Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Page 23

  Something wet touched her between her legs and she moaned, half surprised to hear the sound rip from her throat and half amazed that Zach was positioned between her thighs, visually drinking in her swollen, pulsing womanhood. She licked her lips and tried to reposition herself.

  “Shh,” he told her, gently stilling her with a hand on her hip.

  Truth was, she didn’t think she could move if she tried. A languid peace and awareness swirled around and around in her. She was aware of the rasp of the soft sheets against her bare back, the cool air sweeping over her skin from a vent on the ceiling, and of Zach’s fingers as he parted her then dipped his tongue inside. Mariah threw her head back and moaned, louder this time, her hands curling in the sheets on either side of her.

  She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt this…hot. This…outside herself. Her desire seemed to be centered directly inside her chest, pulsing fire to the rest of her body. She seemed to float in some kind of parallel universe, not quite real, not quite asleep. She pulled in deep breaths, but they didn’t seem enough to feed the fire raging out of control within her. Zach ran his tongue lengthwise over her clit. Her hips bucked from the mattress and her entire body tensed in climax. But before she could topple over the edge, Zach’s tongue was gone. She restlessly licked her lips and cracked open her eyelids wide enough to see Zach’s face mere millimeters from hers. Then he was filling her. Oh, how he was filling her. Every nerve ending shivered and her stomach quaked. Zach threw back his own head and groaned then drove all the way home and the thin piece of glass separating her from the rest of the world cracked and shattered altogether, giving her the most phenomenal climax she’d ever had in her life.

  6

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING back in her own hotel room, Mariah felt…well, different somehow. She seemed to be able to count off every spray of the shower on her sensitive skin. Could smell the subtle scent of chlorine in the water. And her body seemed to be in a constant state of arousal, her nipples pebbled, her womanhood pulsing, her stomach completely bottomless, as if hungry to be filled. And the desire had nothing to do with food, but rather the man in the other room, one incredible Zach Letterman.

  She shut off the shower and reached for a towel, wondering at the thick terry and rubbing it languorously against her neck then down over her tingling breasts. Where she’d usually rush through the process of drying off, now she took her time.

  Who knew sex could be this good? She certainly hadn’t. Of course, she’d never actually spent the night with anyone before either. And, in retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep in Zach’s room either. But she’d been so emotionally and physically sated she’d drifted off without a second thought, only to wake up with his hot mouth pressed against her and then found out it got better yet…

  Mariah shivered with remembrance as she wrapped the towel around her and padded into the other room. She had an hour before they had to leave for the airport, yet it felt like she’d need at least two before she was ready. Not because she had anything to do. Rather she felt like doing nothing. She wanted to loll around on top of the bed and relive what she and Zach had shared.

  She sat down on the mattress and gave in to the urge to lie back, even though she kept her feet on the floor. Why hadn’t she spent the night with anyone before? While her father’s ranch—where she lived—was out, all three of her boyfriends had had their own places. But she’d never drifted off to sleep in any of their beds. She idly fingered the terry of the robe, pulling the material more tightly across her breasts. And she’d certainly never walked around in this state of mind after any of her previous intimate encounters, seemingly in a dream, not caring what was happening at the office just then, what trouble George was getting himself into now, or what people might think if they found out she’d slept with Zach.

  Okay, maybe the last one she was a little concerned about. But she wasn’t even in the mood to tackle that point either right now.

  She heard a sigh and realized it was her own. She giggled. Giggled. She’d never known herself to giggle before. And a tiny part was appalled that she was doing so now. But that part was easy to ignore.

  She began swinging her feet back and forth, then forward and back. Zach. Heat rushed over her skin all over again and she turned her head against the bedspread, just a little embarrassed by all that she’d said and done last night, even though there was no one around to see her.

  When she’d woken up this morning with her cheek plastered against Zach’s wide chest, she half expected to be horrified by what they’d done. Instead she’d cuddled up to him further, pressing herself against him. She had looked up to find a smoldering expression on his face as he watched her. She hadn’t even been aghast to realize he’d been watching her sleep. She’d merely closed her eyes again, smiled, and rubbed her cheek against the fine hair on his chest.

  Okay, so she was a no-good hootchie. She laughed and rolled to her side. Her. Mariah Clayborn. A no-good hootchie mama. Not only had she slept with a man she barely knew, she’d done it again…and again…and again.

  Her swinging foot hit something under the bed. She continued to hit it until it dawned on her what it was. Namely the suitcase holding the missing, no found, wedding dress.

  Summoning a tad of energy, she lifted herself to a sitting position, then bent to pull the suitcase out, laying it on the bed next to her. She sat staring at it for long minutes, waiting to feel something other than completely blissed out. Nothing. She smiled and popped the suitcase locks then opened the top, staring down at the lovely wedding dress inside.

  She supposed it probably wouldn’t hurt if she tried it on just once. No one need know about it. And she was clean, so she wouldn’t stink it up or anything. If it even looked like it wouldn’t fit, she’d immediately put it back.

