This Changes Everything by Jennifer Ashley Page 0,10

surprised Zach doesn’t think all women get weepy about white ribbons and tulle, and he laughs at me when I say bachelor parties are about strippers and sports.

“We drank beer, cooked out, and shot the breeze.” Zach lounges farther down into his chair, legs outstretched. “Talked about old times and made fun of Ryan. Made fun of him a lot. Austin wanted a stripper, but Ryan said no. His party, his rules.” Zach sends me a sly glance. “I hear you ladies had one, though.”

I flush. “Maybe.” Yes, we did. We truly did. That was one hot man falling out of a Velcro-ed suit.

Not as hot as Zach, some demon inside me whispers.

“What did he dress up as?” Zach asks. “Fireman? Cop? Botanist?”

I chuckle. “Stripper. He wore a tux, actually. Pretended to be the best man …” I trail, off my face flaming, as the best man in front of me collapses into laughter.

“Seriously?” he splutters.

“His choice. We didn’t rehearse him.”

Zach jumps to his feet. Sways to his feet more like. The wine bottle is all but finished.

“Something like this?” He sidles his shoulders, peeling his coat from them and catching the coat with his arms.

“Stop.” I hold out my hand, unable to contain my laughter. Also, his mimicry is making me horny. Zach is a fine-looking man.

Zach lets the coat slide from his arms to the floor. He starts scatting “The Stripper” in a raunchy voice. “Dah dah dant dant, dah dah dant dant …”

Off comes his cummerbund, which flies across the room. He’s wearing suspenders, which he stretches out comically before he drops them down his shoulders. Zach streams the dangling bow tie from around his neck like a feather boa and emphatically throws it to the floor.

Now he’s unbuttoning his shirt. Pop, pop, pop go the buttons, his throat and chest bared by the V in his undershirt coming into view.

I’m on my feet, dancing to his singing. I must be drunk, because I start unzipping the back of my dress. Whew, it’s a relief to loosen it. I unhook my bra, exhaling for the first time all night.

Zach keeps on with the shirt, grinning at me, encouraging. He thrusts the shirt down his arms. There’s a funny moment when the cuffs get caught on his wrists, but he determinedly wrenches them open, buttons flying, as he keeps up the song.

I sing along. I’m not really going to strip, says the back of my mind, even as I slip my arms out of the cap sleeves. I hold the dress to my bosom and shimmy out of my stockings. It’s way too hot for those.

The two of us dancing around pretend stripping brings us close. I fling my stockings aside and ram right into him.

Everything stops.

The room grows silent, the music in my head puttering out.

Zach’s face is near mine. His beard shadow has deepened in the last hours, lamplight burnishing it. He looks straight into my eyes, as though he can see everything inside me, everything lonely, everything sad, every missed opportunity.

In him I read the same loneliness, the feeling of standing on the sidelines of life. Tonight we’re standing there together.

To hell with it. I slam myself against him and kiss him full on the mouth.

Electrifying. I’m not kidding. A jolt runs down my body and out my feet as I wrap my arms around him.

A long time ago, on a planet far, far away, Zach kissed me. We were thirteen, me wondering what it would be like to kiss a boy.

I’d been both floored and disappointed. The touch of warmth, the intimacy, knocked me back, but the wet inexperience had made me decide it had been a bad idea.

Twenty years later, kissing Zach McLaughlin is a completely different story.

Warmth and intimacy flood me again, but our inexperience has vanished. Zach’s lips are firm, his kiss full of heat. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me closer, tongue opening my mouth.

I welcome him in, tasting the wine, the whisky, the spice that is Zach. That spice excites me, makes me want more. The kiss turns fierce, and I have a burning in my bones that tells me where this is going.

After a long time, Zach slides his hands to my shoulders, encouraging my loosened dress down my arms. Next he catches the straps of my bra, which fall after my dress.

His hands find my breasts, his palms hard with outdoor work, but gentle, caressing. Zach’s kisses also caress, and our lips meet