Shaken (9 page)

“You know, some women would appreciate my fondness for their ass. And, seriously, yours is sweet, round, and has just the right amount of curve for a man to hold onto.” He grew steadily harder while they talked. Just imagining her bent over so he could stroke her ass while he slid his cock into her hot pussy waved a red flag in front of his libido.

Lying lengthwise, Zip propped her chin in her hands and watched him critically in the mirror. Her cheeks were scarlet, a shade he’d begun to think might be permanent, particularly after they had sex on her dining room table. The memory of her mortified, this was my grandmother’s comment brought a fresh, tangled wave of humor, affection, and lust.

“I’m not some women.” Her eyebrows rose in challenge, and he kissed the skin he’d just smacked.

“No, you’re not. In fact, you make a mean lasagna, and I have to say it’s the second best thing I’ve had in this bed.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm.” He removed the plate and placed it on the nightstand. “Definitely the second, but, if you’re skeptical, let me share with you the best thing.”

Her laughter shimmied through him. He flipped her over and ran his tongue down her belly to lick her clit. She was swollen and wet, as eager for him as he for her. The heady combination of relaxation and lust rolled through his mind.

Somehow, every time he touched her, his craving for her increased.

****

Ten a.m. Sunday

Zip rested on an elbow and studied the length of his slumbering body. Sometime in the night, they’d kicked off all the blankets. He appeared so sweet and relaxed, one arm across his eyes and the other flung out where she’d been sleeping against him. He didn’t hog the bed; if anything, he enclosed her and kept her snuggled to his side. She’d drifted off, pillowed on his chest, the rush and bump of his heart rate and deep breaths lulling her.

Skating her hand lightly over his skin, she followed the musculature down to his waist and then skimmed to his hips. Two nights before, she’d curled up in her fuzzy socks, thick pajamas and passed out to the late night chatter of Letterman, but she’d only been half as comfortable as she had been three hours earlier when she’d fallen asleep with Tony.

His cock twitched under her light touch. She stole a glance up at his closed eyes—he was still asleep. His breathing sounded deep and regular. Scooting carefully lower on the bed, she brushed her fingers along the semi-flaccid shaft. It quivered with each brush along his length. She explored the contours of the head, thumb flicking lightly over the slit at the tip.

The skin hardened and thickened under the gentlest of caresses. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. Every time they’d come together, she’d been too preoccupied by what he was doing to her to play with him. A drop of moisture beaded along the slit.

Stealing another peek along his slumbering length, she considered indulging the naughty feeling sweeping over her. Pushing the hair away from her face, she dipped closer for a taste. Salty and sweet swirled over her tongue. The rich masculine scent of him clung to her nostrils as she ran her tongue from the tip to the base. A low groan stirred his body, and she felt, more than saw, his hips flex.

His cock lengthened under her touch into the long, throbbing member that gave her such enormous pleasure. She continued to lick her way to his sac and teased it with nibbling kisses before gliding upward to pull him into her mouth.

Wild heat tingled in her blood and skittered over her skin. Inch by delicious inch, she worked her mouth over him, gripping the base. He was too huge to take all the way, but it didn’t stop her from licking and sucking in a generous pulsing motion. She squeezed lightly while she bobbed along his length.

One moment he shifted restlessly, and the next he went rigid, thrusting his hands into her hair. Every pull drew his orgasm closer; she felt it in the way his veins began to pop out on his cock and the increasing stiffness.

With effort, she managed to take him deeper. The head collided with the back of her throat, and she swallowed to refrain from gagging. His back bowed, and she increased her pace but maintained the same intensity, desperate to feel him come. She wanted to taste him, suck him clean, and, when his body shook, she braced for the hot seed shooting into her mouth.

It was so much saltier than she expected, but also sweeter, and it tasted like his scent, so exclusively Tony. She swallowed, licked, and sucked until he shuddered into stillness. Lifting her head, she found his eyes, dark with desire and pleasure, staring at her.

His fingers in her hair gentled, brushing her cheek, and he levered to a sitting position. The vague tremble in his hands and arms sent a wave of delight through her. He turned her into mush, and she loved that she did the same to him. Gathering her in his arms, he dragged her close and gave her a fierce squeeze.

