by Emelia Blair
I see the darkening in Zayn’s eyes, and I purse my lips. “She knows he’s not her father, Zayn. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. She sees him more as an uncle.”
He takes a step towards me. “And you?”
I blink. “Me what?”
“Are you seeing anyone?” The intent in his eyes is clear, and I know I didn’t miss the spark of attraction coming back to life between us during dinner.
“I hardly think that’s any of your business,” I say coldly, refusing to walk into this with him.
He takes another step forward, and I don’t move, his gaze flicking over my face, lingering for a little too long on my lips. “It’s just a question.”
“Yes, well,” I give him a sugary sweet look that is full of warning. “I choose not to answer it.”
“Should I take that as a no?” he asks, his tone so silky, and now he is closer to me.
The sneak!
My heart beats wildly against my chest, my body’s reaction to him feeling so natural and yet so impossible to tamp down. My brain tells me to move, to put an end to this before it even begins, but the part of me that is still so wildly attracted to him whispers sinfully to wait and see.
“You should take that as a mind-your-own-fucking-business.”
He gives that half smile again that seems to be always reserved for me, the one that makes me feel like I can’t draw in enough oxygen. He moves a little closer still, smoothly inserting himself into my personal space as if he has every right to be there and it strikes me that I am wading into very very dangerous waters.
I try to gather myself, to take control of the situation, unsuccessfully. “If you think I’m going to—”
His mouth swoops in to swallow my words, and his touch makes my skin ache, those firm lips against mine moving in a rhythm that is so natural. He presses his larger body against mine, pinning me to the sink as his hands ghost over me, leaving a trail of fire and sensation in their wake.
It was like this the last time as well.
All he has to do is touch me, and my body can’t help but respond.
He moves his hands over my waist, his thumbs brushing the side of breasts till he reaches my neck. One hand clasps the back of my neck in a proprietary hold as he melds his mouth to mine, tongue, teeth, lips.
His other hand goes to my hip as he presses me against him.
I don’t want to be affected but the way his hands graze my skin on top of my clothing, the rough way in which he handles me, it makes me almost whimper, and I part my lips at his silent command.
His tongue is soft as it explores my mouth, tangling with mine, inviting me to play. His hand tightens on my nape as a moan escapes my lips.
I can feel the roughness of his jaw as it grazes my softer skin. My hands lift to curl inside his shirt as he lights a fire under the passion that I buried inside me for so long. The scent of his aftershave, a woodsy scent that he never changed, makes my knees weak and I can feel the way his hand squeezes my ass as if it has every right to.
When he sucks on my tongue, I feel myself growing wetter.
However, common sense is like a bucket of cold water when I feel his cock harden. I bite down on his lower lip enough for it to bleed and he immediately steps back, cursing.
Wiping my mouth with a trembling hand, I stare at him.
He glares at me. “Jesus, you could have just pushed me away.”
I try to steady my heartbeat. “W-well, that worked too, didn’t it? Don’t put your mouth on me again.”
Those sharp blue eyes turn to slits. “You liked it.”
I give him a wry look. “I think skunks are pretty to look at. Doesn’t mean I’m going to cuddle up with one.”
He scowled. “Well, you didn’t have to bite me.”
“You kissed me.”
“You kissed me back,” he retorts.
I shrug my shoulders, knowing I will be taking a cold shower tonight. “Only to be polite. Would you rather I squirted soap gel in your eyes?”
He shakes his head and touches his lower lip with this finger. “Still, fuck.”
“I don’t want you kissing me. You’re here for Mila and Mila alone. I’m not part of the package.”
When Zayn doesn’t say anything, I clench my fist and take a step towards him. “I mean it, Zayn. You and I are not going to be anything more than co-parents. I’m not interested in you or anything that you’re willing to offer.”
“You sure weren’t saying that a minute ago,” Zayn watches me unnervingly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
However, I am not going to let him get to me. “You don’t have a place in my life, and that’s never going to change. And if you came here with the intention of getting into my pants, then you can walk out that door and never come back.”
His face turns cold with a fury that I rarely saw before. “I’m here for Mila. Don’t flatter yourself.”
The sting in his words is like a slap to my face, but I heard harsher words and felt worse pain in the past, so I face him without flinching. “Good. Then we’re clear. Now, I think it’s time you leave.”
“Fine!”
He doesn’t hesitate, and my eyes follow him as he walks out of the kitchen.
The sound of the front door slamming shut makes me press my lips together in a thin line.
I stare at the wooden table, blindly.
After all these years, he still sees me as a disposable plaything.
He can’t even respect me enough knowing that I am the mother of his child. It is so easy for him to walk in here and get to know Mila and then later try to score with me.
As if I am not deserving of respect.
Wasn’t that what my father shouted at me before he tossed me out?
That I tossed out my honor and respect like yesterday’s trash.
The burning in my eyes makes me blink, and I rub them, refusing to shed any tears. I didn’t cry since that night, and I am not going to start now.
