Too Close for Comfort Page 16

  ‘Hey, honey, I’m home,’ he said with a grim smile.

  The dog jumped to prop her paws on his waist, but instead of making a fuss of her, as he usually did, he gave her an impatient shove. ‘C.D., will you quit that now?’

  C.D. returned to her basket, her tail drooping almost comically. But Iona wasn’t laughing. Seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d had a disturbing day.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

  Strong fingers curled around her wrist and he hauled her towards him. ‘Nothing you can’t fix.’

  He wrapped his arms around her in a hard hug, buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath. But tension vibrated through him as his palms cupped her bottom.

  The rush of lust stemmed the panic as she felt the familiar weight of his erection. She hugged him back, absorbed the delicious spicy scent.

  Sex was easy. Simple. and it would make her forget her cartwheeling tummy.

  The long firm muscles of his back rippled through his shirt as she ran her hands down his spine and felt the steady punch of his heartbeat against her ear.

  ‘Supper smells terrific,’ he murmured, framing her face in rough palms. ‘But I don’t want food right now. I want you.’

  ‘Then we’re in luck,’ she said as she let all her worries about how attached she was getting be consumed by the insistent arousal. ‘Because I know how to reheat it.’

  The rumble of his laughter made her heart leap painfully and then his lips covered hers. Making her forget everything but the touch, the taste, the scent of him.

  He plunged his tongue into her mouth, his fingers moulding her buttocks, then fumbling with the button on her shorts. He swore and the button released. Searching fingers cupped her sex through her panties, making her swell against his hand.

  ‘Zane, wait.’ She pressed her hand over his to still the exploration, more than a little shaky. Sex was simple, so why did this suddenly feel like anything but?

  ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘You’re soaking wet.’

  ‘I know, it’s…’ She glanced over her shoulder, looking for a way to slow him down until she’d got the foolish vulnerability under control. And saw the dog watching their actions with big soulful eyes.

  ‘We should take this upstairs,’ she said. ‘C.D.’s over there.’

  ‘She’s a dog, not a child,’ he said, the tone sharp, but he dragged his hand out of her shorts.

  Kicking the door open, he clicked his fingers. ‘C.D. out.’ The dog slunk out, giving them a disconsolate look.

  Zane slammed the door shut. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  Before she could raise any more objections, his mouth swooped down. He grasped her waist and lifted her onto the counter. Dragging her shorts and panties down, he flung them away. Her naked bottom felt cold against the marble. She braced her hands behind her, shocked when he hooked her legs over his shoulders, forcing her to lean back and open for him completely.

  He bent to flick his tongue over the swollen flesh. And then concentrated on driving her wild. The hot, rough strokes had her sobbing with staggered pleasure—the last of her defences crashing down as he set his mouth on her clitoris and suckled.

  She tried to hold on, to hold back, to stop the rush of sensation devouring her but the ferocious orgasm slammed into her. The glorious wave crashing as She cried out her release.

  He raised his head, those sapphire eyes dark with arousal as he released himself from his trousers. She clung to his neck, tasted herself on his lips, as he held her thighs apart, and plunged deep.

  The raw shock of penetration—so full, so stretched—was nothing to the visceral shock of renewed arousal as he began to thrust—hard and fast. Digging his fingers into her hips, he held her powerless to resist the depth and intensity of his thrusts, the onslaught sending her back over the edge with alarming speed.

  The endless orgasm crested, retreated and crested again. Until at last she shattered, her ragged sobs echoing off the cold hard surfaces.

  He shouted as his own climax hit, his forehead slick with sweat as he buried his head against her neck and emptied himself into her.

  Iona’s hands trembled violently as she clasped the damp hair on Zane’s nape, her body caught in the aftershock of the climax, her heart beating so hard she could feel it hitting her ribs.

  What had just happened? She felt as if she’d survived a war—just barely survived it.

