It’s not as easy as you think, is it?” The tight material of her skirt caught around his wrist and he stopped.

Almost desperate for air, she watched his face. “That’s why I didn’t say it then,” he murmured as he stroked his thumb over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “It’s something I held trapped inside me for seventeen years, Abby. Seventeen long years and letting it out was almost impossible. Even though there were times the words wanted out so bad, they all but choked me.”

“Are you going to say it now?”

“Maybe . . .” He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. “I guess maybe it’s time. Past time even.”

Her heart stuttered and slowed to a stop as he kissed her, soft and slow. It was almost like the first time they’d kissed. Not that breathtaking free fall like that first kiss, but still. It was like everything else in the world just stopped. Nothing mattered but the touch of his lips on hers, light, easy . . . and sweet. Her heart ached inside her chest, swelling until she could barely breathe around it and then he lifted his head and stared down at her. “Abby,” he murmured, lifting a hand to curve around her neck. “I love you.”

A sob slipped free and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

One of his hands cupped the back of her neck and cuddled her in close. As he bent around her, he whispered, “I’ve loved you so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to
not
love you. And I’ll go to my grave loving you. You’re my everything.”

“Zach . . .”

Blindly, she sought out his mouth and when he met hers, she almost cried, it felt so good.

All this time.

He’d been here . . . all this time.

Desperate for him, she reached behind for the zipper of her dress, but he caught her hands, eased them back down. “Zach, please . . .” she whimpered against his lips.

“Shhh . . .” He eased the zipper down.

Splaying a hand wide over his chest, she stared at the tattoo of the heart, at the dagger before shifting her attention to the
A
. Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to it and she would have done more, but he eased her off the desk and reached for the hem of her skirt, dragging it upward. “Damn it, Abby, what did you do, paint this on?” he muttered, his voice a ragged growl in her ear.

“Just about.” She could hardly breathe, she thought, sagging back against the desk and bracing her hands on it as he tossed the dress on the chair nearby.

And then . . . nothing.

She sucked in a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze. Lifting her head, she found him staring at her.

More pointedly, at the bandage on her chest. “What . . . ?” Something fired in his eyes. That storm again.

She cleared her throat and reached for the edge of the dressing. It had been long enough, if she remembered right. But when she went to peel it back, Zach was already doing it. “You had me written on your skin all this time . . . I decided I was going to do the same.”

His lashes lay low over his eyes.

“I didn’t want you doing this one. I . . .” She swallowed and went to touch it, but he caught her hand, guiding it back down. Nervous, she babbled on. “I needed it on me when I came to see you. You’ve been here, right in front of me, all along. And part of me
knew
, damn it. I
knew
, but I didn’t
let
myself see it. You didn’t let it show, but I didn’t let myself see and now I’m—”