Out Of The Blue (The Wrong Bed #12)(25)

Zach leaned over her, holding her still. As it continued to rain down on them, he pushed his fingers hard into her cramping muscles, so hard she saw stars, but finally, long moments later, bit by bit, she was able to relax. "Better," she managed.

Completely spent, he collapsed next to her. His arms came around her hard. Together they lay there beneath the rain and wind, shivering, but without the energy to move.

"Well, that was a nice swim," he was finally able to say.

Hannah was busy concentrating on the heat of his chest, the very lovely sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, his arms snug and secure around her. "I'm glad you were there."

"Me, too." He rubbed his cheek over her hair, but still neither of them moved.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Without you—"

"Don't. I don't even want to think about it."

A few moments went by while they concentrated on being alive. "Zach?" she asked after awhile.

"Yeah?"

"This didn't have anything to do with … you know."

"Seducing me?"

"Yeah."

"I know." He smiled. "Saving you didn't have anything to do with me continuing to try to resist you."

She managed a rusty laugh. "Okay. As long as we're straight."

The wind whipped over them and she shivered. Zach let out a low sound of remorse. "A shower," he decided, surging to his feet. "Hot water."

She couldn't help imagining them in her shower, together, all slick, sleek, hot, drenched, soapy skin…

"Hannah." His voice was ragged. "Stop those thoughts."

"Okay." But she slid her chest against his, just to get closer to his warmth.

His gaze dipped down to her bathing suit.

She was chilled through to the bone.

They both stared at her hard nipples, pressing against the material. He groaned softly and closed his eyes. "Shower," he said again. "Hot one for you, cold one for me."





* * *





Chapter 9


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Zach got his own room the next day. It should have taken his mind off his troubles, but his mind was occupied with the image of Hannah sprawled across the sand the day before, water beaded across her body, her eyes filled with hunger.

She'd still wanted him. He'd wanted her.

Even with the storm, she'd been hot and bothered, and so had he.

He still was.

And yet, whether she wanted to realize it or not, she wasn't the quickie affair type, and he was discovering that neither was he.

It was all so complicated, and complicated, in Zach's opinion, was to be avoided, at all costs. Especially here. But his heart didn't seem to be in agreement with his brain.

Which was the only reason he didn't just leave. He could go back to Los Angeles early, could certainly prepare to return to work, to his life, but he couldn't seem to do it. He could tell himself he wasn't quite ready for the physical demands of being a cop, that he wasn't all better, but that was a big, fat lie.

It was Hannah, the first woman in far too long to stir his passion, his heart and soul.

She reminded him there was far more to life than burying who he was to do his job.

Hannah walked him to his new room, though he could have easily found it himself. He could have also done without that smirk in the Schwartzes' eyes as they passed the upper sitting area.

But he had bigger worries. Hannah had that stubborn look in her eyes, the look that said maybe she wasn't finished with him yet.

Only he couldn't resist another sweet, unbearably erotic attempt, he just couldn't. At least she was dressed modestly, in a blouse and slacks, with not a candle or condom in sight.

They stepped inside his room. Zach dropped his bag and realized he could hardly hold his head up.

"Sleep," she whispered, gently pushing him toward the bedroom. She must have had mercy on him because she stayed by the door. "I'll let myself out."

His body warred with his mind, wanting to take her with him to the bed, but thankfully his mind won out.

He was asleep before he could even cover himself up.

*

The most wonderful and strangest dream came to him.

Hannah's hands were moving over his bare chest, followed by her mouth, and he was unable to hold back his own frenzied reaction. He didn't want it to end, this amazing dream.

She touched him again, dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses down his belly, that left him panting. Too long, it'd been too long for him. No one should have to be so strong as to resist this.

If she so much as touched him one more time it would be over, and he tried to tell her so, tried to hold her back, but she wouldn't allow it. Sliding him onto his back, she followed him down, down, entwining their legs, rubbing her cotton-clad torso over his until he could do nothing but moan her name.

It was heaven, absolute heaven.

And it was a dream.

Wasn't it?

He'd thought so, but his heart was pounding, hands gripping soft skin—real skin—his body tight as an arrow. Hannah was over him, her long hair teasing his chest, her hips in his fists, her legs spread to accommodate his.

Reaching up, she pulled off her shirt, baring her breasts to him before he could draw another breath. Pale curves shimmered in the moonlight, tight, dusky peaks beckoning him. Then she shimmied out of the rest of her clothes.