Maybe it was the cigarette smoking. The booze. Perhaps the cocaine he hadn’t really wanted to inhale the other night. Maybe it was the lifestyle in general—years of never saying ‘no’ to a single craving…
Maybe it was simply because he was wildly out of shape, having avoided the gym and exercise in general thanks to his incredibly fast metabolism and naturally lean, muscular physique…
Whatever the reason, by the time Zach reached the sixth-floor landing in Abby’s Brooklyn walk-up, he felt like he might literally die. His legs were burning. Air would not reach his lungs. And he was doing everything humanly possible not to keel over, gasp to catch his breath, or worse, collapse into a miserable, aching ball.
Abby on the other hand looked remarkably perky with her feathery breathing and slight glow to her cheeks as she bounded towards her apartment door, keys in hand and juggling her balloons and bouquet, having virtually bounced, effortless in her ascent up the six brutal flights of stairs.
“Keeps me trim,” she mentioned lightheartedly as Zach came up behind her, carrying her box of chocolates.
“I can see that,” he complimented as he followed in after her and took in the cramped quarters of her one-bedroom apartment.
He was glad to be here, alone with Abby finally in a private setting. Between signing the contract and having a rocky, albeit sexy, outing at Jamison’s movie premiere slash afterparty, they hadn’t gotten to know each other one iota, and though every cell in his body was screaming at him to rip her clothes off and get to know her in the Biblical sense, Zach was more than happy to have let Abby take the lead on this, propose they spend time in her apartment, in her world as she’d put it in the limo ride over, and gain some semblance of a less-than-breakneck-speed timeline to their ‘pretend’ relationship.
Though it had appeared cramped at first blush, when Abby flipped on a few lamps after setting her gifts on the living room coffee table—or was that the kitchen table?—the brightened apartment was actually quite cozy looking with a modest purple couch perpendicular to what appeared to be a reading nook set against two relatively large windows. The view beyond them wasn’t breathtaking, but at this hour with night having fallen, the buildings across the avenue twinkled, adding an amber glow to the softly lit room.
Zach felt a slight pang, remembering his first Los Angeles apartment, the one he’d lived in before he got his agent, before he landed his first commercial that led to him getting cast on #Blessed, moving to New York City where it was filming, and essentially finding himself on the other side of his very own rags-to-riches story.
He’d loved that apartment, as shabby as it had been. The way Abby was flitting about to make the space more comfortable, more presentable, the way her cheeks had flushed from slight embarrassment and not the six-story hike—it all reminded Zach of himself back in the day.
It greatly endeared him to her even more, something he hadn’t thought possible considering the fondness for her that had already been growing in his heart.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked from the kitchen which also seemed to be part of the living room.
She was standing with the refrigerator door open and when she began listing the options, he went with, “Chardonnay,” since she had already plucked two long-stemmed wine glasses from the cabinet.
“Excellent selection,” she teased, throwing her head back a touch and flashing him a flirty smile. “I also have chocolates from an interesting man who I think is trying to court me.”
“He sounds amazing,” he teased right back. “You should marry him.”
“I might,” she replied thoughtfully, concentrating on pouring the wine after which she tucked the bottle in the fridge door and joined him in front of the purple couch.
“Might?” he questioned, not liking the sudden waver in his ordinarily deep tone. He accepted the wine glass she was offering and cleared his throat. “To us.”
An apprehensive smile replaced the playful one on her face, but she clinked glasses with him anyway in cheers and they lowered onto the cozy couch, Zach sprawling out, arms draped over the armrest and back. Abby was perched on the edge of her side of the couch. There wasn’t a lot of space between them, but her body language told him that this might not be a flirtation-spawned foreplay visit.
Well, maybe not at first…
Zach was still Zach Canning after all…
…and Abby was still a woman who melted at his touch.
She fiddled nervously with the cross dangling from her necklace, took more than a few clumsy gulps of wine, then offered him another shy, apprehensive smile.
