Free When in Paris... (Language of Love) by Beverley Kendall Page B

within inches of each other. Slowly, giving me enough time to protest, to scream, to react the way any woman would if she didn’t want a man’s hands on her, he cups my breasts. Breathless, I watch as he thumbs my stiff nipples. The shock of pleasure leaves me gasping and clutching his forearms.
    When I look up at him, his eyes are glazed over with the same desire I know is reflected in mine. I feel like I’m standing on a precipice and what I want to do and what I have to do are not remotely in concert. But I haven’t lived eighteen years of my life holding on to railings only to fling myself off a cliff without knowing there’s a safety net below to break my fall. And there’s no doubt that I’m falling.
    “Zach.” His name is a shivery exhalation filled with both desire and fear.
    He lifts his heavy-lidded gaze to mine and I get the small satisfaction of seeing he looks as dazed as I feel.
    I take a shaky step back and his hands fall to his sides. Visibly trembling, I pull the zippered edges of my coat together, covering breasts still tingling from his touch and wrap my arms around myself.
    “I have to go.” My voice is strained as I turn and hurry toward the door. It requires two clumsy turns of the knob before I manage to yank the door open. Cheeks ablaze, I hurry toward the red stairs sign, unwilling to risk the elevator taking too long.
    I can feel Zach staring after me. Feel it all down my back, my hips, my thighs, all the way to the tips of my toes. But I’m strong and I don’t look back.

C HAPTER S EVEN

    ZACH
    No one has ever accused me of being stupid. And not just when it comes to books. I know when a girl is into me. The signs aren’t usually hard to read.
    I glance down at my crotch and feel lust tugging at my gut. My signs aren’t hard to read either.
    I lift my gaze to the door Olivia just disappeared through and shake my head, knowing I hadn’t just dreamt the whole thing. My heart is thundering so loud in my ears, I can’t hear anything else for at least a minute. The minute it takes me to get control of my body and my breathing.
    I walk to the living room and drop onto the couch, swinging my legs up until I’m laid out in a full sprawl.
    What the hell just happened? I’m not exactly sure. The only thing I know is I don’t think I’ve been this turned on since my first look at the Playboy magazine I found under my dad’s mattress. Or was it Penthouse ? Who the hell knows, all I do know is I was a horny thirteen-year-old.
    I’d goaded her. At some point I should have told her the truth. When she’d accused me of being fake, I’d responded the way I had because we’ve been doing the same thing for years—fighting a pretty intense attraction. If I’d ever been unsure about that, tonight laid any conceivable uncertainty I could’ve ever had to rest.
    Inhaling deeply before releasing a long breath, I close my eyes and rub the palms of my hands over my face. What the hell am I going to do? I don’t even know what the right thing to do is. If I let myself get involved with Olivia, they’ll be hell to pay. My mom will see it as a betrayal, me cavorting with the enemy. I’m pretty damn sure that’s the way she’ll look at it.
    But things are different now, I reason. I’m living on my own and I can do what I want to a large degree. Especially when it comes to which girls I go out with. Call it me being chickenshit but my mom will never know. And it’s not like I’m going to get serious with her and take her home to meet the folks. I’m your typical red-blooded guy who wants to get in her pants. That may be a slightly crude way to look at it, but it’s the truth.
    I can’t forget the feel of her breasts. The contact hadn’t been long enough but its lingering effects are still playing havoc with my libido. I wonder what she’d have done if I’d kissed her, removed her sweater, her bra, and seen and touched what I’d only felt through the buffer of clothes.
    “ Christ,” I