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Her voice was so low he could barely catch the words. At least she wasn’t slurring, not yet anyhow. How was he going to tell Marco?Washe going to tell Marco?
Where the hell did that crazy thought come from? Enabling an addict was not protecting them... Protecting. Why had that been his first instinct and since when did protecting a woman he’d known for five minutes trump the loyalty to one of his oldest friends?
‘Look, there are people that can help. The first thing you have to do is accept you have a problem.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, I know I have a problem and it’s six feet four and a half,’ she sneered, allowing her eyes to run the head-to-toe length of his long, lean body. ‘You think I’d get drunk when I’m looking after a baby! You’re the one who left wine in the fridge. What do you think I am? Cancel that,’ she added bitterly. ‘I already know. Oh, God, I think I hate you!’
Zac’s nostrils flared as he fought to contain his anger. ‘Don’t try and turn this around. I saw the empty bottle. I smelt the booze.’
‘Of course you smelt the booze, you stupid man! The bloody bottle exploded when I tried to open it. It went everywhere. I took a champagne shower!’ An expression of distaste on her face, she plucked at her wet clinging top.
‘You...?’ For the first time he took in her damp trousers and drenched top that lovingly outlined the hard peaks of her taut breasts. His head went back as he half smiled and gave a sigh of relief.
‘How could you think I would do that? If you don’t believe me, breathalyse me.’
‘I don’t have one on me at the moment.’
‘Right, then, smell...’ Grabbing his jacket, she stretched up until her forehead was level with his chin. His head bent, and a thrill of excitement shot through her as their glances connected and held.
What are you doing, Rose?
She reacted to the sliver of sanity by sinking down onto her heels and releasing his jacket, only to find her efforts countered by a strong arm that had snaked around her waist. Instead of sinking down she found her toes trailing on the ground and her upper body crushed against a chest that had no give.
‘I...’
A finger hooked under her chin refused to allow her to escape his burning, stomach-melting stare.
‘It’s hard to tell from smell alone.’
‘Well, you’ll just have to t-trust me,’ she responded shakily, barely able to hear her whisper above the sound of her laboured rasping inhalations.
‘How about tasting you? I remember how you tasted.’
The throaty purr sent a fresh rush of debilitating weakness through her body. Her knees sagged and her clamped lips couldn’t stop a lost cry of longing escaping, and then there was no escape. Her breath was mingled with his as his tongue slid into her mouth. She focused on the taste of him as their tongues collided, starting a primal chain reaction that swept her away... She gasped, feeling his hand on her breast, causing him to pull back enough to bite her lip and stare with burning eyes into her passion-flushed face.
‘Do you believe I’m sober now?’ she rasped, not recognising her own voice, or the deep desire to feel all of the power of his hard body, to feel him unleashed... Shiver after shiver of excitement ran through her body. For the first time in her ordered adult life, she longed to let go, to lose control.
But this was not right, this was too soon, he was not her soulmate, he was not the special someone she could trust with her life or her heart... The tipping point came when she looked up at him and knew that she wanted him more than she wanted to stay safe in her emotionally sterile bubble.
‘That strip and shower... I like that idea...’
She gave a tiny mute affirmative nod of her head.
‘You know I want you,’ he rasped sealing their bodies thigh to thigh.
She swallowed. ‘It feels that way.’
‘Your skin tastes of champagne...nice...’ he murmured, running his tongue along the curve of her jaw. ‘But I’d prefer it tasted of me. ThatItasted of you.’
‘Oh, God!’ She groaned against his mouth, the dark dirty images his words evoked making her weak with lust. ‘Yes, please.’
She felt so light when he picked her up, her bones so delicate, her skin so soft, she was so fragile... But the small hands that slid down his back massaging the muscles had strength and determination he quite definitely approved of as she began to slip the buttons on his shirt, sliding her flat palm over the now damp skin of his chest and shoulders.
It was a short distance to the decadent bathroom but they were both panting like runners approaching the finishing post when he placed her on her feet. For a second her gaze was drawn past him as Rose caught sight of herself in a mirror. The person who stared back at her was a stranger. She barely recognised herself, the hectic flush of arousal on her cheeks, the incandescent glow in her eyes... She not only felt like a different person, she looked like one too.
‘You’re shaking.’
She nodded mutely.
