Chapter 22
Drake crossed his arms and waited for Zoe to answer the bell. Anxiety and excitement churned his gut, and they couldn’t get to Portland fast enough for him. After years of numb autopilot, she’d awoken something in him, and scary as it seemed at times, he’d missed...living. The almost euphoric bubble of hope and happiness and possibility.
She swung the door wide and turned, jogging toward the kitchen. “I’m putting coffee in to-go cups now. Just give me a sec. My bag is right there if you want to take it to the car.”
“There’s no rush.” He stepped inside and shut the door. Reaching for her bag, he glanced at her and froze.
She’d dyed her hair back to normal. Light brown with caramel highlights, it flowed in soft waves to her shoulders. His lungs went into hyper drive trying to keep up. Damn, she’d been beautiful before. Turn her natural and she was gorgeous. He had nothing against the ridiculous colors the past few years, but this was the real Zoe. The one he very much preferred.
She did a double-take. “It’s not that heavy.”
He glanced at her bag in his hand, not realizing he’d picked it up, and dropped it. “Come here.” Never mind. He strode to her and caged her against the counter. “I like your hair.”
She blinked her huge hazel eyes. “Um, thank you?”
Amused she’d turned her response into a question, he smiled. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too?”
Laughing, he let his gaze travel over her hair, her face. “Am I confusing you?”
She bit her lip. “A little bit. What’s with the caveman thing? Stalking over here and trapping me—”
He kissed her and pulled away. Then framed her face with his hands and kissed her again. “Missed you.”
“It’s only been a day,” she whispered.
“I meant in a general sense. Not that I didn’t wish you were with me last night. But I was referring to your hair. I like the real Zoe better.”
“Oh.” She ran her fingers through the strands. “Thought it was more professional.” Her gaze darted away. “And time to stop fearing what I can’t control.”
Christ. He was pretty sure he fell the rest of the way right there in her living room. Strong and outspoken, Zoe stood up for what she believed in. Smart and a spitfire, she could elicit a witty comeback and hold her own on any topic. Giving and empathetic, she’d taken care of his wife and her best friend in Heather’s final months, and had given up nearly everything for her own mother, no matter how hard it had hurt. Affectionate and sexy, she could pull primal and basic responses from him in seconds. And then there was this side of her. The soft, tender parts most didn’t realize were there, just below the surface.
How the hell was a guy to defend himself against one of those aspects, never mind all of them? Throw in her gorgeousness? Lost cause.
With a deep sigh, he stepped away. She wasn’t ready for declarations, but if it took everything in his arsenal, he’d get her there soon.
“Ready?” He smiled to erase the concentration on his face.
With a nod, she eased around him.
When they were on the road, she called Pine Crest to check on her mom and, from what he could gather of the conversation, Cat was doing really well. Which was a relief because Zoe had been extremely concerned and, at times, crawling out of her skin. It killed him to see her that out of sorts.
“I don’t know what to make of it.” She shook her head. “I mean, I’m glad she’s adjusting and really seems happy, but I can’t help but feel guilty, you know? Why wasn’t she that relaxed at home? I could barely get her to sit down, never mind eat. Taking her meds had become this ritualistic chore involving award-winning acting skill.”
Reaching over, he clasped her hand. “She probably recognizes Pine Crest from working there for years, even if it’s not cognitive memory. You are doing the best you can. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault. This disease is shitty and hurts those left behind the most.”
She squeezed his hand and went silent for awhile.
The rest of the drive up to Portland went smoothly. They chatted about everything and nothing. She took over the radio and he pretended to be affronted. Truth was, he loved listening to her sing along to hard rock because she screeched the higher notes and her expression grew adorable at the lower ones. If a person ever claimed boredom in Zoe’s presence, they didn’t have a heartbeat.
Once they arrived at the hotel, he canceled the second room and they dropped their luggage off in the suite. Queen-sized bed, mini kitchenette, and a great view of the Willamette River with Mount Hood in the distance. Orientation was tedious, and by the time they walked into the bar for the drink mixer, he was vying for excuses to take her back upstairs.
Primal, basic, and fierce. Yet it wasn’t only physical. Maybe that was the key. The emotional assault she rendered had all of him, every atom, firing on all cylinders.
She wore a white sundress with cherries on it, of all things, and her hair in a ponytail, exposing her regal neck. There were easily seventy people from the conference in the bar, mostly men, and at least half watched her entrance.
He glanced around at the sleekly polished wood, chrome, and green-shade lighting, and decided it resembled every other hotel bar in America. “Want a drink?”
