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“I do know that. It’s just hard for me to imagine, given my own situation.”
“Unfortunately, every woman isn’t as good a mother as you are.”
They went on to talk of other things. Later, as they walked to the car after dinner, Laurel asked Zack, “Why did you cut back on your cases? Was there not enough work in Whiskey River?”
“No, I’m sure there’s plenty. I didn’t come back to Whiskey River to practice law. I discovered practicing law wasn’t what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I came back here for the airport, and to actually have a life.” He unlocked his car doors and opened hers for her.
“Didn’t you have a life in Dallas?” she asked after they were both inside and buckled in.
“Not much of one. I worked ridiculous hours.” He glanced at her with a rueful smile. “Because that’s what you do when you want to get ahead. There was constant conflict. With clients, with peers, with opposing counsels. So when my uncle willed me the airfield I took it as a sign. When I left my job in Dallas I had the beginnings of an ulcer. Since I’ve been in Whiskey River I haven’t had so much as a twinge.”
“You don’t think running and managing the airport is stressful?”
“Sure, but not in the same way and not to the same degree. Plus I’m working with two of my oldest friends. That makes things easier.” He frowned and added, “Except when Travis tries to break my jaw.”
Laurel laughed as they got out of the car at Zack’s apartment complex. “I’m sorry. Ever since Stan left Travis has become overprotective.”
“Don’t I know it,” Zack said.
Laurel stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “There. Let Laurel make it all better.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “I know exactly what we can do to make that happen.”
“Really? Tell me more.”
“I’ll have to show you.”
The moment they entered his apartment they were in each other’s arms. They made it as far as the couch and began stripping off clothes. Laurel unbuttoned her shirt and flung it aside, then watched Zack do the same. She wiggled out of her jeans. Zack undid his and shoved them down his legs along with his boxers. He helped her strip off her underwear and sat on the couch guiding her to straddle him. He buried his face in her breasts, sucking first one, then the other.
“Hurry,” she said, impatient to feel him inside her.
He reached for his jeans and held them up. “Look in the pocket,” he told her.
Her hand closed around a packet. She pulled it out and opened the condom, then handed it to him to watch him put it on. Then he pushed her back on the couch and lay between her legs, but he didn’t enter her. He kissed her, long and deep, then pulled back to stroke her body. “Damn, Laurel, you’re so beautiful.”
She wasn’t but he made her feel that way.
He teased her opening, first with his fingers, then with his cock before sliding inside her with an intense thrust. Her breath caught, their gazes locked as he drove into her and pulled out, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Her climax built until she thought she’d die if she didn’t come. And still, he kept her on the edge. Until finally, he plunged deep and pushed her until she peaked and shattered. She felt him shudder, heard his guttural groan and held him tight with her arms, her legs, her body.
They lay entwined for a long time, not speaking but content to be with each other. It’s just sex. Really great sex. But I’m not in love with him.
I can’t be.
