Текст книги "Bad Boy's Baby"

Автор книги: Sosie Frost

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

We sat down at the same time—my shrimp and grits, steaming hot and delicious, and his gloop covered in half a can of parmesan cheese and patted on top of garlic bread.

He raised a fork to his lips. The clumping sauce oozed over an uncooked chunk of sausage.

Oh, Lord. My family prided ourselves on one thing. Southern hospitality. My own moral code included not sitting idly by while someone got food poisoning.

I smacked his hand and took his fork. Zach grunted, but I removed his plate and replaced it with a ladle of grits. I loaded it with shrimp and cheese. He grinned as I shoved it under his nose.

I sat down and tried to avoid his sea-green eyes.

And I immediately failed, but I didn’t mind. His impish green teased over me.

God, he was handsome.

He sampled his dinner, his smirk evolving into a grin as he took a big spoonful and sucked the juices from the shrimp’s tail. His dimples were genuine. A wonderful complement for a home-cooked meal.

We ate in silence, and Zach finished every bite on his plate. He didn’t go for seconds, though I probably would have allowed it. He dumped his horrid spaghetti and moved his dishes to the dishwasher while I watched him with my best attempt at cool indifference.

He nodded to the container on the counter and winked.

“Dessert’s on me.”

Dessert?

I abandoned my dinner and peeked under the lid of the gold cake platter.

A perfectly baked, 100% authentic, pecan pie rested beneath, waiting to be cut.

Homemade.

By Zach.

I thudded the lid against the platter with a crash.

“You prick!”

That son of a bitch played me.

Again!

He wasn’t some inexperienced child wandering the kitchen and tossing whatever sounded Italian enough into the pot. He knew what he was doing. And worse, he knew how badly he was ruining it!

And I fell for his tricks again. Only this time I did something worse than sleep with him. I let him sample my secret family recipe. I shared my dinner like he was a sad, hungry puppy, wagging his tail under the table.

For three days, I had stewed in silence. In thirty minutes, he made me crack.

His laugh carried from the parlor.

That pecan pie was about to get shoved down his throat.

…Right after I tried a piece.

Chapter Ten – Zach

Shay fucking tormented me with that piece of string she called a bikini.

She wore a tiny, pink tease that hid everything good, perfect, and holy in this godforsaken world. I remembered what it concealed, but that memory needed a refresher.

Goddamn.

How was it legal for a woman that fucking beautiful to wear a bikini like that? Especially near a pool! Christ, everyone warned about not running near the water. How about no wet-dream inspired bikinis? A man didn’t need a head injury to drown. One glance at her curves strategically hidden under the pink scrap of material and he’d forget to breathe on land.

She did it to fuck with me.

And it worked.

I tried to exercise, but a hard-on didn’t streamline me under the water. Just the opposite. One look at the most beautiful woman on the planet, and the blood pooled too low. I bobbed like a fucking buoy instead of diving deep.

Again, she didn’t care. She flipped through her book, letting the sun warm her perfectly mocha, temptingly smooth, mouth-wateringly tasty body.

Christ. I needed to get these last laps done.

I was behind on my training, even with my recovery going well and my progress better than anyone expected. The pool was the only damn reason I stayed at the mansion. After a couple weeks training in the water, I’d pass peak condition and return to superhuman, where I belonged. Just in time for the medical waiver’s required physical.

But I couldn’t do a goddamned thing with Shay taunting me. She rolled onto her stomach in the sun—pushing that perfect ass into the air. She rested on the chaise, but I knew what she liked. She’d deny it, but I felt it. She wanted a kiss, spank, or aching thrust. I’d do it too, if I wasn’t so sure she’d drown me first.

I kicked off the wall and splashed her.

She ignored me. Like she had been doing for days.

Christ, I hated that.

No one ever ignored me. My smile always earned a favorable response from the ladies, and a punch to the temple focused an insurgent on my demands right quick.

