Small bursts of electricity charged through me. My legs began shaking as our eyes held. “You do the same to me,” I whispered. “You affect me, too.”
“I can’t sleep without you either,” he hissed. “I tried, but I can’t. How is that possible? God damn it!” He lunged, jerking me hard to his chest as his mouth covered mine possessively. I gasped as I met the coldness of his body. My shock fast became a hot, blistering need as he worked my mouth, tongues seeking, our breaths mingling, becoming one. Whimpering, I held him to me, needing to feel his roughness—to know he was real. My hands twisted in his wet hair, holding his face close to mine as I gave him what he wanted. I gave him everything I had and he took it; growling as he kissed and moaned, claimed and seized. He blindly reached behind him, shutting the door with a loud slam. He lifted me as if I weighed no more than a feather, walking down the hall to the bedroom, stumbling against furniture and walls, never loosening his hold.
Neither of us pulled away. Neither of us wanted to separate for even one, single second. My back hit the mattress, him on top of me; icy, wet rain running off and soaking into the fabric all around us. Neither of us cared.
His mouth pushed into mine, needy and hot, his chilly hands slipping under my shirt. Abruptly, he sat up, gripping and tearing; the material giving away under his strong hands like paper succumbing to scissors. His mouth closed around my aching nipple, sucking hard, and I gasped, arching closer to him. Back and forth he went, leaving no inch of skin untouched by his lips and tongue, laving and teasing, leaving trails of heat behind. He drew back long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head and then he was back on me, his cold skin welcome against the burning warmth of my mine.
We kissed and touched for what seemed like hours. Zachary’s mouth and hands never ceased in their caresses and strokes. I reveled in his touch, thinking it had been lost to me forever. “Megan, I want you,” he murmured, his breath hot in my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “So beautiful.” He moaned as he pinned me to the mattress with his body, heavy and possessive, the weight of him wanted and real. Grunting and pulling, the rest of our clothing was torn away, his erection hot and thick in my hand as I stroked him.
He hovered over me, panting, as he touched his forehead to mine. “Please.”
Barely holding on to my sanity, his low, rough voice pushed me over the edge.
“Zachary,” I implored, my need for him as desperate as his was for me.
His hands ran up my legs, his touch firm as he pulled my thighs apart and pushed inside me…hard. There was nothing gentle in his lovemaking tonight; it was all about possession. His hips thrust with power and speed as he took me, groaning and cursing, his head buried in my neck while he surged and claimed. Pleasure sparked and peaked as I held him tight, crying out his name as I came. I fell apart under him while he kept moving, crushing me to his chest so hard it was almost painful. He emptied himself inside me, moaning my name, his hot lips pressed to my skin. Shuddering, he collapsed, rolling so I was nestled into his side, but his hold not lessening.
Our ragged breaths filled the room as we calmed. I shivered as the sweat on my body cooled, realizing the bed below us was damp with rain and seawater. Zachary swore lowly and stood up, grabbing his pants, pulling them on. I watched in silence, dread filling my heart—he was leaving.
He turned on the light beside me and I blinked at the sudden brightness. “Do you have a robe or something?” he asked.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks at his subtle rejection. I slid off the bed, fighting back tears, not wanting him to see how his words upset me. His hands wrapped around my biceps, stopping me. “Hey.”
“It’s behind the door.”
“Why are you crying?” His voice sounded horrified. “Jesus. Did I…did I hurt you, Megan?”
“No,” I whispered, grabbing my robe and slipping it on, needing to cover myself from his eyes. “Just go, Zachary.”
“Go?” His voice was confused, his hand cupping the back of his neck as he stared at me. With a groan, he wrapped me in his arms. “Megan, I got up because you’re shivering. I’m not leaving without you. I’m taking you home with me.”
“What?”
His finger ran down my cheek. “I told you—I can’t sleep without you now. I need you beside me.”
I looked at the bed behind me. “But—”