The Last Man on Earth Page 4

  “To the bone, I’m sure,” she said sarcastically. “But if a good-bye will make it all better, then good-bye and good night.”

  She started forward, but he caught her before she could take more than a couple of steps. “Don’t go. Not yet. I mean, has it really been so terrible tonight? Spending time with me?”

  She considered lying, knew she probably should.

  “No,” she answered honestly, “it hasn’t.”

  And maybe that was the problem. She’d liked being with him, far more than she should.

  Christ, she really needed to get out of here.

  “Look, it’s late and I’ve had way past my limit of alcohol,” she said. “I need to be going.”

  “Okay, sure, then I’ll take you.”

  “Oh no. That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine in a cab.”

  “If you can get one. It’s New Year’s Eve, remember? I wouldn’t feel right unless I made sure you made it home safely.”

  He took her elbow and steered her toward the ballroom. “We’ll grab your coat, take a brief detour upstairs to get mine, then be on our way.”

  “Upstairs?”

  “I booked a room, a suite. I often do for holiday parties I know will run late. It’s convenient having a place close when I’m ready to call it an evening. Beats dragging home through heavy traffic in the dark and the cold.” He stopped in front of the coat check. “Do you have your ticket?”

  Madelyn retrieved the stub from her small beaded handbag and handed it directly to the woman in the booth instead of passing it to Zack.

  She waited until the clerk moved out of earshot. “I am not going up to your hotel room with you.”

  “Why not? Afraid I’ll put the moves on you the moment the door’s closed?”

  She returned his look with a firm one of her own. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

  “I promise nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  For some inexplicable reason, she believed him.

  He handed her coat to her and smiled. “Ready when you are.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Clean and attractively furnished, the hotel suite was decorated in a muted collage of blues and grays. A conversational grouping of plump upholstery and wood—sofa, chairs, coffee and end tables, and an armoire—took up the majority of the main room. A narrow Pullman kitchen and wet bar stood off to one side. And on the far left there was a central doorway that presumably led to the bedroom.

  Zack switched on a table lamp, the light giving the room an easy amber glow. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared into the other room.

  She sank down onto the sofa cushions, aware of a mild buzz from all the wine she’d consumed. Relaxing back, she gave herself over to a rush of sensations, including a sudden wave of tiredness.

  Zack returned a minute later, a black wool coat folded over his arm. “You know, I was thinking,” he said, “maybe we should wait here for a little while. With all the parties letting out, not to mention the tourist crowd drifting up from Times Square, the traffic’s bound to be horrible. And the line for a cab even worse. Why don’t I fix us a cup of coffee and let the rush clear out some before we head out?”

  Madelyn frowned.

  “It’s only coffee.” He gave a rueful laugh. “You really don’t trust me at all, do you?”

  “Not especially. We work together, remember?”

  His smile faded. “We do. And you shouldn’t assume things are always the way you believe them to be.”

  “Really? Why don’t you enlighten me then, starting with—”

  “Let’s not talk shop tonight, okay?” he said, cutting her off. “The evening’s been much too pleasant to end it with an argument. How about a temporary truce? With the caveat, of course, that you can tear a strip off me the moment we get back to the office.” He offered her his hand. “Deal?”

  She considered his offer for a moment, then shrugged and shook his hand. “Deal.”

  Zack draped his coat over the back of a chair, then shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket as well. “How do you take your coffee? Black or with cream?”

  “Cream. And sugar, please. Want some help?”

  He strolled into the tiny kitchen. “I’ve got it covered, thanks. I’m not much of a cook, but I can brew a decent pot of coffee.”

  Madelyn leaned her head back against the couch cushions and let her eyelids drift shut. . . .

  “You asleep?”

  Blinking slowly, she opened her eyes and looked into his amused green ones.

  “Half,” she murmured.

  “Here’s your coffee, to wake up the sleepy half.” The cup and saucer made a little chinking sound as he set them on the end of a nearby table.

  She struggled to sit up straight. “Sorry. I’m not much of a night owl.”

  “Whoo would ever have known?” He smiled, tiny lines fanning out at the corners of his eyes.

  “Are you making fun of me, Douglas?” she said, picking up on his bad joke.

  He sat down next to her, propped one leather-shod foot onto the opposite knee in a loose, all-male sprawl.

  “Me? Make fun of you, Grayson? Never.” He blew on the steaming brew in his cup, took a careful swallow. “Although I might be guilty of a bit of teasing now and then.”

  “My father likes to tease. He says it’s good for character development and personal growth. Builds grace under pressure, a sense of humor, that sort of thing.”

  “What does your father do?”

  “He’s a developer, residential construction.”

  Zack paused for a long moment, mental wheels clearly clicking. “As in Graysco Limited? Luxury homes for the rich and famous?”

  “He might take exception to your description, but yes, that would be Dad.”

  “And your brother’s an architect. I think I saw an article about him recently. He won some award for his environmentally friendly housing designs, right?”

  “P.G. would be humbled. He didn’t think anyone besides family, friends, and industry insiders even noticed that piece. Guess he owes me twenty bucks.”

