Zack Baker
Is That A Yes?
“From the magazine article. Thought we’d give it a try.”
She remembered number twenty-one. It involved a feather, the feet, and the man moving the feather upward in slow, circular motions…
“Number seventy-three was pretty good, too,” he said. She dragged her gaze away from the feathers.
“You do it in waist-deep water.”
“Waist deep?”
“You like water, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—“
“We’ve got our own private springs, right off the room. And you won’t need a bathing suit for number seventy-three.” He opened the drapes, showing her a courtyard, fenced in by the adobe wall.
Steam shivered from the water, billowing skyward, and potted flowers bloomed along the walls. In honor of Christmas in July, the two lard evergreens were decorated with white lights that glowed even in the sunshine.
“Zack, it’s beautiful.”
“You pleased?”
“Oh, yes.” Lost in the view, she also admitted, “Nervous, too.”
He placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders, and turned her toward him. “We’ll do things at your pace. If you don’t want to make love tonight, we won’t.”
“And tomorrow night?”
“Tegan, we’ll make love when you want to.”
“But—“
“Listen to me,” he interrupted. “I want to make love to my wife, want you to know you’ve my wife in every meaning of the word.”
His gaze dropped. Leisurely he perused her whole body, from her eyes to her toes. Even without a touch, she felt that warmth in her stomach again, a feeling her ex-husband had never been able to arouse.
“But I won’t do anything you don’t want. I know you don’t want to lose control, but I’ll still prove that you can give yourself to me without losing yourself like you did with Aaron. And I’ll tell you this, Tegan…I won’t make love to you until you ask me to.”
A hot chill chased up her spine, then down again. “And if I don’t?”
“You’re responsive and giving. You’ll ask, Tegan. You’ll ask.”
Her toes curled, knowing he was right.
“You touched me earlier, on the cheek. Like this.” He snagged one of her wrists and moved her hand to his face.
She stoked her fingers down the strong line of his jaw, feeling the subtle, untamed shadow already growing there.
“Now feel this.”
“Now feel this.”
She gasped, but he only moved her hand beneath his tuxedo jacked to his chest, pressing her palm against the rhythm of his heart.
“Just your touch does that to me.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, ma’am, I’m not. And your voice…”
“My voice? I was told I sounded like a nagging old woman.”
He actually laughed. “More like an angel offering a slice of heaven.”
“Now you’re teasing.”
“You think so?” He only pressed her hand closer. “Then why am I still responding to you?”
She was saved from answering by a knock on the door.
“Room service!”
“Be right back.”
He handed some money to the waiter, then returned to her with a magnum of champagne in a silver bucket and two crystal glasses.
”I can’t drink,” she apologized.
“It’s nonalcoholic.”
“Do you think of everything?”
“I’m trying.”
She was falling. No doubt about it. When he waned to, Zack could charm. He had that first night, until she’d lost all common sense.
She couldn’t all that to happen again.
With a flash of insight, she knew she couldn’t stop it…
After he shucked his jacket from his shoulders and draped it across the back of a chair, he loosened his string tie, allowing the ends to dangle against the white of his shirt. Zack removed the studs from the cuffs, then rolled up the sleeves, exposing his forearms and the colorful tattoos permanently placed there.
And she couldn’t look away…
He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses and offered one to her. He tipped his flute in her direction. “To us—the three of us.”
She clinked the rim of her glass against his, then took a sip. To Tegan, it didn’t matter that the champagne wasn’t alcoholic; she was nervous and giddy, tingly inside.
At Matt and Val’s wedding reception, she’d blamed the two drinks she’d had for her reaction to Zack. Now she knew differently.
Zack moved to the bed and sat on it, sweeping the feathers to one side. “Come here.”
Her knees locked.
He waited, saying nothing.
Long moments dragged.
Finally he looked at her earnestly, eyes open and honest. “I’ve already told you you’ll have to beg me to make love you to.”
“Beg?”
