And Zane moves in a tight circle, fingers raking through his hair, chest heaving like he’s trying to outrun something inside him. Then he crosses the room, crowds me against the vanity, and cups my jaw with hands that shake just enough to gut me.
“I don’t like it when I can’t see you, baby,” he mutters, pacing. “It makes my skin fucking crawl. It makes the walls move. It makes the noise get too loud.” He stops abruptly and looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. “Hum for me.”
“Zane—”
He drops to his knees and grips my hips again. “Ruby, sweetheart,” he pleads. “Hum.”
I do. Quietly. Deepening the vibrations as his eyes drift shut.
And like a switch, he settles.
His shoulders drop, his breathing evens and his jaw unclenches.
I swallow hard, my throat tight.
There’s something so intimate about this, about him on his knees for me. Not because he’s worshipping me, but because he needs me to ground him.
To quiet the storm inside him.
I prolong the soft, steady vibration humming in my chest, awed all over again at the effect it has on him as the sound fills the trailer.
Zane Draven is putty in my hands.
His grip on my hips loosens just a fraction, his forehead rests on my belly, and he exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath for hours.
“Magnificent,” he murmurs, voice rough with relief. His thumbs trace slow, possessive circles over my hip bones, his touch almost reverent now.
The contrast, this tender moment right after the way he just stomped and snarled and carted me around, sends a fresh wave of warmth through my chest, followed swiftly and alarmingly by a wave of heat between my thighs.
I ignore the need prowling through me, keep humming for several more minutes until my throat, still unused to this prolonged pressure, starts to ache a little.
His gaze lifts, locks onto mine, and hunger floods his eyes again. Darker this time. More dangerous.
Zane Draven locking onto a different predator mode.
“Glitter looks good on you,” he murmurs as his fingers brush over the curve of my waist where the sparkly residue from earlier still clings to my bare skin. He plucks a single speck between his fingertips, holds it up to the dim light, then blows it away. Then his lips curl into something wicked.
“Wonder if it’ll look better mixed with my cum.” His voice drops, a filthy promise. “Shall we find out?”
“Zane?” My breath hitches when he licks a line to my belly button, my body reacting before my mind can even keep up.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. In one fluid motion, he surges to his feet, his hand tangling in my hair as he crashes his mouth onto mine.
The kiss is a brutal invasion of teeth clashing, tongues twisting, his free hand gripping my ass hard enough to bruise.
A moan spills out of me and my fingers claw at his shoulders, my body arching into him like I don’t have a choice.
He growls and the sound vibrates straight through me, and then, suddenly he rips his mouth away.
The loss makes a whimper break from my throat, raw and involuntary, but he’s already on me again. Hands clamp around my waist, he spins me around and shoves me toward the bed.
I stumble, catching myself on the mattress and my ass in the air, the flimsy, floaty dress I wore for the video shoot riding up.
Cold air hits my exposed skin, but it’s nothing compared to the molten heat of Zane’s gaze burning into me. I feel him surge behind me, his presence overwhelming and his control snapping as tension coils around us like live snakes ready to consume us whole.
Giddiness spikes through my veins and I don’t have to look to know he’s stripping, his movements rough and impatient. The bed dips behind me and his thighs press against the backs of mine, his cock already hard and throbbing against my ass.
I bite my lip, my body aching for him, my pussy already wet and ready.
