* * *
“Your post-dessert dessert.” Zach’s hand appeared from behind Pen, a glass of port wine in his grip. “It’s a tawny, which I prefer. That bit of vanilla goes a long way.”
She accepted the miniature wineglass and a kiss to her cheek. Zach rounded the enormous brown leather couch wearing nothing at all, another miniature glass dwarfed in his large hand.
Pen wasn’t wearing anything, either, but had curled up in a blanket she’d found tossed over his ottoman. A blanket she now opened to include Zach. He accepted, cradling one of her breasts and delivering a tender kiss to the side of her mouth.
They’d stepped foot in his expansive apartment and stripped off each other’s clothes in record time. She hadn’t so much as seen the bedroom yet, though she did make a quick stop to the bathroom. Zach’s apartment was a manly array of exposed brick, lights suspended from long, metal rods, his furniture deep browns and grays. The overall vibe was more industrial than rustic, yet had warmth that mirrored the owner himself.
She sipped the super-sweet wine, savoring the vanilla notes that Zach mentioned and quirking her lips at the way her dress had been haphazardly tossed over a chair along with Zach’s discarded suit. Their shoes made a line from the foyer to the living room, the first articles of clothing they’d kicked off.
“You have a really nice apartment.”
“Thanks.”
“No billionaire mansion for you?”
“Nah, that’s Chase’s style.”
“What about Stef? Does she tend toward high-rise apartment or sprawling mansion with horses and twenty-two bathrooms?”
“See, you think you’re being cute, but my parents’ house has twenty-two bathrooms.”
“I know.” She sipped her wine and peered over the tiny rim at Zach. “I looked them up and their house was in Architectural Digest. It’s incredible.”
“It’s ridiculous. But my mother likes to redecorate. With thirty-seven thousand square feet, she’s never at a loss for a room to have painted or altered to her ever-changing preferences.”
Zach leaned back on the sofa, his arm draped around Pen. She snuggled closer and he adjusted the blanket to cover them both.
“Do you get along with them? Or are you the classically overlooked middle child?”
A low laugh that might have been confirmation bobbed his throat. “I get along with them. I joke about my mother’s frivolity, but she’s a great mother. My dad became sick and her world stopped on a dime.”
“How is he now?”
“Good. Misses his bacon and sausage.”
“And strip steaks?” she teased.
“It’s Dallas, sweetheart. Men eat steak.”
“Right. Heaven forbid you do something as effeminate as not eat a cow.” She grinned, liking the way she could volley back at him. He was one of the easiest people she’d ever been around.
He moved in on her again and the kiss lasted a little longer than either of them intended. “Glad you packed a bag, Penelope Brand.”
Her heart kicked into overdrive when Zach set aside his wine and took her wineglass from her hand. His insistent kisses peppered down her throat and collarbone. When he reached her stomach, his hand flattened on the space between her breasts and he pushed her to her back.
Then he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder and made her dessert.
Again.