If I Had You, page 15
I had no plans to ask him the question before the words popped out of my mouth, almost on their own, and yes, it was the influence of the alcohol.
But I’m not drunk.
Just horny, lonely, and really wanting to see if the sex between us as is good as my memories let me believe they are when I allow myself to think of them.
Plus, after the dance in the studio today and my body’s reaction to Vincent’s similarities to Oliver, I want something familiar. Something I can touch and hold and that is all mine, even for only tonight; even if it’s wrong for us to do this in the end.
This might be, but tonight…after the day we’ve both had, I don’t care. And tomorrow morning, I probably will; Zach wasn’t wrong about that.
My thoughts are interrupted by the bed dipping beneath his weight, and within a breath he covers me with his fully dressed form, leaving me unable to escape as my body responds with urgent arousal to his closeness.
He presses his face into the side of my neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth before soothing the sting with a light lick of his tongue.
One of his hands spears my hair as he brings his mouth to mine without preamble, my lips parting under pressure from his. He growls when my tongue touches his and I wrap my arms around his neck while lifting my body up to rub against his.
We go from full clothed to completely naked with our lips only parting once during the whole thing when we both remove our shirts simultaneously. His skin feels hot and amazing against mine and in this the experience with him is all new.
Against that door, we were both dressed and this is nothing like when we were teenagers when he was less broad and muscly. I love the way his body is unfamiliar and different even though he’s not in the ways that count.
“God, you have a gorgeous body,” he says as he comes up for air, his words rough and husky as he grips both my hips and grinds his arousal against me.
I roll my hips, trying to entice him to proceed. When his clutch tightens to prevent our bodies from connecting, I laugh and respond to what he’s said. “There’s no way you can see me in here.”
“I don’t need to. You’re fucking stunning, Darcy, and always have been.” One warm hand leaves my hip and slides up the side of my body before closing over the soft flesh of my breast — definitely bigger than the last time he touched it — and he smiles against my mouth while stroking the nipple with the pad of his thumb. “Even more so with the addition of these stunning curves. I could play with your body for hours.”
“We don’t have hours,” I remind him with another lift of my hips, my moan mingling with his as he kisses me once more while pinching my nipple into a stiff peak in response.
He chuckles into my mouth as my arms tighten around his neck. “Don’t rush me.”
Rushing is exactly what I want. I’m desperate for the connection of having him inside me, stroking in and out while our mouths mesh in a raw and purely physical way. I want hot and fast sex, not a slow love making session. Not tonight.
Turning my head to the side, away from his mouth so he can’t silence me, I tell him, “Go faster.”
Then I unclasp my hands and slide one down his sleek back until I reach his hip, then go around to slip it between our bodies. My fingers wrap around his cock, and he groans as I stroke him up and down in the firm hold of my fist.
“You said you would give me what I need, Zach.” I pause on the downstroke, thoroughly enjoying the way he’s frozen in my grasp, his mouth having moved to lick and suck at the nipple he played with. I know desperation laces my words now and I don’t care because my whole body is on fire. “And what I need is you inside me, right now.”
He doesn’t move to give me what I want, lifting his head and using his free hand to grab my chin before turning my face until our mouths meet. Then, he grins, nips at my lower lip, and thrusts into my hand. “When did you get so demanding?”
I give him another squeeze, not answering, and relish the tensing of his body in my hold.
“Fuck, Darcy.” Both his hands land on the bed, one of each side of me, as he lifts his body away from mine a little and growls, “What has gotten into you?”
I release my hold on his dick with a snicker. “Not you, at this rate.”
Rumbling laughter, but no comeback. He readjusts, then slips a hand down between my thighs and pushes two fingers inside me. My gasp is lost in his kiss as he covers my mouth and curls his fingers to stimulate my g-spot while teasing my clit with his thumb. Over and over until I would beg for release if his mouth weren't preventing me from doing so.
He moves again, thrusting his cock inside me seconds after his strokes coax an intense and overwhelming orgasm, and his weight comes back down on me like an anchor meant to keep me from floating away.
My hands are seized, held above my head as he fucks me hard and fast as if he knows anything gentler is out of the question. He’s giving me exactly what I want and need, only to suddenly withdraw before rolling away from me and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Zach?” I sit up and move to his left side, finding his bare thigh and resting my hand on it. “Is something wrong?”
“I need to go.”
That’s a yes. “Now you’re in a rush to leave?” I move my hand to his cock, still hard and ready to go, but before I can grab him, he stands up.
Then he drops a kiss on the top of my head and walks away without replying, the swoosh of him picking up his clothes the only sound in the now pitch black room.
I’m lost, tears pooling in my eyes and gliding down my cheeks as the loneliness that went away for a short time while in his arms returns with a vengeance. Aware this is my fault even if I don’t know exactly how, I listen to him finish dressing in silence, and when he opens the door, I turn my head into my shoulder so he can’t see me crying.
