CHAPTER FIVE
Chloe watched Zak trace the silver steel with his long, brown fingers. As if caressing a woman. She turned away, unable to look at those hands without remembering them on her body the night before. Why on God’s earth had she offered to cut his damn hair? Because she used to cut her dad’s before he died? But Zak was not her dad and her thumping heart was reminding her of that. Deep down she knew why she’d volunteered to cut his hair; she wanted to touch it, run her hands through the dark silkiness of it, before he chopped it all off. Now she was quaking in her boots, not sure if she could even cut a straight line, her body hot and trembling, not to mention the effect his heavy gaze had on her every time their eyes met in the mirror.
“So how would you like your hair styled?” she asked, striving for a casual tone; anxious to get it over and done with.
He lifted his head, passing back the scissors. “Short and out of my face.”
Chloe laughed, releasing some of her stress. “So nothing fancy then?”
“Fancy?” he frowned.
“You know, long in the front and short at the sides, highlighting your excellent bone-structure.” She was rambling on through nerves, but he just stared at her in the mirror, that curious expression on his male-model face.
“I just want it short – all of it, so it doesn’t get in my way when I -.”
She waited for him to finish what he was saying, but of course he remained silent.
“When you what, Zak?”
“Nothing,” his expression shuttered. “Just get on with it and cut my damn hair, Chloe.”
He was losing patience, that was obvious, so Chloe dug her comb out of the pocket of the baggy grey sweatpants she’d put on after her shower. She’d deliberately chosen to wear them, together with an over-sized men’s shirt, feeling safe and unattractive; not realising the masculine clothes only served to enhance her innate femininity. Slowly she began to run the comb through his long, silky hair. It was quite knotty due to the length and although she had to tug at it a few times, he didn’t complain, in fact he hardly seemed to feel it. Just sat dead still, his eyes watching her every move as she finally removed all the knots, the comb running smoothly through the long, dark strands.
“I’m going to have to wet it before I cut it,” she told him, hoping he didn’t notice the huskiness revealed in her voice.
“Wet it, why?” He frowned, always so suspicious.
“Because it’s easier to cut when it’s wet and damp, the hair doesn’t move about so much.” Had he never been to a hairdresser?
He shrugged his broad shoulders and she reached up into one of the kitchen cupboards for her small, pink spray-bottle. Turning round to show it to him, Chloe flushed at his eyes resting on her backside.
God, was he as aware of her as she was of him?
He looked away quickly and she held up the spray-bottle, anything to distract them from this awkward situation. “We’ll use this to dampen your hair,” she said brightly.
He stared at it, a frown of wary suspicion lining his brow. “What’s inside it?”
“Water, plain water, which I’m going to spray on your hair.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “How?”
“Like this!” It was crazy, she had no idea why she did it, but she sprayed the water straight into his face!
In a blur of speed he’d shot off the stool, twisting her wrist painfully until she dropped the bottle, before capturing both hands behind her back, pushing her up hard against the tiled kitchen wall.
Chloe screamed in shock, but he didn’t let her go.
“What the fuck was that?”His hard body was pressed flush against hers, literally holding her up, as her legs turned to jelly.
“Water,” she croaked. “It’s just water.”
One hand held her wrists in a vice-like grip while he wiped his face with the other, blinking rapidly, rubbing the water between his fingers, lifting his hand to his nose to smell it.
“It’s just water,” Chloe whispered, trying to calm him, and herself for that matter.
His body was so hot against hers, his hard-muscled torso pushing against her sensitive breasts. Fear, and something else, drenched her body as he finally dropped his hand to her shoulder.
“It’s water.” The madness in his eyes diffused slowly.
She nodded vigorously, trembling with relief.
“Do you know how many people -” His hand squeezed her shoulder so hard, she flinched in pain.
“It was just a joke – Zak please . . .”
He eased his grip on her shoulder, but kept her hands trapped behind her back, his long fingers encircling both her wrists.
“Joke?” He repeated, staring into her eyes.
Chloe was still breathing hard, please God, let me go, she prayed, but her wanton body had other ideas. Sweet sensation was seeping from his hot body into hers, his groin pressed up hard into her lower stomach.
“Something funny,” her vocal cords began to function, those pale blue eyes staring into her soul.
Chloe sensed the moment the atmosphere changed from heightened tension into something quite different. His eyes darkened and his gaze dropped to her mouth; without thinking her tongue snaked out to moisten her parched lips. With his gaze still fixed on her, Zak shifted his hips from side to side, making her all too aware of his potent masculinity, causing liquid heat to flood her body
Taking a deep breath she tried to regain some control of the heightening sensuality building between them. “Zak, don’t . . .”
“Don’t – what?” he asked softly, easing one long leg between hers; hard muscle settling at the juncture of her thighs.