  She groaned, the large erection still firm as he shifted then withdrew. Readjusting his trousers, he cursed and walked away, leaving her limp and trembling and shaken on the countertop.

  She could feel the sticky residue of his semen as she climbed down, her legs like wet noodles as she picked up her knickers and cut-offs and put them on.

  He stood by the kitchen’s picture window, his shoulders and back rigid, his hands braced on the sink and his head bowed. The tail of his shirt hung outside his trousers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, the tone raw with an emotion she didn’t understand.

  His head lifted as she approached but he didn’t look at her. The shadows of twilight cast his profile into harsh relief—the lines of exhaustion on his face more pronounced.

  ‘I’m no better than he is.’ The words came out on a barely audible murmur as if he were talking to himself.

  ‘What are you apologising for?’ she asked.

  He dragged his hand through his hair as he turned to face her. ‘I behaved like an animal. I didn’t even take the time to suit up.’

  ‘I could have asked you to stop if I’d wanted you to,’ she replied, confused by the shame in his voice. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘What makes you think I would have stopped?’

  ‘Because I know you,’ she said, stunned by the question. ‘And I know you would never do something like that.’

  He shook his head. ‘Which proves you don’t know me at all.’

  She placed her hand on his back, felt the bunched muscles through the creased cotton. ‘Zane, what are you talking about? We had rough sex. Rough, consensual sex, which we both enjoyed.’ She stroked trying to soothe the tremble of reaction. ‘You have nothing to apologise for. I had more than one orgasm. And I happen to enjoy it more when you don’t hold back.’

  He huffed out a weary laugh, but the muscles remained rigid underneath her palm.

  ‘Who were you talking about?’ she asked, although she was sure she already knew. ‘When you said you’re no better than he is?’

  His eyes met hers, the expression in them so sad, so confused she felt her heart constrict.

  ‘My father. He raped my mother.’ He straightened, and shoved bunched fists into his pockets. ‘That’s how I was conceived.’

  Shock came first, swiftly followed by sadness at the controlled contempt in his voice. Was that why he strived so hard for control? Always struggled to hold back a part of himself? Because he thought he was responsible for that?

  ‘How do you know? Did your mother tell you that?’

  He stared at her blankly for a moment, then frowned. ‘Of course not. I’ve never spoken to her about him,’ he said in a broken voice. ‘Why would I? When it would only hurt her more?’

  She doubted that. The Maria Montoya she had met was a woman who loved her son. Iona couldn’t imagine Maria wanting to see Zane suffer like this, any more than she did. ‘But then how do you know it was rape?’

  ‘Because I saw them together at the house where we lived, on his father’s estate, when I was twelve years old.’ The bitterness had returned, tenfold. ‘When he tried to do it again.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Iona touched shaking fingers to her mouth, so horrified at what both he and his mother had endured she was momentarily speechless. Had he seen his father assaulting his mother? It was too hideous to even contemplate. ‘Zane.’ She stroked his arm, trying to offer what little comfort she could. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay—I said he tried. He didn’t get away with it a second time. I saw him pawing her through the
cottage window.’ He shrugged. ‘I thought they were kissing. I’d never seen my mother kiss a man before that.’ His eyes met hers, the pain in them so naked, she felt her heart tearing in her chest. ‘But as I watched through the window, I saw she wasn’t kissing him back, she was struggling. I wanted to help her, to stop him, but I couldn’t move.’

  ‘Zane, you were probably in shock—it’s not surprising.’ He sounded so guilty, so disgusted with himself.

  ‘Don’t you get it? I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Did he hurt her?’ she asked, praying that he hadn’t.