My parents are old-fashioned, so I don’t begrudge them for not supporting my decision to keep Mila and not marry Zayn, not that was ever even an option to begin with. However, I wasn’t expecting to be tossed out on my pregnant ass.
Zayn, however, I thought he would have some measure of respect.
I know I let him kiss me.
That is on me.
But his harsh words still stung a little bit.
My lips curve, sardonically, the self-pity ebbing out of me.
I can’t exactly blame him for taking advantage of the situation, especially when I gave him enough room to do it. However, the fact that he made that decision in the first place, that tells me his opinion of me.
Does he think I will spread my legs for him now that he is in my life?
Is he under the impression that I am desperate for his attention or that just because I am attracted to him, I will let him into my bedroom?
I stare at the kitchen door, my brow knitted into a scowl.
Zayn has no idea who he is dealing with.
“Twirl, Maddie, not jump.” I give the frustrated dancer an exasperated look. “Okay, sugar, watch me go.”
I move in a graceful twirl and then point towards my feet. “See, I used my heels and toes for support. Now you try it.”
The young woman tries the movement again, and when she fails, I put my arm around her. “It’s okay. You just keep practicing, and you’ll get it. I know I didn’t get it the first time either.”
The woman looks grateful at my encouragement, and I watch her leave before going to pick my stuff up.
I am bending over to pick up my water bottle when I hear a knock on the glass door of the entrance to the room.
“The class is over. Next one’s one—” I pick up the water bottle and still to see Zayn leaning against the door, his long frame so casually arranged, watching me. “Zayn.”
“Hey,” he says, finally. “Got a minute?”
I don’t hold a grudge against him.
I ca
n’t afford to.
However, I also know that rekindling a sort of friendship isn’t going to happen either. I have too much self-respect for that.
“Yeah,” I start walking towards him, my face calm. “Walk and talk. I need to shut down the studio. Saturday we’re only open a half day.”
I brush past him without a second glance and feel his lingering gaze on me as he walks behind me. “I need to talk to you.”
I start locking the classrooms one by one. “About what?”
His voice sounds a bit strained. “About yesterday.”
My hands are in the process of closing a lock, and they freeze before I force myself to finish my task, keeping my tone relaxed. “What about it?”
I move on to the last door, and I am reaching for the lock when he yaps, “The kiss, dammit! Just look at me, will you?”
He puts his hands on my shoulder and whirls me around to face him.
Without thinking, my body reacts to the aggressiveness, and I have the small penknife in my pocket out and at his throat.
Realizing what I have just done, I pale. “Oh shit, sorry! That is a reflex.”
I pull back and flick the penknife closed.
Zayn stares at me, stunned. “What the hell was that?”
I tuck the penknife in my pocket, wincing. “My bad.”
“Why the hell are you carrying a penknife?” His voice is harsh. “And what was that move?”
“Self-defense,” I mutter. “I take regular courses.”
I lean down to snap the lock shut and start walking into my office.
He prowls after me. “Why do you need a self-defense class?”
I start gathering my things. “Because you can never be too safe?”
“Are you scared of somebody?” he asks, his tone rough. “Are you in trouble?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Zayn. Calm down before you pop a vein. Tell me what you want to talk about. I have to get groceries, and I’m running late.”
His jaw tenses. “You’re hiding something from me.”
I flick a cool look towards him. “And what makes you think you’re so important that I’m going to go around hiding information from you? Calm your tits, Zayn. Tell me what you want.”
My secrets are my own.
I am not hiding the fact that I want to be away from his presence and he doesn’t miss it.
He tucks his hands in his leather jacket, the blue of his eyes glinting like arctic ice. “I want to talk about the kiss.”
I start putting things in my bag, not knowing how to make eye contact with him while he talks about what happened last night without wanting to shove that knife in his stupid eye. “What’s there to talk about? You made a move on me. I let you. And then I decided against it. Seems pretty clear cut to me.”
He looks at me, a glittering in his eyes that I refuse to acknowledge. “Is that all it was to you?”
“Yes,” I pick up my purse and round the table, but he doesn’t budge out of the way.
I raise my brows. “You gonna move?”
His eyes are a darker shade now. “I want to talk to you with you looking at me.”
He doesn’t see my elbow coming as I shove it into his stomach, making him double over with a groan.
I smile pleasantly. “And I want N’Sync to get the band back together.” I walk past him outside. “But we don’t always get what we want. Now, move. I need to lock up.”
He straightens, still clutching his stomach, and giving me a baleful look, walks out of the office, wincing. “Were you always this crazy?”
I lock the door and look at him from under hooded eyes. “I’m from the South.”
He follows me outside into the blinding sun, and I make my way to my battered old car. His car is the only other one there in the parking lot and compared to my beaten down blue one, his black BMW looks like a sleek machine.
It also shows me the class difference between us, and while I worked my way up to where I am, I can’t help but feel a little battered and old myself, compared to him.