  “You had a bet going?”

  “Yeah, we do that sometimes.” Madelyn sipped her coffee. She yawned and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “Ouch!”

  She set down her cup.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Eyelash, I think. Caught in my eye. Ow!” She blinked rapidly.

  He scooted close. “Here, lean back and let me see. Look up,” he ordered. “I see it, right there. Hang on a minute.” Gently, he manipulated her eyelid. “I think I’ve got it. Better?”

  “Yes, much.” She blinked again. “Thanks.”

  She met his gaze and grew abruptly still, unable to look away. His fingers were resting on the curve of her cheek, their tips warm and slightly calloused. He was close. So close that it would be as easy as drawing her next breath to lean forward and touch her lips to his.

  No sooner had the thought entered her mind than he was pulling her into a kiss. Or maybe she was pulling him; she couldn’t say for sure.

  Her thoughts scattered the instant their lips met, her senses jolting as if she’d been hit by a high-voltage electrical charge. The kiss they’d shared at midnight had been potent, but this one was so much more.

  Powerful.

  Raw.

  Filled with a hunger so intense that it seemed to burn everything else to ash.

  He began pulling the pins out of her hair, letting them fall where they would. The thick strands cascaded to her shoulders like a vibrant curtain of fire. He thrust his fingers into it, using its mass to hold her steady as he kissed her again.

  Her own fingers clutched the fine fabric of his shirt. He tasted delicious—of coffee and wine an
d man. A dark, sinful combination that left her craving more.

  Zack brought a handful of her hair to his face. “It smells so good. Feels so soft, softer than I’d ever imagined.”

  “What?” she murmured.

  “Your hair, it’s beautiful. I’ve wanted to touch it like this for a long time.”

  He nuzzled her neck, finding a spot that made her legs shift restlessly beneath the heavy material of her skirt.

  “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for a long time.”

  His mouth locked with hers once more, wrenching a pleasured cry from her throat. Even so, some fraction of his words filtered through the haze surrounding her.

  What was it he’d said? That he’d wanted her for a long time?

  He had?

  The idea startled her, enough that she began to pull away.

  “What are we doing? Maybe we should stop.”

  “Why?” He reached behind her, insinuating his hand between her back and the sofa cushions to unzip her dress.

  “Be- . . . because . . .”

  Because why? she wondered, knowing there ought to be a reason.

  His lips and tongue moved over her neck, so pleasurable she could barely think.

  “Because you said you wouldn’t try anything tonight,” she said weakly.

  He unhooked the clasp of her bra, then traced delicate patterns over the sleek length of her naked back and shoulder blades, making her shudder.

  “I did? I believe I said I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to.” He pressed a hot kiss to her lips. “Are you saying you don’t want this?”

  He pushed her dress to her waist and bared her breasts, cupping one of them in his hand as if testing its weight and shape. He rubbed his thumb over a nipple, then bent to take her breast in his mouth. He sucked on it. Hard.

  Madelyn groaned and fought to pull one of her arms out of its sleeve. Once free, she drove her fingers into his hair and pressed his head tighter against her aching flesh.

  She felt him smile as his tongue flicked against her. Closing her eyes, she let the fire sizzle through her veins.

  Suddenly he stopped, then stood her abruptly on her feet. She could barely stand as he pulled down her dress, letting it fall to the floor.

  She watched as he took in the slight of her, his pupils dilating as he surveyed her slim, shapely body dressed in nothing but a lacy garter belt, hose, and a pair of panties so pale a pink they were virtually see-through. On her feet were three inches of golden high heels.

  He groaned with clear appreciation, then drew her down so that she straddled his lap. His mouth found hers for a wild kiss. He pulled her closer, moving her hips so they fit more tightly against him. He was as hard as steel between her legs as he rocked them together.

  “I can’t wait,” she gasped, shocked that she was already poised on the edge of an orgasm.

  “Then don’t,” he murmured, his breath fanning hot in her ear.

  He bumped them together. Once, twice, three times more. Rhythmically insinuating the sexual act, he slipped his fingers down and around to touch her intimately.

  She cried out the instant he touched her, her fingernails digging into his arms. Crazy pleasure burst through her, and she was soaring, shaking, quivering helplessly.

  As she hung over him, limp and half-delirious, he stood up, lifting her with him, and carried her to the bedroom.

  The sheets were cool against her back when he lowered her onto the bed. Within seconds, he had his clothes off. He reached next to pull off her shoes, tossing them over his back, where they landed with two small thumps. Then he slid the last delicate scraps of cloth from her body.

  Another moment passed as he paused to put on protection. She watched him as he stood silhouetted in the silvery moonlight filtering through the window, tall, deep-chested, and all male. It struck her again how very beautiful he was.

  Then she couldn’t think at all, her body taking control as he came down over her. He slid inside her, levering his weight onto his forearms as he drove deep.

  Madelyn cried out. He drank in the sound as he claimed her mouth with the same intensity he was taking her body.

