the floor next to him. “If that’s it . . .” He caught her glass in his hand and put it down on the little table next to her, and took the tray of fruit and dessert. “There’s something I need to do.”
Then he put his hand back on her belly and took her mouth.
* * *
Abigale would have thought she’d be prepared for his kisses by now.
She would have thought she could handle them.
But this . . . this was different.
As he laid her down onto the chaise, it was like he was trying to consume her. Like he was trying to brand himself on her. And damn, was it working. Her mouth opened wide under his and she fought free of the blanket tangling around her shoulders. Once she had her hands free, she clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into his arms as she arched up against him.
His mouth left hers to press a stinging line of kisses down over the line of her throat and she shuddered. “Damn it, if you stop again, Zach, I’m going to hurt you.”
“Not stopping, Abby.” He caught the straps of her tank top.
Her brain stopped. It simply stopped and she couldn’t process anything. He tugged her upright and she stared at him as he crouched over her, staring down at her with dark, stormy eyes. “Zach . . . ?”
He said nothing, but his hands jerked the straps of her tank down until they tangled around her arms, half trapping them against her sides. He did the same to her bra and then he dipped his head.
The cool air danced across her flesh, tightening her nipples and then there was his mouth. Oh . . . his mouth.
Hot and wicked, and oh, so knowing. It closed around one tight, swollen nipple and pleasure lanced through her. Too much pleasure for such a simple touch, she thought. It blistered her skin, blinded her, and left her gasping for air as he bit down lightly and tugged, tugged . . .
She clutched his head closer and arched against him, desperate for more.
And then, even as she tried to get closer, he was gone. Crying out, she opened her eyes but before she could get a word out, he had her in his arms, hauling her up off the lounge. “Inside,” he muttered, his voice harsh, a far cry from the easy tone she was used to. A far cry from the teasing tones she’d heard each time she’d tried to take things further. “Grab the wine . . . we’re going inside. Now.”
Dazed, she looked around and spied the cobalt blue wine bottle on the table. She closed her hand around it and cradled it against her chest as he carried her across the deck. Once they were inside, he paused by the kitchen counter and said, “Put it down. You aren’t going to be drunk on anything but me tonight.”
Her skin seemed to burst into flames.
“I think I already am,” she said, her voice shaking a little as he carried her through another door, into a room she hadn’t seen before. And she didn’t even see it then, not really. He hit the lights but all she saw was the huge bed and Zach as he laid her down and came over her, his hands tangling in her hair.
The impact of that kiss was enough to make her nerve endings implode, one by one. She heard them exploding, sizzling through her as she wrapped around him, desperate to get closer. His shirt was in the way and she shoved it up, needing to get at his skin.
He leaned back and tore it away but when he would have come back down over her, she braced her hands against his chest, keeping a few inches between them as she stared at his chest and shoulders. Her breath hitched a little as she smoothed one hand down over his pectoral, lingering over the bleeding heart design that had been inked there.
Ironically, it was just above where his heart was. A dagger pierced it and there was stylized, twisting scrollwork done around the blade and the heart. It should have looked ridiculously feminine, she thought, but like every other tattoo he had, it suited him. She shifted her attention to the tiger that crouched just across from the heart. It was so vivid, so detailed, she could almost imagine it coming to life, muscles bunching as it leaped from Zach’s skin into reality.