  Stretching to her feet, she gently picked the delicate garment up and held it to her naked front. The hem hit the top of her feet. Measuring the lace to her sides and waist, she thought it just might fit. She slowly undid the buttons all the way down the back then carefully slipped the ultra feminine material over her damp head. It slipped over her nude body with the quietest of whispers, draping where it was supposed to drape. She shivered again then turned toward the full-size mirror, the image reflected back at her taking her breath away. The dress made her look like she had a waist. She absently reached behind her and fastened the buttons she could reach, then turned to first one side, then the other, admiring the way the lace complemented her body, making her look like a woman through and through. If a quiet voice whispered to her that she was insane trying on a wedding dress, she made a concerted effort to ignore it. It wasn’t her dress, after all. And since no one would know, she wasn’t breaking any rules or anything.

  She smoothed her hair back several times then twisted it into a loose knot on the top of her head. An image of her mother flashed through her mind, an old photo Mariah had on her bedroom night table. While she knew she was taller than her mother had been, and at least thirty pounds heavier, the resemblance was strong.

  A crisp knock sounded at the door.

  Mariah froze, her eyes growing round as she stared into the mirror.

  “Mariah? I thought you might want to catch breakfast before we left.”

  Zach.

  Not only was she trying on his client’s wedding dress, she was going to get caught by Zach. Her pulse kicked up and she jerkily reached for the buttons on the back of the dress.

  “Slowly, slowly,” she whispered.

  “Mariah?”

  “Be right there,” she called out.

  She wove one way, then the other, trying to get a grip on the slippery pearl buttons, but her hands were damp and growing damper by the minute. She nearly wiped her palms on the lace, then caught herself and used the towel instead. Something poked her arm from the sleeve of the dress. She stared at it, spotting somethin
g shiny peeking out from the other side of the lace. It looked like a… She slid her fingers up the sleeve until she could tug the bracelet out. She stared at the piece of jewelry. Silver chain links with a polished silver heart that had Priscilla London engraved on it.

  A chuckle from the hall.

  “You know, you don’t have to, uh, bother getting dressed, if that’s the problem,” Zach said through the door.

  No, her problem lay in getting undressed, which was definitely a first for her.

  She tucked the bracelet into the pocket of her jeans, which lay across the bed, and continued her battle with the dress.

  “Mariah?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want breakfast, that she’d meet him downstairs in an hour. Only she was deathly afraid she might still be wearing the dress even then.

  She dropped her hands to her sides and let out a long, frustrated breath then attacked the buttons again, hoping to enlist the mirror as an ally. No such luck.

  Finally she swung open the door and stared defiantly at Zach’s grinning face. His smile faded, though it remained in his rich green eyes.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mariah?”

  * * *

  DAMN, BUT SHE LOOKED GOOD in the dress.

  Zach knew just how sexy the woman in front of him was, both inside and out, but he hadn’t been prepared for the sucker punch to the gut that seeing her in all that white lace would have on him. She looked…magical. Feminine. Utterly sexy.

  “No, there’s nothing I need to tell you,” she said, looking flustered. “But I do have a question.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She turned her back on him. “Could you get me out of this thing?”

  Zach couldn’t help chuckling as he followed her into the room, allowing the door to close behind him.

  “Is this it? The dress?”

  He knew it had to be, but there was a big difference between seeing a dress lying in a suitcase and seeing it on Mariah’s subtle curves.

  “Yeah, I, um…”

  Zach’s gaze drifted over the puffy shoulders, peeked at the skin between the upper part of the dress that she hadn’t buttoned, then down over her sweet bottom.

  “You…?” he prompted.

  She sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I was thinking, really. One minute I was looking at the stupid thing, the next thing I had it on.”

  “And now you can’t get it off.”

  “That’s all I needed. Someone to state the obvious.”

  Zach’s grin widened. They’d said very little when they’d woken up this morning. In fact, Mariah had been notably quiet, though very happy, if the flush to her skin were any indication. And his ego was just big enough to allow him to think that. But in the half hour since she’d left his room, she had found her voice again and then some.

  “Stop wiggling,” he murmured into her ear.

  She shivered. “I don’t wiggle.”

  He rubbed his freshly shaved chin against the outer edge of her ear. “You definitely wiggle.”

  He licked her neck and kissed the damp area. She caught her breath. It was all Zach could do to remember that the dress she had on was his client’s. He didn’t think Denton Gawlick would appreciate his having sex with Mariah while she was in it, no matter how tempting the thought was of tugging up the long hem and seeing what she had on underneath.

  “Zach, would you just please get me out of this thing?”

  He rubbed his temple against her fresh-smelling hair. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He found the tiny pearl buttons near her waist and started popping them loose, revealing her pink skin inch by inch. And revealing that she wore absolutely nothing underneath.