  She gripped him hard, wrapping him in her arms, his flesh hot and slick beneath her hands. His muscles were bunched and trembling as he thrust into her again and again. She quaked, a fresh cry rising in her throat as he brought her higher, then higher still.

  She called out his name on a near scream, light flashing behind her eyelids as she came for the second, glorious time that night.

  She felt him find his pleasure moments later, shuddering hard and heavy against her.

  Together, they collapsed, locked tightly in each other’s arms.

  • • •

  A faceful of sunlight awakened Madelyn the next morning.

  Still half-asleep, she rolled over, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Her nose twitched as something faintly ticklish pressed against its tip. It brushed her lips as well. Warm and solid, soft, yet ever so slightly rough. A curious study in contrasts. The something smelled nice too, she thought, a tad earthy with a dash of spicy-sweet tossed in. Ripe and very male. Very Zack.

  Very Zack?

  Her eyes popped open, giving her a close-up view of the strong, hair-dusted forearm stretched across the center of her pillow. She jerked her head back, then wished she hadn’t, as a quick stab of pain shot through her skull.

  Gradually the discomfort eased. Once the pain subsided, she slowly sat up, the sheet and blanket falling to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to cool air.

  She was naked.

  She never slept naked.

  Memories of the night before came flooding back.

  Oh my God, what have I done?

  Zack lay sprawled on his stomach, still mercifully asleep, his long body taking up a great deal more than his fair share of the king-size bed.

  He could have it, she decided. All she wanted to do was get dressed, go home, and try to forget. If she was very careful, perhaps she could slip out without awakening him.

  Mouse quiet, she shifted sideways, ignoring the little aches and twinges that bit at her muscles and several intimate areas that hadn’t had a workout in a good long while.

  Boy, oh boy, they’d gotten one last night. Several times. And once this morning in the predawn hours as the first rays of light colored the sky.

  No wonder he was sleeping like the dead. He had to be exhausted. On the other hand, maybe he always slept like that. Undoubtedly, awkward mornings after would be nothing new to him. He’d probably had so many they’d stopped being awkward at all. But this kind of experience was far from the norm for her. For all she knew, there was some sort of etiquette for moments like this.

  How might the conversation go?

  Good morning. You want room service? Eggs? Orange juice? No? Well, hey, thanks for the sex. It was fun. See you around.

  She had to get out of here.

  Chagrined, she discovered getting dressed wasn’t as simple as it should have been, her clothes scattered throughout the suite like pieces of driftwood on a beach. As rapidly as she could, having no choice but to tiptoe around stark naked, she gathered up her dress and bra and shoes.

  That’s when she realized the worst.

  Her most intimate undergarments lay on the floor.

  On his side of the bed.

  Directly under the long male arm dangling off the mattress.

  She ground her teeth in frustration.

  Creeping closer, she watched, waiting to see if he was about to wake. But his face remained serene, relaxed, and younger looking despite the heavy shadow of sexy black stubble covering his cheeks and chin.

  She managed to slide free her hose and garter belt, draping the scanty delicates over the bundle of garments in her arms.

  Her panties were another matt
er.

  Zack stirred and shifted. For a hopeful second she thought he was going to roll over onto his side. Instead he stretched farther out on his stomach, lengthening his spine so that his arm dropped a fraction of an inch lower. His fingers now rested on the sheer garment, literally pinning it to the carpet.

  Silently she cursed. If she couldn’t retrieve her panties, she’d have to go home without them. A perfectly dreadful prospect, she decided. Yet somehow the idea of waking him up and having to confront him seemed even worse.

  Defeated, she padded into the bathroom.

  He hadn’t moved, not even an inch, by the time she crept back into the room, fully dressed. Or rather, nearly dressed, she was reminded as a faint draft of air wafted up beneath her skirt. The sensation was immodestly disconcerting. As for her hair, rather than take the time to find her hairpins, she’d simply brushed it and left the strands to fall in loose waves around her shoulders.

  Presentable-looking enough, she believed. At least as presentable as a woman could look, traveling home alone, at ten o’clock in the morning, still rigged out in full evening attire. It was New Year’s Day. The odd hour wouldn’t seem so remarkable, she assured herself, especially in New York City, where you had to look a lot stranger than she did to even get noticed.

  Glancing at him one final time, where he lay sleeping like some enchanted fairy-tale prince, she pulled on her coat, grabbed her purse, and quietly let herself out the door.

  • • •

  The lock clicked ever so softly, the slight sound awakening Zack.

  Instantly he realized he was alone.

  Regrettable, he decided. He’d been looking forward to lazing away a few more hours with Madelyn, after calling the front desk first to request the latest checkout possible.

  His fingers brushed against a silky something on the floor.

  Fabric.

  He curled a hand around the item and discovered Madelyn’s abandoned lingerie dangling from his fingertips. In spite of his tiredness, his body responded, her scent drifting to his nostrils, evocative and utterly female.

  He groaned, wishing she were here in this bed with him.

  He’d see her tomorrow at work, he supposed. And when work was concluded, he’d see more of her.