My cheeks grow warm under the power of that gaze, my heartbeat picking up its pace.
“Zane…” I lean forward.
He meets me somewhere in the middle, his lips plush and sultry as they brush a chaste kiss along my sensitive skin. I open to him, hungry for him, to chase past the nerves skating along my abdomen. He tastes fresh and sweet, molten with the honey in his tea. His tongue sweeps against mine, and somethingignites inside me—raw and overwhelming. Every nerve lights up, my thoughts scattering as I crave more. More of the rush, more of the escape, more of him.
He pulls away slowly, eyes half-closed as though in a drunken haze. I press my fingers to my lips, relishing the way they tingle with the remnants of our kiss. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. He tracks the movement, the violet of his irises swallowed by the black lust of his pupils. A growl unfurls deep in his chest.
The pleasure of it—of him—of what that one kiss does to him sends an arrow of aphrodisia right to the tight bundle of nerves between my thighs.
“I want this.God, I want this.” His forehead presses against mine.
“Then let yourself have it. Letushave it.”
His head shakes minutely.
“There’s something you need to know first. Something I need to tell you.” He swallows hard enough that I can hear his throat click. I run my fingers along his arm, feeling the smooth contours of the muscles encased in his suit. “I think the reason the CCP came after you—the reason Vanall let them come after you—is because of me.”
It takes a moment to process, to switch gears from the moment we had shared to this. Everything inside me, muscles, organs, veins, seems to tighten. I step away from the counter, claiming space until my back hits the cabinets along the wall behind me.
“About a month after you disappeared, the press began speculating, and pressure mounted in City Hall. No one knew where you were. No one cared. All that mattered is you weren’t there to fight their battles for them. All it took was one little whisper in Vanall’s ear. An insinuation more than anything.” He drops his head. “A couple weeks later, they took you. I thinkhe was the only thing standing between them and you from the start. I broke that.”
I release a long breath, the tension flooding out of me. “That’s what you’ve been worried about? That you made the mayor pissed at me?”
“You’re not mad?”
I almost laugh, but then I realize he’s serious. It breaks my heart a little. As Charade, Zane would spend his public life being reviled by everyone. There could be no safe corners within society to hide, because no matter where he turned, they would always discover that he was a dead man living. Finding community meant risking his family, the only people left alive who loved and cared for him. A risk he took when he saved me and brought me here.
I walk around to his side of the counter, turning him so that I can plant myself between his legs and wrap my arms around his neck. “The CCP would have come for me either way.”
And not because of Zane. All it took was a little Rose. I suppose I have C to thank for that in the end.
Zane’s skin is warm against mine as he cups my cheek. I lean into the touch, the comfort and strength. He brushes his lips across my temple. “I know I probably killed the mood, but I needed you to know before we did something you might regret.”
“There’s nothing to regret.” Pressing myself more fully against him, our chests touch, rising and falling together as one. “I meant it on that rooftop and I mean it now: I want this, and I want it with you.”
A hum vibrates within his chest, almost like a purr. Then his mouth claims mine with a firm certainty. No hesitation or resistance. I close my eyes, submitting fully to the sensation, more than eager to follow anywhere he wants to go. His hands wrap around mine, pulling them down from his neck and gathering them in one fist behind my back.
“Is this okay?” His words ghost across my skin, making me shiver.
I nod. His grip is firm, but not entirely unyielding. If I really wanted, I could pull away, but I don’t want to. This small restriction does something to me. Makes my skin go hot and cold, every sensation, from the glide of my suit across my skin to the warm bond formed by his fingers, intensify.
There’s a delicious pressure as he strokes up my side. His thumb barely edges the curve of my breast, nipple tightening almost painfully within my suit. A small smirk alights his face as he studies my reactions, as though he knows exactly what his touch is doing to me. As if he already knows exactly what I need and how I need it. My skin strains against my suit, practically screaming for sensation. Demanding to touch and be touched. There, on that peaked, tender flesh. Maddeningly, he dips back downward to circle my thigh, rising only to cup the muscled arc of my ass.
I gasp as his fingers push inward, pushing me closer to him, his fingertips finding the sensitive seam at my center and the growing wetness building there. His eyes darken as he feels that slickness, looking almost feral. Hungry.
My senses go into overload, driven to the edge of patience as he gently brushes ever closer to the bundle of nerves at my apex. A slow, maddening ascent.
“Still okay? We can stop whenever you want.”
My hips sway without my mind ever consciously giving them permission, grinding myself on his fingers. I’m rewarded with the slight curl of his fingers providing more, steady pressure. “Don’t you dare stop.”
The fervor in his eyes is enough to scorch, and hell, I want to burn in his fire forever. I ride his hand, chasing ever after that elusive spark, the catalyst of pleasure and sensation. His mouth finds the outline of first one nipple, then the other, drawing onthem and teasing them through the fabric of my suit. The feeling is amazing, like lightning striking straight through to the center of me, and all I can think about is that it has to be nothing compared to how it would feel with nothing in our way.
“Gods, Kaye,” he growls. The texture of his voice, so close to the edge, only heightens my desire. “Come with me.”
I’m only too happy to oblige.
I don’t know how we make it to the bedroom without anyone seeing us. We were anything but stealthy with sighs and moans stealing our breath with every kiss and touch. We make it, and he pushes me roughly against the closed door and captures my lips. His touch has moved past uncertainty, his tongue ruthless in its demand. I am an enthusiastic participant, putting as much passion into this as I do in battle, and while he might have control in this exchange, we both know it is only because I consent to it.
