Page 35

Selene

After a relationship that lasted so long, I should feel ashamed. I should hesitate, uncertain of what to do, lacking the courage to stand nearly naked in front of another man.

And yet, all I feel is desire.

A relentless need to find out what this feels like, to discover what he awakens in me. More than anything, I want Zayn.

I know I should stop. I know this is wrong. I also know I’m older than him, and that thought flashes through my mind every few seconds like a warning I refuse to acknowledge.

Because I like him too much.

Because I want to push him until his control finally shatters.

Because I’m just drunk enough for all rational thoughts to dissolve into the haze, leaving nothing but reckless temptation behind.

“Spread your legs for me, pixie,” he orders, his voice rough with restrained desire.

Instead of obeying, I slip a finger into my mouth, drawing it over my tongue, then pulling it free. My hand trails down the length of my body, fingertips grazing my skin until they reach my chest. I circle one nipple, then the other, savoring every touch.

The hunger burning in his eyes is immediate—raw, piercing. The air between us grows heavier, the tension stretched so tight it feels ready to snap.

Bringing up my other hand, I cup my breasts, kneading them slowly as waves of pleasure bloom beneath my skin.

My head tips back. My lips part.

A quiet moan breaks free from my throat.

And now it’s obvious my mind made its decision long before this moment.

I’m simply surrendering to it.

“Spread your legs and touch yourself for me, Selene.”

I’ve never done anything like this in front of a man.

His request makes my eyes widen in surprise, my head turning to him almost instinctively.

Zayn notices what his words do to me, and satisfaction flickers across his face, sharpened by the same infuriating confidence that’s been driving me insane since the moment our eyes met for the first time.

Why does he have to look like this?

Why did he have to grow into a man this devastatingly handsome?

Even when we were younger, he was attractive—far too attractive, if I’m honest.

Back then, I forced myself not to look at him that way.

I was in a relationship.

I refused to let myself cross that line.

But now?

Now there’s no chance of pretending.

I knew I was in trouble the second he walked into our meeting—forty-seven minutes late, completely unapologetic—and managed to steal every ounce of air from the room anyway.

And challenges have always fueled me.