I didn’t want Shay pissed at me. I thought we made strides. She wasn’t in my bed yet, but we had a breakthrough yesterday in the theater. She actually selected the movie I wanted to watch on Netflix.

Love was in the air.

Laps be damned. I could think of a much better form of exercise.

I swam up to the wall closest to her and crossed my arms over the warm cement.

“Shay.”

She didn’t bother turning. “I’m napping.”

“Why don’t you get in the water?”

“No.”

“It’s no fun sitting on the side.”

“It’s plenty fun.”

I doubted that. A little bikini like that was begging to get wet.

Along with other parts of her.

“Just dive in. You can sunbathe on a raft.”

“And you’ll tip me in?” Now she did peek at me, her eyebrow raising as she considered the lengths I’d go to touch her caramel skin. She had no idea how low I’d sink. “I’ll take my chances right here, thank you very much.”

She returned to her book. Like the conversation was done because the little princess decided it was over.

Nope.

I hauled myself out of the pool, shaking my head to clear the sudden muffle to my ears.

Waterlogged. Christ, I was out of practice.

I loomed over her chair—a ridiculously expensive, imported, island-style cushioned chaise. Completely impractical for pool-side shenanigans.

Shay was onto me. She kicked as I approached.

“Come on,” I teased. “You look like you’re done. Golden brown and delicious, just the way I like ‘em.”

“You did just not say that to me!”

I scooped her into my arms before she could untangle from her beach towel.

“Zach, don’t!” She flailed. “I swear to God—”

“Come on, Shay. The water’s fine…”

I edged closer to the pool. Her squirming did nothing to free her. She only ground the best parts of her into the most flattering parts of me. Shay smacked. I tightened my hold.

“Don’t! Zach! I will never forgive you!”

That was a given. She hadn’t forgiven me for fucking her brains out the night we met, and she wasn’t about to forget that I was named in her father’s will. I’d take my chances on earning her mercy before Judgement Day.

I jumped. She screamed.

We hit the water with an epic splash that would have gotten my ass laughed out of the SEALs. The heated pool was still cooler than the August air, and we submerged in a blitz of bubbles and churning water.

Shay flipped her fucking shit.

Her flailing elbow jutted into my stomach, and her leg nearly crushed a part of me already too swollen for effective swimming. She panicked with the grace of a flapping goose and shouted under the water.

I touched the bottom and kicked us to the surface. She sputtered, coughed, and twisted before wrapping her arms over my neck and shimmying up my body to get higher out of the pool.

“Holy shit, Shay. Can’t you swim?”

I ignored the flurry of profanity. I probably deserved it for nearly drowning the object of my affections.

“Easy, wait,” I said. “I gotcha.”

I wrapped my arms over her, pulling her closer and holding her firm, well above the water. She clutched me tighter, slamming her chest against mine.

I wasn’t about to complain. She could bitch all she wanted, at least she didn’t dare raise an arm to hit me.

“You are such an asshole!” She buried her head in my neck.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t swim.”

“What the hell possessed you to toss me in?”

“It looked fun.”

“Get me out of here.”

I grinned. “But we just got in.”

“Zach, come on.”

“I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m trained in water rescue.”

“Who’s gonna save your ass though?”

“You’re not sinking. Enjoy it.”

Her nails tapped against my shoulder. “Nothing to enjoy.”

“You sure?”

I edged into water deep enough for me to stand. She hadn’t uncurled her legs from my waist. In a perfect world, she never would.

“Please take me to the stairs.”

“Take you on the stairs?” I glanced at the Mediterranean styled tile. A couple pool jets bubbled close to the ramp. “I’d never refuse a lady.”

“You are such a pervert.”

I was getting tired of being called that. “I said lady, not sister.”

“Zach!”

“You really don’t know how to swim?”

“No! Get me out of this deathtrap!”

I grinned. “You should learn. You never know when you’ll need that skill.”

“Like when an asshole drops me into a pool?”

“Exactly.”

