Chapter 24
Drake scanned the semi-full banquet room a third time. Still no Zoe. Nauseated, anxiety-laden, he took a sip of whiskey and pretended to listen to Pete as he blathered about a workshop he’d attended.
People from the conference floated from table to table in the pre-dinner moments. It was like a jacked-up charity function with all the black ties and sequined dresses. White linen cloths and flower arrangements. An instrumental orchestra played annoyingly droll music in a corner. Drake would rather say screw it and head back upstairs. Strip Zoe down to nothing and lose reality inside her soft, hot body.
And never resurface.
When he’d awoken this morning, she had already been dressed and sitting by his hip in bed, holding coffee. She’d been so damn distant and aloof his heart had stopped. They’d attended separate workshops and then went out to lunch. Blessedly, from there, she’d begun to act more normal.
He’d taken her to Portland Art Museum because he knew her pretty eyes would wander everywhere and be happy. With a mix of Asian, American, and Native American pieces, she’d been in Zoe heaven. They hadn’t much time after that, so they did a quick tour of the Japanese Garden where she’d claimed to get new painting inspiration. He’d have to bring her back to the city again when they had more chances to explore.
An hour ago, she’d insisted she would meet him down here for the banquet. Something about primping, but he suspected she needed some time alone. Adjusting his tie, he decided if she didn’t show her gorgeous ass in the next three minutes, he’d go after her.
“The equipment they used wasn’t half bad, though.”
Drake grunted as if he’d been listening to Pete. He’d forgotten how talkative his former classmate could be. “Sounds like it was productive for you.” Where the hell was she?
Pete laughed. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”
“Sorry. I’m distracted—”
Heaven help him. Across the room, Zoe stood in the doorway wearing a gold slip dress that clung to every subtle curve and stopped at her knees. Toned legs three states long and black heels. Her hair was up in some complicated twist and several strands fell around her face. Red lips, smoky eyes.
Oxygen backed up in his lungs as she glanced around, probably searching for him.
Pete laughed into his drink. “I can see why. She’s one helluva distraction.”
No shit.
Her gaze landed on Drake and a grin split her face. She made her way over and he groaned at her swaying hips, at the purely sexual way she moved. And he knew exactly the beauty that awaited him under that dress.
Pete chuckled. Again.
“Hey.” She shook Pete’s hand and kissed Drake’s cheek. Her brow pinched at his lack of ability to speak, blink, or breathe. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like my dress?” She glanced down at the torture device in question.
“I need a minute.” Since his voice sounded strangled, he cleared his throat. Like an idiot, he just kept staring. Funny how a guy could go his whole life knowing someone and never truly see them.
Pete, yet again, laughed, giving Drake the urge to punch the grin right off. “I’m going to find my seat. Zoe, you look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She eyed Drake. “Guess someone doesn’t need time to flip a compliment.”
When Pete strode away, Drake’s fingers clenched his glass. “You don’t look lovely.”
Her lips flattened. “Well—”
“You look goddamn gorgeous and you’re making it difficult to string consonants together to form syllables.”
Her eyebrows pinged and her jaw dropped. “That’ll do. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Stepping closer, he bent and kissed her forehead. Mercy, that lavender scent drove him insane. “We better sit. If we don’t, I’m tempted to take you right back upstairs.”
She sighed dreamily. “I’m good with either scenario.”
Dinner was lengthy and tedious. Zoe had the salmon and Drake the tenderloin, and though he was sure both were delicious, he tasted nothing. All he could focus on were the male eyes on her, the way she slipped into conversation so easily as if he weren’t there, and the damn laugh Pete kept dragging from her pouty red mouth. It was enough to make a man homicidal.
During dessert, she moved her hand to Drake’s thigh under the table and drew lazy patterns with her finger. Each little swirl brought her closer and closer to DEFCON Five. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. “If you promise to stop killing conference attendees in your head, I’ll scream your name later. After all, you’re the only person I’m thinking about.”
With a casual blink of her lashes, she smiled and resettled in her seat while he did everything he could to not growl. Or lay her flat on the table. Visions of her stripping out of that holy-hell dress and screaming his name forced him to shut his eyes or he’d wind up with a busted zipper. When he opened them, she was making love to a slice of lemon meringue pie with her mouth via a fork.
Drake slammed the rest of his whiskey. And her champagne.
Zoe smiled. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
The guys at the table rose out of politeness. Drake didn’t dare or he’d be expelled for indecent behavior. Napkin firmly in his lap to hide his erection, he stared at his plate and thought through the steps of neutering surgery. By the time she returned, the orchestra had started again and people were mingling about or dancing.
Smiling, she set her clutch purse on the table. “Pete, would you care to dance?”
