Out Of The Blue (The Wrong Bed #12)(39)

Instead, his stubborn Hannah pressed him down on the jacket where she'd just laid, open and vulnerable and in surrender.

She sent him a wicked smile.

"Hannah." He licked his dry lips and tasted her on them, which only made his condition all the more impossible to bear. "We can't," he said hoarsely.

"Maybe not in the way you think." She slid her hands beneath his T-shirt, over his ribs and nipples, which caused him to jerk.

"Hannah—"

"Good?" she murmured, leaning over him and watching him carefully. Her skin was still flushed, her eyes hot and hungry. And also just a touch nervous, he realized as tenderness and a good amount of possessiveness swamped her.

"Does this feel good?" she asked, her fingertips just barely scraping over his skin, making the muscles in his stomach dance. His erection strained against the buttons of his jeans.

"Good isn't quite the word I'd use," he managed.

"No?" She bit her lower lip as she sat back on her heels, staring at the buttons on his jeans. Then her fingers were there, fumbling a bit as she opened them one by one.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

"What word would you use then?" she wondered.

"I'd say—" His words broke off on a helpless moan as she slid her hands into his opened jeans, wrapping her fingers around him to gently squeeze.

"You'd say … what?" Now she used those fingers to give him a long, slow, tortuous stroke. Heat pooled in his loins, surging, burning heat, and he figured he had about five seconds of control left.

Maybe.

Then she kneeled between his legs, just as he had hers only moments before, smiled innocently at him—he was beginning to mistrust that innocent smile—and licked the very tip of him.

He nearly came off the jacket. "Hannah!"

She lifted her head. "Is that Hannah, yes, or Hannah, I really hate that? Because quite honestly, Zach, I'm making all this up as I go along."

He might have been able to answer her, but that was before she once again bent her head. This time her tongue darted out, licking a scorching path upward, upward, and then she hovered over him, her breath hot and teasing as she hesitated.

Helplessly, he strained toward her. "Please," was torn from his throat, though he had no idea what he was begging for. He hadn't expected her to do this, and with his last bit of energy, he slid his fingers into her hair, meaning to lift her away.

But then she took him into her wet, hot mouth, and he was gone, lost, completely out of himself. She simply continued, wrapping her arms around him as he convulsed with a harsh groan, and as the powerful shudders of completion shook him, she held him all the tighter, showing him with actions what she hadn't been able to do with words.

*

Somehow the made it back to the lodge, and to Hannah's room. Once there, they stumbled into bed, found the box of condoms, and turned to each other again.

Then again.

And finally, near dawn, they slept.

Until the phone rang.

"Sorry," came Alexi's voice in Hannah's ear. "Honey, I'm sorry to call so early, but Zach has a call."

Hannah's brain was slow to respond, and it wasn't just from being tired. Being held by Zach, close to his heart, impeded her thought process as well.

"He's with you?" Alexi asked.

Oh, yeah. His arms were curled protectively about her. He nuzzled sleepily at her ear.

"He's here," she said with a smile.

"It's his captain, Hannah. Thought I should warn you."

His captain. His work Oh God. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Alexi managed to convey her sorrow, her regret and her own anger all in that one word. "Tell him line one."

Hannah handed Zach the phone.

He frowned down at the receiver as if it were a poisonous snake. "For me?"

"It's your work."

His gaze searched hers, deep and unrelentingly intense. But he took the phone.

And in that moment she knew. Her little interlude was over.

Zach was really leaving.





* * *





Chapter 14


? ^

She had to give him credit, Hannah thought, two terminally long days later.

He'd said goodbye.

If their positions had been reversed, she might have been tempted to escape those last painful few moments.

And they had been painful.

But she'd watched Zach pack, his eyes solemn and sorrowful. She'd listened to him explain that there was some big raid planned for the next night and that the department was short-handed, that they wouldn't have called him back two days early unless they desperately needed him.

Hannah had watched him drive away, pretending her heart hadn't all but stopped in her chest, pretending she didn't love him.

Oh yeah, she loved him. With everything she had, and yet she hadn't told him. Maybe he loved her back, but because she hadn't been brave enough to share her feelings, she might never know.

He'd called each day, and each day she'd managed to miss that call, maybe on purpose. Hearing his voice would have broken through her almost pleasant numbness.

On the third day, a pot of daisies arrived.

"Talk to them for me," the note said. "Love, Zach."