“Beg,” he confirmed, in that gruff, manly tone that scent shivers through her.
“That won’t happen.”
“Wanna bet?”
Zack in this mood might be her undoing, she realized. Charming and teasing? She didn’t stand a chance.
“Come here,” he repeated.
Her resolve splintered.
“Bring your drink,” he said, when she went to slip it onto the dresser.
She sat near him, her legs tucked beneath her in proper, ladylike fashion. But she couldn’t forget the feathers. They loomed in her peripheral vision, a constant reminder of what he wanted to do…
“You’re a beautiful bride.”
Looking at him, she laughed. “There you go again with the ridiculous statements.”
“I don’t make ridiculous statements.”
She forgot to breathe.
A frown burrowed between his dark eyebrows.
He was serious. Heaven help her, she’d never had a man think she was beautiful before.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb down her nose. “Perfect.”
She tried to laugh but couldn’t get enough air.
“And your lips….” He continued his exploration. “Perfectly shaped.”
“Thanks to lipstick and liner.”
“I’ve kissed off the lipstick and liner before, Tegan. Can’t fool me. I’ve seen every one of your secrets—exposed them all.”
“So you know my flaws, as well.”
“Yeah, like the fact you haven’t begged me to make love to you yet.”
Tension scattered to the corners of the room. “Told you, it isn’t going to happen.”
“So you did. And your throat…”
“It’s an ordinary throat,” she protested, clutching the crystal stem of her glass even tighter.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“I’ll bite,” she said.
“I wish.”
Tension drowned her again.
“Remember how I held your hand on my heart?”
She nodded, unable to forget.
With his fingers, he stroked the sides of her throat. Her head eased to the side, even against her will.
Zack paused, his forefinger resting on the throb of her pulse. “I can tell,” he said softly, leaning forward to scoop her hair into his free hand, “if you’re affected by me.”
She brought her head forward and met his eyes.
“I can tell if you like this…” He glanced a kiss across her jawbone.
“And this.’
He dusted his knuckled across her lips.
Her mouth opened.
She was losing.
His touch on the throbbing pulse in her neck warmed her skin, and her eyes drifted shut.
“Or maybe this.” He lowered his head and kissed the hollow of her throat.
She jerked and the champagne swished.
Then, with a whisper, he swept his hand across the front of her dress, her eyes opened to see that his were hooded. This wasn’t a game to him. He was serious and intent, and her control was slipping as she slid into dangerous territory.
“It’s a nice throat,” he said. “Very nice. And these rosebuds in your hair. They’re pretty. Can I take them out?”
Her mind swam.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
He needed no second invitation.
Bobby pins tinkled onto the bedspread, followed by the hairpiece Val had made.
“Much better,” he said, approvingly, his fingers in her hair as he combed out the layers, leaving the strands curling around her face, her neck. “Looks wild.”
“I’m not wild.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Plain, staid—“
“Anything but,” he corrected.
He was so close, not even an inch away. His scent engulfed her, that of mountain nights and passion, a combination that played havoc with her feminine senses.
He drew her hair forward, framing her face. “Beautiful,” he said, “no doubt.”
For that moment, for the first time in her life, she believed it, believed him…That she had an effect on Zack, a man most single women everywhere were interested in, staggered her.
Right now, he wasn’t making her feel as thought this was a marriage he hadn’t wanted, that she was only an obligation.
To stop the insanity rampaging through her, she reminded herself that if there were no baby, she would have never seen him again. This was a marriage for his convenience. Nothing more.
And yet a wayward part of her insisted he was looking at her as if he wanted her, not some other, nameless woman. Her.
But wasn’t the availability of sex one more of the main reasons men got married? Zack made it clear he was no different in that respect.
Still, he’d also said that if they made love it would be under her terms and she’d name them.
A hundred, maybe a thousand, conflicting thoughts dashed through her mind.
“I like this outfit,” he said.
“I didn’t want to wear a white dress.”
“You made the perfect choice. I remember…”
She said nothing.
