Important describes getting my license renewed, my bills paid, payroll . . . Abby. You’re not important. You’re everything.”
* * *
Her breath froze in her lungs and for a moment, she was even convinced her heart had stopped. As Zach lowered his mouth to hers, she was afraid to even move. She felt the rough edge of the wound on his mouth and for fear of hurting him, she didn’t even kiss him back, but the gentleness of that kiss just about stole the strength out of her.
He pulled back and reached up. He was still holding her gaze as he freed the top button of the simple black blouse she’d worn for work today. Unable to look away, she just watched him as he stripped her blouse away, then her bra, letting them fall to the floor.
Her skirt and panties followed and then he caught her hands, guided them to his shirt. “Zach, are you . . .”
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Hell, I was fine this morning when you gave me a little peck on the cheek like I was a schoolboy or something. It’s not like I’ve never had a few bruises or anything.”
A few bruises, she thought weakly as she drew his shirt up. Ribs bruised, his eye swollen, knuckles ragged and torn, not to mention his mouth. But any argument she might have had faded away as he helped her pull his shirt away, throwing it to the ground.
The muscles in his chest and arms flexed and her mouth went dry at the sight. Then fury and concern, a fascinating mix, twisted through her as she stared at the dizzying array of colors that had bloomed across his torso.
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his ribs, traced a path along his flesh until she’d gone from one side to the other.
“I think there’s some bruising down lower,” Zach teased, cupping his hand over her head.
She laughed, blushing a little as she straightened. Placing her hands flat against his chest, she tried to stop thinking about the bruises and focused just on him. Under her hand, she saw the edge of the dagger piercing the heart. The scrollwork around it was stylized, some of it all but lost in the color, and the dim light made it even harder to see, but she still took her time, tracing the line of the dagger down to where the blade pierced the heart. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to it and reached for the snap of his jeans.
“Bruising down here, huh?” She dragged the zipper down and grinned as she felt him jump against her fingers. Laughing a little, she said, “Well, I can tell you’re definitely up for this.”
“I’d have to be dead not to be up for you.”
She shoved the jeans down his hips and he nudged her back to finish the job but when she went to move back in, he caught her around the waist and spun them around, backing her up until she found herself against his dining room table. The long, solid length of mahogany felt cool against her naked butt as he lifted her up and set her on the edge.
“Lay down,” he said, staring down into her face.
Licking her lips, she eased herself backward, first to her elbows, then going flat, watching his face.
His eyes remained locked on hers for a long, long moment, but instead of touching her, he moved away.
Abigale frowned, watching his naked back as he disappeared around a corner.
When he came back in, he had a long wooden box under his arm. Eyeing it nervously, Abigale went to push up on her elbow. “Ah . . . what’s that? If this is your way of telling me that you’ve got some kinky sex secrets . . .”
He laughed a little. “Oh, there might be a few kinky fantasies, but anything you don’t want to do can remain a fantasy as long as I’ve got you in my bed.” He put the box on the table and opened it. She blinked at what she saw inside.
Paint.
Cocking a brow, she said, “I dunno . . . being into finger painting and sex might be called kinky.”
He snorted and put his hand on the middle of her chest, nudging her back down. “Do you trust me?” he asked, leaning over her and staring down at her.
Golden brown hair fell into his face, and against the stark bruising and swelling around his left eye, his blue eyes looked