Читать книгу: «Feels Like the First Time», страница 3

“No,” Meghan broke in. “Wait to talk to Zach until you’ve found Gandalf.”

Zoe snickered. “Hiding this little venture, are we?”

Meghan’s huff blew through the phone, making Zoe laugh out loud. “Why aren’t you attending the reunion’s costume party tonight?” Meghan asked. That shut up Zoe’s laughter.

“You were right,” she admitted with a sigh. “Costumes are mandatory to attend the event. Dressing up in a costume that represents your career is part of the whole reunion game plan. They’ve created all these events during the week to force people to get to know each other again.” Zoe kept her As if I care to to herself, figuring Meghan would launch into her lecture again.

“You need to go.”

“No, I don’t,” Zoe argued, figuring Meghan would pitch the idea of her going in her pajamas if she left even the tiniest opening for argument.

“You do. You have to. This is the perfect way to eliminate the reunion members from your search. Just check out their costumes, right? So you have to go. And to make sure you do, I took care of everything,” Meghan said in a bossy yet begging sort of tone that pushed all Zoe’s guilt buttons. “I ordered you a costume. It should be delivered any time.”

With a sigh, Zoe expressed her reluctant gratitude as she unpacked her laptop and powered it up. Two clicks and she’d pulled up her e-mail.

“Awesome,” she exclaimed, all visions of stupid costumes fleeing from her mind.

“What? Your costume is there?” Meghan exclaimed.

Zoe grinned, pleasure surging through her as she plopped cross-legged on the bed and pulled her computer close.

“No. Even better. Dex is here.”

“What’s a Dex?”

“My lifeline to sanity,” Zoe said, leaning back onto the cushy pile of pillows as memories washed over her. “We used to hang out. He was as much of a geek as I was, totally obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons, role-playing, that kind of thing. His parents own this hotel.”

She scanned his note again and told Meghan, “I guess he’s here this week to help out. That’s how he got my e-mail addy, from the registration.”

“So what’re you going to do? Get some sexy times in? Don’t you have enough on your plate already without dishing up distractions, too?”

An image of the hottie in the lobby flashed through Zoe’s mind. That guy was all about sexy times. But Dex? She snickered. He’d been three inches shorter than her, shy to the point of stuttering and given his obsession with playing dress-up with other men, quite possibly gay. Do Dex? Hardly.

“Nah, Dex and I are just friends,” she told Meghan, avoiding the sexual distraction rebuke. After all, she was quite capable of juggling two things at once. Especially if one of them had shoulders like the guy in the lobby.

“Dex rocks,” she told Meghan. “I was bummed when we lost touch after I left school. It’ll be great to catch up with him, see what he’s been up to.”

She scanned the e-mail again, noting that he said he was visiting. That meant he’d left town, too. They’d have a lot of show-and-tell to share.

“Just don’t lose sight of why you’re there,” Meghan chided. Then she started reiterating suggestions on how to find Gandalf. Zoe listened with half an ear as she did a Web search, trying to find out what Dex had been up to the past ten years.

A knock sounded. She set the laptop aside and told Meghan to hold on as she went to answer the door. The bellboy handed her a large box with a wicked grin. Zoe glanced at the label, Dressed to Thrill and rolled her eyes.

“Costume party,” she told the snickering deliveryman.

“Uh-huh,” he said as he pocketed his tip and sauntered away.

Zoe wrinkled her nose at his retreating back, wanting to point out that if she was in the market for thrills, they’d hardly show up in a brown cardboard box. Before she could, though, she heard Meghan’s shout over the phone.

“Is it there? Is that the costume?”

Looking at the label again, Zoe shut the door and lugged the box over to the bed. “You’ve got to be kidding. You went through a place called Dressed to Thrill? Do I really want to open this, Meghan?”

“As tempting as it was to get you something wicked and fun like a spy costume, I went with Betty Boop,” Meghan said with a laugh. “I figured that was your favorite cartoon. Betty’s sexy and fun, and she’s always involved in lots of different things. And she might shoot down those virgin rumors you are so obsessed with.”

Zoe rolled her eyes again and ignored the insult as she pulled her metal nail file out of her purse and started cutting through the packing tape. She pulled a large white garment bag out of the packing container and tossed what looked like a note and invoice back in the box, which she then shoved on the floor so she could lay out the bag.