“At Matt and Val’s wedding, you wore a black dress, a hot little number with an open back.”
“I’d just bought it. I’d never worn anything like that before.”
It was perfect. And underneath it, you had on black panties and not much else.”
“Zack!”
“And that makes me wonder…”
“What I have on underneath this.”
“Yes.”
Who was this daring woman? She wondered. She’d never teased a man, never engaged in any sexual banter.
“Yeah. So, you going to tell me, or do you want me to guess?”
Her nerve was running out.
“I’ll guess,” he said a minute later. “Give me your glass.”
“My glass?”
“I don’t want you spilling.”
Zack, keeping her off balance as always, moved away, then grabbed pillows and piled them against the wooden headboard.
“What does this have to do with you guessing?”
“Wait and see.” Okay, now move up here.” He offered his hands.
A few seconds later, she lay back comfortably among the pillows.
“Shoes,” he said.
“What about them?”
“They’ve got to go.”
She sucked in a breath as he tugged off the first shoe. His lucky penny fell out, and he slid it onto the bed stand. “I wanted to keep it with me,” she explained. “For luck.”
He smiled, and she was glad she had kept it.
Zack took her other shoe and tossed it on the floor along side the first.
“What…?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, but shifted until he was at the end of the bed, her feet in his lap.
“You’re peeking!” she protested.
“That wouldn’t be fair.” He started rubbing her feet with long strokes.
“You have all night to stop doing that,” she said.
“It’d be easier if you took off your nylons.”
“I’m not going to start undressing for you.”
“It was worth a try. White.”
“White?”
“Underwear. Cotton. Briefs that cover you all the way to your navel.”
“Black.”
“Underneath pale pink?”
“Good point. Bright red.”
She shook her head. “It’d show through.”
“Beige.”
She rose up on her elbows to look at him. “Beige?”
“Since you matched at Matt and Val’s wedding, you probably did the same thing for our wedding. You’ve gotta be wearing pink, Tegan.”
Her shoulders fell back into the pillows.
“So tell me about the panties. They cotton? Heart cotton’s the most breathable fabric.”
She hadn’t intended to relax. Didn’t want to. But she was. “You heard that, did you?”
“Read it in your magazine.”
“Just what else did you read?” she asked.
“I saw that in next month’s issue they’ll have an article on a hundred and fifty ways a man can drive a woman wild in bed.”
She’d bet a foot rub was number one.
“Thought you should subscribe to the magazine.”
“Zack, you don’t need any tips.”
He stopped, mid-stroke. “No?”
She hadn’t meant to say that.
“What did you like best that night?”
Her toes tingled.
“I’ll do it again, if I just know how you like to be pleasured.”
She was drowning in a sea of her own sensuality.
“Satin,” he said.
She frowned, trying to follow him.
“Your panties. Are they satin?”
“Yes.”
His growled response was low and deep and sexy.
She shivered.
“Tell me about your bra—does it cover your breasts?”
“It’s a demi-cup.”
“Meaning?”
“It barely covers….” She wished she had her wineglass, anything to hold onto.
“Your nipples?”
Instantly her nipples hardened and her breast felt full, pushing against the fabric of her bra. “Right.”
He started rubbing her feet again, but she felt the tension bunched in his thighs, heard it gather in his words. “So, is it lacy?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” he said, his tone scratchy, something dragged over an icefall. “Told you there was nothing dull and staid about you, Tegan. Underneath the exterior you show the world is a woman wanting to experience life—all of it. You proved that at Matt and Val’s wedding.”
He saw too much. Maybe that was one of the reasons he frightened her so much.
Zack kept up those incredible motions, then circled a little higher, to her ankles, then her calves.
The skin of his guitar-roughed fingertips snagged on her silky hose. “Sorry,” he said.
“You were right. I should have taken them off.”
“You still can.”
“Zack—“
“I’d like to help you relax, rub your shoulders, your back. But there’s no pressure, Tegan. Your pace.”
