She was wearing one of his shirts—when they’d returned she grabbed the first dry thing and hadn’t gone back to her own—and his hands went to the hem with a patience that undid something in her chest. No urgency. Just intention. He peeled it away like he was unwrapping something worth being careful with.
His eyes moved over her, and she didn’t feel examined. She feltseen.
There was a difference.
She’d spent enough time with him to understand the distinction. Zach watched everything, always, but what he was doing now wasn’t his typical threat assessment or cataloguing. It was something older and quieter—the way a person looks at something they want to remember.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and the plainness of it—no performance in the comment, just a fact he was stating—made her eyes sting.
She blinked them away. Reached for him even as his hands drifted over her skin, cupping her breasts, tugging and teasing.
She traced a scar over his ribs, smooth and silvered with age. He stilled beneath her fingers.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“No.”
She wasn’t only asking about pain. He seemed to know that.
“It was a long time ago,” he said. Not an answer, but it was more than she expected. She pressed her lips to it, and his hand gripped her hair. Not pulling her away. Holding her there.
She kissed each scar she found. It wasn’t a grand gesture—she wasn’t trying to make meaning out of damage or heal him with symbolism. It was simpler than that. She was telling him, in the language they’d already figured out between them was easier than words:I see all of it. I’m still here.
Zach's breathing was ragged by the time she worked her way back up to his mouth. Still controlled, because he was always controlled, but deeper. She sensed the effort it cost him to stay slow, and she loved him for it?—
Loved him.
The words moved through her quietly, settling into place rather than arriving anew. A confirmation, not a revelation.
She loved him.
He hadn’t said it—might not say it for a long time. But it was palpable—in the way he touched her, in the care threaded through every moment, in the way he let her close where no one else had been.
He was changing. Opening up. Not all at once. Not in words. But here, with her. It was enough.
“Emma…” His mouth captured hers again, his hands smoothing down her spine, his body warm against hers.
She could wait for the words.
She’d chosen him, regardless.
He rolled onto his back, mouth still locked to hers, tugging her on top of him. Her legs fell to either side of his hips. His lips left hers, trailing down her throat, nuzzling and nipping. “Ride me.”
A shiver ran down her spine at his growl. She sat up, her hands on his shoulders holding her up as his dropped to her hips. She moved, just slightly, grinding against him. His breath caught, and she smiled.
“My turn to lead.”
She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his hard cock, stroking the silky smooth skin as she centered herself over him. She lowered herself down, taking him in. She closed her eyes and threw her head back at the sensation of him filling her, stretching her, as she sank down until he was fully seatedinside her. She stilled, luxuriating in the extreme fullness. The connection.
“Sooooo good,” she breathed. His hands clamped on her hips, grinding her down harder. She opened her eyes to meet the blazing intensity of his.
“I don’t follow.” Zach growled; lifting her almost off him before bringing her back down, thrusting up at the same time, controlling her body easily. Deep and slow. Measured. A pace designed to drive her insane. A frisson of heat made her gasp as it flowed down to stoke the fire between her legs.
“More,” she demanded, but he continued his deep, slow strokes even as she tried to speed him up, and she realized she may be on top, but he was still in full control. She bit her lip and swallowed a giggle. Two could play at that game.
She flexed her inner muscles around him, and he gasped a breath. He narrowed his eyes, and a playful slap landed on her ass. Her pussy clenched. “Bad girl.” He massaged the tiny sting away. This time, she couldn't keep the laugh in, and she grinned down at him.
His hands came up under her swollen breasts, cupping the fullness, weighing them with his strong fingers, his thumbs strumming her sensitive nipples to the edge of pain. A flash of need shot through her, throbbing between her legs, and her humor vanished.
