____________________
An hour later, I emerge dripping wet and satisfied from the steamy shower with Zayn. As I towel off, Zayn’s hands wrap around my torso. I lean into his touch, still in disbelief that I’ve let this man into my home and life as quickly as I have.
Although, I suppose that I had less allowed him in, so much as he had come in swinging like a wrecking ball, knocking down every single defense I had in place to keep others out.
I lean into his touch, savoring the feel of him. Desire swirls low in my belly.
“Hey Zayn?” I ask, turning toward him.
“Yeah, Doc?”
“Tomorrow night, I want to spend the night at your place.”
“My place?” he asks.
“Mhmm,” I reply. “I want to actually see where you grew up, and I want to spend some time together there.”
Zayn pauses a moment as he considers my request. My guess is that like me, he didn’t often invite people into his private inner sanctum.
A lone black cat, through and through,I think.
However, after a moment, he reaches out and tucks a lock of wet hair behind my ear. “You got it, baby,” he responds.
A smile spreads across my face, honest and unguarded—easily more genuine than any I’ve worn in years.The warmth of that smile glows within me, a quiet flame—promising so much more.
18
POST
KAT
The next morning, Zayn rises and leaves before me again. A text informs me that he will be in front of Pearson House at eight-thirty sharp to pick me up for work.
It’s eight-thirty on the dot when Zayn pulls into the long driveway toward where I stand under the balcony in front of the garage. His shiny black BMW glimmers in the fine mist falling from the heavy clouds.
He exits the vehicle and approaches me, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. He takes my overnight bag from my hands and places it in his trunk.
I follow him and just about choke when I peer down.
“Um, are those… chains?” I quirk an eyebrow as my gaze shifts up to Zayn. “Do I even want to know why you have those just lying in your trunk?”
“I don’t know baby… do you?” Zayn replies, giving me a small wink.
He’s being playful, but I get the sense that there is something he isn’t telling me. I decide that I don’t want to know, at least notright now. I told him last night I would practice trust. I owed him my sincere effort, at the very least.
Briefly, I wonder if those chains are meant for me, or for someone else.Guess I’ll find out.I walk around to my side of the car.
Opening the door and dipping down into the passenger seat, I am enveloped by Zayn’s scent: rain and woodsmoke, with a hint of something spicy. I settle into my seat and the luxurious black leather feels cool and buttery under my legs.
Zayn walks around his side of the car. I glance at him over my left shoulder, appreciating the assuredness and agility in his every movement. Zayn slides into the driver’s seat, turns the engine over, and we fly off down the drive.
Sometime later, Zayn has successfully, and sexily, navigated the many winding twists and turns of the rain slicked roads. Watching his huge, veined hand work the stick up and down has been… doing something to me. I conspicuously rub my legs together, attempting to subtly tame some of the growing heat and ache building there. I glance down at his hand again as it flexes over the leather stick. Subtly, I wiggle again and bite at my bottom lip.
“Something on your mind, Doc?” Zayn queries with a bit of a smirk in his rich voice.
I look sideways at him to find he is staring not at the road, but directly at me. We hold eye contact for a second that feels much longer than it is. Suddenly, he downshifts into fourth gear, and my head hits the leather headrest as we launch forward.
“Zayn!” I squeal. “Look at the road, you idiot, not me.”