He was asking so much more, she knew. If she started to undress for him, she wondered if she’d stop... “Were you serious when you said I’d have to beg?”
He looked at her intently, as if trying to read her face the answer she wanted to hear. “No, I’d never make you beg.”
“Then…?”
His hand closed around her leg. “You’ll have to let me know, Tegan. It may be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, but I sear, unless you ask, unless you say yes, unless you nod, I won’t make love to you.”
Having that kind of power was equally terrifying and thrilling. She had to take responsibility for her own actions, couldn’t claim she’d been swept away, that she wasn’t thinking. She’d done that once before; obviously he didn’t want her running again. “IF I take off my panty hose, will you promise not to watch?”
“Tegan, you tempt me.” The words rumbled and a pulse ticked along his jawline. “I’ll turn my head.”
She slid from the bed, wriggled out of the constricting nylons and dropped them to the floor, next to her shoes.
“Are you wearing a slip?”
”Yes.”
“Then can you take off you skirt, too.”
When she sighed, he added, “Look, I’ll be fully dressed. How dangerous can that be?”
Horribly, she knew.
Yet the idea of a massage tantalized her. She’d had a full body massage once, and nearly melted. And this man was her husband. If he was offering a massage, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to turn it down. Bravely, before she could change her mind, she took off her skirt, then unbuttoned the long-sleeved shirt, a confection of lace, satin and femininity. She left on her slip and camisole, however, as if they would be any protection…
She rejoined him on the bed, her pulse rushing at the sound of him sharply drawing a breath.
“Lovely,” he murmured approvingly.
She drew a pillow against her chest.
“Turn over,” he said.
She did, feeling the glide of his hands, the way he gently worked at the muscles. After a couple of minutes, she forgot to be nervous. It would be easy to imagine he didn’t threaten her.
That thought vanished when he skimmed her inner thighs and then worked on her buttocks.
Warmth—nothing to do with relaxation—gushed through her, tightening her insides.
”Relax,” he whispered, as if reading her mind.
It was too late. She’d felt his touch, remembered her reaction to his touch, wanted his touch.
She froze, her nipples tight buds, her breasts heavy, her stomach knotted with anticipation and—heaven help her—demand. She wanted him, every bit as much as she wanted not to want him.
“Tegan?”
Her first time with Zack had been a one-night stand, her response unusual. So why then did she feel this urge to hold him, to ask her to make love to her?
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Yes.”
“Turn over, look at me”
Reluctantly she did.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m…” Dying of embarrassment. This was a culmination of so many things—of his gentleness, his intensity, his patience, his touch….It was about so much more than sex.
“Tegan?”
“I can’t ask.” She murmured.
Silence, unbroken except for their rapid breathing, filled the room.
“What are you saying? That you want me to stop touching you?”
“No.”
“Tegan, I didn’t do this as a way to get you hot so that I could have sex with you.”
“I know. I just didn’t know that I could really….that is…” She tried to drop her chin, only to have him tightened his grip. “I actually want to make love.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tegan, I’m flesh and blood. And what you’re saying to me is making me hard, fast. If you want to make love, say so.”
Telling herself this was only to make their temporary marriage work, she licked her parched lips.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, his hands shaking where he held her.
He wasn’t giving her any place to run or hide. And he knew how much her answer mattered to both of them…
Gazing deeply into his eyes, she said honestly, “Yes.”
The look he gave her, coupled with the slow, steamy smile, made her gulp.
“This is what you do to me.”
This time he didn’t place her palm on his chest, but below his waist, where she felt him pushing against her hand.
He desired her. With that realization cam a rush of power. She’d never experience anything like this, never imagined having the tables turned so far that this didn’t feel like a weekly responsibility.
He released her chin. Then, standing, he pulled her to her feet, slowly moving his hand to brush the tip of her breast through the fabric of the camisole.
She exhaled the small amount of breath remaining in her lungs and then reached for his tie, tugging on the ends and letting it swish to the floor, on top of her clothes.
