Zane (The Powers That Be, Book 6) Page 4

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Ms. Jordan! Bring me your analysis results,” Dr. Wells called.

  I took my iPad to her and watched as she read over it. During our lab, on top of assorted shells in the area, we’d also collected several water samples from Puget Sound and had been testing them for various detritus such as bacteria, metals and chemicals among other things.

  “I need this printed out, dated and also logged onto the website. Good work.”

  I loved what I was doing and couldn’t wait to do it as a career. It was exciting, I thought, and there was so much to it all. On one day, my assignment might be measuring the ocean’s current patterns, and the next, I could be charged with charting the travel paths of different marine animals. And maybe someday, I hoped I could help the aquatic environment thrive better than it ever had.

  “Thank you, Dr. Wells,” I answered, hitting the correct keys to print out my data and also turn it in.

  “Doing anything tonight?” I heard from behind me and I closed my eyes, annoyed.

  Darren Jenkins was an adjunct professor of Marine Geology, and he’d (creepily) flirted with me from day one of the semester, asking me out every other day, all of which I turned down. I mean, I thought I was a little sassy and could handle normal flirting, but he’d taken it one step further, opting to ogle me every chance he got, it seemed, which had grown old immediately. It wasn’t just my imagination, either. Sarah Newland, my classmate, had noticed it too, and she was such a sweetheart that she always tried coming to talk to me about “something very important” when it happened. Sadly, she’d gone home to Maine for winter break and I was now on my own.

  Not bothering to turn around, I stated vaguely, “Going out with a friend.”

  “Would you like some company?”

  “I’ll have company with my friend.”

  “Would this company be of the male persuasion?” he asked.

  Who talked like that? Ugh.

  “Maybe,” I replied, finishing up loading my report to the website then turning to face him—once again barely able to hold back a snicker at his stark resemblance to Kirk from Gilmore Girls—I continued, “Have a great break, Darren,” and I left.

  Chapter 4

  “Corey’s got two whole days off starting Sunday night!” Izzy said with a squeal, bending to take a shot at the pool table and missing the cue ball entirely. “Whoops!”

  I laughed, circling the table looking for the best shot as she sucked away at her drink. “Might wanna ease up on your next Zombie. And Corey’s home almost every night.”

  “No way am I easing up! We’ve got four weeks of freedom so I’ve got cause to celebrate! And I know he’s home but he’s not really there, you know? He’s either tired or studying film, usually both.”

  I found the right angle to knock a solid ball into a side pocket and bent over the table as I replied, “It’s part of his job, though. You knew he’d be busy when you started dating him.” I stood and studied the table once more making sure it was the shot I wanted to take. “And I just wanna make sure I don’t have to carry you outta here when we’re done.” I bent over the table again pulling my stick back.

  “Nice ass, Syrena,” I heard from behind me just as I snapped the stick forward for my shot.

  Which I flubbed.

  And now I was irritated.

  I stood straight and turned knowing I’d see Zane Powers grinning at me. Which I did, but seeing him didn’t bring the usual butterflies. It produced annoyance because, although I wasn’t sporty, I definitely could hold my own in a game of pool. Besides, Izzy and I had made a bet that the loser would buy the next round and I was counting on it being her.

  “What’re you doing here?” I asked, a tad bit miffed.

  “What’re you doing here?” he echoed.

  “I asked first,” I countered.

  “I asked second,” he double countered.

  “What are you, five?”

  “Times five.”

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room!” Izzy said, making a beeline past us.

  I looked at him for a long second noticing he was wearing jeans, an unbuttoned blue, plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, over a cream thermal shirt whose sleeves were pushed halfway up to expose those damned sexy forearms of his that I fully remembered.

  “No uniform tonight?” I questioned dryly.

  “Off duty.”

  We stared at each other for a moment more before I conceded, “We’re celebrating semester break.”

  “My Uncle Jack owns the place.”

  We’d both divvied out info. We had a truce. Nice.

