Page 53 of The Sweetness of Life

We both know where this is headed and we both want it. He moves back between my legs, hovers over me, and my heart speeds up. His hands cage my head in as he looks at me and I look at him. I see determination and drive. I see lust, pure unadulterated lust mixed with a little awe. I see him, a man who was my enemy and is now about to be my lover.

“Zach,” I whisper, sliding my hands up under his shirt, wanting and needing to feel more.

“Shelby,” he whispers huskily, and my hands tremble against him. With that his mouth slams down on mine, and I arch up to get as close as I can, giving him everything I have. His hand finds me as I find him and together we pause at the sensation of being touched by someone else. He tucks his head into my neck and groans as I run my hand up and down the length of him. He feels so hot compared to the air in this room, and I want this. I want him.

Gently, I pull and guide him until he removes his fingers and brushes against me.

“Pill?” he whispers as he drags his lips across my face and back to my lips.

“Yes.” It’s barely a breath as I exhale, but he catches it and kisses me for what feels like an eternity.

Resting his forehead against mine, his fingertips move to my hips and squeeze almost to the point of pain to hold me in place, and then he fully enters me in one move. The force of his hips, the fullness, the weight of his body all hit me at once, and I drown in the sensations.

Slowly, he pulls back out. My breath catches, and my body arches underneath him, chasing after his.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, moving his lips down my neck and to the swell of my breasts where they’re peeking out from under the edge of my dress.

“Yes.” A moan slips through my lips as he pushes back in, taking us both to a place of complete bliss. Wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, I want to close all the space between us and feel every inch of him from head to toe.

He moves his hips into mine, alternating between hard and fast, slow and deep. Never have I completely given over all of me like I am to him in this moment, and I want it. I want it all. Anything and everything he can give me, I’m going to take it.

As I thread my fingers through his hair, his lips work their way across my collarbone, back up my neck and to my mouth. His tongue explores every inch and moves in time with his body. I am completely consumed by him and my legs start to shake.

Standing up, Zach’s hands run from my shoulders over my breasts and down my thighs. Pushing the skirt of my dress up higher, he watches as he moves in and out of me and repositions my legs so they aren’t around his back but tucked up under each arm.

Just seeing the way his hair falls across his forehead, the color high on his cheeks, his half-lidded eyes, and his swollen lips, sensations begin to prickle down my spine. The sound of his labored breathing, the way his hips fit into mine, and the feeling of him losing his self-control have me climbing and climbing. The last week and a half, the attraction, the buildup, and the urgency to have one another carry me to the top of the cliff. Teetering on the edge, my eyelids slip shut as I mentally spread my arms wide, and together we welcome the free fall, hearts soaring, adrenaline racing, indescribable pleasure.

Panting, Zach falls forward and braces his forearms on the table on either side of my head before tucking his face into the crook of my neck. Sweat from his forehead makes my skin damp, and his lips part as he breathes heavily. Running my hand through his hair, I wait as he slowly relaxes his weight against me. I realize I could lie like this with him for an endless amount of time, but as our heartbeats slow, the coolness in the air descends. I shiver underneath him, and he stiffens as if he’s suddenly lying on a bed of nails instead of me.

Propping himself up with one hand, he stares down. Blue eyes are still dark, only instead of the heated flame, they’re stormy and cold as they travel all over my face, taking in detail after detail. In many ways, this direct stare feels more intimate than what we just did. He’s searching for something, I don’t know what, and I don’t think he does, either, but I don’t feel that tender connection that should come after a person so freely gives themselves to another. I feel agitation and affliction. Uneasiness slips in, and I close my eyes so he can’t see how he’s making me feel.

Vulnerable.

He slips from my hold and yanks up his pants, which are still gathered around his ankles, as I fix my dress. The walls he’s thrown up to close off his emotions make me feel self-conscious, and instead of basking in the afterglow and this new place we’ve found ourselves in, I feel foolish.

“Shit. What was I thinking?” His voice is low, monotone, and cool.

What?

Embarrassment. Humiliation. Horror. No one single word can describe how he just made me feel, and all of them crash down on me.

I hop off the table and smooth down my dress. “You weren’t, just like me.”

He flinches and his eyes jerk to mine. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Yet he doesn’t apologize or retract it. Instead, he takes another step back, putting a distance between us that I thought had been removed.

I feel like this was a one-night stand with a stranger, and I don’t like it or understand it. We went from this incredibly intimate moment to him shutting me out. Staring at him, another unwanted feeling takes over and I feel used—something I swore I’d never let happen to me—but a larger part of me is confused. It takes two to make these moments happen, and I know I wasn’t in it alone.

Quietly, he watches me as he tucks his shirt back into his pants, zips and buttons them, and fastens his belt. Heat blooms against my chest and up my neck. I now know what’s under his clothes, how he tastes and moves, and it’s going to make this even harder for me. I know this isn’t going anywhere, but I allowed my heart to invest even when I knew better. So, watching his mood and words turn icy is crushing.

Tearing my eyes away from his belt, I find my underwear on the floor and grab them, fisting them into a tight ball in my hand. Zach runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath before pinning me with his remorseful eyes.

“Shelby—”

“Don’t, Zach.” I put up a hand to stop him. I can’t handle it if he makes another passive comment like This shouldn’t have happened or This was a mistake. “It’s fine.” I mean, he did bring us down here. He admitted he knew what was going to happen, or at least what I guess he was hoping would happen.

His brows pull low over his eyes as he regards me, and he tucks his hands into his pockets.

I never thought we were going to ride off into the sunset together, but I did think we’d moved past the split personalities. Just like that, he switched on me again, and my heart feels bruised. This reaction from him hurts, and my arms instinctively wrap around me—but then again, this is my fault. There’s a reason I have my rules, and instead of following them, I broke two of them. I mixed business with pleasure and opened my heart.