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he said, snagging the hem of the silky garment and lifting it over her head….
She remembered number twenty-one. It involved a feather, the feet, and the man moving the feather upward in slow, circular motions…
“Number seventy-three was pretty good, too,” he said. She dragged her gaze away from the feathers.
“You do it in waist-deep water.”
“Waist deep?”
“You like water, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—“
“We’ve got our own private springs, right off the room. And you won’t need a bathing suit for number seventy-three.” He opened the drapes, showing her a courtyard, fenced in by the adobe wall.
Steam shivered from the water, billowing skyward, and potted flowers bloomed along the walls. In honor of Christmas in July, the two lard evergreens were decorated with white lights that glowed even in the sunshine.
“Zack, it’s beautiful.”
“You pleased?”
“Oh, yes.” Lost in the view, she also admitted, “Nervous, too.”
He placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders, and turned her toward him. “We’ll do things at your pace. If you don’t want to make love tonight, we won’t.”
“And tomorrow night?”
“Tegan, we’ll make love when you want to.”
“But—“
“Listen to me,” he interrupted. “I want to make love to my wife, want you to know you’ve my wife in every meaning of the word.”
His gaze dropped. Leisurely he perused her whole body, from her eyes to her toes. Even without a touch, she felt that warmth in her stomach again, a feeling her ex-husband had never been able to arouse.
“But I won’t do anything you don’t want. I know you don’t want to lose control, but I’ll still prove that you can give yourself to me without losing yourself like you did with Aaron. And I’ll tell you this, Tegan…I won’t make love to you until you ask me to.”
A hot chill chased up her spine, then down again. “And if I don’t?”
“You’re responsive and giving. You’ll ask, Tegan. You’ll ask.”
Her toes curled, knowing he was right.
“You touched me earlier, on the cheek. Like this.” He snagged one of her wrists and moved her hand to his face.
She stoked her fingers down the strong line of his jaw, feeling the subtle, untamed shadow already growing there.
“Now feel this.”
“Now feel this.”
She gasped, but he only moved her hand beneath his tuxedo jacked to his chest, pressing her palm against the rhythm of his heart.
“Just your touch does that to me.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, ma’am, I’m not. And your voice…”
“My voice? I was told I sounded like a nagging old woman.”
He actually laughed. “More like an angel offering a slice of heaven.”
“Now you’re teasing.”
“You think so?” He only pressed her hand closer. “Then why am I still responding to you?”
She was saved from answering by a knock on the door.
“Room service!”
“Be right back.”
He handed some money to the waiter, then returned to her with a magnum of champagne in a silver bucket and two crystal glasses.
”I can’t drink,” she apologized.
“It’s nonalcoholic.”
“Do you think of everything?”
“I’m trying.”
She was falling. No doubt about it. When he waned to, Zack could charm. He had that first night, until she’d lost all common sense.
She couldn’t all that to happen again.
With a flash of insight, she knew she couldn’t stop it…
After he shucked his jacket from his shoulders and draped it across the back of a chair, he loosened his string tie, allowing the ends to dangle against the white of his shirt. Zack removed the studs from the cuffs, then rolled up the sleeves, exposing his forearms and the colorful tattoos permanently placed there.
And she couldn’t look away…
He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses and offered one to her. He tipped his flute in her direction. “To us—the three of us.”
She clinked the rim of her glass against his, then took a sip. To Tegan, it didn’t matter that the champagne wasn’t alcoholic; she was nervous and giddy, tingly inside.
At Matt and Val’s wedding reception, she’d blamed the two drinks she’d had for her reaction to Zack. Now she knew differently.
Zack moved to the bed and sat on it, sweeping the feathers to one side. “Come here.”
Her knees locked.
He waited, saying nothing.
Long moments dragged.
Finally he looked at her earnestly, eyes open and honest. “I’ve already told you you’ll have to beg me to make love you to.”
“Beg?”
“Beg,” he confirmed, in that gruff, manly tone that scent shivers through her.