“So how do I turn Betty Boop into a riddle that says career consultant-slash-business manager-slash-troubleshooter-with-commitment issues?” she asked as she unzipped the bag.

Meghan snorted. “I didn’t know about the career requirement when I ordered it. But in your case, you can just wear sneakers and carry your BlackBerry and a cap gun.”

Zoe’s grin faded to a frown when her fingers encountered leather. Betty didn’t wear leather, did she? She pulled the hanger from the bag, holding the outfit out at arm’s length.

“Holy shit.” She dropped the hanger and jumped back a foot, staring in openmouthed horror at the slinky mound of black leather on her bed. Her eyes shifted to the rest of the outfit which had fallen from the bag when she pulled out the costume. A studded collar, black mask and riding crop.

Shock, fascination and an insane urge to giggle fluttered in Zoe’s stomach as she stared.

“You should have gone with the spy costume. There’s no way in hell I’m going down there in this.” Zoe eyed the black leather again and couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Although I have to admit, nobody would ever call me as a virgin again after I walked in dressed like a dominatrix.”

3

“ICAN’T BELIEVE I’M doing this,” Zoe groaned as she tugged the leather and lace skirt down over her fishnet stockings, trying to cover her butt. She stopped for the third time on her march down the hotel hallway, reluctant to take that final step into the elevator and commit herself to this joke of an evening. “I should have come down in my pajamas and called myself a dream analyst.”

But, no. She’d shimmied and shoved herself into the leather getup. Why? Because her brother was counting on her. And, as Meghan pointed out, if she didn’t, not only would she miss an important chance to track down Gandalf, she’d be seen as a cop-out. As a loser.

The elevator doors swooshed open. This was her last chance to back out. Zoe sucked in a breath, puffed out her cheeks and then shrugged. One last reminder that she didn’t care what people thought of her, she exhaled sharply and walked in, turned around and hit the lobby button.

Alone in the elevator, she inspected her reflection. She’d refused to wear the thigh-high pleather boots. Instead, she’d substituted her own ankle boots. Sexy shoes were mandatory, even when offset by fishnets and studs.

The majority of the outfit consisted of the boots and a wide, ruffled leather-and-lace miniskirt, with its nod to modesty. The rest was a black leather bikini top, slender strips anchoring it to a studded choker on top, and crisscrossing to the tiny panties hidden by her skirt on the bottom. Studded cuffs and a leather crop completed the outfit.

At least, she assured herself as she tugged at the skirt again, her body was pretty well covered. If you counted fishnet and leather straps as coverage.

Way to make an impression after ten years. Realizing she was freaking out over the same people who’d judged her so rudely before, Zoe repeated to herself that she didn’t give two good damns what they all thought. She pulled back her shoulders and stuck out her chest. Then she glanced down. Maybe not quite that much, she winced as she noted the spikes on the black leather and adjusted her spine. No point in damaging someone accidentally before she found Gandalf. And, she reasoned, she’d dressed Goth her entire three years at Central High. How was this so different? Still black, still filled with attitude. Just a little less … fabric. And this time she had a handy-dandy riding crop to deal with anyone who got snotty.

Snickering at that idea, Zoe patted the BlackBerry clipped to her waist. Since almost every troubleshooting job she’d taken in the past year had been in the communications field, it was the sole clue to her actual career.

To say nothing of her means of escape. Dex had said he’d contact her at some point tonight to get together. She just hoped it was during the party.

Fifteen minutes later and Zoe could only laugh and shake her head. What was the shelf life on immaturity? Twenty-eight years old and these people still acted like teenagers. You’d think the guys would have at least learned a few new pickup lines.

Tapping her crop against her thigh, she made her way through the loud, humid room.

“Do you charge by the hour?” one guy said as she turned sideways to try to get past him to reach the committee’s table.

“You couldn’t afford me,” Zoe said with a wink and a wave of her crop. She recognized him as a football player. If he’d recognized her, he’d have been crossing his legs.

By the time she reached the table to sign in, she’d been hit on five times, insulted eight and even though nobody had recognized her, she’d been treated with the same disdain as she’d hated in school.

It really was just like old times.

She automatically tucked the hurt away, firmly enmeshed in her old screw-you attitude, and lifted her chin.

“Zoe Gaston, checking in,” she said to the puppy dog across the table. The woman was sporting a full body of fur, floppy ears and black-nosed whiskers.

