My cheeks colour. ‘The night of the house fire. After we woke up on the couch together and I went to bed. Afterwards, I tried to pretend I wasn’t imagining you when I did it, but I totally was.’
‘You mean the night I broke up with Meghan because I couldn’t stop thinking about you?’
His eyes flicker across my face before I lean forward and catch his mouth with mine. A moan winds through him as my tongue brushes his, our fingers weaving tightly together when he shifts closer to kiss me deeper. His free hand clutches my jaw as our lips mould together, and a question steamrolls into my brain that I can’t kick out.
I pull back to look into Zac’s eyes. ‘Have you ever touched yourself thinking about me? Actually, don’t answer that. If you say no, I—’
‘Yes,’ he cuts in. ‘Many times.’
That mental image makes me drop my forehead into his shoulder like I can’t handle it. When I lift my face again, a soft smile is playing around Zac’s lips.
‘I want to ask you something,’ he says, his fingertips tracing patterns over my skin. ‘When did things change for you? When did you start thinking about me as something more than a friend?’
My gaze shifts to the wall behind him as I search for the answer. ‘I’m not entirely sure. I know I felt something that night we made The Back-Up Plan agreement, but there were probably times before and after that, too, which I just refused to acknowledge. We were such good friends, and you always had one girlfriend or another. You were off-limits.’ I decide not to single out Tara. ‘But I guess things changed when I didn’t see you for a long time. I think it allowed me to step far enough away to be able to come back and see you for what you really are to me.’
The happiness swimming in his eyes makes me want to slap myself out of my own giddy stupor. It’s enough to make anyone sick.
‘What time is it?’ I ask, a familiar ache building between my legs as I glide my hand over the dips and swells of his chest.
He winces. ‘Nooo, don’t ask that question.’
‘Why?’ I twist to glance at the clock on the bedside table. ‘Shit!’’
Zac groans and buries his face in the pillow as I lurch off him and scramble out of bed.
‘I am so late,’ I say in a panic, scanning for something resembling underwear, but they must still be in the living room.
‘God, don’t stand there like that, looking good enough to eat, then tell me you have to go,’ he says behind me.
I snatch up one of his T-shirts and shrug it over my head, making an exaggerated inhale of its scent.
‘Sorry,’ I say, biting away the yearning spurred by the sight of him half-naked and twisted up in sheets. ‘But the Sydney bigwigs are getting close to deciding on Christina’s newsreader replacement. Icannotafford to mess up this week.’
Something shifts in Zac’s eyes before he glances down, and I realise I’ve probably said the wrong thing. Why did I need to mention my imminent return to Sydney?
I hunch forward to stamp my lips to his. ‘I know. You and I have got some talking to do. We’ll do that soon.’
Slight alarm sparks in his gaze as I draw back, wanting to kick myself for being so indelicate, but right now, I have to get going. I dig out some clean clothes from my stash before slipping into the shower. The steam is billowing around me when a sharp twinge of itchiness strikes my left underarm. My eyes flash open and my fingers reach to scratch the spot, a warning bell ringing in my ear.
You’re still itchy under there. Something’s not right.
As my breaths begin to quicken, I remind myself that the doctor said I was fine.
I am fine.
Everything is going to be OK.
Deep breath.
By the time I’ve made it out of the shower, I’m even more late. When I hurry into the kitchen, tucking my vintage mint-green blouse into white slacks, Zac’s waiting with a thermos of coffee and toast in a brown paper bag. The adorableness of this settles the jittery feeling still bouncing around my chest.
‘Aww, thanks, Dad,’ I say, collecting them from his fingers.
A playful frown tightens his brow as he clasps the back of my neck. ‘I amnotyour dad,’ he says firmly. He then presses his mouth to mine, his kiss sucking all the strength from my legs before he lowers his lips to my neck. My fingers sink into the back of his hair as heswirls his tongue over the skin beneath my ear, and I beg him to stop before I lose my self-control. He pulls back and presses his lips to my forehead so I can leave, which I reassure him is the last thing I feel like doing.
‘Yum,’ I say, giving his jaw a needy squeeze and pressing several more kisses to his lips before I push out the door with an overplayed groan of frustration that makes him laugh.
Once I’m alone in the car, anxiety over the conversation that Zac and I obviously need to have claws its way into my bloodstream.