“That won’t happen.”
“Wanna bet?”
Zack in this mood might be her undoing, she realized. Charming and teasing? She didn’t stand a chance.
“Come here,” he repeated.
Her resolve splintered.
“Bring your drink,” he said, when she went to slip it onto the dresser.
She sat near him, her legs tucked beneath her in proper, ladylike fashion. But she couldn’t forget the feathers. They loomed in her peripheral vision, a constant reminder of what he wanted to do…
“You’re a beautiful bride.”
Looking at him, she laughed. “There you go again with the ridiculous statements.”
“I don’t make ridiculous statements.”
She forgot to breathe.
A frown burrowed between his dark eyebrows.
He was serious. Heaven help her, she’d never had a man think she was beautiful before.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb down her nose. “Perfect.”
She tried to laugh but couldn’t get enough air.
“And your lips….” He continued his exploration. “Perfectly shaped.”
“Thanks to lipstick and liner.”
“I’ve kissed off the lipstick and liner before, Tegan. Can’t fool me. I’ve seen every one of your secrets—exposed them all.”
“So you know my flaws, as well.”
“Yeah, like the fact you haven’t begged me to make love to you yet.”
Tension scattered to the corners of the room. “Told you, it isn’t going to happen.”
“So you did. And your throat…”
“It’s an ordinary throat,” she protested, clutching the crystal stem of her glass even tighter.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“I’ll bite,” she said.
“I wish.”
Tension drowned her again.
“Remember how I held your hand on my heart?”
She nodded, unable to forget.
With his fingers, he stroked the sides of her throat. Her head eased to the side, even against her will.
Zack paused, his forefinger resting on the throb of her pulse. “I can tell,” he said softly, leaning forward to scoop her hair into his free hand, “if you’re affected by me.”
She brought her head forward and met his eyes.
“I can tell if you like this…” He glanced a kiss across her jawbone.
“And this.’
He dusted his knuckled across her lips.
Her mouth opened.
She was losing.
His touch on the throbbing pulse in her neck warmed her skin, and her eyes drifted shut.
“Or maybe this.” He lowered his head and kissed the hollow of her throat.
She jerked and the champagne swished.
Then, with a whisper, he swept his hand across the front of her dress, her eyes opened to see that his were hooded. This wasn’t a game to him. He was serious and intent, and her control was slipping as she slid into dangerous territory.
“It’s a nice throat,” he said. “Very nice. And these rosebuds in your hair. They’re pretty. Can I take them out?”
Her mind swam.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
He needed no second invitation.
Bobby pins tinkled onto the bedspread, followed by the hairpiece Val had made.
“Much better,” he said, approvingly, his fingers in her hair as he combed out the layers, leaving the strands curling around her face, her neck. “Looks wild.”
“I’m not wild.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Plain, staid—“
“Anything but,” he corrected.
He was so close, not even an inch away. His scent engulfed her, that of mountain nights and passion, a combination that played havoc with her feminine senses.
He drew her hair forward, framing her face. “Beautiful,” he said, “no doubt.”
For that moment, for the first time in her life, she believed it, believed him…That she had an effect on Zack, a man most single women everywhere were interested in, staggered her.
Right now, he wasn’t making her feel as thought this was a marriage he hadn’t wanted, that she was only an obligation.
To stop the insanity rampaging through her, she reminded herself that if there were no baby, she would have never seen him again. This was a marriage for his convenience. Nothing more.
And yet a wayward part of her insisted he was looking at her as if he wanted her, not some other, nameless woman. Her.
But wasn’t the availability of sex one more of the main reasons men got married? Zack made it clear he was no different in that respect.
Still, he’d also said that if they made love it would be under her terms and she’d name them.
A hundred, maybe a thousand, conflicting thoughts dashed through her mind.
“I like this outfit,” he said.
“I didn’t want to wear a white dress.”
“You made the perfect choice. I remember…”
She said nothing.
“At Matt and Val’s wedding, you wore a black dress, a hot little number with an open back.”