I hear him say, “We’ll talk tomorrow,” before shutting the door behind him with a soft click as he leaves me all alone, just as I told him was best earlier.
Only now the last thing I want is to be alone, and I curl into a ball, sobbing my eyes out until they no longer stay open and I drift into my first restless sleep since Zach’s re-entrance into my life.
The next afternoon, I’m sore, and my mother won’t quit frowning at me as we sit in the living room watching cartoons with the boys.
Mostly because I look like shit with the bags under my bloodshot eyes; basically, my appearance for over half a year after Oliver died when I couldn’t stop crying.
She’s already offered to watch the boys three times today so I can nap, but that’s the last thing I want to do. Zach’s scent is all over my bed now and the desire to wrap the blankets around me to surround myself is as strong as the one to throw the stuff in the washer to get rid of it.
And he hasn’t messaged me or called. So many hours left in the day, yet it does say something because he’s usually sent me quite a few messages before breakfast is even over.
I could message him; ask him the one thing I want to know more than anything.
Does he regret it? Is that why he stopped before finishing and left me without much more than a polite goodbye between us? He was hesitant and yeah he could’ve completely turned me down, but I pushed him hard to give me what I wanted without caring about his reasonable objection.
Holding Landon close — he’s sound asleep in my arms — I turn the TV off and rise from the chair, smiling at Wyatt when he glances over his shoulder to see why his show isn’t playing.
“Come on,” I tell him while turning toward the doorway that leads to the hallway. “Lunch time.”
“Great idea,” my mother chimes in. “I’m starving.”
Wyatt runs past my me and my mother's hand on my shoulder halts my progress toward the kitchen.
“Go lay Landon in his bed, darling, and get a little rest. I’ll look after him.”
“Just go.” She cuts in over my weak protest in a stern voice I haven’t hear fr
I don’t have the energy to argue, suddenly more tired than I have been in ages.
After putting Landon in his room, I can’t bear the thought of going back to my own. Instead, I walk to the guest room and shut myself inside, crawling in the freshly made up bed with sheets that don’t smell like anything except laundry soap, and am asleep not long after I slip beneath the thick comforter.
The guest room has darkened considerably when I finally wake up from my nap, and I toss the comforter aside, eyes widening at the time flashing on the clock: five-thirty!
I slide out of bed and head downstairs, only to pause in the doorway and rub my eyes, but the sight before me doesn’t change.
What the hell?
Zach sits in the living with Rose and the boys. Landon cuddles in Zach’s lap as if he’s been there since the day he was born, while Wyatt and Rose sit next to each other a few feet from the TV, giggling at the antics of the characters from some cartoon I don’t recognize.
There’s total silence throughout the rest of the house otherwise, so where are my parents and why didn’t they wake me before leaving?
When I step inside the room, Landon sees me first and starts squirming, reaching his arms out to me as he babbles.
Of course, Zach’s attention is on me now too, and he rises from the chair with Landon in his arms to walk over to me.
Wyatt and Rose glance my way, both going back to watching TV after waving at me with big, happy smiles.
Zach’s expression is pretty neutral as he stops and hands Landon over, his gaze flicking down the length of me before returning to my face.
Landon’s arms wrap around my neck as he snuggles into my embrace and when Zach doesn’t say anything, I ask, “Where are my parents?”
“They went out to dinner.” He tilts his head in the direction of Rose and Wyatt. “She asked me if we could come over so they could play. I called you to ask, and your mother answered. She said you were resting, and they had plans, but she didn’t want to wake you. So if I didn’t mind…?”
Sounds like something my mother would do. She probably found it funny because I definitely would’ve preferred she woke me up instead of inviting him over without asking first. “Ah. Well, thank you. How long have you been here?”
“Just over an hour.” He ruffles Landon’s hair. “We’ve had a good time, haven’t we buddy?”
Landon giggles, peeking out at Zach before hiding his face against my throat like usual, and Zach shakes his head before flicking his gaze to mine.
“I ordered a pizza. Should be here soon,” he says with a quick glance over at the kids. “They were hungry, and that was what they chose when asked. Hope that’s all right.”
“I slept way longer than intended. My opinion doesn’t really matter considering it’s already ordered, does it?” He stares at me in silence, unsmiling, and I really can’t handle the aloof way he’s being anymore. “I’m going to feed Landon.”
Pivoting, I walk away, and he doesn’t say anything or stop me, bringing back all the unpleasant emotions from last night.
And although it’s difficult to hold back my tears, I do. There’s always time to let them out later when he’s not around to witness how upset I am at the way he’s acting.
So I focus on feeding Landon and then join them to eat when the pizza arrives, attempting to hold it together until we’re all finished, and he can head home with Rose.
Only it doesn’t happen that way.
Landon falls asleep in my lap during the meal, and after I return from placing him in his crib, Rose and Wyatt run off to play in his bedroom while Zach walks over to the sink.