“Gaston?” The puppy ran her paw down the chart, found Zoe’s name and, while her eyes were huge as she took in the black leather ensemble, she just smiled and handed Zoe her name tag. “Please step over to the photo booth.”

“Why?”

“Everyone whose costume qualifies for the reunion contest has to have their picture taken.”

“What’re the qualifications?”

“That your costume doesn’t give away what you really do for a living,” the puppy said, and then she winked. “I’m guessing you don’t support yourself with spankings?”

Zoe blinked in surprise at the smile and friendly joke, then she laughed and said, “Nah, spankings barely keep me in grocery money,” before returning the grin and moving to the picture line.

Zoe said cheese. The photographer, who she recognized as her old P.E. teacher, gave her the clear signal and as she slid off the stool, he commented, “You’re the best costume since Brad’s.”

“Brad Young?” she asked. “What’s he dressed as?”

“A wizard. Great cape.” With that, the guy turned to the next person, camera at the ready and Zoe forgotten.

Brad. Figured. All the signs had been pointing to Brad Young, and now he was dressed as a wizard. Didn’t that say it all? Zoe shook her head. Of all possibilities, it had to be the guy who’d rejected her. She forced herself to quit the mental whine-fest. She’d been way out of her league with Brad ten years ago. She wasn’t now. This time, she’d call the shots and he’d be grateful. She’d find him, maybe flirt a little. If he was Gandalf, she’d contact Zach, find out what he wanted her to do, then get the hell out of Dodge. And leave Brad Young panting in her dust. Perfect.

Her eyes peeled for a pointy hat, Zoe reviewed her plan for the night. Connect with Brad was number one for the Gandalf quest. She tapped her crop against her thigh as nervous anticipation shimmied in her belly. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her old crush’s face when he caught a load of what he’d given up to chase a pair of pom-poms.

Cautioning herself against getting too cocky or tunnel-focused that Brad was her man, she scanned the room. There were three other guys whose careers she hadn’t managed to verify before the reunion. Since all she had to go on were their graduation pictures, she figured she’d watch for name badges and costume giveaways. Any guy sporting a joystick was on her follow-up list.

“Well, well. You still haven’t found any color other than black, hmm?”

Chin high, Zoe turned around. Her jaw clenched as she forced her lips into a smile.

Candice Love. Central High’s homecoming queen, head cheerleader and girl voted most likely to have the world bowing at her feet.

Lovely.

Zoe straightened her shoulders, cocked her hip to one side and lifted her chin. Attitude to the rescue.

“I could barely believe my ears when Julie told me you were here. Zoe Gaston, the geeky virgin.” Candice gave a tinkle of icy laughter as she eyed Zoe up and down with artfully rounded blue eyes. “You did know this costume party was to guess your career, right? Not to try to deny your graduating title?”

Zoe inspected the blonde’s costume, then raised a brow. “Really? And you realized it’s 2009, right? Not 1999? Or has life been so bad since school that you’re living in the past?”

Fair question, given that Candice was wearing a cheerleader costume. Not quite the same as the one she’d worn in school, instead of a C on her low-cut sweater, there was a picture of a bee wearing a crown and a bunch of tiny bees lined up like her court. What the hell? Queen-bee bitch was now a job designation? Contrary to Zoe’s petty hopes, Candice hadn’t sagged, uglified or turned into a toad in the past decade. Nope. Blondie was still trim, perky and pretty. Figured.

“I’m in costume,” Candice dismissed. “Apparently we both held on to quite a bit of our high-school personas, hmm?”

Charming as always. Zoe decided then and there she wasn’t giving Candice a second more of her time than she had to. Stealing Gandalf out from under her nose would be her reward for resisting the urge to fling insults.

“Apparently,” was all Zoe said, flourishing her riding crop with a quirk of her brow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to meet someone.”

Blue eyes narrowed at the dismissal. Zoe took pleasure in brushing off the woman who so easily stirred up every insecurity she’d ever had.

Crop tapping against her thigh, Zoe made her way across the loud, overheated room and out the side doors into the dark garden, letting the pitch-black evening envelope her in obscurity. She breathed a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes. Two more breaths and she could feel her shoulders again underneath the ropes of tension.

Well. That’d been fun. Not.

