“Go,” I tell him, stepping back to create some distance between us.“I’ll be here.”
He catches my hand before I can move too far away.“This isn’t over,” he promises, voice dropping to a register that sends shivers down my spine.“Just postponed.”
“I’m counting on it,” I reply, squeezing his hand before releasing it.
With one last heated look that promises everything, Zach moves to the door, straightening his cut and visibly shifting into the role the club needs from him.The transformation is fascinating to watch, the way his shoulders square, his expression hardens, his entire demeanor becomes more controlled.
“Stay here,” he says, hand on the doorknob.“I’ll send someone to check on you if the meeting runs long.”
I nod, watching as he slips through the door, closing it firmly behind him.Alone in his room, surrounded by the subtle scent of him, leather and soap and something uniquely Zach, I take a deep breath, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Later that Night
Xavier
I must have dozedoff at some point, the exhaustion of the past day finally catching up with me.I drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of muffled voices in the hallway, footsteps passing by the door, the occasional burst of laughter from the main room.The clubhouse never truly sleeps, I’m realizing, a living, breathing organism with its own rhythms and patterns.
The soft click of the door opening rouses me partially.I keep my eyes closed, lingering in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.The familiar scent of leather and soap tells me who it is before I hear his quiet footsteps approaching the bed.
“X?”Zach’s voice is barely above a whisper.“You awake?”
I don’t respond, too comfortable in this drowsy state to fully surface.The mattress dips as he sits beside me, and I feel the gentle brush of his fingers pushing hair away from my forehead.The tender gesture makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
“Probably for the best,” he whispers, more to himself than to me.“Been a hell of a day.”
I feel him shift, hear the soft thud of his boots hitting the floor as he removes them.The rustle of leather follows, his cut being laid carefully over a chair.Despite my closed eyes, I can picture his movements precisely, the methodical way he prepares for sleep.
The bed dips again as he stretches out beside me, careful not to disturb me.For several moments, he’s completely still.Then I feel the warmth of his palm settling on my waist, so lightly I might have imagined it if not for the heat that seeps through my t-shirt.
I can’t maintain the pretense any longer.I turn toward him, eyes opening to find his face inches from mine in the dim light filtering through the blinds.
“Hey,” I whisper, voice rough with sleep.“How’d the meeting go?”
His eyes soften at the edges, tension draining from his shoulders.“Long.Complicated.But productive.”His thumb traces idle patterns on my hip.“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I lie, shifting closer until our legs tangle together.The solid warmth of him against me feels right in a way I can’t quite articulate.“I was just resting my eyes.”
A smile tugs at his mouth.“Liar.”His hand slides up my side to cup my face, calloused fingers gentle against my skin.“You were out cold.Drooling a little, even.”
“I was not,” I protest, heat rising to my face.
“Were too,” he counters, leaning in to press his lips to my forehead.“It was cute.”
The simple affection in the gesture makes my chest ache.This is a side of Zach I’m still getting used to, the tender, teasing man behind the enforcer’s mask.I reach up, fingers threading through his hair, loosening it from its tie until it falls around his shoulders.
“I like your hair down,” I admit, watching as it spills through my fingers like dark silk.
His eyes darken, pupils expanding in the low light.“I like your hands in it,” he replies, voice dropping to that register that sends heat pooling in my stomach.
The air between us shifts, thickens with intention.His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there with unmistakable desire.I’m suddenly, completely awake, every nerve ending alert to his proximity.
“We got interrupted earlier,” I remind him, trailing my fingers down the side of his neck, feeling his pulse jump beneath my touch.
“We did,” he agrees, his hand sliding from my face down to my collarbone, resting at the hollow of my throat where my heartbeat races.“No interruptions now, though.”
I swallow hard, watching his eyes track the movement.“The door locked?”
