I stumble the entire block back to my house, literally laughing at myself the whole way. I know staying out into the early hours of the morning is not the most responsible thing in the world but right now, I really don't care. I promised myself a life and dammit, I am determined to have one.
When I finally reach the front of my building, I hesitate, realizing that there is someone sitting on the front steps. But then the person looks up and I swear my stomach ends up somewhere in my feet.
Zayne pushes to his feet when he catches sight of me and not knowing what else to do, I continue walking. The closer I get, the more his face comes into view and the more I can see that he is clearly not happy about something.
“Where the fuck have you been?” He doesn't try to hide the anger in his voice and for a moment I falter, completely caught off guard by not only him being here but with his reaction to seeing me as well.
“Um, hi. What are you doing here?” I ask, cocking my head to the side, completely ignoring his question.
“Maybe if you'd answer your fucking phone you would know that I have been trying to get a hold of you for the last five hours.” He says, running his hand through his hair in aggravation.
“You have?” I ask, completely confused and immediately start searching for my phone. When I realize it's not on me, I try to think of where I could have left it. “Shit. I don't know where my phone is.” I say, shrugging like it's no big deal. Honestly, I'm so buzzed right now, I really don't care where it is.
“Where have you been Grace?” He asks again, this time his voice coming out even.
“I had to work and then I went out for pizza and drinks with a couple of friends.” I say on a sigh. “Is there a reason you care?” I ask, not trying to hide my own aggravation that is suddenly boiling just below the surface.
“Are you fucking kidding me Grace? I care because I care about you.” He says, taking a step towards me. I instinctively take a step back. “Who were you with?”
“Well you have a funny way of showing it.” I say, fishing my keys out of my pocket. “And not that it's any of your business but I was with Jake and Becca, two people I work with.” I say, moving to step past him.
He reaches out and grabs my arm, spinning me towards him. The motion makes me a little dizzy and I grip his bicep to steady myself. Before I have a chance to react, he snatches the keys from my hand. “What are you doing?” He asks.
“Well considering I live here, I was going to go inside and go to bed.” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Now can I have my keys back please?”
“You're upset with me?” He asks, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “I've been sitting here for four hours waiting for you and you're upset with me? Fucking unbelievable.” He says, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Well no one asked you to sit here for four hours.” My voice goes up an octave and I take a deep breath trying to calm myself. My god this man is infuriating. “Look, I don't know why you're here or what you want but I'm really tired and I just want to go to bed. So please?” I ask, holding out my hand in hopes that he will give me my keys back.
When he doesn't move, I try again. “Zayne, you're not my father and you're not Alec. I won't let you treat me like I owe you any type of explanation for any of my actions. I lost my phone, I'm sorry if I made you worry. And I'm sorry that my feelings are a little hurt by the fact that it's been almost three days since...... well you know and I thought you would call sooner. And... I'm just....” He dips down and presses his lips to mine, officially cutting off my rant.
I want to push him away and hold onto my anger for a little while longer but the truth is, he really hasn't done anything wrong. I'm just a silly girl who doesn't have a good grasp on her own emotions. All of this is so new to me. My bodies reaction to him is proof of that. In one touch, one kiss, everything shifts.
The anger and hurt just fades away, replaced by the burning desire that I feel for this man and how badly I want him. I throw my arms around his neck and pull him closer to my body, loving the way his mouth feels on mine.
When he finally pulls away, we are both breathless and panting for air. He drops his forehead against mine and let's out a light sigh. “Come home with me.” He whispers, placing a kiss to the tip of my nose.
“Okay.” My answer comes immediately, my judgment clearly clouded by the amount of beer swimming in my belly. But right now I don't care. All I want is to be with him, in his bed, in his arms. I don't care where he takes me as long as he takes me once we get there.
Chapter Seventeen
I wake with a deep pounding in my head and immediately roll to the side, my arm colliding with something.... or rather someone. My eyes shoot open and my heart does a flip in my chest at the sight of Zayne laying next to me, a large grin across his perfect face.
“I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day.” He says, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face.
“What time is it?” I cringe at the dryness in my throat.
“A little after three in the afternoon.” He says, laughing lightly at the shocked look on my face.
“What!” I say, sitting up too quickly. The entire room spins and my stomach twists in a very unnatural way. I groan out, flopping back down on the bed.
Zayne lets out a light laugh, pulling me into his chest. “Maybe some water?” He says into my hair, nuzzling his face into my long waves.
“And ibuprofen.” I croak, feeling overly needy.
“Coming right up.” He says through his laughter, pushing himself up off the bed after placing a soft kiss to my forehead. He makes his way across the room, nothing but blue boxer briefs covering his perfect body. I watch the way his back flexes with each step and a deep burning instantly ignites in lower belly. My god, what this man does to me.
Once the door closes behind him, I slowly push myself into a sitting position. The bedroom is enormous. At least five times the size of my small little space. The large bed with mahogany head board could probably fit at least five people comfortably and is dressed in gray sheets and the softest black comforter I have ever felt in my life. A long matching dresser sits on the wall adjacent to the bed and a wall of windows sits along the left wall, draped in dark gray, sheer curtains. The walls are painted a light gray and only one thing hangs on the main wall, a painting of a woman.
