His eyes darken with hunger, possession, and desire so fierce it’s frightening.His hand moves to the hem of my shirt, fingers slipping underneath to graze bare skin.
“Can I?”he asks, voice thick with restraint.
I lift my arms without thinking, and he tugs the shirt overhead, tossing it aside.The cool morning air raises goosebumps across my skin, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, as if I am something precious and rare.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, hands skimming down my shoulders, my chest, my stomach.Each touch leaves fire in its wake, making my breath catch.
I reach for him, needing more.He obliges, sliding a knee on the bed beside my thigh and leaning down for another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier, a clear claim rather than exploration.My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer until we tumble back in a tangle of limbs.
Zach catches himself on his forearms, hovering above me, our faces only inches apart.“This okay?”he asks, voice strained with restraint.
“More than okay,” I assure him, hands sliding down his back.
He lowers himself carefully, his body aligning with mine from chest to thigh.The weight of him, solid and warm, sends a shiver of pleasure through me.I feel every point of contact: his chest against mine, our legs intertwined, the undeniable evidence of his desire pressing into my hip.
“Tell me what you want.”His lips brush my ear.“Anything, X.Just tell me.”
My mind floods with every fantasy I’d ever entertained on lonely nights, but in this moment, with him so real and present, I want something simpler.
“Just touch me,” I whisper.“I want to feel your hands on me.”
His pupils darken until only a thin ring of brown remains.“I can do that.”
His mouth finds mine again as his hand slides down, fingers tracing patterns across my chest and stomach, slipping teasingly beneath the waistband of my sleep pants.I arch into the touch, a soft sound escaping me, swallowed by his kiss.
Then his phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand, the vibration loud against the wood.We freeze, the spell broken.Zach curses softly, forehead dropping against my shoulder.
“Ignore it,” I say, threading my fingers through his hair.
It goes silent for a moment, then buzzes again.He sighs, warmth from his breath tickling my neck.
“I can’t,” he says, regret heavy in his voice.“If they’re calling back-to-back, it’s an emergency.”
I nod, trying to mask my disappointment as he pushes up and reaches for the phone.The loss of contact leaves me cold, despite the warmth in the room.
He checks the screen, his expression hardening into something I haven’t seen.A cold, dangerous mask that reminds me sharply of who he is outside these walls.
“I need to take this,” he says, already stepping off the bed.“Give me a minute.”
I watch him close the bedroom door and the soft whisper of his voice carries through, too low to decipher but tense enough to make my chest tighten.I sit up, running a hand through my hair and trying to calm my racing heart.The interruption was probably for the best.Things had escalated way too quickly for something I wanted to last.
Because I do want this to last.Deep down I know it isn’t just physical attraction or a long-held fantasy coming true.Somewhere during the night between words, touches, and shared laughter my feelings had taken root and grown into something real.
The door opens and Zach reappears, his face grim.“I have to go,” he says, already reaching for his jeans over the chair.“Club emergency.”
“Is everything okay?”I ask, suddenly self-conscious of my bare chest and the obvious evidence of what we’d been doing.
He pauses mid-button, eyes softening as they meet mine.“Nothing for you to worry about,” he says gently.“Just business that needs handling.”
I nod, fighting the sting of exclusion.We’d crossed a line last night, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to share that side of his life with me.
“When will I see you again?”I ask, vulnerability raw in my voice.
He steps closer, cupping the back of my neck, and kisses me gently.“Tonight,” he promises against my lips.“I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Relief floods me.“Okay.”
He pulls back, reaching for his shirt.“I hate leaving like this,” he admits as he tugs the Henley overhead.“But?—”
