Loving the Secret Billionaire (Love at Last #1)(14)

5





Zach



* * *



I couldn’t get enough of Veronica Cruz.

Which was bad news, since the last thing I needed was a visitor nosing around my house. One wrong turn and she could figure everything out and then…

Would she turn me in? Would she even recognize what she was seeing?

No. The answer was clearly no. Let it go. Relax.

Not something I did a lot. Not with Granddad, because we just didn’t. We worked. From the time I came to move here, he drilled it into me: you want it done right, do it yourself. Being blind, as far as he was concerned, was nothing but an obstacle to overcome. I’m old, you’re blind. So what? Who says we can’t conquer the world? From this house, of course, since he wasn’t much on leaving.

I wondered, for a second, what he’d think of Veronica Cruz, this woman who thought she’d be a better leader than the usual blow-hards. Would he like her?

Probably. But what mattered right now was that I liked her. And I was ruining things by being way too tense.

She’d been here for half an hour now. And I needed to get my head back in the game, because things between us weren’t easy like they’d been last time. I was too jittery.

Not surprising considering how crazy she made me. Like a teenager. Which was exactly how I’d been acting since I last saw her.

What are you wearing? I wanted to ask. Can I touch you? Wanna make out?

Yeah, no.

Instead, I said, “How about another glass of wine?”

“Oh. I’m not sure I should—”

“You going somewhere?” I sent a smile her way and grabbed the steaks from the fridge.

“Guess not. Not like I’m driving anyway.” She paused. “Mind if I turn on some lights?”

“Oh, shit.” My belly was tight with embarrassment. I should know these things. And after everything I’d done to prepare for this dinner, turning on lights was a freaking no brainer. “Here.” I flipped a switch that hadn’t been on in years and listened to the unfamiliar electric hum above my head.

“What can I do to help?”

“Want to make a salad?” I indicated the fridge. “Help yourself to whatever you think would be good.” I’d ordered every crazy-named lettuce from the store, so there had to be something she liked.

“Sure.”

She hummed, grabbed things and washed them, opened a couple cupboards and found the salad bowl, then tossed it all together. My insides finally calmed as we worked alongside each other. This was good.

After a lifetime of living life on-line, I could apparently do this in person thing just fine.

When I went out back to grill the meat, she followed with our glasses, and something about the partnership of the whole thing squeezed at my chest. This is what it feels like to have someone.

But having someone is dangerous when your whole life’s a lie.

That little voice in my head chose that moment to screw things up for me. It was right, of course. Rational.

But nothing about my feelings for this woman were rational. The smell of her was my crack. I wanted to bend down, rub my face in her neck, and suck her in. I wanted to push her against the side of the house and feel the rest of her body. Was she big or small? What would her curves feel like under my hands?

Christ, I was getting hard just thinking about it. Not a surprise, considering the fantasies I’d played in my head all week. My hands on her—flesh like mine, only softer, I guessed, with more give under my fingers.

Jesus, Hubler. Keep it in your pants.

I flipped the steaks, shut the grill off and put the top down to let the meat rest before backing up a step. She was a couple feet away on my right, probably leaning against the railing, staring out at the dark. I set down the tongs and took a step toward her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Everything in me settled. This is good. I’m doing it right. “I can’t tell you the last time I did this.”

“This?”

“Spent time outside, other than with you the other night. And canvassing. Recess, too I guess. I live in an apartment downtown, so I don’t really see much of the woods.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah. Feels good.” Her body shifted closer to mine and everything in me tightened up. Some animal part of me too long ignored reared its ugly head, telling me to touch her, to take her. I just hoped she wanted this as much as I did.

My hand went out, landed on her waist, and like we’d practiced it, she slid into my arms.

“Is this good?”

“Yeah.”

Where do you begin when it’s the first time around?

I wanted to touch her and taste her, to squeeze, pinch, and suck her into my lungs, to consume her, but also to prove that this wasn’t virtual. She was here. I forced it all down, pushed the animal, with its teeth and cock and tongue, back into its cage, and made my hands take the lead.

One wrapped around her hair—curly and thick. Soft, but strong. Like her. Fingers entwined, pulling back, just a little. Not enough to scare her, but enough to drag her face up where I needed it. My other hand reached out to explore: thumb to her forehead—sharp at the brows, smooth, and high. This is real. My fingers traced around her ear, stroked down to her neck, which I had to lean in to sniff.