She didn’t know where to start.
It was cute.
So, to take some pressure off and break the ice, he said, “You probably want to lay down some ground rules.”
“Yes,” she enthused, relief visibly washing over her.
“For the record,” he cut in, needing to get what he was about to say off his chest, “I didn’t want to go off with Jamison and disappear on you, or do any of that.”
Her dainty eyebrows knit thoughtfully together in what appeared to be skepticism.
“Hey, I’ll be the first to admit I have vices. I’ve never lied about it and I make no apologies,” he told her because nothing was closer to the truth. “But believe it or not, I actually wasn’t in the mood to have that kind of night.”
Timidly, she asked, “What kind of night were you in the mood for?”
He felt a crooked grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “A night with you and only you,” he said softly and watched how the deep timbre of his tone washed over her, causing the rigid tension she’d been holding herself together with to ease and relax enough for him to notice. “A night that I was hoping wouldn’t have to end.”
She stiffened a bit, her brilliant eyes narrowing with scrutiny, as she corrected, “A night that would include a romp in the handicap bathroom of an arthouse movie theater?”
“Alright,” he began, prepared to concede immediately and admit, “you’re right. That was probably crossing a line. All I meant by it was that I would’ve rather focused on you and being with you for two and a half hours than watch Jamison’s over-the-top acting.”
“You seemed to help yourself when it came to ‘focusing’ on me and it didn’t require a trip to the bathroom,” she pointed out, grilling him in a way he kind of liked.
There was that grin tugging at the corner of his mouth again as he countered, “You seemed to enjoy every second of it, if I’m not mistaken, which was why I thought a trip to the bathroom might be called for.”
“Oh, I didn’t call for that,” she said, adding a playful edge to this arousing interrogation.
“My mistake,” he breathed, getting lost in the intensity of her green eyes, the soft shape of her plump lower lip, her overall chiding air that he found seriously sexy.
She was a very good girl, and he was the baddest of bad boys…
If Abby had it in her to whip him into shape and keep him in line, it might not only be the biggest and most unexpected turn-on he’d ever faced. This might very well be a match made in heaven.
“So, ground rules,” he supplied. “No fondling in dark movie theaters.”
She thwacked his chest, relaxing even more.
“Was it my use of the word ‘fondling’…?” he asked as if innocently confused.
“Why don’t we say this,” she suggested. “Let’s keep it clean for the cameras and whatever happens behind closed doors will stay private.”
“Behind closed doors?” he echoed and felt his brows spike up to his hairline. “Like how we’re behind closed doors right now?”
He inched closer to her on the couch and, after a moment’s hesitation, his large hand hovering over her thigh where the thin material of her skirt hemmed against her bare skin, gently touched his fingers down, hand resting then grazing her leg.
“It’s very private here,” he commented, his voice a growl a best.
He could feel the tension ease out of her. Her shoulders relaxed even more and the playfully stern expression on her face eased into one that could only be described as smoldering in a state of heightened anticipation.
And that was only in response to his hand on her thigh. What would those pouty lips do, those eyes; how would her sultry expression lift and flex and smile, as he penetrated her, he wondered? She was so responsive, he couldn’t wait to find out what her ‘O’ face looked like as he filled her tight sheath and kept thrusting and grinding until she climaxed all over his hard cock.
“More importantly,” she breathed, stealing some semblance of focus from whatever unspoken, sensual conversation was taking place between his hand and her thigh. She cleared her throat, blinked her eyes a few times, perhaps to center herself away from the tingles he was sure were dancing across every inch of her skin right about now. “I’ll not be made a laughing stock.”
That got his attention and he straightened up, looking at her with a fair amount of shock.
“Don’t give me that look like you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she scolded.
But he didn’t.
“If we’re together in the public eye,” she explained. “Then I don’t want to read headlines about how you cheated on me with some kind of rooftop bimbo.”
