“No,” he said, putting some incredulity into it.
“It is,” Scarlett said. “And it’s so easy to make, I can do it other times, too, even by myself. Also we know how to do pancakes now, and French toast, and?—”
“And soup,” Duncan said, “though that’s not as exciting, and burgers, and omelets, and heaps of other things. The other kids help too,” he added fairly, “so it’s not just us.”
“They were a bit sad not to be here tonight,” Scarlett said, “but I explained that it’s a special time when you first come home, but we’ll be on the plane tomorrow, and then we’ll all do things together.”
“You did,” Skylar said. “You were very kind.” Zane raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled back at him. Serenely.
He loved his kids. He wanted to help Georgia with her bath and read her a bedtime story. But when they were all in bed and he was walking into his bedroom with Skylar and locking the door behind them? When she wasn’t smiling, and she wasn’t serene? When her chest was rising and falling, and her breath was already coming faster?
That was a rush so hard, it nearly hurt.
Five weeks was a long time.
She’d longed for him since the moment she’d seen him coming around the corner, pushing that trolley. When hiseyes had met hers across the clamorous arrivals hall, her breath had actually caught. But then there’d been kids, and dinner, and baths, and so much talking, and could his body possibly be thrumming with the urgency of hers? She was starving for it, but was he?
And then he turned the lock on the door, turned to her, tunneled a hand through her hair and gripped the back of her head, got his other arm around her, and kissed her with so much hunger, she could barely breathe.
His hands pulling the red shirt off her and dropping it to the floor. Not telling her it was his favorite and he was glad she’d worn it, but lifting the hair from her neck and kissing her there. His lips warm and demanding and urgent, and her hands on his arms, his back, reveling in the hardness of him, stroking and touching and still not able to get enough. Going backward onto the bed, and him coming down over her. Her hands pulling up his T-shirt, then wrestling it over his head. Turning with him, then straddling him, her hands around his head, her tongue in his mouth, taking the lead in a way she’d never done. Her hands on his shoulders, his biceps, and then she was kissing over the wide expanse of his tattoo. The thing she’d wanted to do since the first time she’d seen it.
His strong, curving bicep. His bulky shoulder. The plane of muscle that was his pectoral. Hands and mouth tracing a path, then moving farther down. Feeling him shifting under her as her palms stroked over his flanks, as she moved down to kiss his flat belly. Her hands on the tongue of his belt, and the rasp of hair as she pulled his clothes over his muscular thighs. His hands fumbling for the clasp of her bra, then pulling it off. His hands greedy on her breasts, then stroking over her shoulders, but she couldn’t wait for that. She was slipping down onto the floor onto her knees, then trying to pull him toward her.
“Skylar.” The first word either of them had spoken. “Oh, God.”
She wasn’t listening, because he was sliding down the bed at last, and she had hold of him and was going to work.
She wanted him to touch her, but right now—bloody hell, but she wanted to touch him.
This was going to be over too fast. He wasn’t going to be able to make it. He … She wasworkingdown there, and he should be the one doing the work. He should …
He couldn’t even touch her. Couldn’t reach her. But he could definitely feel her.
He stood it as long as he possibly could. All he wanted was for her to keep going, but if she didn’t stop, he wouldn’t be able to hold out. “Skylar,” he groaned.“Skylar.Stop.”
She did. Silence for a moment, and then she was backing away. He could see that, because he’d sat up. Rising to her feet, looking confused. Looking stricken.
He was on his feet, then, and taking her in his arms. Running his hands down her arms and back up then again, holding her face in his hands and kissing her. Trying to tell her. Trying toshowher.
“You’re brilliant,” he said. “Let me …” His hands on her jeans, pulling them down her body. She had to wriggle a bit, and oh, yeh, this was good. The blood was pounding in his ears, his heart was pounding in his chest, and all he wanted to do was pound into her himself, good and hard.
But he couldn’t, could he? He kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around him and said, “Zane. I don’t want … I don’t want tenderness. I want— I want?—”
Oh, bloody hell. He said, with about the last of his self-control, “Birth control. Are we?—”
“Yes.Yes.”She had a knee up and a leg trying to wrap around him.
A slam, and she was against the wall. A heave, and he had her thighs in his hands. A shove, and he was inside her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs wrapped behind his back. It was fast, it was hard, and it was almost too much. She was gasping in his ear, saying his name, and the roaring was louder now.
Hotter. Wetter. Deeper. But she wasn’t … she couldn’t …
Sliding down the wall with her, keeping hold. Getting her down to the floor, then coming down over her. From behind again, because he needed to, and so did she. Getting his hand there, and oh, yeh. The slickness of her. Thesightof her. That white bum. Those thighs. And the view. God help him, but was there a better sight than fucking your girlfriend from behind, when she had an arse like that?
She was keening now, then dropping to her elbows, the same way she’d done in Wellington. She must have stuffed a fist in her mouth, because her voice was muffled. He grabbed her arm and pulled it away. “I need to … hear it,” he managed to say, before his hand went back to work on her. Moving fast now, and finding the perfect spot, because she was gasping. Calling out. And, finally, tightening around him. Tightening, then tightening some more. Her body trying to buck, but he was holding her too tightly. Holding her hard. Holding her forever.
That was the last thought he had, because he was beyond thinking now. She was going up like a rocket, and he was right there with her.
Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.
