My lips buzz, my head a helium balloon from the aftereffects.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, appalled at where we were to where we are now.
“That sounds like the apology I should make,” he says with a self-conscious laugh. “You don’t have any reason to be sorry.”
Eventually, he helps me to my feet, guiding me along the path inside, leaving me in the bathroom to take a shower, telling me he’ll be taking his own along the hall.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror with guilty eyes. Other girls wouldn’t need to stop him. A thousand would be happy to take my place.
And underneath that is a deeper sorrow because it had been so much pleasure until it wasn’t. My body still buzzes from the aftermath, cheated it hadn’t got the ending it deserved.
Zane is quicker than me, waiting outside when I finally walk through the door, wiping at my eyes that won’t stop streaming.
I try another apology and he cuts me off, that teasing temptation of a smile back in place. “If you didn’t have limits, we’d miss all the fun of extending them a little further each time.”
His arms go around me and he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat expressing his enjoyment as my body relaxes against his. My arms link around his waist, my cheek against his chest, listening to the thump of his heart.
All traces of hesitation are gone. He smells like wood and menthol, a completely different scent to the body wash I used, all light florals.
“Could I take the plug home?” I ask, surprising him and myself. “To try again without any pressure. See if I can work my way through it alone?”
His expression is unreadable for a second. “I’m trying to decide if I should tell you not to feel pressured right now or ask you to record it.”
He fetches it for me while I’m still laughing and I refuse his offer for a meal, alarmed by how much time has passed already. As he walks me into the garage, he gives me the fob to the Maserati. “Please don’t turn the car down again. It’ll hurt its feelings.”
The refusal creeps off my lips, and I frown at the floor.
“What’s the matter?” He nudges me with his wrist. “You’ve already driven it today.”
“My mother will want to know where it comes from.”
There’s a flicker of hurt on his face, there and gone. “You haven’t told her about your disgustingly wealthy boyfriend?”
I go to tease him in return, the words dying because he has told his dad. He passed that information along when he asked to take photos of my paintings.
“She’s not going to like that you have a monitor,” I hedge.
True, yes but not the only reason for my hesitation. Some part of me still expects him to disappear in a puff of smoke. But if he wasn’t trustworthy, today would have ended in a completely different way.
Each time we’re together, I fall for him a little harder, finding new facets of his personality to enjoy. Everything about Zane seems too good to be true. From his good looks to his charm to his wealth, nothing about him wanting to be with me makes any sense.
But each time he shows his commitment, I believe in this utterly unbelievable relationship more.
It’s about time I demonstrate that belief so he can see I’m committed, too.
I clamp my hand around the keys, enjoying how his posture softens as he absorbs the meaning.
“She’s not meant to like me,” he teases. “You’ve hooked up with a bad boy and she’s supposed to be utterly horrified by the prospect.”
“Otherwise, what would be the point?” I joke back, earning a kiss and a swat on my backside as he sends me home in a car I’m pretty sure my mother will fall in love with.
The same way I’m growing to love Zane.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ZANE
On Tuesday,I think of giving Avon a little space, figuring she’ll appreciate the distance. The safe word yesterday had freaked me out, the panic attack afterwards even worse.
