“And you stay right behind me like you allergic to distance.”
“Maybe I am.”
She hated how easy he made things sound.
“Back up,” she tried again, voice weaker this time.
Zaire stepped closer until his chest brushed her back. “You don’t really want that.”
She turned in the cramped cockpit, faces too close, threads of their essence bumping. “You real sure of yourself.”
“No,” he said, lifting her chin. “I’m real sure about us.”
That was all it took.
Her fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt and her mouth found his. The kiss wasn’t angry or impulsive like before. It was hungry…familiar, like two people who’d been starving for each other and finally had the space to say so.
Zaire groaned when she crawled into him. He sat down automatically, hands gripping her hips like he was born to hold them. Meadow straddled him, thighs spreading instinctually, her body folding into his like muscle memory.
His chain tapped her chest.
Her fingers threaded into his waves.
He kissed her jaw, her neck, the soft place that made her tremble.
“Zaire-”
“Say it,” he breathed against her skin.
“I’m not saying shit,” she whispered, even as her hips rolled, betraying her.
He kissed behind her ear, his tongue dragging lazily. Meadow’s head fell back. “Stop,” she whined. “You play too much.”
“I ain’t played with you since Emerald City,” he said, sliding a hand under her shorts. “I’m overdue.”
“Zaire please-,” her voice choked when he found her moist skin.
“You want me to stop?” he asked, voice thick.
She didn’t answer.
Two fingers slid inside her, deep and slow.
Her whole body jerked. “You like how wet I am? Say it. Don’t be quiet now.”
“Ilovehow wet you are, baby.”
“Ooo, shit…Zaire.”
Zaire watched her fall apart, breathing heavy against his mouth. “There it go,” he hummed. “Give me that.”
Her forehead hit his shoulder and her lungs struggled to exhale.
“You been walkin’ around all day like you ain’t missed me.” He curled his fingers tapping on her spot over and over again.
Meadow gasped, the taste of his name still in the air, mixing with the sound of her gushiness.
“That’s it, baby.”
