Those words burned through her brain and she knew she needed to think that through. But she couldn’t. Not when he pulled back and then surged forward, driving so completely inside her.
“Tell me you want this,” he demanded. “Tell me you want me.”
Dazed, she stared at him. He shot a hand into her hair and tangled his fingers in the curls, jerking her head back, forcing her to watch him. She whimpered as his mouth crushed against hers. Hard and desperate, that kiss ripped a response from her and she was all but sobbing when he lifted just enough to peer down into her eyes. “Tell me you want me, damn it.”
“I want you,” she said, and her voice trembled with the force of that want. “I want you so much I can’t breathe for it. I dream about you and I feel your touch on me even when you’re not there.”
* * *
Her eyes, nearly black, stared into his as she spoke and Zach tried to cling to the hope in those words.
It meant something.
Had to.
But just then, all he could do was give in to the madness that had ripped through him when he’d seen her in the shower. One more time, damn it. Before he explained, because if he lost her . . .
She arched against him, her wet hands sliding down his arms, then back up along his shoulders to tangle in his hair. She swiveled her hips and he moved back a little, changing their angle so that her shoulders rested against the wall and he could stare down, watch as he moved within her.
Her flesh was pale as cream, unmarred and smooth. And he loved the way his hands looked on her as he guided her hips, lifting her up as he pulled away, dragging her back down over his cock as he sank back in. “Mine.” For that moment, at least. She was his.
Abby keened, a low, rough sound of female pleasure that had his balls drawing tight and his gut twisting in a blinding knot of need.
He pushed her harder. Faster. Giving in to the burning edge that had ridden him for so damned long.
As she clenched down around him and started to come, his own climax tore through him like a tornado, nearly undoing him.
* * *
He saw the journal on the long, narrow bench as he went to pull off the condom.
That journal.
That wonderful journal.
That stupid journal.
Part of him wanted to bronze it while another part of him wanted to rip it apart.
Except right now, it needed to be dried off.
After he’d dealt with the condom, he glanced over at Abby and said, “You like the journal so much you brought it into the shower with you?”
She was still leaning against the wall, her lips curved in a smile of pure, smug female satisfaction. It went straight to his dick and he wanted nothing more than to go back to her and do a repeat of the past five minutes. Except maybe make it last longer than five minutes. Hell. He touched her and lost all control.
But if he didn’t do this now . . .
“Abby.” He nodded to the journal again and said, “The journal is getting soaked.”
She made a face at him and said, “It’s supposed to. Have you looked at what’s inside there? It’s got a page that says take this journal into the shower with you. Or something like that. Okay? It’s in the shower.” A funny little grin curled her lips upward. “I was stressing about it pretty bad before you came in.”
He moved to block her view of the journal, catching one of the showerheads and wetting his hair down. It wasn’t because he was in any hurry to wash up. He just needed a way to distract himself. To not look at her while he thought this through. “Abby . . . ah. Actually, about the journal . . .”
She sighed. “I should probably get it out of here before it’s ruined, shouldn’t I?”
Swallowing the knot in his throat, he turned away and grabbed it. It was dripping wet as he nudged the door open and placed it on the floor. “It should be fine.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a frog. Turning around, he looked at her.
She had her head cocked. “Are you okay?”
“Ah . . .” Scooping his damp hair back, he glanced around. Then he held out a hand as he settled