I spun her around. She panicked like I tried to dunk her. My arms crossed over her tummy, and she arched, touching as much of my chest as she could fit against her back.

I liked it, but I wasn’t about to hold a woman hostage just to feel that perfect ass grind against my straining cock.

“Get used to the water,” I said. “I guarantee you’ll love it.”

I pushed her toward the wall. She couldn’t touch the bottom and freaked. I eased us through the ripples, holding tight so she didn’t kick an unfortunate area keeping us afloat. We reached the wall, and she grasped the edge like a cat shredding through curtains. I didn’t let her escape, only moved behind her and kept her still in the lapping water.

Pinned.

My arms stretched alongside hers, gripping the wall and trapping her between my bulk and the cement. She knew exactly what I was up to.

“This is a swimming lesson?” She asked.

I pressed against her. She didn’t buck me away. “Best I could do without floaties.”

“I’m going to drown, and I’m taking you with me.”

I laughed. “It’s all about getting comfortable in the water. Don’t worry. I won’t make you dive and tie military knots like they did for my training.”

I nudged closer. Her mocha skin glistened with droplets of water, and her delicate neck begged for a gentle kiss. But I was a gentleman. Shay was worth candle light. Roses. Champagne.

My gaze settled on the pool jet, positioned just right for a treat better than romance.

She deserved something more fun. Something that would reward her for not clawing my eyes out and tolerating the dunk into the pool.

I moved her along the wall, inch by inch. “If you give it a chance, you’ll love the water.”

“Doubt it.”

“Really? I always thought it was soothing.”

She snorted. “You like it so much? Why don’t you slip under the surface and take a deep breath?”

Oh, sure she wanted to kill me now. All part of the plan. In a few seconds, she’d be singing my praises. I chuckled and edged her a bit closer…

“Swimming is actually a very pleasurable experience.”

“So is kicking your lily ass—”

I nudged her in front of the jet. The bubbled force hit that perfect crest between her legs. Shay flinched so much she might have leapt out of the pool and taken half the water with her. I didn’t let her go. I held her against me. Hard. Her tummy pressed into the wall.

I knew where that jet was aiming.

“Za—Zach…”

“Now you’re getting it. The pool is nothing to fear.”

I grinned, but she couldn’t see it. I doubted she saw anything. Her fidgeting only trapped her closer to the jet. I knew that was a pressure she hadn’t felt since I dove between her thighs and lapped at her perfectly sweet, perfectly tight little pussy.

“I…Zach…”

Her words trembled. I chuckled, leaning over her. “The secret to all of this? You can’t be afraid of the water. Gotta be confident about it.”

“Confident…”

She shuddered. When a wave of pleasure hit her, it crippled her. During our night together, I clutched at her body as she collapsed into a helpless bundle of sensations and overwhelmed intensity.

Absolutely fucking sexy.

I loved it. Every fucking minute of it. My women always enjoyed themselves, but Shay made an orgasm into a religious experience.

I had to see her come again.

I had to feel it.

Three fucking weeks had passed since I took her. I’d held her. Felt her. Pumped my cock so deep inside her clenching pussy I thought her slit would rip it off, and I hardly fucking cared. Her taste was on my tongue, her tightness still tormenting my shaft.

Three weeks was too long a wait.

The least I could do was watch her crumble in my arms as I delivered her the greatest orgasm she ever had. Shay could ignore me all she wanted, but touching herself would never replicate the attention I gave.

Sex was an art, and I was the most gifted son of a bitch she ever welcomed inside that tight little slit.

And she made one hell of a muse.

“You just gotta give into it.” I grinned. “You can’t fight it. Got that, Shay?”

I wasn’t talking about swimming. Shay couldn’t hear me anyway.

“But once you get used to it…”

Shay murmured something. I let my hand trail over her arms, to her side, tickling her stomach, then lower. She didn’t stop me. I didn’t think she would. If the girl was wound tight enough to freak out over a bad spaghetti dinner, she probably needed this more than I did.