God, surely he could feel her heat pulsing against his leg? Chloe flushed with shame and embarrassment, what must he think of her? He continued staring at her with dark, hooded eyes, his expression knowing. She squirmed and fought against him – against that knowing look - her heart racing, but it was like fighting with a brick wall, harder than the one behind her
His hand at her wrists pulled her up closer to his hot body, her back arching into him as wrists pressed into her lower back. “God you smell so good,” he breathed, running his nose from her throat up to her jawline, before brushing his warm lips against hers.
Chloe’s whole body turned to jelly at that brief meeting of lips; only his hard body and the wall behind keeping her upright. She had to stop this, now, before it went any further, but her body was weakening, her nipples hard and aching as they rubbed against his chest through the worn cotton shirt.
“Zak,” she chocked. “Don’t – this isn’t - right.” Her brain had stalled, making it difficult for her to string a sentence together.
He tilted his head, brushing his lips against hers again, teasing her with the briefness of his touch, leaving her desperate for more. If her hands were free she would have grabbed his head and pulled his mouth down to hers – and kept it there.
As if able to read her mind, Zak finally lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. Chloe’s lips parted instinctively, allowing his tongue to slide inside and meet hers. Slanting her head, her shoulders pulled back by his grip on her wrists, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, allowing him better access to her mouth, her body, her soul. The intensity of her response shocked her, but this need within her had been building up from last night; this morning, perhaps when she’d first set eyes on him in that jail cell. And now, as he pressed her back against the wall, rubbing his thigh between her legs, that need exploded, running like hot lava through her veins. The ache between her legs becoming stronger, she ground herself against him, wriggling her wrists until he finally released them. With a low moan of pleasure, she lifted arms, threading her fingers into his silky-smooth hair.
His lips were at her neck now, trailing soft, wet kisses down to her collarbone, his breath hot and moist against her sensitive skin. Chloe had never believed she could feel so wild and wanton, twisting her fingers into his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers. His kisses wer
e becoming deeper, harder, while his hands, now free to roam, were sliding inside her shirt, caressing her collarbone, circling her neck, his tongue entwining and mating with hers.
“Sweet Jesus,” he groaned, as she allowed her fingers to roam from his hair to his face, tracing his prominent cheekbones, his rough, unshaven jawline then lower, to the taut muscles of his chest. “I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I saw you.”
His words made her bolder, he wanted her, had wanted her from the very beginning . . . Wrapping her arms around him, she slid her hands down the taut muscles of his back until she reached warm, smooth skin where the short T-shirt ended. His body jerked as she spread her fingers beneath the cloth and dug her nails into his smooth skin.
“God – Chloe!” His breathing was ragged, his rough-skinned fingers now at the opening of her shirt. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” she’d never been so sure about anything in her life. Since the accident she’d come to believe she was incapable of feeling sexual desire – frigid – but Zak had opened a door, a door she’d believed to be shut forever, now that door was wide open, and beyond it lay indescribable pleasure and need, need for more of what he was giving her.
He swore softly, struggling to unbutton her shirt, she was just about to help him when he gripped both sides, ripping it open. Buttons popped and hit the floor, bouncing off the tiles; Zak ignored them, his burning gaze roaming her upper body, his eyes resting on her high, exposed breasts.
“Beautiful, “his eyes were glazed with lust. “Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”
Perfect. She shook her head, cool air settling on her naked breasts. Her scarred body was far from perfect, but when his dark-skinned hands cupped each breast, brushing the rough pads of his thumbs against her tight nipples, Chloe felt perfect. She gasped, her eyes closing at the intense sensations that soured through her body. Zak circled his thumbs and squeezed at her breasts, pushing them up and outwards; her body arching, wanting to get inside his skin. Her fingernails dug in deeper, waves of need coursing down between her legs, to her sex, liquid heat flooding deep inside her.
“You have beautiful tits?” Zak groaned against her ear.
Her head arched back in a taut bow, Chloe released a sobbing moan as his fingers squeezed her nipples hard, pleasure and pain combining into a turmoil of urgent longing. She couldn’t get enough of him, spreading her legs in wild abandon, she rubbed herself mindlessly against his hard, unyielding thigh, her upper body sagging weakly back against the wall. Suddenly her left nipple was engulfed in something hot and wet; she opened her eyes to the sight of him sucking on it, long hard drags of his mouth. When he actually bit at the sensitive nub, Chloe’s whole body jerked against him, a low keening sound escaping her, nails digging instinctively into the tight muscles of his back. It was too much, the sensations engulfing her were almost scary.
“Zak – please, I can’t – I need -.” She wasn’t sure why, but she was begging him.
He lifted his head, leaning his damp forehead against hers. “God, Chloe,” he panted. “You know there’s no going back now.”