Absorbing the serenity of the moonlit garden, Zoe took another deep breath and tried to pep-talk herself into going back into the ballroom. Gandalf was in there. She’d be damned if she’d let Candice and her pom-poms intimidate her into losing her edge.

“Whip me, beat me, make me attend a class reunion?”

Zoe spun around to face the owner of the low, male voice. She peered through the dark, only able to make out his costumed body, since his face was shadowed. Still, heat flared and a wide, appreciative grin curved her lips.

Helloooo, gorgeous.

Breathless, she stared. Leaning against the wall, the guy was pure sex appeal. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out his costume. Tight leather pants, a loose shirt and a bigass sword. Between the dim garden light and what looked like a wide mask à la Zorro, she could barely make out his face. But his body was a work of art. Tall, lean, but well-muscled, all Zoe could think about was pressing herself against his chest and trying him on for size. A black cape completed the mysterious look.

“Having fun?” he asked, his question reminding her of his ordinal comment.

“Hardly. To tell you the truth, it would have taken a whip to get to me attend if I’d known it would be this bad,” she admitted.

“Time heals all wounds?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Or sharpens all claws.”

“Interesting image coming from a woman wearing leather and studs,” he teased, his tone low and husky, almost as though he had a cold or was disguising it along with his face. He had a faint accent, giving his sexually charged words an extra dose of romance. She couldn’t tell from where, though.

But there was something familiar about him. Not surprising, given the circumstances, but still she wished she knew who he was. She eyed his cape and recalled the photographer’s comment. But, even though it’d been ten years, this guy just didn’t remind her of Brad.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Aragorn.”

She narrowed her eyes. Wasn’t that a Lord of the Rings character? She scanned the costume again and tried to remember the movie. Unlike some of her friends, she hadn’t read the books. Instead, she’d gone to see the hot, sexy hunk hero and that cute blond elf guy. She regretted not paying more attention to the names, but with all that eye candy, she’d been distracted.

“How about your real name?” she invited.

“Nah. It’s a costume party. Go with the mystery.”

Zoe debated. He could be Brad under that mask. Better yet, he could be Gandalf. Or was she just justifying her need to spend some time with a guy who got her thinking naked thoughts with just a few words?

“How about a break?” he suggested. “Catch your breath before you head back in to whip butts and make them beg.”

He gave a charming, one-sided grin in response to her snort of laughter, then gestured to the path leading toward the rose arbor. “Maybe a walk in the moonlight?”

When he gestured, his cape fell back. She could clearly see the outline of his chest and shoulders beneath the soft flowing fabric of his shirt. Her breath caught. The sculpted muscles beneath the white cotton owed nothing to the costume and everything to Mother Nature. Broad shoulders, solid pecs and biceps that made her mouth water.

Sexy. Zoe swallowed hard, her body already aware, went on hyperalert. Her breasts swelled, nipples pressed arousingly against their leather restraints.

“A walk sounds tempting,” she breathed, tucking her hand in his elbow. God, what could be more romantic? A moonlit walk in the gardens beside a gorgeous guy with a really big sword who got her hot with just the sound of his voice.

She slid him a sideways glance, but even close-up she couldn’t make out his features. Between the dark night and the wide black mask wrapped around his upper face and tied behind his head like a bandana, all she could tell was that his hair was slicked back. Short? A wig? The way the mask was tied made it hard to tell.

Who was he? If he was Brad, he’d have said something, wouldn’t he? But Brad was the only guy at Central High ever to really notice her. She tried to remember if he’d been this lean. Granted, it’d been ten years, but she’d remembered him as having more of a ballplayer build than a runner’s physique.

They stepped off the patio and into the open garden. The cold evening air hit her almost-naked body. Zoe grimaced and instinctively stepped closer to the man’s warmth.

So much for romance. She’d forgotten she was dressed up as the menacing man-eater.

“Here,” he said shifting his cape.

She caught her breath, wondering if he meant to pull her under it with him. But he didn’t. Instead he released the collar and swung it off, then wrapped it carefully around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“You looked uncomfortable.”

“I forgot how chilly it could get,” she said.

“I meant in there,” he said, gesturing toward the curtained windows of the ballroom. The noise was blunted out here, but they could still hear the occasional loud laugh, screech or drum roll.

