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When he pulls out of me, I have to fight the urge to let out a sigh of protest. I want him back inside me already; I want to stay as close to him as possible, both of us basking in the aftermaths of our orgasms.
Luckily he doesn't stay apart from me for long. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me through the apartment, toward his bedroom. It's a different layout than mine, I notice, a little larger, more open-plan. I like it. And he's decorated it well too, not like the typical bachelor pad. It's all modern designs and simple, tasteful furniture.
Then I forget about the apartment, because he's setting me down on the bed and curling in beside me, and I'm lost in his kiss again.
A few minutes later, we lie side-by-side on our backs, staring up at his ceiling, still breathless, our bodies slick with sweat, sticking together.
“Bet you never expected your doorman could do that,” Zayne says, a little smirk dancing across his lips.
I lean in to kiss the corner of that smirk. “I knew he was good at fighting off bad guys,” I say. “I had no idea he was such a naughty guy himself.”
“Only when inspired,” he replies, and I laugh, remembering our conversation in the café earlier.
“So what else inspires you?” I ask, settling into his arms.
“Music mostly,” he replies. “If we’re talking that kind of inspiration.”
“What type?”
“Indie bands, classic rock… Little bit of everything really. It’s the best part of my day sometimes, just heading into the stock room to get everything ready, listening to the perfect playlist.”
“Make me one sometime?” I ask, and then feel my cheeks flush. Was that weird to ask? Is this just a hookup, can we do things like make each other playlists?
But Zayne is already nodding, his eyes bright with ideas. “Definitely. I know what to put on it already.”
“You do?”
He tightens his arms around me. “I thought of the perfect song the moment I met you.”
I laugh. But he doesn’t. I turn in his arms to meet his eye. “Really?”
“Sometimes people just do that. People who really click with me. It makes a song come into my head, and I want to share it with them…”
“Can you play it for me?”
He reaches across me for his phone. For a moment, I regret the lack of warmth where his arm had been a moment before. But then he’s back, phone in hand, and I snuggle into his side as he cues up the music.
I’ve never heard the song before. Don’t recognize the band either, but I love the rhythm. It’s an acoustic guitar, and a soulful singer, singing about a girl he once met, but never knew her name. It’s sweet and sad all at once, and as I curl up against his side and listen to the lyrics, my head fills with a pleasant buzz. This feels right. Zayne feels right. I don’t know how to describe it.
When we finally drift off an hour later, my body curled up to his wrapped around me, arms around my waist, cradling me against him, I have one last thought before I drop off into sleep.
Uh oh.
