Where the Blame Lies(86)

Josie sat on Zach’s couch, glancing around dazedly, hardly taking in the details. The furniture style and color scheme was modern and masculine. It was slightly messy, but also somehow un-lived in. Zach had said he was married to his job and his apartment spoke of that. He came here to eat and sleep and toss things out of his pockets. A feeling of deep affection pricked through the gloom of shock she was still wandering through. She was getting another piece of Zach Copeland, the man.

He came into the room holding two glasses filled with amber liquid and handed one to her, taking a seat on the couch. She couldn’t help the small smile that emerged on a huff of air. “You must think I’m falling apart.”

“I know you’re not falling apart.” His eyes ran over her face. “But today has been one blow after another. I thought we both could use something to take the edge off.”

She smiled again, raising her glass. She couldn’t argue with that. She wasn’t falling apart—yet—but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like she was sitting on the razor’s edge of teetering over the brink. She brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of the alcohol, grimacing as she swallowed. The warmth spread through her, melting a portion of the blockage that had been slowly filling her chest since they’d learned Reagan was missing. God, where is she? Evan must be beside himself. With the alcohol came a breath that wasn’t as stuttered. She knew she couldn’t do anything for her friend, but it was still awful knowing she was suffering. Stay calm. Keep thinking. She took another sip, and then another before placing it down.

“Better?” Zach asked, putting his own glass down and scooting closer to her. She allowed him to take her in his arms, melting into him, laying her head on his chest and listening to his heart beat steadily. She wanted to lose herself, to float away, to push aside the horrifying revelations she was grappling with. She gripped his shirt in her fists and leaned her head back, offering him her mouth. He looked down at her, his gaze heated, but expression uncertain as his eyes moved over her face. What did he see? Did he not want her?

She brought her mouth to his and he groaned. She kissed him, desperate, hungry. She knew she was using sex as an escape, but was that so wrong? Was it so wrong that they should lose themselves in each other for a short time? To shut out the world when the world could be such an appalling, despicable place?

She pulled herself up, her hands shaking as she unzipped his pants, fumbling as she reached inside and grasped his erection. He was hard, ready. He wants me too. The knot inside unclenched slightly. She kicked off her shoes and then stood unsteadily, keeping eye contact as she removed her jeans and her underwear. She climbed back on him and took him in her grasp again, using the smooth head of his penis to stimulate herself, throwing her head back and moaning at the exquisite pleasure.

His breath was coming quicker, his hips lifting off the couch toward her, seeking. She could see that his flat nipples were hard under his T-shirt and for some reason, the sight was utterly arousing. Every part of his body was responding to her. She controlled this. Him. It was divine. She could feel herself getting wet, slippery moisture pooling between her legs.

She gripped him harder and he gasped out, sitting up straighter, the lust in his eyes deepening. She used his erection to drag some of the moisture from her opening up to the tight bundle of nerves and circled that spot until she almost came.

“Josie, God, I, ah—”

She smiled, lining his straining cock at her opening and spearing herself almost violently. He let out a masculine sound of pleasure, his head falling back as she began to ride him, slowly at first and then faster, faster, his erection almost slipping from her body before she slammed back onto him. He was watching her now, his face a mask of lust but something in his eyes she didn’t want to see—concern, confusion. She closed her eyes, rode him harder. “Look at me, Josie,” he demanded, and she did, meeting his gaze and holding it. He gripped her hips, taking over, controlling her movement. She let him, and with the submission, something pent up broke free. Josie gasped, keeping eye contact, allowing him to maneuver her body, trusting him.

Pleasure spiraled, a dizzying whirl of wild bucking, their mutual gasps of pleasure, and the wet sound of their bodies mating. She felt her orgasm approaching and reached for it, stomach muscles tightening, a sort of tingling numbness spreading between her legs right before every nerve in her body tightened and then released in a shattering burst of bliss. Josie cried out just as Zach’s hips shot upward, his own groan of pleasure mingling with hers.

She collapsed on top of him, her chest constricting, a sob bursting free. She felt Zach’s body still beneath hers, and she tried to stop the tsunami of tears, but she couldn’t. Devastation rolled over her, flattening her completely. She was at its mercy. She could only ride it out. Zach’s arms came around her, his body slipping from hers, the warm trickle of his semen draining from her body.

She sobbed until she could not sob any more, and Zach continued to hold her, running his hand over her back, whispering words of comfort in her ear. He had to be uncomfortable beneath her, half reclined, his pants around his knees, restricting his movement. But still he remained, holding her until her tears ceased, until the last of her sobs faded and her breath evened.

She lifted herself slowly, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, standing unsteadily and grabbing for her underwear, her pants.