“Sure.” An evil grin lit her eyes. “I’ll have sex on the beach. Or a fuzzy navel.”
Leaning on the counter, he sighed. “You’re only requesting that to hear me say the order aloud.”
“Totally. I challenge you.”
The bartender eyed them, his dark gaze darting back and forth between them and lips curved in amusement. He looked barely legal to buy alcohol, never mind serve it.
Drake shook his head. “She wants sex on the beach, and no, that’s not an offer. I’ll take a whiskey neat. Jameson if you have it.” He’d need it to keep up with her and calm his nerves.
The bartender nodded and moved away.
Zoe hopped on a stool and faced him. “Bravo. You ordered with a straight face and managed to piss on your territory.”
He ran his tongue across his teeth and skimmed his gaze over her outfit. “I can’t tell if that dress is cute or hot.”
“Hot,” the bartender said, setting down their drinks. “Definitely.”
Zoe grinned. “Give the man a big tip.”
Without glancing at the nuisance, Drake held up some bills, told the kid to keep the change, and kept his eyes on Zoe. “How long do we need to stay down here?”
A rich laugh erupted from her red lips. “In a hurry?”
“Yes. And every Y chromosome-carrying human in here is watching you.”
“Just the Y’s?” She pouted. “That’s disappointing.”
Hell, he wanted her. Bad.
To distract them both, he slid the conference brochure toward her with one finger. “What workshops do you want to attend?”
She took a sip of her fruity drink and opened the pamphlet. “Hm. There’s only two catered for groomers. I think I’ll do the first one early tomorrow morning and then play hooky. Maybe walk around the city.”
Stepping behind her, he eyed the listing over her shoulder. None of them really appealed to him except, perhaps, the nine o’clock for a new surgical technique for cruciate ligament repair. They did a lot of those in the clinic.
He leaned closer and inhaled lavender. “I’ll attend this one”—he pointed to the workshop—”and then play hooky with you.” He dipped his mouth close to her ear, earning a shiver. “We can get lunch and see a couple attractions, then arrive back in time for the banquet.”
Turning her head, she eyed him, their faces so close he wouldn’t have to strain to kiss her. “Are you sure? As our chief surgeon, aren’t you supposed to be more of a presence?”
“No one will miss me. I’d rather be with you.”
Her lips curved. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want.” Christ, did he want. Thus, he resumed the spot at her side and slammed his whiskey, enjoying the burn. To avoid watching her lips wrap around the straw in her drink, he glanced at the attendees. A guy they went to college with was standing by himself near the exit. “I see someone I know. Will you be okay for a minute?”
“Sure.” She batted her eyelashes and used her teeth to strip a cherry off a swizzle stick.
He groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Five minutes. Tops.”
As she laughed, he strode toward his former classmate. He and Zoe had attended the same college, but she’d been a graphic design major and he’d been in veterinary medicine. Ergo, Drake was confident Zoe didn’t know Pete.
He said the guy’s name and held out his hand.
Pete turned and grinned. “Drake. Long time, no see. Are you here for the conference, too?”
Drake’s first thought was Pete didn’t look much different. He still had a boyish face, very slim build, and red hair. He’d grown up in the Midwest and never really dropped that slight accent. His polo and khakis made Drake feel somewhat overdressed in charcoal slacks and a white button-down shirt. They made idle chit-chat about their clinics for a few minutes and then switched to personal crap.
“How’s Heather? You guys must be hitched by now.”
Drake cleared his throat. “We did tie the knot, but she passed away a few years ago.”
Pete sobered. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard.” While Drake nodded, Pete sipped his ale. “Are you here alone or did one of your brothers come up?”
“I’m here with the woman I’m dating. She works at the office.” Drake pointed to Zoe, who had three men surrounding her stool. He ground his teeth. Three minutes since he’d stepped away, and the hounds were circling.
“Is that…?” Pete snapped his fingers as if to conjure memory. “Zoe. That’s her name. We had an English Lit class together freshman year. She got in a heated debate with our professor claiming Shakespeare’s playwriting skills were minimalistic and based on miscommunication.” He laughed. “I’ll never forget it. She said his only redeeming quality was usually killing off a lead. Man, I wanted to ask her out, but never had the balls.”
That sounded like her, all right. And she rarely went anywhere without drawing attention. “Let’s go say hello. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Drake hoped not, but grinned anyway.
They worked their way through the crowd and Drake made it a point to wrap his arm around her waist. “Honey, look who I ran into. Do you remember Pete?”