  “So, you’re just hanging out here for…” I coerced.

  “Zane!”

  I turned to see a beautiful, auburn-haired woman sitting at the bar who’d called to him.

  “Be right there, honey,” he hollered back at her.

  I don’t know why, but I felt my stomach sink that he was on a date.

  Suddenly nervous, I blurted, “Did you know Mary, Queen of Scots’ body was wrapped in her pool table cloth after her beheading?”

  An amused look covered his face and I watched his eyes go from amber to a sparkling golden—just like they had when we’d had sex two years before—which made me suck in a breath. I remembered almost climaxing when he’d looked at me that way then, and it was no different now as my insides dipped and my panties were suddenly soaked. Holy crap.

  “Louis the sixteenth and Marie Antoinette played pool the night before they were jailed,” he answered and at the same time we quoted little-known writer John Grissim, “’The woman was in stroke, but so was her executioner.’”

  My mouth dropped open that he knew that, at which he gave me his one-dimpled smirk, excused himself and left me standing there watching him go to his date.

  “Who’s that gorgeous chick?” Izzy whispered from behind making me jump.

  “I don’t know, but they look good together,” I admitted.

  “They do,” she agreed. “My turn!”

  We resumed our game, but I couldn’t help keep an eye on Zane and his date. He’d say something and she’d laugh. Then the reverse would happen. And I hated to admit that I was intrigued by him but from my few encounters, he seemed highly intelligent. Well-rounded. He challenged me. And he knew…things.

  And he was on a date with another woman.

  Yay.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Over the next hour, Izzy and I had two more Zombies apiece and I was feeling good.

  Well, I would’ve felt better if Zane wasn’t seemingly having the time of his life with his girlfriend. But I told myself if Fate had wanted us to be together we would’ve been, so there wasn’t anything I could do now.

  “Bathroom run,” I murmured after hitting the eight ball into the corner pocket, winning the game.

  “Want me to rack ‘em up again?” Izzy asked.

  “Yep. Be right back.”

  I had to go past the bar to get to the bathroom, so I know Zane saw me, I actually felt his eyes on me, but I ignored him. He was on a date for crying out loud. I was checking my makeup when the bathroom door opened and there stood Zane, dimply smirk in full force.

  “Uh. Excuse me,” I said, trying to push by him, but he wasn’t letting me go, and as a matter of fact, he literally walked me back and inside a stall. “What the hell are you doing?”

  His golden eyes glowed in amusement again for a moment before his hands went to my shoulders and dropping his head down, he kissed me. At first, I let it happen because the man could kiss—I thought he’d actually gotten better since the first time we’d been together—I hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, and, did I say the man could kiss? But I eventually came to my senses and pushed him away.

  “You’re on a date!” I hissed.

  The smirk emerged again making me scowl.

  “Let me out of here!” I tried going by him again and was again retained.

  “Sister-in-law,” he mumbled, backing me
against the side of the stall and smashing his lips to mine.

  She was his sister-in-law. Huh.

  But still.

  “You’re awfully chummy,” I snapped when he pulled away.

  “Honor’s a great gal,” he replied and the next thing I knew, his hand was down the front of my jeans.

  “Zane! You can’t just—oh, God!”

  My head fell back against the stall, and I closed my eyes as his fingers did their magic on me making me let out a very loud moan.

  “Gonna fuck you now, Jillian,” he whispered in my ear.

  He swiftly undid my jeans, yanked them down, pulled one of my legs out, and in the next moment had his jeans down to expose his very erect, very large cock over which he unrolled a condom. Then picking me up just under my arms, which made me grab the top of the stall walls for support, he drilled his cock up inside me.

  Shit!

  Shit!

  I bounced up and down with each hard and fast thrust that kept coming over and over. Good lord.

  “Oh, my God!” I screamed as my orgasm came out of nowhere, and I almost smacked the back of my head on top of the damn stall.

  He lowered me but continued powering his hips into mine, my back to the wall as he pumped faster and harder until he came with a deep groan.