  ‘No. She slapped him really hard. And he howled something about what was she getting so pissy about, she’d enjoyed it before. And then I heard her say “I didn’t enjoy it, you raped me—and you know it. Don’t ever come near me again, or I will kill you.” And then he said, “If it was that bad, why did you have the kid?” And then I turned and ran. And I hid. I heard his car leave a few minutes later and when I finally got up the guts to return, she was there, making lunch. Pretending nothing had happened. But I could see her fingers shaking. I wanted to say something. To apologise. To make it better. But what could I say when I was a part of the man that had done that to her?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, Zane,’ she whispered. ‘Is that why you won’t acknowledge your brother Nate or his son?’ she asked, understanding it all now, and her heart aching for Zane and his misguided guilt and stupid gallantry. Had the disgust he felt for his father—and for himself—been the trigger for that too? ‘Because you’re trying to protect your mother?’

  Couldn’t he see how foolish that was? And how unnecessary? She refused to believe Maria would have asked that of him. So why did he ask it of himself?

  He looked stunned for a second, then his brows slashed down in a furious frown. ‘How the hell do you know about Nate and me? You’ve never even met the guy.’

  She didn’t flinch at the hoarse accusation.

  ‘Tess called round this afternoon to bring you this.’ She pulled the invitation out of her pocket. ‘Because she really wants you to go to Brandon’s christening.’

  She held out the envelope but he only stared at it, until she lowered it again.

  ‘She had Brandon with her and I…’ She paused. ‘I mistakenly thought he might be yours. So she explained about you and Nate and we had a cup of tea…And a wee chat.’

  He cursed under his breath. ‘What’s a wee chat? Is that Scottish for “I grilled Tess about something that was none of my damn business”?’

  The closed fury on his face made it very obvious she’d stepped way over the line. Her throat thickened, the brittle accusation almost as brutal as the dismissal behind it.

  If she’d wanted proof that this had never been more than casual for him, she had it now. Unfortunately, seeing the desolation in his eyes a moment ago had also forced her to acknowledge the truth—their relationship had never been casual for her.

  In the last month, she’d come to depend on him and the way he made her feel: cherished and important and desirable, but worse than that Zane had made her feel needed, in those moments when he’d let his guard down.

  But now she understood he hadn’t needed her at all, not specifically. Everything he’d done for her, even the spectacular sex, had been a symptom of his need to protect her, just as he had needed to protect his mother, and that young girl being brutalised by a drug dealer, and probably every other woman he’d ever encountered.

  ‘No, it’s Scottish for Tess and I had a mature conversation about a man who matters to me,’ she said, refusing to let him see how much his dismissal had hurt.

  ‘I matter to you? Then maybe you should butt out of this.’

  She flinched but refused to let the uncharacteristic show of temper derail her again. This wasn’t about her. She could see that now.

  Clearly Brandon’s birth and his christening had brought Zane’s issues with his father bubbling to the surface in the last year—she’d never been the special someone Tess had talked about; she’d simply been a convenient distraction.

  But even so, she didn’t intend to be a doormat too.

  ‘They love you, Zane,’ she continued. ‘Not just Tess and Nate and your mother, but her family too. Don’t you see how insane it is for you to shut them out, because of some pig-headed idea that you’re responsible for your father’s crimes?’

  She would be leaving as soon as was feasibly possible. and she could never tell Zane that she loved him—because it would only be a burden to them both—but she wanted to at least try and make him see how wrong he was about himself.

  His damn head was exploding. He’d taken her on the sideboard—like a damn animal—without an ounce of restraint. So what if she’d had an orgasm? So what if she’d had twenty? He’d used her in the worst way possible, because his need for her had consumed him. He’d proved that he had the same sick flaw as his father, and she was acting as if it didn’t matter.

  And now she wanted to talk about Nate and Tess and his mother. Was she nuts? Couldn’t she see what he was? What he had always been? Didn’t she know he could never be Nate’s brother, Brandon’s uncle, because he didn’t deserve to be? He didn’t even deserve to be his mother’s son. Any more than he deserved Iona.

  She watched him now, those almond eyes wide with conviction. And the realisation that keeping her meant risking doing that to her again—made him want to punch his fist through a wall.

