Then she wriggled forward, and their bodies met in intimacy.
“Condom,” she prompted.
“Wait a minute, don’t you want-”
“What?”
Didn’t she want foreplay, soft words, hugs and sexy whispers?
In answer, she braced herself on her elbows, and her legs slipped up to his waist, solidifying the angle between them.
Okay. Apparently not.
“You always this slow on the uptake, Lucky?”
He tore open the condom. “You always this impatient?”
“Never.”
“So, it’s just me?”
“It’s just you.”
“Should I be flattered?”
“Absolutely. I’m usually a very deliberate, methodical person.”
Taking her at her word, he pressed fully inside.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Her head tipped back, revealing her slender neck. She moaned.
“Good,” he agreed, his own voice guttural, mouth going to her neck to taste the delicate skin.
“So good.” She arched toward him.
Zach wasted no time. He cupped her bottom with his other hand, pulled her against him, moving immediately into a solid rhythm. Then he stripped off her T-shirt, popped the clasp of her bra and tore off his own shirt, scattering the buttons in his impatience. He needed to feel her hot skin against his, all the length of their bodies.
He inhaled her scent, tasted her sweet lips, cupped her breasts, bringing first one nipple then the other to a beaded point. Her nails dug into his back, her thighs tightened around him. Arousal was like a freight train inside his brain, moving at full speed. There was no stopping it, and there was definitely no turning back.
Abby obviously felt it, too.
He sped up, and she met him thrust for thrust. Her head sank back, and he kissed her neck again, her shoulders, her breasts. His subconscious took over, body arching and withdrawing in a primal rhythm. Her gasps grew higher and shriller, until the contractions of her body sent him completely over the edge.
He locked his knees, stabilizing them both, until the waves of pleasure dissipated. When the strength came back into his muscles, he lifted her, turning her onto his lap, perching himself on the trunk to give his legs a reprieve.
“That wasn’t exactly fast,” she gasped.
“Complaining?”
“No. But it’s a fact, once we get going, we don’t seem to want to stop.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “I don’t ever want to stop.”
Her grin was blurry so close to his eyes.
“Maybe long enough to plan a restaurant,” she said.
“Maybe long enough for a shower and dinner.” Forget the restaurant. They could plan it any old time. Right now, he wanted her in his bed as soon as humanly possible.
“Don’t be a slacker, Zach.”
A laugh rumbled through him, bringing him partway back to reality. “Nobody’s ever accused me of that before.”
“It’s barely four o’clock. We’ve got half the day left.”
“How late do you usually work?”
“Eight, sometimes nine. It depends.”
“You need to join a union or something.”
“I’m one of the ranch owners.”
“Well, the other ranch owners are taking advantage of you.”
“They’re working just as hard.”
“Most of them left, Abigail.”
“You mad at me?”
He drew back in surprise. “No.”
“You haven’t called me Abigail in a while.”
He gazed into her eyes. “I’m not mad at you, Doll-Face. I-” He stopped himself. What the hell had almost popped out of his mouth? “Like you a lot,” he finished.
It was true. He liked her. A whole lot. She was so fresh and fun and unpredictable.
“I like you, too, Lucky. But we have a restaurant to plan.”
“You’ll sleep with me tonight?” he confirmed.
She molded more closely against him. “I’ll sleep with you tonight.”
His body shuddered in intense relief. He might have missed sleeping with her even more than making love with her. Tonight, she’d lay naked in his arms for hours and hours. Her warm, supple body would wrap around his. He’d sleep deeply, and wake up to her scent, her touch and her voice, knowing she was safe, knowing she was cared for, knowing nothing could harm her as long as he was there.
Abigail knew she was being utterly self-indulgent. She’d been at Craig Mountain for three days now, sleeping with Zach at night, and undertaking what felt like a dream job of planning his restaurant during the day. He was busy with DFB work, either out in the brewery, with the construction contractor, on the phone with Houston or, today, working with Alex who had arrived in person last night.
She’d quickly figured out that Zach was content to leave the restaurant planning entirely in her hands. She dived into the research, contacting other theme restaurants across the country, even recruiting a manager, who’d suggested a head chef. From the west hall today, she was calling graphic design firms and interior decorators, looking for some expertise in putting together themes and branding.
“There you are” came Seth’s unexpected voice.
She jolted back in surprise, seeing her brother strolling into the cavernous hall.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she called out.
“I could ask you the same question.” His footfalls echoed on the stone floor of the mostly empty room.
She came to her feet, pushing back the big chair. She’d set herself up with a laptop, printer and telephone on what was likely once the master’s dining table. It was ornately carved mahogany, with pedestal legs and at least two dozen matching chairs. Right now, it was covered with everything from architectural drawings to fabric swatches and knickknacks from the tower rooms.
“I’m getting better,” she answered as Seth made it to her, pulling her into a hug.
“Glad to hear it.” He let her go, glancing meaningfully at the cluttered table. “You convalescing or running a business?”
She waved a dismissive hand over the work supplies, swallowing her guilt over focusing on Zach’s project instead of her family. “I’m just offering my opinion on a few things.”
“Hmm.” Seth looked skeptical.
“What’s up with you?” she said, changing the topic. “How are things in the mayor’s office?” And what was he doing at Craig Mountain?
“Same old, same old,” Seth answered, strolling around the table, glancing more closely at her work. “Travis said he’d talked to you yesterday.”
“I’ll probably head home tomorrow,” Abigail found herself saying. “Or maybe the next day.”
Seth took in the bandage on her arm. “How’s the wound doing?”
“Getting better and better.” She moved back to her chair, motioning for Seth to sit in another of the velvet- upholstered dining armchairs.
He took his seat slowly, bracing his hands on the carved, mahogany arms. “So, little sister, what’s with this