“Oh, please just leave those,” I say as he goes to turn on the water. “I’ll get them later.”
He pauses, hand hovering above the knob, and sighs. Then he turns around, leans against the counter, and slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Despite the fact I don’t really want to talk to him, he’s here and watching me as if he’s waiting for me to say something, so I decide to get it over with.
Taking a deep breath, I cross my arms over my chest and ask the one thing that’s bothering me the most.
“What did I do wrong?”
His laughter is unexpected and the tears I’ve been holding back break free.
I’m not sure what the hell she’s talking about.
Figuring she’s joking, I laugh at her question, but sober instantly when her face falls, and she begins sobbing.
“Darcy?” I stride over when she cries harder and stop in front of her, helpless in my confusion as to why she’s upset. “Why are crying? ‘What did you do wrong?’ What are you talking about?”
Her eyes narrow as she steps back and shakes her head, taking a deep breath as the tears stop as quickly as they arrived. “You know what? I’m not in the mood for this. You need to go.”
Guess she’s going to make me work for the reason behind her annoyed disposition tonight. “In the mood for what?”
“For this!” She waves her hands wildly in my direction even though her voice remains soft and calm in spite of her obvious agitation. “This back and forth guessing game or whatever this is.”
“Then we’re on the same page, sweetheart because I have zero idea what the hell is going on or why you’re pissed right now.”
“Me?” She lifts her hands, palms up, while her mouth hangs open a bit until she snaps it shut and glares at me. “You’re the one who got up and walked out last night without an explanation.”
Now I’m confused. That’s what her attitude has been about since she saw me sitting in the living room earlier?
Trying to clarify, I rub my forehead, looking down as I ask, “What does my leaving — as I said I needed to — have to do with you believing you’ve done something wrong?”
“Zach.” She says my name as if I’ve just asked a stupid question, then continues on to point out exactly why she believes it is one. “We were in the middle of having sex and you literally stopped, got up and dressed, and left with nothing more than a ‘we’ll talk tomorrow’ before you walked out.”
“Huh.” Missing something obvious here, I lift my head and discover her frowning at me. “I’m not understanding the problem here. I give you exactly what you want and then head home, and you take it personally?”
“Oh, my god.” She covers her face with both her hands and releases a growl of frustration. “Just forget it.”
“No, baby, we won’t forget it.” Stepping closer, she doesn’t see me coming with her face covered, and her squeak of surprise as I press her against the doorframe is charming. She refuses to look at me as I bend to kiss her neck, then ask, “Do you regret last night? Is that what this is about?”
She scoffs. “No. I wasn’t drunk. I knew what we were doing.” I wait for her to elaborate on what this is about and she finally gives in with a sigh. “You didn’t….you didn’t even finish, all right? You got me off, and then you got off me and left.”
If I didn’t think she’d punch me for laughing right now, I would, so I settle for a grin. One she glares at me for as she finally looks up at me when I ask, “That’s it?”
“No.” She bites her lip as it begins to tremble. “The way it ended made me feel awful. Yes, like I had done something wrong. I wanted you to go faster, and you did, then suddenly it was over and no cuddling or anything. It was like you couldn’t even get out of the room fast enough.”
Damn. “I’m sorry you saw it that way, sweetheart. Leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“Could’ve fooled me. And then earlier, you didn’t even smile when you saw me.”
Definitely not smiling now as her words wobble with hurt, the last thing I thought she would be feeling after last nig
Her entire face flushes because she hadn’t considered that at all. “Really? You couldn’t ask me if I had condoms?”
She glances away, biting her lip even as her lips quirk up in repressed laughter. “No, but you could’ve at least asked.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, you gave me plenty of chances to slow down and ask questions last night.” Turning her face to mine, I press my mouth against hers and run my tongue along her lips until she opens them with a sigh, her whole body losing the tension I’ve no doubt she’s carried around since last night. I draw back then and murmur, “As for not letting you use that beautiful hand of yours on me last night, there’s not a chance in hell I would’ve done the right thing if I hadn’t left immediately.”
She sniffles, lifting her hands to rest on my shoulders with a sheepish smile, desire shining in her eyes. “I guess I forgive you then.”
“Yeah?” I grab her hand and drag it between our bodies, guiding her to the results of our close proximity while whispering in her ear, “Enough for a repeat of last night after the kids are in bed for the night, except with a better ending?”
I wait for her denial of my request; I’m prepared for it. Her hand rests where I placed it, her gaze searching mine as if she’s trying to gather the strength to turn me down amidst her internal struggle between desire and grief.
But she surprises me as only she can do when she lifts a brow, flexes her hand, and asks with a light laugh, “Did you bring something to ensure it has a better ending?”
“You planned this.”
She glances toward the stairway as the kids’ laughter filters downstairs and then back at me with uncertainty. “You want to spend the night…?”
VIOLET HAZE SERIES:
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