“English Literature with Professor Dumbass.” Zoe grinned.
Taking the hint, the other guys stepped away while Pete nodded. “Good memory. You look wonderful.”
Thirty minutes later, Zoe and Pete were still talking about the class and Drake was on his second whiskey. He’d passed his social limit somewhere between Zoe’s “remember that stupid tie he wore” and Pete’s “he smelled like menthol cigarettes.”
Downing the rest of his drink, Drake waited for an opening and pounced. “We have an early morning and you’re probably tired from the drive.”
With a smile for Pete, Zoe sighed. “That’s code for I want to go upstairs. It was great seeing you again.”
“You, too. I’ll look for you both tomorrow.”
Taking her hand, Drake walked her to the elevator and rode up in silence with a couple other passengers, keeping his focus on the numbers. In the tension-crackled silence, she lightly skimmed her fingers over his nape and he inhaled hard through flared nostrils. Her touch was a direct current to his southern hemisphere, and in five seconds, his arousal wouldn’t be something he could hide. Judging by her mischievous little grin, she knew that. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her tracing a path across the bodice of her dress, right over the cleft between her breasts.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed in warning. She chuckled under her breath. At their floor, he all but dragged her to their room and fumbled with the keycard while she laughed.
“Would you like me to do it?”
“No.” He slid the card in, got a green light, and twisted the knob. She stepped in ahead of him, but he caught her around the waist before she went too deep in the room and pressed her back against the wall. “I thought we’d never get out of there.”
He kissed her like he’d been dying to do all night. Pressing his body flush with hers, he got lost in the way their mouths mated, the way she could send him over the edge with one stroke of her tongue. Her slim, petite build against his taller one shouldn’t fit so well together, at least not geometrically speaking, yet they did. Skimming his hands down her waist to her thighs, he traveled back up and under her skirt. He teased the skin of her hips around her panties and she moaned.
A thud hit the floor, and he realized it was her shoe. The second thud relocated his heart as anticipation collided with desire.
“Condoms are in my suitcase.” She grabbed his hair by the fistful and climbed him, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Behind his fly, his erection thrust against her heat as he pinned her to the wall once more. So damn good. With a roar, he buried his face in her hair, his hands on her lace-covered ass and working their way under the flimsy material. Her heels dug into his lower back and more of those groan-inducing mewls filled his ear.
“I’m not taking you for the first time against the wall.” Though he wasn’t sure he could move ten feet to the bed, so his protest might be moot.
She nipped his jaw, sucked on his neck. “I don’t care where you take me, just so long as you do it now.” When her hot tongue traced the shell of his ear, he about collapsed.
Christ Almighty and all the angels…
“Zoe, I want to take my time with…” Uhn. She ground against him, using her hands and legs and mouth and tongue to make his brain flatline. “Never fucking mind.”
Using one hand to push off the wall, he did an about face and carried her to the side of the bed, kicking off his own shoes on the way. One arm firmly around her, he dug blindly in her suitcase for the box of protection while she kissed him like a woman starving. His fingers met smooth cardboard. Grabbing the box, he tossed it on the nightstand, shoved the suitcase off the bed, and laid her out on the mattress.
Following her down, he covered her body with his, leaned on his forearms, and stared at her. Flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, heavy lids, even heavier breathing. Hell, a saint couldn’t resist her.
“I don’t want to rush.” Thing was, even if she didn’t have him at the razor’s edge, it had been quite some time since he’d had sex. Chances were, he wouldn’t last long.
Her gaze locked on to his, determined, aroused, while she slid the first button of his shirt undone. Then another. So slowly, he thought he’d expire. He groaned at her pace.
“That’s what I thought.” With a satisfied smile, she jerked the material apart, sending buttons pinging across the room, and urged it off his shoulders.
“Hated this shirt anyway.” He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her deep while struggling to free himself of the damn garment.
She tossed it across the room and fingered the snap on his pants. Teeth released from the zipper and, bringing her knees up, she toed both his slacks and boxers to his ankles. He kicked them off the rest of the way.
Her gaze swept over him, and he swore she was fantasizing things he couldn’t imagine on a good day. Every time she looked at him, it was like she was seeing him for the first time. There was never any doubt she liked what she saw, that her attraction was genuine. It was enough to make a guy bat his chest or preen.
Then her mouth was back on his and hunger had a new name. Lifting his head, he gulped air and shifted to his knees, taking her with him. Gaze on hers, he dipped under her dress and grabbed her hips. “Stand up.” Him guiding her, she stood on the mattress in front of him.