Maybe.

Not like I was sleeping well at night. Just down the hall rested the most unbelievably beautiful, challenging, and passionate woman I ever met. Living in close proximity was a fun tease, but I wanted more. A shared bed. Tangled sheets. Her whispering affectionate and perfect words instead of insults.

Her pleasure.

I’d roll over an IED for a chance to take her again. Fuck our parents’ ridiculous marriage. I didn’t care if we were step-siblings or not. I wanted Shay more than I ever wanted any other woman, and I’d prove it to her the best way I knew how.

My fingers tangled in the florescent pink bottoms. She gripped my hand, but releasing her hold on the wall only weakened her more. She groaned, even as she tried to bite her lip to silence her mew of excitement.

“I think you might eventually like swimming,” I whispered.

The bottoms pulled aside, exposing her puffy slit to the barbaric force of the water. But she didn’t protest. Her body shivered, shook, and arched against me in perfect pleasure. Her nails dug into the pool’s wall, but she didn’t move.

Just the opposite.

Her hips bucked.

Fuck yes.

She slammed against my hardness. I pushed, capturing her against the wall, shoving her into the jet, and grinding to hear her whimper.

I wanted to haul her out of the pool and shove her on her knees. Sink my cock inside that waiting slit and fuck her until she begged for more, forgave my indiscretions, and promised to ride me every goddamned night until I had to deploy.

She beat me to it.

Her orgasm nearly wrenched her body in half. She arched against me, and I’d have sunk to the bottom of the pool with her if I hadn’t caught her in my arms.

Fucking beautiful, everything about her.

Mocha skin, full, pouted lips, the ebony curls that clung to her body as the water eagerly lapped at her panting chest.

Her pleasure would boil the pool.

But I felt her get hotter before. Inside. Deep. Right where my cock ached to bury.

God damn, this woman was perfect. She knew how to writhe, how to tremble, how to come hard enough to rock through me with just a touch.

But now she struggled against the jet that trapped her body in sensitivity. I hated to let her go, but, at least she knew where she could get more.

So much more.

I’d worship the fucking ground she walked on. Kiss her toes, lick her skin, devour her pussy, suckle her nipples, nip her throat, and claim her lips with every passion I could offer.

If she’d let me.

If she’d stop hating me for just a minute, just enough time to prove I wasn’t the jerk she thought I was.

I wasn’t a pervert who wanted to sex his sister. I was a red-hot, testosterone-fueled man who fell too fucking hard for a beautiful face and harder for the frustrating woman who hid her passion, her happiness, and her fears behind a forced responsibility and layer of guilt. It wouldn’t bring her father back or fix whatever relationship they had. It made her hate herself and the fortune that she inherited.

I had to show her it was okay to be vulnerable.

Even if I couldn’t be.

But Shay moved before I could, squirming from my hold. She groaned—and not a good sound. I helped her to sit on the side of the pool. She tried to rise to her feet, but she stumbled as her strength still paddled in the water with me.

Shay was the type who needed to lay for a while, post-bliss, to recover. She was probably the only woman I had ever let cuddle me.

And I’d be the last. Next time it happened, she’d suffocate me with a pillow.

“Completely. Inappropriate.”

She scolded me, but she panted, satisfied, out of breath and ragged with pleasure. Usually how I preferred my women.

“It’s just a swimming lesson.” I grinned. “You did very well for your first attempt.”

“Don’t.”

“Wait until I show you my favorite stroke.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s what I hear.”

She seized her towel and wrapped it over her curves. Not that it mattered, I still felt the heat where she bucked against my chest.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “You didn’t even let me show you how long I can hold my breath under water!”

Shay grabbed her things with trembling fingers, though her body swayed and shifted now, more relaxed. I’d get that stick out of her ass yet—and replace it with something better.