“I forgot what it was like. Feeling like such an outsider,” she murmured. “I didn’t quite expect …”

“Were they rude?” His words were simple enough, but the anger underlying them made Zoe shake off her pity party and stare up at him. Now that he’d pulled off the cloak she could see the wide strength of his shoulders. But it was the set of his jaw that caught her attention. Stiff with anger, for all his calm words he looked like he might go back in there and … what? Give them a one-two-kapow?

Zoe snickered at her imagination. Then she realized she’d given too much energy to the responses in the ballroom. She hadn’t cared what those people thought ten years ago, why should she now?

“It was no big deal,” she said with a shrug. “More hits than barbs if you know what I mean.”

“The guys hit on you?” he asked with a deep, husky laugh. “Figures. I mean, you’re gorgeous. And your costume challenges every man in the room and makes all the women disappear into the wallpaper.”

Zoe’s breath caught in her chest. This guy oozed sex appeal the way Candice oozed bitchiness. It was a physical thing, intense and overpowering. It was a sexual energy that tempted. The kind that made her think of dark nights, warm breezes and naked bodies. And he thought she was gorgeous.

He’d given her his cape, growled in irritation over perceived slights and made her laugh.

Call her vain, but he’d had her at gorgeous.

As she stared up at him, wishing she could see the color of his eyes in the evening light, his laughter faded. His gaze narrowed and he stepped closer.

“You don’t look like you believe me,” he murmured, his words low and musical.

“I’ve been called challenging plenty of times,” she admitted, her head spinning as her body reacted to the closeness of his. “But never gorgeous.”

“But you are.” He reached out, his hand fisted, and rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. Zoe damn near purred.

“Maybe you just have a leather fetish,” she suggested.

“Maybe I’d like to try a few fetishes with you and see how they feel,” he said, his words low and intense.

The image of the two of them naked except for his mask and her boots filled her mind. Zoe swallowed, her pulse racing so fast she felt as though it was going to pound its way out of her throat. Was he Brad after all? Confusion swirled through the desire filling her brain. Hadn’t one of the twins mentioned Brad had gone to England? Was that an English accent? He obviously knew her. She couldn’t imagine any other guy at the reunion would flirt with her like this.

His hand left her cheek. Zoe bit her bottom lip to keep from pouting. Then he wrapped both hands around the edges of the cape he’d draped around her shoulders.

The cloth still bunched over his fists, he used them to tilt her chin up.

“I’d want you even without the leather,” he said.

Her grin was fast and wicked. “Naked, you mean?”

He groaned, then laughed. Zoe’s heart tripped a little. So few guys could handle her smart mouth, let alone appreciate it while they were trying to make a move. But Mr. Supersexy? He just shook his head and grinned. His lips still curved with humor, he held her gaze captive as he lowered his mouth.

Her breath caught. Then her mind went blank.

His lips rubbed gently over hers. Warm, soft, intoxicating. Almost sweet, except for the sexual flare of heat zinging through her body. Her nipples hardened, her legs went lax. She grabbed his waist for support, her head falling back as he shifted from soft and sweet to hard and wild.

Zoe gasped, instantly aching and wet as his tongue took hers. She’d never had a kiss like this—so hungry and intense, she could barely keep up. Instead of trying, she gave herself over to the power of his demanding mouth. Let herself freefall with the swirling passion tightening in her belly.

Who knew the wrong costume could garner such a perfect prize?

DEX PULLED BACK from the kiss, his mind blown to bits. Damn. He’d finally found something—someone—to shut his always churning brain off.

“Come up to my room,” he blurted out. Then he cringed. Great, Drake. First time you’ve seen her in ten years and five minutes after saying hello you hit on her. You haven’t even told her who you are and you’re trying to get your best friend naked so you can nibble your way up and down her body.

Her green eyes were filled with a heady combination of shock and desire. Her breath came in short bursts from her glossy, inviting lips.

Dex couldn’t rip his eyes off Zoe. She was hot. Sexy, secure and so damned sassy. The eyes of an angel, a mouth to suit the leather lovingly encasing her body. And her taste. Pure ambrosia. He could get drunk on her taste alone.

So much for his comfortable lie of just wanting to reconnect with a friend. He wanted to connect with her, all right, but it had nothing to do with old times.

His hands, still under the cape, slid up her waist to the outside of her leather-encased breasts. He wanted to touch her. To see her. To bring all his fantasies to life. Dex had based his fantasy woman on Zoe. SweetCheeks, the kick-ass superheroine of his hit video game. Powerful, with her take-no-crap attitude and sexy body she fought the bad guys and saved his world.

