by Azzi, Gina
I lose my restraint, capturing her lips again. Our kiss is searing, the playful smirks from our drive to the hotel forgotten in favor of need. Desire thrums through my bloodstream, heightening my body’s awareness to everything Zoe does.
Each hold of her fingertips. Every exhale laced with lust.
I want it all. Every. Damn. Thing.
“Oh God,” she cries out as I rip my mouth from hers, peppering kisses across her collarbone. I lie her down on the bed and pause, taking a long moment to look at her.
This is the woman I fell in love with weeks ago, even though I was too terrified to tell her. The woman who burned me until I feared I’d fade.
This is the woman who owns my heart, and damn it all if I’m not going to own hers.
“What’s wrong?” she frowns, lifting onto her elbows to peer at me.
“Take off your shirt,” I command, pulling my T-shirt off in one, smooth movement.
Her eyes zero in on my bare chest. Her tongue peeks between her lips, swiping the center of her lower lip that I’d like to pull between my teeth.
“Now,” I add, popping the button on my jeans and letting my pants hit the floor.
She pulls in a tortured gasp, her gaze dropping to my dick, already hard and desperately wanting her.
“No boxers?” she asks, her eyes wide as they flick up to meet mine.
The corner of my mouth ticks upward as I lean forward to grip her hips. Pulling her closer, I tug her skirt and underwear down and off her body in one movement.
“Your shirt, babe. Lose it.”
She moves slowly, her eyes never leaving mine as she pulls at the string of her halter top. Immediately, the material crumples and her breasts pop free.
“Jesus.” I drop one knee to the bed, tugging the material up and over her head.
When she’s naked before me, I straddle her and grasp her wrists, pulling them over her head until I can press them into the soft mattress.
“Violet—”
“No talking, Eli,” she whispers, her breath fanning over my mouth.
I drop my lips closer to hers, my nose brushing the tip of hers.
“You’re listening, babe.” I keep her hands locked in one of mine while using the other to cup her cheek. I slide my fingers down her neck as I tip her head back so I can see directly into her confusing, complicated eyes.
Vulnerability and a thread of fear lurk there, and I hate it. I hate that she’s unsure around me. That things have changed between us. And that I have no fucking clue why.
“I don’t give a fuck what you want anymore, because I know you want this. You’re too tuned into me, too affected by my interactions with Natalie. Brooke.”
She yanks her head to the side but I tighten my hold, dropping my forehead to hers. “I’ve wanted you from the first damn time you told me I’d crash and burn if I tried to pick you up. I didn’t care then, and I don’t fucking care now.” I slide my mouth over her cheek, leaving a streak of open-mouth kisses from her temple to her ear. Her wrists strain against my grip as she arches into me. “Because I love you, Violet. And I know you love me.”
My heart pounds in my chest, my body coiling so damn tight it aches. “You can whisper lies and flip me all your attitude bullshit, but you’re mine.” I tug her earlobe into my mouth and bite down once. Zoe’s hips buck off the bed, grinding into me. “Not any of the guys you train in Chicago, not the bartender’s, no one else’s. And I’m going to prove it.” I drop her wrists and move my hands to frame her body as I kiss every inch of her skin.
Her hands press into my scalp, her legs winding around my hips as I drop my attention to her breasts. I tug one pert nipple into my mouth, sucking greedily. My scruff rubs against her flesh, pinking it while I change my focus to her other breast. My hands fill with her soft skin and I can’t get enough of her. I trail kisses down her stomach, unwind her legs from my hips, and hold her knees open as I gaze at her center.
It glistens in the dark and my throat tightens, my dick ready to explode. But first, I need to remind her just how good we are together. Flicking my gaze up to hers, she watches me intently, desperately, lust stamping out the gold in her eyes. I drop my head and feast on her, licking a path down her center. She groans and I slide my hands up her thighs, holding her wide open. Moving my mouth to her clit, I draw circles with my tongue, getting drunk on her sweetness. She writhes beneath me as I plunge two fingers inside of her, dragging her arousal up to her clit. Playing with her should be fucking illegal for the high it gives me.
