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“I know.” I slide my hands into his hair, fisting the smooth strands between my fingers. “But I want to,” I admit truthfully. “I want this. I want you. I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t seem convinced.
“I am.” I pull him back to me, kissing him slow and deep as I press upward, rubbing my center against his erection.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Zayden over the last few weeks, it’s that he’s not one to ease into anything. He’s aggressive and takes what he wants without apology. Because of this, I’m surprised he doesn’t rip the rest of my clothes off and take me right here and now. But that’s not what he does.
Instead, he takes his time.
He studies me.
His hands roam my body lazily, like we have all the time in the world.
And he kisses me… everywhere.
He makes me feel cherished and cared for. He makes me feel special. So much so that by the time he’s settled between my thighs with his condom covered erection nudging at my entrance, I don’t feel an ounce of fear. Nervous, most definitely. So nervous that my heart pounds so hard against my chest, I’m fairly certain it’s going to beat right through my ribcage. But there’s no fear.
I feel safe with Zayden in a way I’ve never felt with any other person in my life. The way he looks at me, is like he would kill anyone who dared hurt me. And in some weird way I know the feeling, because I feel just as protective of him. Not that a guy like Zayden Michaels would ever need me to protect him, but even still, I want to. I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel. I want to take every fear and silence it. I want to kiss every wound and heal it. I want to guard him as if he were the most precious and rare gem in the world, because truthfully, he just might be.
I suck in a sharp breath, my body tensing as Zayden slowly eases inside of me. His eyes stay fixed on my face, gauging my reaction as he enters me. I stretch and pull around him, the pressure so intense that tears prick the backs of my eyes—but no part of me wants him to stop.
Once he’s planted completely inside of me, Zayden stills, brushing my hair away from my sweat dampened forehead.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him. “Keep going.”
His lips brush mine as he slowly begins to move. At first, I feel like I might rip apart from the inside, but before long my body starts to adjust and my natural instincts take over. Eventually, I start to move with him. Pressing up to meet him, thrust for thrust as we push each other higher and higher.
The build starts slow—like a little voice that keeps getting louder and louder until it can’t possibly be ignored a second longer. My body shakes under the intensity—every cell feeling the effects of Zayden’s movements.
And while I recognize the familiar swirl of pleasure as it builds in my core, there’s something so different about it. It’s like my body is being pulled in a million different directions and my mind can’t seem to keep up with the sensation.
The pleasure is blinding. The intensity is overwhelming. And when Zayden groans against my lips—a deep, gritty noise that tells me he feels it too—everything peaks, and I go tumbling over the edge seconds later, Zayden falling right along with me.
Time seems to slow down around me. I experience an array of emotions that all hit me like rapid fire—one after the other until I feel like I can’t catch my breath. And I have no idea if it’s from the physical, the emotional, or a combination of the two.
All I know is that when Zayden presses up on his elbow and looks down at me, I feel like I’m seconds away from bursting into tears. Not sad tears, though. Actually, what I’m feeling is the furthest thing from sad I think a person can feel.
I’m elated. I’m overjoyed.
I think I’m in love….
“I WISH I COULD STAY.” Zayden presses a kiss to the top of my head as he hugs me tightly.
The last two hours have been indescribable, and while I know Zayden has to leave, I’m not ready to let him go just yet.
“Me, too,” I whine, my arms wrapped around his middle.
“Look at me.” His hand slides under my chin seconds before he lifts my face upward. “Tonight was probably the best night of my fucking life.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss my lips. “And I can’t wait to do it again.” He kisses me again. “And again.” Another kiss. “And again.” He smiles when I laugh against his mouth.
If you had told me a month ago that this version of Zayden existed, I never would have believed you. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still unapologetically Zayden—domineering, abrasive, an asshole. But he’s also so much more than that.
He’s sweet and funny. Caring and compassionate. And when he looks at me the way he’s looking at me right now, I forget why everyone is so damn afraid of him.
“Can I see you tomorrow after I get off work?” he asks, taking a step backward so that he’s got one foot still on the porch and the other on the top step.
“Call me when you get off.” I nod, placing both of my hands on the sides of his face as I lay one more lingering kiss to his lips.
Seconds later, he’s jogging across the front lawn. The faint interior light of his truck comes on as he pulls open the door and climbs inside. He fires up the engine and moments later, I watch his taillights disappear down the street.