“I’d just bought it. I’d never worn anything like that before.”
It was perfect. And underneath it, you had on black panties and not much else.”
“Zack!”
“And that makes me wonder…”
“What I have on underneath this.”
“Yes.”
Who was this daring woman? She wondered. She’d never teased a man, never engaged in any sexual banter.
“Yeah. So, you going to tell me, or do you want me to guess?”
Her nerve was running out.
“I’ll guess,” he said a minute later. “Give me your glass.”
“My glass?”
“I don’t want you spilling.”
Zack, keeping her off balance as always, moved away, then grabbed pillows and piled them against the wooden headboard.
“What does this have to do with you guessing?”
“Wait and see.” Okay, now move up here.” He offered his hands.
A few seconds later, she lay back comfortably among the pillows.
“Shoes,” he said.
“What about them?”
“They’ve got to go.”
She sucked in a breath as he tugged off the first shoe. His lucky penny fell out, and he slid it onto the bed stand. “I wanted to keep it with me,” she explained. “For luck.”
He smiled, and she was glad she had kept it.
Zack took her other shoe and tossed it on the floor along side the first.
“What…?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, but shifted until he was at the end of the bed, her feet in his lap.
“You’re peeking!” she protested.
“That wouldn’t be fair.” He started rubbing her feet with long strokes.
“You have all night to stop doing that,” she said.
“It’d be easier if you took off your nylons.”
“I’m not going to start undressing for you.”
“It was worth a try. White.”
“White?”
“Underwear. Cotton. Briefs that cover you all the way to your navel.”
“Black.”
“Underneath pale pink?”
“Good point. Bright red.”
She shook her head. “It’d show through.”
“Beige.”
She rose up on her elbows to look at him. “Beige?”
“Since you matched at Matt and Val’s wedding, you probably did the same thing for our wedding. You’ve gotta be wearing pink, Tegan.”
Her shoulders fell back into the pillows.
“So tell me about the panties. They cotton? Heart cotton’s the most breathable fabric.”
She hadn’t intended to relax. Didn’t want to. But she was. “You heard that, did you?”
“Read it in your magazine.”
“Just what else did you read?” she asked.
“I saw that in next month’s issue they’ll have an article on a hundred and fifty ways a man can drive a woman wild in bed.”
She’d bet a foot rub was number one.
“Thought you should subscribe to the magazine.”
“Zack, you don’t need any tips.”
He stopped, mid-stroke. “No?”
She hadn’t meant to say that.
“What did you like best that night?”
Her toes tingled.
“I’ll do it again, if I just know how you like to be pleasured.”
She was drowning in a sea of her own sensuality.
“Satin,” he said.
She frowned, trying to follow him.
“Your panties. Are they satin?”
“Yes.”
His growled response was low and deep and sexy.
She shivered.
“Tell me about your bra—does it cover your breasts?”
“It’s a demi-cup.”
“Meaning?”
“It barely covers….” She wished she had her wineglass, anything to hold onto.
“Your nipples?”
Instantly her nipples hardened and her breast felt full, pushing against the fabric of her bra. “Right.”
He started rubbing her feet again, but she felt the tension bunched in his thighs, heard it gather in his words. “So, is it lacy?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” he said, his tone scratchy, something dragged over an icefall. “Told you there was nothing dull and staid about you, Tegan. Underneath the exterior you show the world is a woman wanting to experience life—all of it. You proved that at Matt and Val’s wedding.”
He saw too much. Maybe that was one of the reasons he frightened her so much.
Zack kept up those incredible motions, then circled a little higher, to her ankles, then her calves.
The skin of his guitar-roughed fingertips snagged on her silky hose. “Sorry,” he said.
“You were right. I should have taken them off.”
“You still can.”
“Zack—“
“I’d like to help you relax, rub your shoulders, your back. But there’s no pressure, Tegan. Your pace.”
He was asking so much more, she knew. If she started to undress for him, she wondered if she’d stop... “Were you serious when you said I’d have to beg?”