“I think we’ve had enough poolside fun for one day.” Shay swallowed. “Probably a lifetime.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She brushed her hair behind her ear, but her smile hadn’t returned. “Yes. I do. I’m sorry, Zach, I never should have let you…we can’t. Okay? You’re my step-brother. I don’t trust you here, I don’t trust you with the inheritance, I don’t trust that you won’t run around and find some other mermaid to…teach to swim.”

“Give me a chance.”

“Let’s do ourselves a favor and forget everything ever happened,” she said. “Save us the heartache, okay?”

She didn’t let me answer, and I didn’t know how to fight to get her back.

My stomach dropped.

Here I was, pissing with her, craving a chance to fool around, having some fun, and sneak beneath her sheets.

She thought it was something more?

Save us the heartache?

She hurried in the house.

I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t, not when she dumped the entirety of the pool over my head and froze it.

Was she falling for me?

I grinned, watching as she slammed the door the patio behind her.

She could hide from it all she wanted, but one thing was clear. Shay wanted me more than she let on.

And I wasn’t letting her get away.

Chapter Eleven – Shay

Lesson plans.

Safe, innocent lesson plans.

They were time-consuming. They were boring. They were due at the end of the week so I could present something to the school where I’d be observing.

But teaching kids their A-B-Cs wasn’t taking my mind off of S-E-X.

I was new to teaching, but I knew that would get me fired quicker than if I revealed my step-brother was the object of my forbidden desire.

I groaned. Who was I kidding? I used the step-brother excuse to stay away from Zach. If I forced myself to believe what we did was wrong, then I wouldn’t end up in his arms again. That humiliation was the only thing preventing me from grabbing a pen-knife and notching his bedpost for him.

Zach was a player. He was an asshole. I had to watch my every word around him or he’d twist it into something sexual and promising.

Except he had the prowess to justify his teasing.

And he knew it.

Lesson plans.

I meant to focus on my lesson plans.

I bit my lip. I loved the education program, the prospect of teaching, and the thought of working with kids. But unless I was huffing the glue I reminded myself to buy, no way could I use phonics lessons to forget what happened in the pool.

I sighed. I once thought the shower attachment was divine. Now every morning I eyed the Jacuzzi tub.

Bad idea. Just bad. Humiliating. Regretted.

Delicious.

No one touched me like Zach. No one stirred me like him.

No one nearly drowned me in literal pleasure and whispered innuendoes in my ear until I collapsed in his arms.

And no one was idiot enough to bolt from the pool, lock myself in my room, and pray the bikini hadn’t fallen off as I bounced to safety.

But, for Christ’s sake, one of us had to be responsible, and I wasn’t talking double-checking to ensure I took my pill in the morning. We had to be adults. We had to forget all about the sex. Since Zach was a meathead who spent every available hour harassing me, training, or eating, I’d be the one to take charge.

We had to end it.

Whatever it was.

The games. The flirting. It was time to make a plan for him to move out as soon as he deployed so we could get on with our lives. I had four months until I graduated and received my trust, and they would be spent fully-clothed and respectable. If we had to act more like strangers than family, so be it.

But, of course, I checked my makeup before I went down the stairs. And my hair. And I wore a sweet little pair of panties I tried to convince myself matched my outfit.

You know, like how any girl would prepare to talk to her step-brother.

Zach hung out in the theater more often than should have been fair, but I let him have the room as I mostly occupied the library. Zach wasn’t watching TV or playing a video game. He laid in the dark and quiet, dressed in the t-shirt and shorts he used to work out.

He collapsed over the couch. His long, toned legs kicked out over the arm.

I hadn’t made an effort to hold a real conversation with him since the incident with the pool jet. I didn’t even know what to say.

Hey, sothat was better than drowning! Or maybe I don’t normally hump inanimate objects, but for you, I’ll make an exception.

I owed him an explanation. I knew we needed to hash it out like adults.

Hell, I probably should have thanked him for the mind-blowing orgasm.

Instead, I said the stupidest thing I could think of.

“Don’t sit on the furniture with your shoes on.”