But SweetCheeks had nothing on the woman in his arms, the woman he wanted to spend long, intense hours worshipping.

He couldn’t believe his gamble had paid off. After her friendly-in-a-big-sister-kind-of-way e-mail response, he’d realized that he didn’t want to waste this reunion with Zoe being friends. So he’d taken a chance with the costume, figuring he’d feel her out first, then when she was hooked, he’d show her who he was.

Of course, that was before he’d felt her up instead. Now he felt like a jerk.

“I can’t.”

Huh? Had she read his thoughts? Dex frowned, his brow furrowed. “Can’t?”

Oh, yeah. His room.

Yes, she could. Her body said she could. It was still pressed tightly against his, her legs cradling his thigh between them. Sure, there was a mile of fluffy skirt there, too. But he had a great imagination. He was picturing that gone.

Her hands still clutched his shoulders, fingers rubbing soft circles over the fabric of his shirt.

But her mouth said no. Dex sucked in a deep, painful breath and released his hold on her. Before he could step away, she angled her head. He recognized it as her challenge tilt.

“What?”

“I said can’t. Yet. Not that I don’t want to.”

Dex’s ego, and his dick, swelled.

“I have something I have to do before I can take off. But if you want to help me, I can get away faster. Then we can go somewhere. Get to know each other, hang out. You know, lose the mask and chitchat.”

In other words, no free pass to sex, but they could spend some time together and see what came up. A grin splitting his face, Dex gave an eager nod. His hands immediately returned to her waist. He’d get her in a private room, show her who he was, then convince her to let him worship her body with his tongue.

“Anything,” he agreed. “You name it.”

“I have to find this guy,” she said quietly.

“Sugar, I’m all guy,” he teased. “Want proof?”

Her smile turned wicked. Pleasure shone in her bottle-green eyes as she stepped a little closer. She didn’t rub against his straining erection. She didn’t grab or fondle him. She just stood close enough so the heat of her body sent his reeling with desire. Obviously the queen of timing, she waited one heartbeat, then two. Then she raised a brow and, taking a deep breath so the leather tips of her bra brushed his chest, she smiled.

“Oh, I can tell that you’re all man. I’d love to explore that fact in slow, careful detail.”

Heat filled his body, slow, languid and intoxicating. Dex gave in to temptation and, hands on her leather-covered hips, he pulled her closer. Not as close as he wanted, but enough that he could feel the heat of her body against his.

“Who’s the guy?” he asked, curious.

“I don’t know his real name,” she said softly, her fingers trailing up his chest, then back down to his belly. As if she wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying, she watched her fingernail swirl out a design on his belly. Dex stiffened his abs and gave thanks for his gym membership.

“You want some guy whose name you don’t know?” he asked, starting to get a little jealous. Even wrapped in his arms, she still wasn’t completely focused on him.

She laughed, a sound filled with wicked joy.

“No, no,” she said as she hooked her index finger behind his belt buckle. Dex’s eyes almost crossed. His dick went rock-hard in a heartbeat. “I know his name, I just don’t know … what he looks like.”

“Wander the halls yelling his name tomorrow,” he suggested, barely hearing their words. All his energy, his entire focus, was on her finger and its proximity to his aching hard-on.

“I can’t,” she murmured, arching her back as he swirled designs on her warm flesh with his fingertips. “He’s the reason I’m here.”

Pulling his brain out of his pants, Dex tried to follow what she was saying.

“Sounds interesting,” he said, then couldn’t resist teasing, “Apparently you have a thing for mystery guys?”

She tilted her head to the side, giving him a long, amused look.

“I’m pretty sure I know who you are,” she said with a husky laugh as she linked her fingers behind his neck.

“And you’re cool with this?” he asked, unable to believe his luck. Yes! Years of lying to himself, of denying he had the hots for Zoe, dropped away. She was here, in his arms. And she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“I wish we’d done this when we had a chance,” she said softly.

“Oh, yeah. Me, too,” he told her as, finally giving in to temptation, he leaned down to press a soft kiss on the sharp curve of her jaw. Dex breathed in her intoxicating scent, a citrusy vanilla that made his head swim. “I can’t believe we didn’t do this over and over again.”

“Well, we tried.”

Huh? Dex’s mouth slowed as he tried to decipher her night-soft voice.