Not Another Bad Date

putting on an act. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. And he wanted her. In every savage beat of his heart. In the dark place in his soul that wanted to push her down and rub his face against her, lick her up one side and down the other, and plunge deep into her hot, wet body.

He reached for her hands, which were on the back of his head, and brought them down in front of her. Then he bent her over, and she grabbed the edge of a table in the entryway. He pushed her panties down her legs and palmed her smooth behind. He loved her round butt almost as much as her breasts. He pulled the condom from his pocket as his pants slid down his legs, and the belt buckle hit the floor with a thud. “Spread your feet a little bit for me,” he said as he pulled himself out of his underwear and rolled the condom down his shaft.

She did, and he slid his hand over her bottom and between her legs. She was wet and ready, and moaned deep in her throat as he parted her and teased her slick flesh. Her back arched as he positioned himself and slid into the hot, gripping pleasure of her body. She was incredibly tight around him, and he pulled almost all the way out, then sank into her. He pushed her hair to one side and lightly bit the side of her neck. Mine, he thought, his body covering hers. She pushed her bottom against him, wanting more. He gave it to her in long, powerful thrusts. He drove inside again and again, his heart pounding in his head as he felt the first tightening pulse of her orgasm. It milked him, pulling a release from deep in his belly that went on forever. He thrust into her, hard, and the thin condom barrier burst. A gush of fiery liquid heat surrounded him, pulled him deeper, and sucked him dry. The most intense pleasure he’d ever felt in his life rippled through his body, and he closed his eyes. It spread fire across his skin, grabbed his insides, and stole his breath. His heart pounded in his head, and he thought he just might have died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck.”

Adele tied the black robe around her waist and walked out of the master bathroom and headed toward the sounds in the kitchen. Zach had just given her the best quickie of her life. It had been hot and intense— then he’d slipped from her body, pulled up his pants, and moved to the bathroom down the hall without a word.

He stood at the kitchen sink, filling a glass with water. His back was to her, the light overhead picked out golden strands of his hair and poured over his bare shoulders, the hard planes of his back, and the indent of his spine. His pants hung low on his hips.

He turned and lowered the glass. His pants were zipped, but he hadn’t buckled his belt. “The condom broke.”

“I know.” He’d been an athlete. His marriage hadn’t been good, and she figured he’d been with more than his share of women. She grabbed his glass and drained it, wishing that it had been something a bit stronger. Like a Limoncello or a snakebite. She would not freak out, she told herself. Not yet. “Let’s talk about that.”

As he refilled the water, he looked at her across his big shoulder. “I haven’t had sex without a condom since the night Tiffany was conceived.”

Relief eased the tension in her back and the knot in her stomach, and brought a smile to her face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Then I don’t think we have a problem.” She took the glass from his hand, and confessed, “I haven’t had sex for a really long time.”

“How long?” He turned toward her and shoved his hip into the counter.

She took a drink and handed it back. “Three years ago, when I broke up with my boyfriend. He started acting so weird that I had myself tested, and I’m clean. We don’t have a problem.”

He lowered his gaze to her belly. “My guys are swimming upstream searching for your egg, and you don’t think that’s a problem?”

She shook her head. “I have an IUD.”

“What’s an IED?” He took a drink, and his brown eyes watched her over the bottom of the glass.

“IUD. Intrauterine device. It’s a form of birth control.”

“How effective is it?”

“The IUD has a failure rate of 1 percent.”

“Are you sure?” He set the glass on the counter, and a frown wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t want another child.”

Adele knew she shouldn’t feel insulted, but she couldn’t help it. He was suddenly looking at her as if she was the enemy. “I’m sure. I had one of my yearly visits to the doctor a few months ago, and the IUD was right where it’s supposed to be. Believe me, Zach, I don’t want a child right now. That’s why I have birth control implanted in my body.”

“Devon said she was on the pill when she got pregnant, but she lied.”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Do you think I’m lying to you, Zach?”

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to lie about something like that.” He tilted his head to one side and studied her.

She’d never been accused of lying about birth control. And being compared to Devon made her want to punch him. “Then you need to leave.” Instead of hitting him, Adele walked out of the kitchen and moved to the front door. She wondered if this was part of the curse. Zach was normally a rational guy, but at the moment he was being crazy. He’d turned into a jerk, but unlike the latest victims of the curse, she was not so forgiving.

She picked up his sweatshirt from the floor. What kind of woman lied about birth control, she fumed.

Apparently Devon.

Adele tucked that bit of info away to think about later. “Don’t compare me to other women. I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” she said as she held the shirt out to him. “It’s insulting even to think I would.”

“I’ve never had a condom break before.” He took the shirt and pulled it over his head.

“So?”

“So why now?” He shoved his arms in the sleeves and pulled the sweatshirt down his chest and stomach.

Adele’s brows lowered over her eyes, and she tried to control her anger. “I don’t want your child, Zach. I’m leaving as soon as Sherilyn has her baby and is able to take care of herself. I’m not ever coming back, and the last thing I want is to be some jock’s baby-momma and raise a kid by myself.”

“But you wouldn’t raise the kid by yourself.” He pulled his keys from the front pocket of his pants. “I wouldn’t allow that to happen, and I think you know it.”

That did it. “You’re the one who showed up on my door tonight, and now you’re acting like the broken condom is my fault! As if I did something to it.”

“It was your condom. Any sane man would wonder—”

“Leave!” she interrupted as she opened the door and pointed out into the dark Texas night.

“Jesus, why are you so mad?”

She pushed on his chest until he stood on her porch. “This may come as a shock to you, Zach Zemaitis, but not every woman in this world is lyin’ and dyin’ to birth your baby. Some of us actually find the thought horrifyin’.”

“There it is.” He actually smiled. “When you’re mad, your accent comes back.”

“Good, then you should be able to understand this. Go fuck yourself, and don’t ever show up on my porch again!” She slammed the door as she heard the last few words of her own voice in her ears flattening all the vowels as if she were a Texan. Only her momma hadn’t raised her to swear. Her momma hadn’t raised Sherilyn to swear either, but both of them seemed to be cursing with alarming frequency. For that she blamed Zach and that jerk William. She’d like to blame the curse for turning Zach into an idiot, but couldn’t. No, Zach hadn’t needed any outside help. He’d turned all on his own.

Zach paused as he moved through the living room and glanced at the portrait of Devon hanging above the fireplace. Adele thought it was spooky. He tilted his head to one side and looked up into Devon’s green eyes staring back at him. He didn’t think the portrait was spooky. The special soft light hit it, as if it were hanging at the Met, making it more narcissistic than spooky. Not that he really thought about it one way or the other. It had been more than three years since Devon had died, and unless someone brought her name into the conversation, he