  My legs dropped slowly to the floor and his body pressing into mine kept me steady—and standing—as we both stood there breathing hard.

  “Wow,” I breathed out, still not in my head, pieces of me scattered everywhere due to the magnificent climax I’d just had. “I felt that from my toes to the ceiling.”

  His body shook against mine and I knew he was laughing.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “I really fuckin’ like you, Jillian,” he said against the top of my head before kissing it. Pulling back, he put his hand to my throat and bent, giving me another toe-curling kiss.

  “I really like you too,” I answered breathlessly when he pulled away. Have I said the man can kiss? Wow.

  He next helped me put my foot into my jeans, we both gathered ourselves, reassembling our clothing, then we left the stall.

  “I need your phone,” he said, holding out his hand. I frowned and pulled it out of my pocket, ready to give it to him. “Unlock it.” I did what he asked and handed it to him watching as he put his contact information in. He gave it back to me, then putting his fingers under my chin and watching his thumb as he brushed it across my bottom lip for a moment, his whiskey eyes met mine and he said, “Call me.”

  And then he was gone.

  I instantly felt the loss of his commanding presence but recouped a moment later and while fixing my hair and makeup in the mirror, it suddenly hit me that I’d just had sex in a bathroom.

  “You just had sex in a bathroom,” I whispered to myself, staring at the silver-with-royal-blue-haired girl looking back at me.

  I’d had sex in a bathroom.

  Hot sex…but in a bathroom.

  With Zane Powers who hadn’t even bought me a drink first.

  Zane Powers who really knew nothing about me.

  Zane Powers who’d fucked me hard twice now and I hardly knew anything about him.

  “I’m nothing but a booty call,” I rasped out as I gawked at the girl in front of me.

  Ooookay. Here’s the deal. I definitely wasn’t a prude, I did what I wanted with whomever I wanted when I wanted (which wasn’t a lot, but still, I had the option). I was a twenty-first-century chick all the way, but that was now two times I’d screwed this guy, a guy I barely even knew, and there hadn’t even been any cuddling afterward. No grand gesture of, “I’ll call you later,” or “Let’s do such-and-such tomorrow,” or even, “I want you for more than just sex.”

  Was he getting me back for sneaking out on him two years ago? But why would he give me his phone number if that was the case? Unless he’d done it only wanting me to call him when I was horny.

  Crap. I was a booty call.

  As I stared at myself, I wondered if I was okay with the way things were between us, and not really knowing the answer just then, I drew in a deep breath and upon letting it out, left the bathroom.

  I didn’t see Zane or his sister-in-law at the bar—there is a God—so I made my way to where Izzy was casually shooting billiard balls around the pool table with her hand.

  “Hey, what took so long?” she asked.

  “I, uh, had an encounter.”

  She turned to me. “Of the third kind?”

  I rolled my eyes and pulled our coats off the wall hooks, handing hers to her. “Clandestine. I’ll tell you in the cab.”

  Her eyes lit up excitedly, then we paid our tab, went outside where two taxis were waiting and got in the first one giving the driver our addresses.

  “So what happened?” she asked eagerly as we drove away.

  I told her everything and being Izzy, she squealed. “I’m so jealous! Here I am waiting for Corey to get home and you’re Diane Lane’ing and Olivier Martinez’ing it up in there! That’s so hot, JB! It was hot, wasn’t it? Tell me it was hot!”

  I nodded. “It was hot.”

  Noticing my not-as-enthusiastic-as-she-was-that-I’d-just-been-banged, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  I shrugged, nonplussed about the situation I found myself in. “I think I’ve become a booty call to him.”

  She sat back. “Really?” Twisting her lips, she thought about it. “I don’t see that at all.”

  I tilted my head. “We met two years ago, talked for five minutes then had sex. We see each other again tonight, have sex. What about that doesn’t scream ‘booty call’?”

  More thinking before she inquired, “Are you good with that being all it is?”

