5
I walked up the stairs and Zac followed, his gaze on my butt. Or so I assumed. He guided me into a bedroom that smelled like new paint and looked twice as large as a bedroom that this style of house should have. The bed was similar to the one in his Vegas hotel suite, covered in charcoal grays, black and silver, with snow-white sheets. It was made. Had he known I'd come over, or did he make his bed every morning? Who was I kidding? He probably had a housekeeper who came around every day.
"Amy—"
"Shhh." I pressed my finger to his lips. "I can't do this if you talk."
His brows lifted, but he refrained from asking me why. He gave a brief nod then gently removed my hand, only to press my wrist to his mouth. He kissed the sensitive flesh, tracing the veins up my arm to the inside of my el