Gaze locked on hers, he slid her panties—green, like the stems on the cherries of her dress—down her legs and helped her step out of them. Then he searched her back for the zipper and released it. The dress pooled at her feet and he tossed it aside.
Hands on her thighs, he looked his fill. Narrow waist. Hourglass hips. Tiny, perky breasts. Long-as-hell legs. Smooth, satin skin. He could do nothing more than stare at her all night and be a happy man. He kissed her belly, her thighs, and then in between. Finding her already wet, he groaned his approval. Always when they’d played, she’d been slick with arousal. For him.
With a deep inhale, she wove her fingers through his hair, encouraging him.
Trying to resist rubbing his throbbing erection, he licked her hard nub and her knees locked. One hand on her hip to steady her, he glided his fingers through her slick folds and sank two fingers inside her. She seemed tight to him, and concern he’d hurt her banded his chest. She was petite in stature, waifish almost, and he didn’t know how leashed his control would be after so long.
With a cry, she bucked. Yes and please and Drake fell from her lips as she thrust against his mouth. Her walls clamped around his fingers and her muscles clenched beneath his hand.
Christ, she could kill him alone with her responsiveness. It not only made it easy to know what she liked, that she enjoyed what he was doing, but he found her verbal foreplay sexier than sin. Lifting his head to watch her, he grazed his thumb over her clit instead, and she came undone. Head thrown back, lips parted, she shuddered.
When her legs gave out, he was expecting it. Grabbing her behind the knees, he spread them so she’d land on his thighs, straddling him. Before she got her breath back, he drove his hands in her hair, releasing the ponytail, and kissed her. Hard, desperate, their mouths mated.
Fire ravaged every inch of his skin where they met and he couldn’t find enough places to touch. The slope of her ass, the curve of her spine, the giving flesh of her small breasts. Aftershocks still claimed her, and he was so damn turned on he thought he’d implode.
After a moment, she looked at him, her cheeks flushed. So hard, he fought the need to lay her out and plunge. She deserved better than that, but the longer her gaze perused him, the more difficult it became. Reverence and need and appreciation lit her hazel eyes.
Biting her lip, she settled her hands on his shoulders. Gaze dipping, it followed the path of her fingers as they trailed lower. She threaded them through the thin hair on his chest to his abs. His stomach concaved at her exploration and he tipped his face toward the ceiling, about to snap.
She leaned back and grabbed a condom from the box. With her teeth, she ripped it open, tossed the wrapper, and rolled the latex down his shaft. His hands fisted behind her back as air trapped painfully in his lungs. When her gaze landed on his once more and she rose over him, he realized her intent and grabbed her hips to stop her.
A subtle shift, and she laid out on the sheets. Her hair spilled over the pillow. Like he belonged there, she cradled him between her thighs and emotion rose in his throat. Taking her hands in his, he laced their fingers, pressing them into the mattress by her shoulders, and aligned himself. Utter shock that he was here with her battled with the feral need to claim her, to prove to them both this was not only inevitable, but right.
He nudged his hips forward and was surrounded by giving, soft heat. The breath expelled from his lungs in a whoosh and he dropped his forehead to hers. She kept her eyes on him, green and brown and blue swirling together in a haze of lust.
Halfway, he met resistance and gave her a moment before continuing. Unable to stand the exquisite torture, he pinched his eyes closed, lips parting over hers, and sank the rest of the way. Pausing, he panted against her mouth and realized her breathing was just as uneven.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, nearly unable to withstand the painful pleasure of her subtle walls. Or the fact she was under him. Around him. Inside him…as much or possibly more than he could be inside her.
“Yes.” Her rich voice and lavender scent filled his head. She kissed his closed lids. “Are you?”
“No.” He would forever and never be okay again. That was the kind of ludicrous contradictions she evoked. Safety and danger. Lust and love. Strength and tenderness. Shaking with restraint, his lungs uncooperative, he forced his eyes open. “I’m better than okay.”
Her brows pinched in worry, her gaze seeking. “Drake.” Her throat worked a swallow. “Please, I…”
And he knew. She sought assurance. Because she cared that much and put everyone—him most of all—before herself. Even now, while he was buried inside her and ready to snap, she thought only of his needs.
“Zoe, honey.” He kissed her gently and repeatedly said her name so she’d have no doubt whatsoever he knew who he was with. The only woman he wanted. “I’m going to make love to you now.”