  “I don’t know.” And I honestly didn’t.

  “You have his number. Call him. Ask him out!”

  “Eh…”

  “Or wait until your next ‘encounter’ and see if you’re good with what it is or if you want more.”

  “That’s the thing. I’ve never wanted more. I’ve been great with how things are in my life, and now he’s making me think. I don’t like thinking about this.”

  “Then don’t! You don’t have to do shit, Jilly Bean. And who’s to say he isn’t your booty call?”

  That made me sit straight up. “I’ve never had a booty call.” I started laughing at how ridiculous that sounded. Like I owned him or something.

  “Well, you do now. And a hot one at that.” She snorted.

  With that semi-settled, we talked about the protest set for Tuesday and decided on a time to meet.

  “No alcohol this time and no handcuffs,” I promised.

  “Good,” she agreed as the cab pulled up to her apartment building. “Corey’s leaving Tuesday afternoon to fly to Ohio to see his parents, so if you don’t hear from me, I’m having my own damn booty call.” She waggled her eyebrows at me before getting out.

  “Have fun and tell him I said hi!”

  She closed the door and waved as the cab pulled away.

  “Booty call,” I mumbled.

  “What, miss?” the driver asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Jeez.

  Text Message—Sat, Dec 9, 11:34 p.m.

  Me: Am I just a booty call?

  Yep. That was me texting Zane because I couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  An hour later, I woke up when my phone chirped.

  Text Message—Sun, Dec 10, 12:22 a.m.

  Zane: Do you want to be just a booty call?

  I didn’t know, so I didn’t reply.

  Chapter 5

  “Save our parks!” I yelled the next Tuesday morning, holding up my sign and standing with the hundreds of others who’d shown up to protest the Walmart that was scheduled to be built on park land.

  “Recreation not retail…iation!” Izzy shouted then giggled at her made-up word. Since Corey had wanted to catch up with some friends before flying out to see his parents, it worked out perfectly and she could attend the prote
st with me, her payback, she’d said, for all the times she’d left me alone at parties. Huh.

  “More peddling bikes, not peddling wares!” Chet hollered through the megaphone he held and from where he stood at the front of the crowd.

  The three of us had met at the Starbucks down the block an hour and a half earlier where we’d made our signs then headed over to the park where razing equipment—bulldozers, backhoes, excavators—was in abundance and we’d succeeded in stopping the carnage for now. Everything had gone great until I heard loud voices behind me.

  I turned to see one of the protestors standing by some huge contraption—Chet told me later it was a front-end loader—and confronting a burly construction guy who looked like he was ready to blow his top.

  “You’re ruining our city!” the protestor screamed, holding his arms out and blocking the guy from getting into the machine.

  “I’m just trying to feed my family!” the worker yelled back.

  That was all well and good until the protestor, a man who looked to be in his forties, took a swing at the hardhat and ended up on the ground with his arm twisted behind him. And chaos ensued. Pushing. Shoving. Arm twisting. Ergh.

  Tossing my sign (yep, I totally littered), I grabbed Izzy’s hand and turned to make a dash for it. And ran smackdab into a solid blue wall.

  “Oof!” came out of me as I bounced off and down onto my butt.

  Looking up, up, up scanning long, powerful legs, a trim waist and broad shoulders, my eyes realized Zane in all his navy-uniform glory was looking down at me through aviator glasses with that damned dimply smirk.

  “Having fun?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes and grabbing Izzy’s hands she held out to me, stood. As I wiped the dirt from my rear, I answered sarcastically, “Tons.”

  His face then went serious. “You ladies need to get out of here before you get arrested.”

  He didn’t have to tell us twice. Izzy and I took off jogging for the Starbucks where I’d parked, but not before she turned, yelled “Hey!” at Zane and holding her hand to her face, thumb at her ear and pinky at her mouth, imparted, “Call her!”

  “Are you serious right now,” I hissed, wanting to smack her upside the head.