I shake off the feelings and ignoring Zayn’s presence; I stare at my car.
Something looks off.
Leaning down to take a better look, I hiss.
“What is it?” he asks, immediately.
“Fucking kids,” I mutter. “They slashed the tires.”
“Wait, what?”
Zayn takes a look. “That looks like it was done with something sharp.”
“I’m aware,” I say, annoyed.
He looks up at me from where he is checking the tire. “Does this kind of thing happen often? Are you sure it was some kids?”
I take out my phone to call an Uber. “Who else would it be? There have been these sort of vandalism acts in this area for over a month now.” I glance down at my tires. “First time it’s happened to me, though.”
“What are you doing?” He blinks. “Are you calling the police?”
“Over slashed tires?” I half laugh. “This is nothing. I’ll just go pick up some spares.”
“You’re going to change the tires yourself?”
I feel a hint of insult. “I’m not incompetent, Zayn. I’ve been changing tires my whole life. My first boyfriend was a mechanic.”
Did I imagine the flash in his eyes?
“Look, you go. I’m getting an Uber. I’ll sort this out. We can talk later.”
“No need. I’ll get tires delivered,” he straightens. “You have one in the back, don’t you?”
As he moves towards the back of the car, I feel like I am being managed.
I don’t like it.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ve got this handled.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he waves off my protest and takes out his phone and dials a number. Before I can stop him, he already arranged for tires to be delivered to our location.
I stare at him in exasperation as he takes out the spare from the back and rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.
Watching Zayn work isn’t a hardship in itself. As he uses the jack to raise the car, the muscles in his forearm standing out, I grit my teeth. Watching him get down and dirty, it stirs the rebellious nature inside me, and I want to sink my teeth into him.
I remind myself of the scene from last night.
A splash of cold water, indeed.
He is done within ten minutes, and as he stands back up, my arms are crossed over my chest and I force the ‘thank you’ from my throat.
“There. I’ll do the others when they get here.”
It is really hard to portray him as an asshole when his dark jeans are dirty from kneeling on the hard cement, and his white shirt has smudges of dirt from where the tire pressed against it.
His lips curve in a smile that is more strategic than humorous. “Looks like you can talk now.”
My lips thinned.
Asshole.
5
Zayn
Eve doesn’t look pleased.
Her pretty brown eyes glitter with annoyance, her long braid dangling over her bare shoulder that is a tanned and dusky color. She hasn’t changed out of her outfit and the tank top is a deep red, highlighting her figure, her long legs on display in the gray yoga pants.
One look at her is enough to get me hard and aching.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday.”
The words are out of my mouth, and I see the way her eyes shift and she crosses her arms against her well-endowed chest. However, she doesn’t utter a word, just cocks her hip out and watches me.
“Well,” I wipe my hands on my jeans before sticking them into my pockets. “To be clear, I’m not apologizing for kissing you. I’d do it again—”
She cuts me off, her voice so sweet in its anger that I can tell that she is itching for the penknife of hers. “What makes you think I’d let you?”
The smirk on my lips is slow. “Because I see the way you watch me.” I tilt my head. “You kissed me back yesterday. There’s still something between us.”
There is a coldness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before and another emotion that I can’t quite identify. I wonder at it, but I am going to have my say, regardless.
“I shouldn’t have made a move on you when the whole point of the visit was to meet Mila. It was spur of the moment. I regret the timing, not what I did.”
Her lips are pressed together in a thin line and I know that I have hit the nail on the head.
After walking out yesterday, I realized the enormity of my actions. Kissing her might have sent her the wrong message.
I lean against the hood of her car, watching her. “I want to know Mila, but I’m not going to hide my attraction to you. I respect you, despite what I did yesterday. And not just because you’re my child’s mother but because you’re you.” I straighten and take a step towards her. “I want you, Eve. I wanted you back then, and I still do. So you can fight me on it all you want, but if I have to get under your skin to get you into my life, I will.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Her eyes flashing with what I can only call anger, she steps towards me, getting in my face. “Are your words supposed to make me swoon at your feet? I know you, Zayn. I know the life you lead. I’ve seen you spin beautiful magic with your words. I’ve seen you spin even the most evasive of women into your arms with just a few indulgences. I’ve also seen you crush people you despise.” Her eyes glitter with such indignation that I can’t help but want to crush those rebellious lips under mine and teach her I can do so much more with my mouth if she just lets me.
She scoffs, shaking her head, not aware of the direction of my thoughts. “I don’t want anything from you but a cordial relationship where we can both be in Mila’s lives. Aside from that, you and me, that’s not happening.”
I am not expecting her to fall in line.
I wasn’t born yesterday.
The corner of my lips tugs upwards in a reluctant smile. “Let’s see.”
It is much more than wanting her in my bed. If I was attracted to her back then, I am swept off my feet by the woman she has become. Her fiery nature softened, but there are walls around her that she puts up and I want to tear them down. This darkness that lingers in my soul is attracted to her.