I jerk my eyes open at the same time as I take in a deep pull of vanilla and sandalwood, the scent that sets my skin alight.Oh, fuck. My firm pillow is actually a firmchest.
Lifting my head slowly, I look up into the suspiciously clear eyes of Zayn, who’s smirking down at me like the cat who got the cream.
“Morning,” he drawls, as I realise the heat that’s pressed along my back is actually Zayn’s arm holding me from falling off the edge of the couch. How long has he been awake, holding me up like this? And why didn’t he bloody wake me up to move and, you know, get my ass into my own perfectly comfortable beddown the hall?
I blink away the last remnants of sleep from my eyes,well and truly awake now, and try not to look at the other arm Zayn has tucked behind his head that makes his bicep bulge in a way that should be illegal.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I brace my hand on his rock-solid chest and prop myself up, ignoring the heat that passes through his thin shirt. No wonder I went the whole night without a blanket, the man’s like a furnace. The last thing I remember from last night was Rose hacking off Jack’s handcuffs. I must have fallen asleep shortly after that.
I realise too late that by propping myself up I’ve given Zayn the perfect view down to my braless cleavage, which I’ll admit he is gallantly avoiding by keeping his dark eyes trained on mine. The smile is gone from his face though, I note. Instead, his clenched jaw has returned with a vengeance.
“You seemed comfortable. I didn’t want to disturb you.” His words sound strained, and it gives me a rush to think that the man who’s always so composed is as affected by my body as I am by his. I glance down at our bare, entwined legs. My silk teddy has ridden up and my tummy is pressed firmly against Zayn’s exposed eight-pack.
Heat of a different sort floods through my veins.
“Sorry, I’ll just -” I go to unwrap myself from him, but his hand flies down quicker than lightning and grasps on to my bare thigh. Shockwaves erupt straight from his fingers to my core.
“Let me help you with that.”
He lifts my thigh over what I now realise is hisveryfirm crotch area, carefully avoiding all contact as he helps to manoeuvre me to my feet, then he sits up so that I’m standing between his knees. I mourn the loss of his toned stomach as his shirt falls back into place.
“That’s a bit awkward,” I laugh, averting my gaze and mythoughts away from his very inviting lap, all whilst hoping to God he hasn’t noticed the way my nipples are high-beaming him through the thin silk of my teddy.
He runs a hand through his exquisitely sleep-mussed hair, clearing his throat.
“Let’s just say it’s been a while since I had a lady friend.”
“How long?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. My stomach flutters as I wait, far too eagerly, for his response.
Zayn props his forearms on his thighs and tilts his head back until he’s staring up at me, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and running my hands through his thick, inky strands. They’re so close they almost graze against the silk of my nightgown.
“Since the hotel with you.”
He watches me carefully for my reaction, but I school my features to reveal nothing. Instead of asking the question that begs to be forced from my lips,why?, I ask instead, “Did you just refer to me as one of your lady friends?”
The soft thumping sound that woke me sounds again, and I jolt away from Zayn’s hypnotising gaze. “That’s the door.”
Before I can take a step, Zayn whips his hand out and gently but firmly grips my elbow.
“We’ve been over this, Gianna. You’re not answering the door like that.”
He must see the rebuttal on my lips because he pinches the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, closes his eyes and adds, “Please just do me a solid and go get dressed while I let the locksmith in. I have a lot of pent up rage after last night and I fear even a single inappropriate look in your direction will set me off.”
I don’t let Zayn’s words roll around and marinate in mymind like I want to, analysing every single way he could have meant them. I can’t let myself believe he meant them in any meaningful way, because thinking Zayn still cares about me gives me a rush stronger than the most powerful drug ever could, and I can already feel the addiction feeding through my blood stream now. Zayn is getting under my skin, and I need to put a stop to it.
“Get dressed, I’ll take you to breakfast,” he adds, a bit more gently.
“Breakfast?” I say, regaining my voice as he drops my elbow. “You already bought dinner last night. I was going to make you something.”Before kicking you out of my apartment.
“A bowl of fruit loops?” He smirks. “I’ll pass on the type 2 diabetes, thanks.”
I throw him a withering glare and put my hands on my hips. “When did you even have time to raid my cupboards, you efficient asshole?”
“I didn’t,” he drawls casually as he stands from the couch and stretches, and now it’s me who’s craning their neck to meet the other’s eyes. “The cereal box is on your bench.”
With a huff I follow him to the front door, where he stops with his hand on the handle and a meaningful stare over his shoulder at me that says ‘go put some fucking clothes on’.
I detour to my bedroom, muttering under my breath that I wasactuallygoing to make him eggs, but I now have a suggestion where he can goshove those eggs.