Hell. He knew she was only being polite since Pete was here alone, but Drake’s molars nearly cracked.
With a grin, Pete rose. “I would love to.” He glanced at Drake. “So long as my face will not be rearranged when we return.”
Unable to help it, Drake laughed. “Keep your hands where I can see them and you have a deal.” Zoe rolled her eyes and, as they stepped away, he called her name. “That goes for your hands, too.”
Mocking a pout, she sighed. “Damn.” She smiled at Pete. “It was worth a shot.”
Drake tracked their progress on the floor throughout the song, smiling at her vast expressions as she spoke, imagining the witty nonsense she was probably spouting. Never a dull moment with Zoe around.
After the first song, he met her on the dance floor and took her hand, tugging her to him and setting them in motion to an elevator version of Just the Way You Are. “Haven’t danced with you since Cade’s wedding. I think my heart pounded just as hard, but for an entirely different reason.”
She smiled up at him. “And why was that?”
“First time it beat in years. You have a way of doing that, you know.”
Studying him, her smile slipped a fraction. “You don’t have to say sweet things all the time or be jealous. You’re the only one I’m interested in.”
“I speak truth.” As for the other thing, he didn’t think jealous was the right word. Being around her gave him an uncanny urge to beat his chest and growl mine, but that was more territorial than envy. “I’m not sure where the jealousy vibe comes from. I was never like that with Heather.”
Her fingers played with the hair on his nape. “Probably because you guys started dating so young. Everyone kind of knew she was yours. Besides, she wasn’t a flirt like I am.”
True. He dipped his hands low on her back and urged her closer. “You two were very different in a lot of ways. From an outside prospective, it’s surprising you were best friends.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. Her gaze grew distant as she looked away, her expression indicating her thoughts had drifted into enemy territory.
“What is it?”
She shook her head. “She’s just a tough act to follow.”
His stomach bottomed out. He stilled their movement, utterly shocked this had been a concern on her part. “Are you worried I won’t love you as much as her?”
“Of course, you won’t.” Her irritated, vulnerable gaze nailed him. “You two were epic. Storybook. I wouldn’t ever expect us to compare with that.”
Christ, he was an asshole for not seeing this sooner. “You’re wrong.” He set them in motion again, trying to find the words to explain while he breathed through the way she’d wrecked his gut with her admission. Worse, that she believed it. “I love both of you with the same heart, Zoe, just in different ways.”
Since she’d lowered her head and rested her cheek on his chest, he couldn’t see her face to read her expression. But she moved easily with him, despite the stiffening of her spine. Breathing in her lavender scent, he closed his eyes and picked apart his past, his present, and found answers he thought she needed.
He rested his chin on her head and caressed her neck, her back. “Heather was a calming presence in my life. She was a pleaser and very agreeable. She saw only the best in people. There was quiet passion and gentle readings of the mind. We could sit in silence for hours and not feel the need to talk. No demands or pressure, and I loved that most. The simplicity of just being with someone.”
Sighing, he kissed Zoe’s hair and left his lips to linger. “You both have huge hearts and giving natures and fierce loyalty to those you love. The two of you are dreamers and romantics. Family always comes first, whether that’s by blood or friendship. Those shared traits are what I treasure, what drew me to both of you.”
His arms banded tighter around her and he held the back of her head, fighting an emotional onslaught as memories shoved around in his skull. “You, Zoe, challenge me. When I want to sit idle, you force me to look at what’s around me and participate. I’m constantly on my toes, wondering what you’ll say next and causing my head spin to keep up. No one can make me laugh like you do. You see both sides of the coin, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind in a world where most people would rather placate. You, honey, are a fighter.”
Closing his eyes, he blew out an uneven breath. “Same heart,” he repeated, “different ways to love.”
She didn’t speak or respond or falter in her steps as they danced. Both arms were still around his back and one hand was buried in his hair. Songs bled together. Partners came and went from the floor. He’d swore she’d left the premises if he wasn’t holding her so damn tight.
After he didn’t know how long, she slowly lifted her head and stared at his chest. “Drake…”
Enough. He took her hand, twirled her, and brought her back to him. “We’re not upstairs yet. Don’t start chanting my name. And by the way, you promised to scream it.”
She breathed a husky laugh. “I’m a woman of my word. Let’s go.”
He held her hand in the empty elevator ride up, his gaze focused on the numbers. “What color panties do you have on tonight?”
“Who says I’m wearing any?”
His head thunked the wall. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I never know what you’ll say next.” He paused. “Were you serious? About…”
Eyes ahead, she grinned.
Twenty, twenty-one… Finally, floor twenty-two.