He looked at her intently, as if trying to read her face the answer she wanted to hear. “No, I’d never make you beg.”
“Then…?”
His hand closed around her leg. “You’ll have to let me know, Tegan. It may be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, but I sear, unless you ask, unless you say yes, unless you nod, I won’t make love to you.”
Having that kind of power was equally terrifying and thrilling. She had to take responsibility for her own actions, couldn’t claim she’d been swept away, that she wasn’t thinking. She’d done that once before; obviously he didn’t want her running again. “IF I take off my panty hose, will you promise not to watch?”
“Tegan, you tempt me.” The words rumbled and a pulse ticked along his jawline. “I’ll turn my head.”
She slid from the bed, wriggled out of the constricting nylons and dropped them to the floor, next to her shoes.
“Are you wearing a slip?”
”Yes.”
“Then can you take off you skirt, too.”
When she sighed, he added, “Look, I’ll be fully dressed. How dangerous can that be?”
Horribly, she knew.
Yet the idea of a massage tantalized her. She’d had a full body massage once, and nearly melted. And this man was her husband. If he was offering a massage, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to turn it down. Bravely, before she could change her mind, she took off her skirt, then unbuttoned the long-sleeved shirt, a confection of lace, satin and femininity. She left on her slip and camisole, however, as if they would be any protection…
She rejoined him on the bed, her pulse rushing at the sound of him sharply drawing a breath.
“Lovely,” he murmured approvingly.
She drew a pillow against her chest.
“Turn over,” he said.
She did, feeling the glide of his hands, the way he gently worked at the muscles. After a couple of minutes, she forgot to be nervous. It would be easy to imagine he didn’t threaten her.
That thought vanished when he skimmed her inner thighs and then worked on her buttocks.
Warmth—nothing to do with relaxation—gushed through her, tightening her insides.
”Relax,” he whispered, as if reading her mind.
It was too late. She’d felt his touch, remembered her reaction to his touch, wanted his touch.
She froze, her nipples tight buds, her breasts heavy, her stomach knotted with anticipation and—heaven help her—demand. She wanted him, every bit as much as she wanted not to want him.
“Tegan?”
Her first time with Zack had been a one-night stand, her response unusual. So why then did she feel this urge to hold him, to ask her to make love to her?
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Yes.”
“Turn over, look at me”
Reluctantly she did.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m…” Dying of embarrassment. This was a culmination of so many things—of his gentleness, his intensity, his patience, his touch….It was about so much more than sex.
“Tegan?”
“I can’t ask.” She murmured.
Silence, unbroken except for their rapid breathing, filled the room.
“What are you saying? That you want me to stop touching you?”
“No.”
“Tegan, I didn’t do this as a way to get you hot so that I could have sex with you.”
“I know. I just didn’t know that I could really….that is…” She tried to drop her chin, only to have him tightened his grip. “I actually want to make love.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tegan, I’m flesh and blood. And what you’re saying to me is making me hard, fast. If you want to make love, say so.”
Telling herself this was only to make their temporary marriage work, she licked her parched lips.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, his hands shaking where he held her.
He wasn’t giving her any place to run or hide. And he knew how much her answer mattered to both of them…
Gazing deeply into his eyes, she said honestly, “Yes.”
The look he gave her, coupled with the slow, steamy smile, made her gulp.
“This is what you do to me.”
This time he didn’t place her palm on his chest, but below his waist, where she felt him pushing against her hand.
He desired her. With that realization cam a rush of power. She’d never experience anything like this, never imagined having the tables turned so far that this didn’t feel like a weekly responsibility.
He released her chin. Then, standing, he pulled her to her feet, slowly moving his hand to brush the tip of her breast through the fabric of the camisole.
She exhaled the small amount of breath remaining in her lungs and then reached for his tie, tugging on the ends and letting it swish to the floor, on top of her clothes.
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he said, snagging the hem of the silky garment and lifting it over her head….