  Dear God…

  She had a pair of dimples at the top curve of her bottom that just begged to be licked and explored. And that was saying nothing about the shallow crevice between her firm, rounded flesh. He finished with the buttons, then slid his hand inside the lacy material and skimmed his palm along the curve of the warm flesh.

  “Are you…done?” Mariah softly asked.

  “I’m just getting started.”

  She stepped away from him, her face full of need and desire. “I meant with the buttons.”

  “Oh. Yes. I’m done.”

  And, oh boy, was he. And ready to move to the next step. Bursting with need to take the woman disrobing in front of him into his arms. He idly scratched his chin as she turned from him, presenting him with her bare bottom as she slid out of the dress then slipped into a pair of panties, her jeans, a bra and T-shirt. Zach couldn’t help feeling a sting of disappointment. Or a wash of surprise.

  Sure, he’d had relationships based on pure sex before. But he couldn’t remember ever being this sex obsessed for this long a period before. Half of what he and Mariah did the night before would have sufficed usually. Now as he stood there watching her fold the dress, he feared that a weekful of last nights wouldn’t be enough.

  The problem was he didn’t have a week with her. They’d get on that plane in an hour and a half, be in Houston an hour later and that would be all, she wrote. No more Mariah.

  “Here,” he said, watching as she folded then refolded the dress, her hands shaking. He took the dress from her. It was plain she was humiliated by having been caught wearing it and that she was more than a little distracted.

  Her gaze slammed into his and she quickly licked her lips. “Okay. I’ll, um, just go finish getting ready.”

  Zach opened his mouth to tell her she looked ready enough to him, but she had already zipped out of view.

  He glanced at his watch, then the dress, a grin spread across his face. What would happen if they were to discover the dress had one carefully placed tear? It would have to be repaired before he could get it back to the client, right? He glanced toward the closed bathroom door and examined the material, his attention drawn to the hem where any damage and subsequent repair work would be the least noticeable. Okay, so ripping the dress would be devious at best, but he couldn’t shake the niggling sensation that there was more going on here than a simple wedding dress recovery.

  Besides, being around the delectable Mariah Clayborn a little longer wouldn’t exactly be hell on earth.

  He smiled wryly as the material gave way easily in his hands. Mariah, forgive me…

  * * *

  MARIAH CLOSED the bathroom door behind her, then leaned her hands against the counter. All she wanted to do was fill the sink with water and drown herself.

  God, could she have been any more…pathetic? Trying on another woman’s dress. What was she thinking? She didn’t even like to shop, because it usually entailed trying the clothes on before buying them, except when it came to jeans and T-shirts. Which explained why she had drawers full of the same, while her closet held nothing but nicer clothes she’d grown out of ten years ago.

  “Mariah?”

  Zach again.

  She groaned.

  Well, what had she thought? That he’d put the dress back in the suitcase and just leave?

  She cracked open the door. “What?”

  His face was very obviously minus his usual grin. He held up the dress, showing her a part of the hem. “Was this here before you tried the dress on?”

  She carefully examined the material. A tear in the delicate lace. About three inches long and right in the front. She gently sifted through the material, hoping against hope that it was a trick of the light, that she’d shift back to where the tear was to find it gone.

  No such luck.

  There was very definitely a rip. And she had been the one who had ripped it.

  “Oh, my God.” She raised her eyes to stare into Zach’s face. “I am so, so sorry. Had I even thought I would damage it, I would never hav
e “

  An inexplicable shadow crossed his face. “Maybe the tear was already there before you tried the dress on,” he said, his gaze flicking over her features. “At any rate, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” He walked back to the suitcase and she followed him out. “But I will, you know, need your help before I can return this to my client.”

  “Help?”

  “Repairing it.”

  “You mean like sewing?”

  He finished packing the dress and closed and locked the suitcase. “I mean like finding a professional to repair it.”

  She twisted her lips. “I know how to sew.”

  “An old wedding dress?”

  “Socks.”

  “Ah.”

  She couldn’t help the smile that threatened. Okay, so she wasn’t exactly the domestic type. But she knew how to round up cattle with the best of them. And if you ever needed to catch a horse thief, well, she was your gal.

  “Do you know of anyone in Houston?” Zach asked.

  She blinked at him.

  “You know, a qualified seamstress.”

  She thought about it a minute. “I, um, no.”

  He frowned.

  “Oh, wait! I know someone. Only not in Houston. In Hoffland. That would be Miss Winona McFarland. Some say she used to be a fashion designer before she married Walt, who died a couple of years back. I hear tell that she takes in some sewing on the side to supplement her income.”

  “You think she might be able to repair this?”

  Mariah shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “If she can’t, then she could probably recommend someone who can.”

  He finally nodded. “Good. Good.” He picked up the suitcase. “I’ll go put this in my room while you finish up. Meet you in the hall, say, in five minutes?”

  She nodded. She’d only need two.

  * * *

  “YOU KNOW, I’ve never done anything like that before,” Mariah said for the tenth time since she’d met up with Zach again outside her room. “I don’t know what got into me. I am so, so sorry.”