She followed him to the room and he walked to the bed, flipping on a lamp and turning down the sheets. When he spun around, she was leaning against the wall, fully dressed, but with a pair of black panties dangling from one finger.
“Well, that answers that question.” He ate the distance and kissed her. No finesse, no coaxing. Just devoured her whole as he pinned her in place.
She shoved his suit coat off his shoulders and it dropped to the floor. The tie was next before she got to work on the buttons of his shirt. Untucking it, she broke away to look at him as she parted the material. Sliding her hands up his pecs, one corner of her mouth curved. Then the shirt joined the other items on the floor and she kissed the dead center of his chest.
Closing his eyes, he threaded his fingers through her hair and loosened the pins holding her waves. Once free, he combed through the strands while she licked and nipped every square inch of his torso. Fire seared his skin and his shaft throbbed.
Then she reached for his back pocket. She pulled out his wallet, removed a condom, and tossed the leather aside. Fisting the foil packet, she got to work on his belt.
“How’d you know it was in there?”
Belt…gone. Fly…unzipped.
Her hand wrapped around him and stroked. He lost all sensory above his neck. Pressing his palms to the wall beside her head, he leaned into them. Thrusting into her sweet embrace, he looked into her eyes, about to come undone at the seams.
“You’re always prepared.” She nipped his jaw and he let a groan loose. “And you were a boy scout, after all.”
Stilling, he shut his eyes, damning the thoughts invading at the most inopportune time. But she was stroking his aching shaft and kissing the hell out of his neck, so his brain detached from his mouth. “You usually prefer the bad boys.”
She removed her hand from his pants and he nearly wept. Lifting her head, she stared at him. “Is that a concern of yours?” When he didn’t respond, she blinked her hazel eyes. “It is, isn’t it?”
He ground his teeth at the stupid insecurity. He’d thought he’d gotten over it, but apparently not. “Let’s face it. I’m not the typical man you go for.”
Releasing a shallow breath, she shook her head. “Exactly. You always do and say the right thing.”
This conversation was quickly going south. And not the good kind below the belt. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, actually, you do.” She cupped his face, and the tender gesture had him curling his fingers against the wall. “You logically think through what to say before speaking in order not to hurt feelings. Every other sentence is a compliment intended to make me feel good. You’d lay down your life for your family and friends, and you love so hard you chronically tear a chunk of yourself away. Don’t you see how rare that is? A man in tune with his emotions who’s not afraid to act on them?”
He stared at her. Hard. Though he couldn’t deny what she said, it didn’t exactly answer his question. He might be genetically engineered to give a shit when most males were taught to bottle feelings, but that didn’t mean his type was what she wanted.
She sighed. “Bad boys are fun, but that’s all they are. I’m not here with them. I’m with you. Why do you think I fought us being together? My circumstances could erase happily-ever-after.” With a frown, she swallowed. “I wasn’t supposed to get you, so I went after the opposite.”
Christ. More internal stitches would be required if she kept this up. But there was his answer. He never should’ve doubted her in the first place.
Removing his hands from the wall, he set them on her thighs, shoved her dress up her hips, and pressed her firmly back in place. She squeaked in surprise. Grabbing her perfect little ass, he lifted her until they were face to face and kissed the ever-living shit out of her. Maybe she’d understand what she did to him, the power she had over him, or maybe she wouldn’t. But right now, he was going to take her like he’d been wanting to do all night.
She fumbled with his pants, shoved them down his hips, and tore the condom wrapper. Keeping her mouth plastered to his, she sheathed him and wrapped her legs securely around him. To hold her steady, he kept one hand on her backside and flattened the other on the wall. Then, he sank into her with a quick, desperate thrust.
Christ in Heaven. Yes.
Breaking away from the kiss, she threw her head back and let out a string of muttered nonsensical words. Moans, mewls, and panting. She clenched her fingers in his hair while he devoured her neck, throat, ear. Her heels dug into his ass, but he’d take the marks they were sure to leave behind. Let her brand him for all he cared. Encouraged by her reaction, he pumped harder, legs straining and back tight.
Judging by her erratic breathing and the way her soft walls held him in a vise, she was damn close. Burying his face in her hair, he drove into her for all he was worth. He’d never done this against the wall before, but Zoe was always so responsive, so vocal, he knew he was doing something right. Not that he had any complaints other than he might die right where he stood, balls deep inside the most amazing woman he knew.
She was devastatingly beautiful like this—cheeks flushed and defenseless to passion.
Without so much as a warning, her walls fisted him and yanked his release with shocking power and a side jolt of lights-out. A strangled sound shot past his throat. Lids tightly sealed and lips parted, she shuddered against him, rocking her hips. She arched and…sweet damn.
She did scream his name.