“I needed to do that,” she murmured, rubbing her nose lightly against his hard muscle and nuzzling kisses to his flesh.

“Thank you.” The words shook with emotion. “I promise to return the favor very shortly.”

Arousal speared through her. Two days earlier, she could only fantasize about the sexy bartender, his heartbreaking smile and gorgeous eyes. None of those compared to the reality.

Four p.m. Sunday

“Sixty-three thousand, three hundred and sixty inches.” Zip chewed her lip. “Four letters….”

“Mile.” Tony carried in two plates sporting sections of lasagna, toast, and fried eggs. The weirdest breakfast she’d ever contemplated at four in the afternoon, but it smelled delicious.

“I love that you love the Sunday crossword, too.” They’d slept and made love all afternoon until Tony picked her up and carried her into her tiny shower. Then they’d soaped and played in the four-foot space, constantly rubbing each other. Finally dressed—she in an oversized T-shirt and thick, fuzzy socks, while he’d dragged on his pants—they’d retreated from the bedroom to refuel.

He set the plates on the coffee table and plucked her feet out of the chair then sat and tucked them in his lap. It was cozy, and a little bit sexy for all its domesticity.

“Two down, starts with an
I
, five letters.
Hang one’s head, e.g.
” She studied the phrase.

“Open up,” he ordered, holding a forkful of lasagna out, and she sat forward to accept the bite. She could so get used to this.

“Idiom,” she said.

“No, I just love your mouth.” He grinned, and she laughed.

“No, the word, not you. I think you’re fantastic.”

He waggled his eyebrows and cut a section of the food. “Three down is lapse.”

“Five letters starts with an
L
and means memory gap. So, how can we have a lapse in judgment?”

“Maybe a lapse in judgment is a willing memory gap where your judgment used to be.”

Zip snorted. She divided her time between eating the bites Tony fed her and sharing the puzzle. “This is great, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I know. I just hate that we’re going to have to stop tonight.”

Her heart jerked in her chest. “Why?”

“Because you have to work in the morning. I can’t spend all night keeping you awake and send you off to work exhausted.”

Ugh
.
Work.
“To be independently wealthy.” She toasted him with her coffee mug.

“We’d be bored. You thrive on being in the thick of things even when you complain about people’s receipts.”

The insight surprised her. She did get aggravated by the poor bookkeeping of her clients; especially those who didn’t want to use her services more than once a year at tax time. But she also enjoyed the challenge of bringing order to chaos.

“How do you know that?”

“I pay attention, Miss Zip. And I’ve been paying attention to you for a year. When you’re not reading a book while waiting for your girls, you’re working. You get this sexy little smile on your face when you’re poring through receipts and stacking them in whatever order you’ve deemed necessary.”

She widened her eyes at the description, her cheeks heating. “I don’t think I’d ever have called taxes sexy.”

“I wasn’t. I called
you
sexy. You’re the sexiest accountant I’ve ever seen.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Giordano.”

“Three letter word for vibrant, light shining.”

Tingles shivered over her skin. “Any letters revealed.”

“Z is the first.”

The affection simmering in her blood wrapped lazily around her heart. “Zip.”

“Oh, yeah.”

****

Six-thirty a.m. Monday

“I don’t have time to eat.” Zip slid her heels into the backpack, checked her receipts, book, and laptop. She’d barely looked at her work since Tony arrived at one-thirty Sunday morning. She’d be buried all day if she hoped to make the three o’clock meeting.

“Yes, you do.” Tony held up a piece of toast enticingly, and she took a bite. He was dressed in his work slacks and shirt, his own bag stationed at the door. She’d rushed through getting ready. Her body ached from his wake-up call, and her sex was sore in a wonderfully, swollen and used fashion. She was already aggravated with all the clothes she’d put on, including the sexy little black bra Tony had insisted she wear after he’d caught sight of it.

Stiffer than her usual choices, the lace added to the friction on her nipples. She reveled at the sweet kiss he gave her before feeding her another bite.

