“Zeff,” she cries out, holding onto me with one arm. I notice her injured arm is wrapped around me, too. Shit, that’s going to make her ache when we’re done.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Don’t stop.” She grabs onto me.
The sound of my body against hers fill the silence. “I’m about to come.”
As soon as I say it, I’m already fucking coming. I pull out and come all over her stomach. I kiss her and mutter, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
I sit back on my heels and look down at her. “I’ll be right back.”
I rush to the bathroom and wet a few washcloths. When I come back, she’s lying on her back waiting patiently.
I lean over and kiss her mouth. “How was it?”
She smiles, grabbing the back of my neck. “Better than I could have imagined.”
I peck her lips and then clean my semen off her belly. I look down at her pussy and say, “Can I start the bath for you?”
She nods with a smile. “Yeah.”
I help her up and hold her hand as we head to the bathroom.
I run the bath water, plugging the tub.
“That was not what I was expecting to happen today.”
She leans over and kisses my shoulder. “I’m happy that you were my first.”
I kiss the top of her head, wishing that Jax and Callum weren’t mixed up in this because this moment right now is perfect.
It’s everything I’ve wanted with her.
“Why?” I ask, feeling self-conscious. I don’t understand why she’d choose me and not Jax, her stalker and protector, or Callum, the one she clearly enjoys the most, the charmer.
She kisses my lips and whispers, “You were the last face I saw before everything went black, Zeff. Thank you for saving my life.”
I kiss her back, remembering the terrifying moments when she looked lifeless in Damien’s arms.
“Plus,” she adds, leaning her forehead against mine. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been drawn to you.”
“Oh yeah?” I smile, feeling wanted and seen and like I mean something special to her.
She nods, pulling back to look at me. “Your eyes… I like when you look at me.”
I kiss her mouth while she watches me. “I like when you look at me too.”
Chapter Forty-Two: Callum
Micah Kirby has no fucking flow.
I watch him take the faceoff against Washington’s center and lose it immediately. Again. Third time this period.
The puck slides to their left wing. I chase, but I’m out of position because Micah went in the wrong direction.
Jax curses under his breath next to me on the bench.
“He’s not Rowan,” I mutter.