The sheen that covers her skin is like a shot of adrenaline to my brain. Her moans and desperate sounds fill my ears like the crescendo in a full orchestra. The feel of her body—lean muscle, smooth curves, soft skin—calls to me like a siren.
I feel love drunk and lust high from one taste.
My fingers pump in and out of her, my dick twitching desperately for a turn. My tongue circles her clit faster, bringing her to the precipice. When her knees press against my shoulders, I drag one, slow lick up her core and she shatters, trembling against my mouth and fingers in the most beautiful breaking I’ve ever witnessed.
“Jesus, Eli,” she whispers, her eyes popping open and finding mine.
I crawl up her body, spreading her sweetness over her nipples and licking it back off of her. “That’s one, baby.” I push her hair back, gazing down into her flushed face. “You ready for me?”
She nods, her mouth dropping open with a hiss as I slide inside of her. Slowing for a moment as she gets used to me, I work a rhythm with long, deep strokes.
Zoe’s legs find my waist again as she digs her heels into my ass, pressing me deeper into her. I pull on her arms, gather her into my chest and lean back, fucking her hard as her breasts bounce in my face. I tug one inside my mouth and suck, Zoe’s moan piercing the quiet. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders while I set a relentless pace. Hard, fast, and goddamn furious with all the bullshit from the past two weeks.
She grips my shoulders, pushing me back until I collapse beneath her and she straddles me. Her eyes pierce mine, traveling all the way to my soul. Dark and desperate, brimming with need and flaring with a mischievous glint, her fighter spirit flickers to life and some of the restlessness in my chest eases.
This time, her fingers lace with mine and she moves my hands above my head. “You’re mine, Hollywood.”
I lick my lips. “That right?”
She leans forward, hanging over me and teasing her nipple just out of reach. “Mine to do whatever I want with.”
“And what do you want, baby?” My voice is so thick I barely recognize it. I need her to want this as much as I do. I just fucking need her.
“You,” she says simply. Then her hands smack down against my pecs as she braces her arms and begins to move up and down, riding my dick like a goddamn professional. Like she was made for me. Like I finally found my damn puzzle piece.
She grinds against me, leaning forward to add friction to her clit.
“Jesus, baby.” I drop my head back, one hand curling around her wrist, anchoring her to my chest, the other kneading her hip. “Give it to me, Violet.”
“Every. Damn. Thing,” she murmurs, working a delicious pace until my balls tighten and she crests and crashes above me.
I watch her break apart again, loving the wonder that flits across her expression, delirious from the reverence in her hooded gaze.
“That’s two,” I clear my throat, wound so goddamn tight I wonder if I’ll combust.
I flip her over, maneuvering her body until her knees hit the bed and her glorious ass is high in the air. I slide back inside her and run my palm up the center of her back until I grip her dark hair, winding strands of purple around my knuckles.
“Yes, Eli,” she says over her shoulder, giving me her eyes. Soulful and impassioned, I drown in them and fuck her hard and deep until we both cry out in ecstasy.
Our joined breaths and mingled sighs pierce the quiet night as I spill into her. Our gazes stay lo
cked as we come down from our combined high.
Zoe opens her arms and I collapse into them, resting my cheek against her chest. I grab a piece of the comforter, flipping it over us until we’re hidden inside, wrapped in a cocoon.
“I’m sorry, Eli,” her voice is a plea against my ear, the vibration of her tone trailing throughout my entire being and giving me the one thing I need most from her.
The truth.
“I know, baby. Me too.”
11
Zoe
Sunlight filters through the curtains and I roll over, a delicious ache blossoming between my thighs. My eyes dart open and I reach for the side of the bed where Eli drifted off to sleep next to me.
Last night was wonderful. Filled with passion, painted in lust, I lost myself in Eli until we were us again.
And now we’re not, because his side of the bed is empty. The sheets are still rumpled, the pillow still indented where his head had been, but he’s gone.