  He thrust a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling, and heard the plaintive whine of the dog from outside the door.

  He had to get out of here. ‘I should take C.D. for her run,’ he said, keeping his tone neutral, and plunging his hands into his pockets to stop from hauling Iona close and taking her again.

  He didn’t even have the right to ask her now if they could make this relationship more, not after what he’d done, the way he’d treated her. He had to find a way to make that up to her. To show her he could control himself. That she could trust him to be careful.

  But with his nerves shot and his stomach raw, he couldn’t think straight. He needed time to cool down, to figure a way to work this out.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he added, making it clear he didn’t want company. Not this time.

  He saw the shadow of hurt in her eyes, and felt the answering tug in his chest, but thanked God when she nodded. ‘Okay.’

  He opened the door and the dog bounded in. ‘Hey, Cooks,’ he said, trying to sound pleased to see the dog as she jumped onto him.

  Iona gave the dog’s head a rub. C.D. lapped up the attention, as always, but then Iona stepped back, and he saw the single tear slip down her cheek. It pierced his heart as she swiped it away.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he said, pretending not to notice her distress. He couldn’t deal with this now.

  Damn, he might even have gotten her pregnant, he thought, the panic returning. What the hell did he do about that?

  She nodded, the wobble in her bottom lip crucifying him. ‘All right.’

  He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, felt the tiny tremor and hated himself even more.

  He’d make it up to her. Tonight. And he’d fix this. Because he had to. Whatever he was, whatever he deserved, he couldn’t let her go too.

  He returned half an hour later, his suit pants ruined from walking in the surf, but with a course of action figured out that just might work. He’d never had to beg before. But this time, he figured it was the only option.

  The house was eerily silent as he followed C.D. into the kitchen. The dog whimpered, as if something was wrong. And then he saw the lasagne dish standing on the sideboard and the note propped against it written in Iona’s neat, precise script—and realised what it was.

  You’re a good man, Zane. Go ask your mum, she’ll tell you. And don’t forget to take care of yourself and that silly dog.

  Iona x

  The devastation came first, but the anger soon followed. How could she have left him, without even giving him a chance to make am
ends?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘OPEN THE DAMN door!’ Zane rammed his fist against the hardwood door of the pretty little colonial, having already rung the doorbell twice.

  Iona had to be here; this was his last hope. He’d driven to Pacific Grove first to check in with Mrs Mendoza and her other neighbours. Then he’d called Nate. Maybe Iona and Tess had only just met, but Tess had always been a meddler, so it was possible she’d offered Iona a place to stay.

  But he’d drawn a blank there too. Nate had been adamant. ‘There’s no one staying with us, I swear. But who is she? Is there a problem, cos you sound kind of weird, man.’

  He’d made some dumb excuse and ended the call. There wasn’t a problem. Or there wouldn’t be as soon as he’d tracked Iona down.

  He rang the bell again and the hall light came on.

  ‘Hold your horses.’

  The locks clicked and his mother appeared in the doorway. Her usually perfect hair was pinned up in tight curls as she wrapped her robe around her waist. He felt the shimmer of guilt at having got her out of bed.

  ‘Zane, what on earth’s the matter? Why are you beating down my door in the middle of the night?’

  ‘It’s important.’ He strode past her into the house, deciding it was too late for guilt. ‘Is Iona here?’

  ‘Iona?’ She blinked sleepily following him into the small kitchen that always smelled of fresh herbs and home baking, and switched on the overhead light. ‘You mean the pretty Scottish girl you brought to Maricruz’s quinceañera?’

  ‘Don’t act dumb with me.’ He shouted at his mother, as all the frustration and panic of the last few hours—while he’d driven around trying to figure out where she might go, and prayed frantically that she hadn’t already caught a flight home—made his chest feel tight. ‘You know damn well who Iona is.’

  The sharp slap cracked out, stunning him into silence and making his left cheek sting like a son-of-a-bitch.