“We call them ‘starfuckers’,” he said, but she didn’t find it funny.
“I know all about Jamison Holt,” she went on in a tone that asserted he’d never be able to pull the wool over her eyes in this department. “I know all about his sexcapades and I feel terrible for his poor wife.”
“Who probably looks like a laughing stock,” he supplied, completely understanding her concern.
“I’m a person,” she insisted. “I’m a good person who comes from a good, hard working family.”
“I can see that,” he offered, but it wasn’t enough.
“No, you don’t see it, because I haven’t shown you yet, but I’m going to,” she told him hotly.
“Okay.”
She was getting emotional and it only made him want to hold her.
“Hey,” he said softly, getting her to look him in the eye. She’d been fiddling with her cross and sipping wine, her gaze resting unseeingly on the coffee table. “This might be a contracted relationship,” he admitted, “but it’s real to me.”
“It is?” she asked, hope thick in her small voice.
“It really is. When I saw you in The White Rabbit, I felt…”
He trailed off, unsure if it’d be way too much too soon to tell her how he’d felt in that moment, but if Zach was too scared to be that vulnerable, Abby wasn’t. She finished his thought, supplying, “A connection?”
“Yeah.” He searched her eyes for a long moment before going on. “I know I have a certain… reputation and I’m not going to sit here and try to convince you that I’m anything like my character Brian on Hashtag Blessed, because I’m not that guy. But I’m also not the guy you think. You want to show me who you are? Well, I want you to see who I am, too. Hell, I want to see who I am, because I’ll be straight with you, I’ve never been in a serious relationship before, and that’s what this is for me. It’s serious and real for me and I’ll prove it to you.”
Her voice was wind over reeds, “You will?”
Zach inched even closer to her on the couch, plucked her wine glass out of her trembling hands and set it on the coffee table, then slid his large hand under her gorgeous, auburn hair, grazing her neck, until he was cupping the nape of her head.
Her lips parted and the slightest moan—a mere breath—escaped.
Tilting her head so their noses wouldn’t collide, he drew near and pressed his mouth against hers.
Gentle. Soft. Unwavering. He held his lips to hers and for a long moment they just breathed together.
He pulled back and looked at her as her eyes heavily opened, her mouth still pursed. He caressed her cheek with his other hand, drinking in the sight of her and feeling what had to be the millionth grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and when she smiled back, he closed the gap between them once again.
Lips to lips. But this time he probed her, his tongue breaching between her hot lips, licking and tracing her velvety curves. He inhaled deeply, deepening their kiss and loving her feminine scent—sweet as wild flowers laced with the salt of her skin, all under a fresh blanket of citrus.
Another little moan escaped her, this one in protest as he drew back to again look at her. She was so damn pretty, he couldn’t figure out which he wanted more, to look at her or feel her fully with his eyes closed…
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“I might have to,” he groaned, feeling his hardening erection strain against his jeans.
“Why would you have to stop?” she asked so innocently that it caused his dick to grow even more.
He let out a deep, breathy laugh, debated cluing her in, and decided to give her what she wanted. She didn’t need to know…
But man, those sounds she was making, he thought as their tongues slid and grazed, lips brushing and pressing in a playful, deepening kiss. He hoped his inner caveman didn’t take over. Everything about Abby was making him primal, and if any more blood rushed down to his already engorged cock, there would be no telling what he’d have to do to her to get some serious relief.
“Damn,” he groaned, his kisses getting aggressive, forceful, hungry in a way she was responding to, her body warming and loosening to his touch as if she wanted it too. Needed the same kind of relief that only sweaty fucking would provide. “I want to pull your panties down with my teeth.”
Her moan swirled into melodic laughter at that and the next thing Zach knew, Abby was urging him back, her palms against the firm wall of his chest as she said, “Then let’s just talk.”
Awesome.
More talking.
It was exactly what any man in his position would want to do…
But for Zach, actually, it was.