Zach didn’t move his arm from over his eyes. He grunted and kicked the tennis shoes off his heels. One nudge of his legs dropped the shoe to the floor. The other he decided to launch into the nearby lamp.

“Oh, that’s great.” I stood the floor-lamp up, brushing the dust from the shade. Uh-oh. There was quite a bit. “Now we have boot-prints over everything.”

“Hire a maid.”

His voice muffled over his arm. He didn’t look at me while we talked. Fantastic.

“Do you really want a maid here?”

“Yep. And a personal chef. And a landscaper. What are you waiting for?”

“It’s…in the process,” I shrugged. “I have to figure out how my dad managed all this.”

“Easy. Open wallet. Pay butler. Let him oversee the estate.”

Couldn’t he see how weird that was for me? I wasn’t throwing money at a problem to make it go away.

…Unless it was him and the inheritance I planned to buy back.

That didn’t count. It was completely different.

“I haven’t decided on anything yet,” I said. “We can do something temporary.”

“Temporary?” Zach snorted. “You can’t take care of this house. It’s a full-time job, and you have the money to hire the army it needs to stay in shape.”

“But if I sell it—”

“Sell it?”

I flinched. “Well, yeah.”

He sat up. His profanity was a sharper bite than usual. “Why the fuck would you sell this place?”

He asked that question while sitting in one of the fifteen leather recliners and sofas positioned around an auditorium-styled room, complete with full-sized movie screen, projector, and arched buttresses decorating the ceiling.

“Because…it’s ridiculous?” I said. “Because I still get lost in the east wing? Because the upkeep on this place is insane?”

“You’re a billionaire,” he said. Then the asshole spelled it out for me, letter by letter. “This house is nothing to you. You should have two more like it in other places in the county, plus a vacation spot in the Maldives for kicks.”

“Don’t sass me.”

“This house is an estate. Size matters. It’s meant to be large and obscene.”

“You would know that best.”

He swore. Damn it. I waved a hand, collapsing on the chair beside him. He didn’t make room for me. In fact, he scowled.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I’ll take the compliment anyway.”

“I’m sure you would.” I picked at the couch. “I don’t know what I want to do with the money or the house. I mean, technically? I don’t even own it yet. His estate is paying for everything. My bank account has about five hundred dollars in it.”

“You’ll manage.”

“Probably. I did before. But this isn’t me. And I don’t think it’s you either.”

He snorted. “And so you can’t accept it? You can’t take the help?”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re crazy.”

I grimaced. “What do you care? You should be in the exact same spiral of shame that I am.”

He laughed. It wasn’t his normal, carefree chuckle. It almost sounded…angry.

“Please, Shay. Go ahead. I’ve heard it every day since I came here. Tell me why I should be ashamed of myself.”

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

Zach groaned as he sat up. “I’m waiting to hear how I’ve fucked it up this time.”

“Why don’t you get it?” I asked. “How don’t you see that this inheritance is all bullshit?”

“It’s legal.” A grunt accompanied his words. “You want to screw me out of what an attorney said is rightfully mine? Be my guest. Find a judge who’ll side with you. We’ll get it over with.”

“I’m not talking about you!” I pushed from the couch only to pace the room. “For Christ’s sake, Zach. I’m talking about me. I got all this stuff—the house, the cars, the school, the billion freaking dollars—all from a man I didn’t know!”

“He was your father.”

“He was never a father to me. He ran around on my mom, left my family when I was a kid, and only checked in on my birthday and holidays to give me money. He never loved me. He tried to buy me off so he could have a life without me.”

“So? What’s the problem then?” Zach shrugged. “Take the bastard’s money. He screwed you over for twenty-one years. Least you can do is get what’s yours.”

I gave up. “You don’t understand it.”

“Then tell me.”

There was nothing to tell. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted. Suddenly, an entire freaking estate was too damn small, and Zach’s presence entirely too big.

“Forget it.”