“You’re going to spoil me.” After swallowing the toast, she plucked her coffee cup and took another long drink. She had ten minutes to get to the train and then another thirty-five before she’d be in the office. That would give her an hour before the weekly Monday morning, kick-off meeting.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He grabbed her coat and stuffed the corner of the toast into her mouth. Holding it with her teeth, she let him help her into the jacket. He donned his own coat and shoes.

“It’s not.” She tried to push the words around the toast, grumbling until her jacket was buttoned and she could take her bite. “I’m just used to running and someone made me oversleep.”

“We weren’t sleeping.” He grinned without a hint of repentance. “It’s going to be hours until you’re free again.”

Her tummy did a little flip. “You want to come over again?”

“Am I overstepping if I say I planned to grab some Chinese and meet you here at five-thirty?”

“Absolutely not.”

“All right, then.” He scooped up her bags and pointed to the toast. “Eat. I’ll walk you to the train because I need to run by my place today, too, so I thought I’d ride to Midtown with you.”

She didn’t quite dance down the frosty steps, but her heart definitely bounced.

Noon, Monday

Tony shifted in the seat. He’d made it to his place, changed, and packed a bag with fresh clothes. Giving into the wild impulse, he planned to spend the rest of the week with Zip. Hopefully she’d feel the same way, but if not—he looked forward to persuading her. Driven by need and desire, he still felt right.

Almost too damn right.

Sitting in the corner café, waiting for Simmons, also felt right. He didn’t begrudge the wealthy man his desire to talk, or his part in the Robin nightmare. Still, he could be handling the situation differently. Maybe that was the reason for the meeting….

“Tony.”

“Nolan.” Tony stood and held out a hand. It was an automatic gesture, one that Nolan Simmons mirrored. The man gripped his hand easily, and they shared a quick shake. Though the other man was taller, Tony made up for the height discrepancy in bulk. A lean man, Nolan didn’t appear remotely effeminate. One of his co-workers referred to Nolan as metrosexual, but Tony found the guy to be fairly normal.

Despite the twenty zeroes in his bank account balance.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“It seemed to be the thing to do.” Tony nodded, but went quiet when the waitress came by for their order. Nolan ordered a fruity sports water; Tony stuck to the plain water. They both asked for roast beef sandwiches.

“First, I want to apologize again for sleeping with your girl. It wasn’t cool; in fact, it was a bastard thing to do. My only excuse is that, three years ago, I was a hell of a lot more interested in a good time than the right thing.”

“Okay.” Admittedly, Robin’s confession had stung. But more because she’d said Lindsey, his sweet baby, wasn’t his. Not because Robin had played toy for the billionaire.

“You’re taking this a hell of a lot better than I would.” Nolan’s brow furrowed. “Not that I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Three years ago, I would have punched you in the face. It doesn’t really matter now, except for….”

“Yeah, your little girl.” The man sighed. His choice of words alerted Tony. He didn’t say
my
, but
your
. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Robin’s attorney filed a paternity suit, and she’s asking for a hell of a lot of money.”

“I’m not really sure you should be talking to me about this.”

Nolan paused until after the waitress delivered their drinks and sandwiches. The lunch crowd filled out the place, but their table seemed bubbled against the hum of noise.

“Actually, I’m talking to you about this because you’re Lindsey’s father. Robin wants ten-million dollars in back child support and an ongoing stipend.”

Holy shit.
The last he’d heard, Robin wanted to reunite—or maybe just unite with Nolan. “I take it the two of you aren’t working out?”

“She was a weekend lay, man. A good time for a spoiled kid used to taking what he wanted, when he wanted it. We ran into each other a few months ago when I handled the publicity for the endowment of the Queen’s Bridge Park project. The next thing I know, she’s calling me every five minutes.”

Tony selected a steak fry and rolled it between his fingers. He had a hard time gauging Nolan’s reaction or his mood. “Why tell me this?”

“I met her at one of those beer bashes my dad liked to throw at the office. I spent my summer interning, learning the business from the ground up. I didn’t use the family name while working as a Simmons; instead I went by Charlie Grace, after my mom’s dad. Look, the point is, she didn’t have any idea about my identity that weekend, and we never saw each other again, either.”