had to fight back the urge to start kissing her all over again, strip away her clothing, and take everything that he had wanted for so long. Because he’d wanted this, needed this . . . needed her, though, he had to wait and he knew it. So he contented himself with staring down at her gently flushed face, the dark fan her lashes made against her cheeks, and the pretty bow of her mouth.
Finally, she lifted her lashes and looked up at him. “You’re making this damned hard, you know.”
“You’re one to talk,” he teased, nudging his hips against the soft heat between her thighs.
A blush lit up her face and she jabbed him in the side. “Stop it. I’m trying to be serious.” Then she slid her hand up his side, along his neck to slide it into his hair. “And what happens if we do this and things get screwed up, Zach? You’re the most important person in my life. I can’t lose that.”
“You’re overthinking this . . . but to answer that . . . you’re the most important person in my life, too, and you know it.” He pressed his brow to hers. “We’ve handled everything else life has thrown at us and plenty of it wasn’t fun. This could be damn fun. Sex doesn’t have to screw things up. We just lay the rules out now . . . and we stick to them.”
“Rules?” She wrinkled her nose at him and then nudged his chest. “Rules and an affair don’t seem to go hand in hand very well.”
Rolling off to the side, he watched as she sat up and shoved her hair back from her face. “Anybody who doesn’t lay some sort of ground rules is asking for trouble.” I promise I’m not going to rush you. That’s rule number one for me . . . not that I’m going to explain that just yet. Then he reached over and caught a lock of her hair, winding the dark curl around his finger. “It’s not like we’re writing a guidebook for it or anything. Just laying things out so we understand things. If we do this, then we have a right to know what to expect from each other. I won’t be seeing anybody else when we’re together . . . I’d appreciate the same from you.”
She slid him a look from under her lashes. “Well, seeing as how so many men are beating a path to my door, that’s going to be hard . . . but that’s a deal.”
“So does that mean . . . yes?” His heart just about jumped into his throat and it was a damn good thing he was laying down because if he hadn’t been, he might have found himself falling over his damned feet. Abby . . . shit. Abby was going to—his brain blanked out.
He was going to have an affair with her? Like hell. What he was going to do was make her fall in love with him, damn it.
But she hadn’t answered . . . jerking his eyes up to her face, he found her watching him, that hesitant look in her eyes. Hesitant. Watchful. Like she didn’t know what in the hell to think. Think about me. He wanted her to be as caught up in him as he was in her. That was what he wanted. What he needed.
Rubbing his thumb over the silk of her hair, he waited.
And then she leaned down, pressed her mouth to his. He held still, letting her take the lead, although it almost killed him when he felt the tip of her tongue teasing his lips. He opened for her, but still just waited . . . played the willing recipient and when she took the kiss deeper, he groaned and slid his hand up to cup the back of her head.
Just when he thought he was going to lose control, she broke the kiss and lifted her head, her gaze full of heat and smoke and wonder. “Yeah, Zach,” she whispered. “I think it’s a yes.”
Then she bit her lip and laid a hand on his chest, stroked it down.
Chapter Eight
Abigale glared at her reflection.
Nothing worked right.
Zach wanted to take her out to dinner and damn it, even though she had a damned closetful of clothes, nothing worked.
The black jersey dress that was her fallback just seemed too hot and clingy.
The green silk was too dressy.
And—
“Damn it,” she swore, spinning away from the mirror