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“I didn’t expect you to still be here in the morning,” I say. “I mean, you know.” I shrug. “You didn’t have to.” Not that I mind.
“You need food,” he declares, rising up to his feet. Naked and perfect.
I watch him disappear into the hallway while I sink into the divinely hot bubbles, but my senses remain connected to him. I listen to him order room service over the phone and realize that I’d recognize his voice anywhere, even though we’ve known each other for just two days. In which time we fucked like savages, and he practically made a public claim on me.
While my husband is still missing.
Nausea crawls up my throat and my mouth purses. I may be married to a vile monster, but I still committed adultery with Zayne. But deep down I know the truth. I was glad he made the decision because I didn’t have to go against my moral code. Technically, I violated nothing, while coming for him multiple times until I fucking passed out. I tricked karma.
But when it was all over Zayne stayed, and now he’s ordering breakfast for us, making me feel good for the first time in God knows how long, when I should be feeling guilty, dirty and ashamed. The fact that he can make me enjoy his presence despite everything that happened scares the shit out of me. I need some time to pull myself together and make plans with Mia, to try and get a birds-eye view of my situation. I also need time to heal physically because I sure won’t be able to pull a night like this again anytime soon.
But my hope shatters when Zayne walks back into the bathroom, still buck-naked. The moment his eyes land on me, his cock twitches. By the time he sinks into the tub with me, the water swelling, it’s already semi-hard. Fuck, does this man ever get enough?
“Zayne, I don’t think I can–”
“Relax, I won’t fuck you this morning.” His eyes drag from my face to the where my body disappears under the bubbles at the base of my neck. “I want to, but I won’t.”
Positioning his legs to the sides so that they’re now framing mine, he reaches under the water and wraps his hands around my feet. He then rests them on his washboard abs, his thumbs massaging circles into the balls of my feet. I groan, my eyes rolling back.
“Wh–what about room service?” I blabber, if only to distract from my enjoyment.
“I told them to come in half an hour. We’ll be done by then.”
I rest my head against the edge of the tub, and silence falls between us. Zayne’s hands move from my feet to my ankles and then up my calves, gentle and careful, making me curl my fingers into the sides of the tub underwater to keep from moaning. He said he wouldn’t fuck me, and I’d believe him if it weren’t for the almost maniacal focus in his eyes. I’m keeping mine just a crack open, fearing the sensation of trust that seeps into me at his touch. I can’t just go to sleep around this guy, he’s a freaking apex predator. One with scars to show he earned his position.
Which brings me back to the thousands of questions I have. First of all, who was the monster who burned him like that? He was clearly kept in chains for a long time, but when did it happen? I eye the edges of the scars atop his pecs, which disappear down into the water, but his blue stare immediately arrests my gaze. There’s the answer to another question–how he made it to the top of the world. I’ve never seen this kind of focus. Right now, it’s like I’m the only thing in the world that exists for him. Like I’m a rare piece of art in a museum, the essence of which he’s determined to drink in. To own. To suck dry until there’s nothing left for whoever comes after him.
I don’t know what’s weirder about this situation, the fact that his hands keep moving while his eyes remain fixed, or the silence between us. I keep hoping that he’ll break it, say something, anything, but he’s clearly not uncomfortable at all with just staring at me.
I keep wracking my brain for something to say, anything that would make at least a little bit of sense. But the few ideas I have disappear into a puff of dust when his large palms move further up to my inner thighs. I stiffen when his fingers graze the lips of my pussy, and a smug grin curls up the corner of his mouth. I probably resemble a deer in the headlights. Too bad there’s no way of gauging my appearance, because those eyes don’t give anything away, not even a reflection.
“You said you wouldn’t,” I say, my voice cracking.
“And I won’t.” He clicks his tongue. “It hurts though. Seeing that you don’t trust me.”
“You haven’t given me much reason to.”
“I made good on my promise, haven’t I? I kept my side of the deal. I protected you, and I’ll keep doing it.” The water sloshes when his body moves closer. I push my back to the tub’s wall, but there’s nowhere to go. Judging by that curled-up grin, the bastard enjoys making me feel trapped while his hands give me more pleasure than I should accept.
“Being your personal bodyguard is an enjoyable job, I must say.”
“Enjoyable, but is it still necessary? If the men who mattered got the message, why stick around? I mean, even if others might want me now, I doubt anyone will dare make a move knowing that I’m, well, yours.”
His fingers slide closer to my pussy. “Does it bother you? My staying?”
“It’s not that.” I shrug. “But when a guy uses a woman the way you used me, they usually don’t hang around for breakfast.”
His eyes sharpen like blades, and my spine snaps straight.
“And how do you know, if you’ve only ever been with two guys, of which one was your husband?”
Realizing what I just did, I adopt a placating tone. “I’ve lived in a world of powerful men with Joseph. I’ve been around the Blood Fist Triad for years. I’ve seen things I wish I could forget, which is also why I kept away from men like you.”
His eyes flash into slits that I’m afraid could laser right into my brain and read my thoughts. His hands move under the water to the back of my thighs and grip hard. “Then why go pick up guys at the hotel bar? Men like that are sure just to use women, too.”
“Yes, but the power would have been in my hands. I was the one who made the move.”
“You do like wielding power over men, indeed.”
