Seven
Nadia
I’m pacing the living room, wringing my hands. Maria’s tried to get me to sit, have some tea, eat something. But I can’t. He’s been gone for hours. And I know where he went.
The men who came after us. Who put me in danger. Who scared me.
Zak must have gone after them.
Crabby meows from his perch on the couch, watching me pace. Even he’s stressed.
“I’m fine, baby,” I mutter. “He’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
But what if they hurt him and I’m just sitting here…
At that moment, the front door slams open. I jump, spinning around. And he’s there. My husband is standing larger than life, filling the entire entryway. Looking like an angel of death. Fury literally wafting off his massive body. His dark eyes blazing with violence. His wide chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, a muscle jumping at his jaw. Bloodstains on his white shirt, his hands, his face.
But he’s alive. He’s here.
Our eyes meet across the room.
And then he’s moving. Fast.
“Baby, are you hurt?”
He scoops me up, his mouth crashing down on mine in a feral kiss. Like he’s trying to fucking absorb me.
I taste copper. But I don’t care.
He’s alive. He’s here. He’s mine.
“Need you,” he growls against my lips. “Right fucking now.”
“Baby…”
He pins me against the wall. Right there in the foyer. His body caging me in. His hands, everywhere.
“So fucking sweet,” he rasps against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine. “So mine.”
I should be horrified. He looks and smells like he just slaughtered an entire rival gang. He’s covered in their blood.
But all I feel is relief. And want. And need.
“Zak,” I whisper.
He growls, his mouth on mine again. Fucking devouring me. His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it over my head. My bra follows. Then he’s unbuttoning my jeans, yanking them down along with my panties. I’m naked against the wall. While he’s still fully dressed and covered in blood. And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
He undoes his belt, unzips his pants and pulls his cock out.
Then he’s lifting me. My legs instinctively wrap around his narrow waist. His cockhead pressing against me, making me moan and throw my head back.
“You’re mine,” he fucking growls. “No one fucking comes after you.”
“Yes…”
“No one.”
Then he’s pushing inside. Hard. Deep. Stretching me. Filling me completely.