“Jeez Louise,” I murmur, swinging my legs to the side of the bed.
When did he leave? Why did he say I belonged to him if he wasn’t going to keep me? What—
My eyes dart to my desk and I bolt off the bed. Papers, printed with symptoms, treatment possibilities, colored charts and diagrams, are spread out, neatly separated into stacks when I kept them all in one pile.
Preventative mastectomy. Preventative oophorectomy. Treatment. Fertility after chemotherapy.
“Shit,” I say, my stomach dropping to my toes. I gather all the papers to my chest, my mind racing. Dread swirls in my stomach as I imagine Eli’s reaction.
Is he hurt? Angry? Sad?
Will he look at me with pity in his eyes and speak with sympathy in his tone?
He clears his throat and I stumble, falling back on my ass as I see his frame shadowing the bathroom door. I lift my gaze slowly, too fearful to see the emotions in his eyes. The ache between my legs throbs, as if it knows it will never have such pleasure again. My heart stutters in my chest as I manage small inhales, my lungs unable to handle the full capacity of breathing.
I grip the papers as my eyes linger on Eli’s thighs, clad in his jeans from last night. Still, the rigidity of his muscles strains against the fabric. The button is still popped open, a dusting of hair that leads to his belly button comes into view, and I swallow.
Chiseled abs, hard pecs, biceps that bulge as he shifts his weight and crosses his arms against his bare, tanned chest. His shoulders, tight with tension, round forward slightly as if anticipating my next move. His jawline is clenched tight, with several days of scruff coating his cheeks. Full lips, soft and kissable mere hours ago, are now pressed together in a hard, uncompromising line.
I draw in a sharp breath, tears stinging the back of my throat, gathering there like a snowball, growing larger as each second passes that I am physically unable to meet his eyes.
“Look at me, Violet.” His voice is harsh, raspy and raw.
My eyes close and a hot tear spills over, trailing down my cheek.
“Look at me,” he commands again, a bitterness cloaking his words.
Emotion rips through me and a sound clangs out from the back of my throat. A half-swallowed sob, an admittance of my lies, an acceptance of my guilt in purposely pushing him away.
“Baby, please.” He drops to his knees, his hands suddenly on my cheeks. His touch is gentle as he brings his forehead to mine, pressing our faces together, our breaths mingling in the air between us. “Please.”
I allow him to guide my face upward until I meet his eyes, rimmed red and bursting with raw emotion.
“Eli,” I breathe out, desperate for him to understand the reasons for keeping my health private.
He doesn’t allow me to explain; instead, he pulls me close, crushing me against his chest. His hands are in my hair, his heartbeat in my ear, his whispered agony blanketing my truths.
“Oh, my Violet. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” He says it over and over again, pressing kisses into my hair. Wetness hits my cheek. Swiping my tongue over my lips, I taste the salt of his tears mixed with mine.
I reach up to grab his wrists, forcing myself to look at him. “Eli, I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. Tell me the truth, Zoe.” He leans back, sitting next to me on the floor and shifting until the wall behind him supports his weight. “What is this?” He gestures to the papers that slipped from my hand onto the floor.
With a sigh, I run my fingers over the pile of information I’m still trying to process. “I have lobular carcinoma in situ.”
Eli’s face is serious, his tone solemn. “What is that?”
“It’s…well, it’s not as bad as you think.”
“Zoe,” he warns, his eyes pained, his voice strangled.
“It’s like an early marker for breast cancer,” I begin, taking my time to explain everything I know to him. I don’t want to. I never wanted to. Short of burning it all down, we’re now at the bridge we must cross and I do so slowly, one step at a time. “I know it’s a lot of information to process and—”
“When did you find out?” His hand trembles against his knee, his breathing shallow.
“I found a lump two weeks ago.”
“Is that what happened? What changed between us?”
I nod, forcing a swallow as his eyes swell with hurt.