He called after me before I made it to the doorway.

“You make it seem like you’re the only one who lost someone.”

I stopped. His voice embittered, but I didn’t blame him. Not when he was absolutely right. He stood, gripping the couch with a trembling hand.

He didn’t look okay. Was he sick?

“Do you think you’re the only one who had a shitty parent? Think I wanted to be hauled house to house, date to date, man to man? You’ve never asked where my real father is.”

No, I hadn’t. “Where is he?”

“My mom said he was dead. A soldier. Died in Desert Storm.”

I swallowed. “Is that why you…?”

“Became a SEAL? Yeah. Felt like it was in my blood. Serve the country. Do some good.” He arched an eyebrow. “Except I’m twenty-four years old, and Desert Storm ended twenty-five years ago. Mom was never good at math.”

“Oh.” I softened my voice. “Did you ever find out who he was?”

“Don’t know. He was probably just some screw she had. She was good for fucking around like that. She tossed herself man-to-man looking for someone to take care of her. She married three times before shacking up with your dad.”

“Wow.”

“Six years ago, I came home from basic training and she tried to hide a black eye. I kicked my step-father’s ass from one side of the house to the other, but she defended him. Took her three more months of him beating on her before the money ran dry. I got her out of there, she met your dad, and the rest…” He shrugged. “At least he never hit her.”

“No. He wouldn’t have.”

Zach held my stare. “Don’t pretend like you’re some lost little lamb in the world. You want to feel guilty? Feel guilty. You want to feel sad you didn’t know him better? Fine. But don’t front a holier-than-thou attitude, Shay. I’m not in the mood.”

I bristled. Only Momma ever took that tone with me. I wasn’t sure I liked it coming from Zach. He wasn’t exactly shining his perfect halo.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about my behavior,” I said. “Not after what you did.”

Zach waved his arms wide. “God help the next man who thinks you’re attractive. Two forms of ID, a credit check, and proof of his family tree before he gets in your pants.”

“I should have known what type of guy you were when you introduced yourself.”

“And what type of guy is that?”

“I don’t know, Hard, why don’t you tell me? Find a girl in the bar, take her home?”

His eyes darkened, a deep jade that looked colder and less inviting than his usual conquesting smirk. His voice rumbled, rough and impatient. Everything about Zach morphed before my eyes. This wasn’t the carefree charmer from the pool.

I really pissed him off.  I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t like that it happened.

Why did it hurt so much to have him mad at me?

None of this made sense, and that was exactly the reason getting closer to Zach would be a bad idea. We’d end it before the Disney birds started tweeting and my heart fluttering. A crazy part of me actually liked his idea of a house in the Maldives, a place where no one knew us. Just me. Him. A sunset. Solitude and peace and absolutely no responsibility to anyone but ourselves.

Did I deserve that slice of paradise? Did Zach deserve to wake up from a nap so I could call him out for being a man-whore?

I meant to set a line in the sand. Instead, we ended up bearing our souls. Then again, I bared enough of my body to him. At least now I was seeing what made Zach, Zach. And I almost liked it.

Almost.

“You know.” Zach took an unsteady breath. “I did meet a girl at the bar. I did take her home. And she was the best goddamned fuck I ever had.”

“Zach—”

“And yes, I regretted every minute I didn’t tell her who I was. I regret it more now that she’s pissed as fuck at me and I ruined my chances with her. But Shay?” He leaned close. “You might believe it of me, but I didn’t think you were any particular type of girl.”

I looked away. He didn’t care.

“I didn’t judge you, even though you sure as hell assumed I was some shady player looking to score. I thought I was the luckiest bastard in the world to spend the night with someone so goddamned beautiful.”

I stilled. His voice only hardened.

“I didn’t think you were a slut because you found a guy to fuck,” he said, watching me flinch at the word. “But you’re sure as hell acting like a bitch now.”

The insult hurt, worse than I ever imagined. Especially coming from a man whose opinion had somehow started to matter.