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I turned in his arms and kissed him, and he moved his hands to my ass, pulling me snugly up against him.
“You’re going to model them for me.” He said it in his firm, you-will-do-this voice, like I didn’t have a choice.
I drew a shallow inhale. God, his sexy commands really did it for me.
“Am I?” I asked, pretending to be cool, when inside, I’d melted into a gooey marshmallow.
He nibbled my earlobe. “Yeah.”
My eyes drifted shut with pleasure. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I want you to.” He punctuated each statement with a nip to my earlobe. “And you want to please me. Because if you do, I’ll make you come so good.”
My lower belly flip-flopped and I felt a jolt right to my center. “Promises, promises.”
He just chuckled. A low, wicked chuckle.
And when it had come time to pack, I’d tucked the red chemise into the overnight bag along with my other clothes.
Zaq wore dark-wash jeans and a black tee. I’d wanted him to wear tight pants and heeled boots as payback for that “thrall” outfit he’d made me wear, but he’d simply laughed and chosen his own clothes.
With his lower face covered in dark stubble, he was rocking the movie-star-on-vacation look. I honestly didn’t understand how his so-called human glamour fooled anyone, but apparently no one could see through it other than me and his family.
When we arrived at the airport, the limo driver took us around the back to where a Kral jet waited. Being able to skip going through security was one of the benefits of flying via private jet, one I had to admit I could get used to.
The sun was setting, the sky over New York a wash of purple and pink. That unfamiliar optimism was still with me, making me buoyant.
I told myself it was too soon for that, that first we had to complete this op against Moreau, but it kept bubbling up.
Maybe I could live with Zaq and take online classes. I wouldn’t even have to decide on a major right away—Leo de Froulay had transferred an eye-popping amount to my account. I could take my time, figure out what I was interested in.
I’d always wanted to know more about art and literature, for instance. And the history of human-vampire interaction, and what could be done about blood addicts.
The driver pulled up near the jet. We got out and he handed us our overnight bags. The door to the jet stood open and a Kral soldier waited at the top of the steps.
As we crossed the tarmac, I glanced at Zaq, wondering if, like me, he was recalling our first meeting.
I sincerely hoped not.
He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I love you, Ridley.”
I shot him a puzzled look, which he read with ease. Another kiss to my knuckles. “I’ve decided to tell you that as often as I can until you believe me.”
My step faltered. Arrested, I looked at him. “Is that what you think? That I don’t believe you love me?”
“Am I wrong?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that. I do believe you.”
Maybe I hadn’t at first, but he’d shown me in so many ways that he meant it, especially yesterday when he’d made it clear to his father that he both wanted and trusted me.
Zaq’s mouth bent with frustration. “Then what is it? The monster thing? Because I’m sorry about what happened to your mom—so very sorry—but not all of us are like that. And this is who I am. You want me, you have to take the whole person.”
An ache bloomed in my chest. I was so bad at this. Like I’d told him, I didn’t do relationships.
“It’s not that. I know you’re not a monster. Even back in Paris, I knew I was wrong about that.”
“But—? And don’t tell me there isn’t a but. You have a problem, and I want to know what it is. You owe me that much, at least.”