“And you didn’t…you never thought to confide in me?” His voice strengthens now, his hand slapping against his chest hard enough to leave a red streak. “I could have…Jesus Christ, I would have been here for you.”
“I couldn’t risk it.”
“Risk what?”
“Your future. Your film.”
“Fuck that, Zoe. Fuck the movie. And what the hell kind of logic is that? You think it was any easier trying to figure out how I messed everything up between us?”
“Eli.” I move to take his hand, but he jerks his fingers away like I burned him. I suppose I have and it stings, knowing everything I tried to avoid is happening. Witnessing the hurt I caused for the man I fell stupidly in love with even though I knew better.
“Why are you still here? What does your doctor say? What’s the plan?”
I gesture toward the papers in my lap, trying to keep my voice calm, my eyes dry. “I’m still reading through the literature. Given my history—”
“History?”
Shit. My eyes drop closed and I scrub a hand over them. “You know my mom passed from breast cancer?”
“Yes.”
“My grandmother passed two years ago. Ovarian cancer.”
“God,” he murmurs. I force my eyes open.
“Before I came, right before I even met you, I took the BRCA test.”
Eli’s eyebrows dip again and I offer a quick explanation of the test.
“Your results were positive?” he guesses.
“Yes. For 1 and 2.”
Eli’s head tips back and his eyes close. “Zoe.” My name is a plea on his lips.
“I know. So now I’m trying to figure out the next steps. I’ll obviously go for more screenings, and my doctor will take a more aggressive approach. I just…I’m reading up on everything to decide if I should have an elective preventative mastectomy.”
“Where they remove your breasts?”
“Yes. And possibly an oophorectomy to also remove my ovaries.”
Eli’s head snaps back up, his eyes meeting mine. They’re darker than a forest, thick with concern, flashing with hurt. “When?”
“I’m not sure. After the film; I promise I won’t jeopardize your—”
“Stop with the fucking movie. I don’t care. I care about…God, why are you still here? Do you need to go back to Chicago? Do you want to? Who is your doctor? Should you be seeing a specialist?”
“No.” I place a hand on his, relieved when he doesn’t pull back. “No, everything is under control and right now, I’m fine.”
“Fine,” he scoffs.
“Yes. Fine.”
Eli breathe
s in and out, the sound audible, nearly deafening in the space between us. He’s trying to control the emotions wrestling for supremacy in his mind. I sit quietly, allowing him a moment to process.
When he looks at me again, his face is carefully blank and my stomach sinks.
“Whatever you need, the best doctors, the best hospitals, the medical tests, all of it, you’ll have it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Anything you need,” he repeats, cutting me off. Rising to his feet, he swipes his T-shirt off the floor and pulls it over his head. “I’ll make some calls this morning. I think it may be best for you to go home.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “But your movie, our contract—”
“I’ll still pay you for the four months,” he explains, locating his wallet and phone and slipping them into his jeans pocket. “You should be with family right now. Your dad, Charlie…” He trails off, moving to the door and sliding into his sneakers.
“Eli.” My tone is begging.
Please don’t leave like this.
Please don’t leave me.
Please don’t leave.
“I don’t want to talk right now, Zoe. I can’t.” His voice breaks by way of explanation. He tears his gaze from mine as if he can’t bear the sight of me anymore.
The door latches closed softly behind him as I stare at the vacant space and feel emptiness consume me. Too tired to cry, too wrecked to feel anything but numb, I close my eyes and lean forward until my forehead touches the ground.
Eli is gone. I’ve hurt him. I pushed him away. And now that he knows the truth about my lies, he doesn’t want me.
Why would he?
The thought explodes in my head like a landmine. I’m damaged goods. He’s a man who dreams of creating a family, and I’m a woman who will never bear children.
My heart thuds in my chest as a coldness sweeps through me, so icy it burns as it numbs. I’m tired from grieving for losses I’ve endured and exhausted from grieving for losses I’ve yet to suffer.
* * *
“How are you feeling today, Zoe?” Dad’s voice is the same, reassuring and calm, when I answer his call.