It's not a photograph but it's clearly something that someone created based on a real life person. I can't help but wonder if Zayne knew this woman, if she meant something to him at some point, or worse, still does. Her face is hidden in the shadows. Her lean torso spread out across a bed dressed in whites, a deep red fabric draped over her breasts and running in between her legs. It's a beautiful piece, erotic and sensual.
I slowly pry myself out of bed, realizing immediately that I am completely naked. Suddenly last night or rather this morning, comes flooding back to me. Zayne waiting at my apartment, how angry he was with me. I only vaguely remember the drive here and after that things become even foggier.
Based on my lack of clothes and the delicious ache running through my body, it doesn't take a genius to figure out where things went from there. I remember his lips everywhere. On my neck, my chest, the inside of my thighs. Oh god and even.... down there. I put my hands over my face to hide my embarrassment only there's no need, no one is here to witness the seven shades of red that my cheeks must be at the present moment.
I look around the room and notice a couple articles of my clothing spread out in various places. I find my panties next to the bed and quickly slip them on. My jeans are thrown over the arm of a black leather chair that sits in the far right corner, my bra abandoned on the floor by the door but I can't seem to locate my shirt anywhere.
Deciding I need to use the bathroom more than I need to get dressed, I make my way to an open door along the back wall, entering a bathroom that is entirely too big for one person. What does someone need with all this space? The walls, like the bedroom,
are done in a light gray. A large, whirlpool tub takes up the majority of one wall, a double basin and large mirror on the other. There's a standing shower tucked into the right corner and then another door on the far left leads into a small private room with a toilet.
I quickly use the bathroom and then proceed to the sink to splash some water on my face and try to bring some order to my tangled mess of hair, with absolutely no success. I locate a bottle of mouthwash underneath the sink and take a huge gulp, swishing it around in my mouth until my taste buds feel numb before spitting it out.
Draped over the side of the massive tub I find one of Zayne's t-shirts. An old vintage “The Doors” tee that smells so strongly of him, I consider stealing it. That way I can smell him whenever I want. The intoxicating smell of expensive cologne and his natural smell. It's an overwhelming concoction and makes my insides twist with desire.
I quickly slip on the shirt, hoping he doesn't mind that I borrow it and then make my way back into the bedroom. When I enter, Zayne is sitting in bed, a glass of water in one hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He gives me a wide grin as I cross the space of the room and climb back into bed. I sit next to him in the middle of the mattress and cross my legs in front of me.
“I have a rule.” He says, handing me my water and then placing two small pills in my palm. “You can wear nothing but my old t-shirts when you are here.” He says, his eyes trailing down my half naked body before finding their way to my face again.
I let out a light laugh and then pop the medicine in my mouth and chase it down with a large gulp of water. The liquid feels amazing on my throat and I immediately feel a little bit better.
I sit the water on the bedside table next to me and collapse back down into the pillows, rolling to my side so that I can see Zayne. He mirrors my actions and rolls to his side as well, our bodies angled like puzzle pieces laid out on a table. You know the pieces will fit together perfectly but you haven't connected them yet.
“How are you feeling?” He asks, pushing my hair behind me, his hand trailing down the side of my neck causing my skin to prickle.
“I'm okay.” I say, my voice just above a whisper. “Where are we?”
“My house. I thought that was obvious.” He lets out a laugh.
“No, I mean, where are we exactly? Like, in comparison to my apartment.” I say, trying to explain what I mean.
He lets out another light laugh. “Um, we're about fifteen minutes from your apartment give or take. We're in the Heiser building.” He says, like I should know what that means. “You're even more beautiful when you're confused, you know that?” He laughs, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his chest. He rolls onto his back and I readjust my body. Snuggling into him, I drape my arm across his bare stomach, my fingers making slow circles across his defined muscles.
“Who is that?” I ask, pointing in the direction of the painting.
“No idea.” He says shrugging. “A friend of mine is an artist and he paints the most exquisite pieces. When I saw this at one of his art shows, I just had to have it. Do you like it?” He asks, looking back to me.
“It's beautiful. I love the way he uses the red to make the neutral colors seem so natural against it's boldness.”
“Well aren't you just full of surprises. I didn't know you liked art.” He says, pushing a stray strand of hair out of my face.
“I don't really know anything about art.” I admit. “But I know enough to recognize a very talented artist.” I say.
We fall silent for a moment and I search for something else to talk about. While I feel like I have known Zayne my entire life, the fact still remains that I know very little about him. Truth is, I probably wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for his relationship with Alec. The fact that my brother trusts him tells me everything I need to know and while he may be unpredictable and still a complete stranger to me, I feel safe with him.
“Tell me something I don't know about you.” I say, peering up at his beautiful face.
He thinks on it for a moment before responding. “I hate seafood.” He says, laughter vibrating through his chest.
“That's not what I meant and you know it.” I say, laughing with him. “Tell me something real.”
“I really hate seafood.” He says, tensing just in time for my hand to smack across his chest.
“You're such a jerk.” I say, a wide smile lighting up my face. “Fine. Tell me about how you and Alec became such good friends.” I say, feeling him tense under me.
“I don't really think that's the most appropriate conversation given our current predicament.” He says. “Why don't you tell me something? Tell me your favorite thing in the whole world.”
“Music.” I say without hesitation. “Well that and Rainbow Sherbert.” I say, laughing to myself.
“Rainbow Sherbert? Really? Why not ice cream? I mean, at least that I can understand.” He tries to plead his case but I can only laugh.
“No way. Sherbert is ten times better than ice cream, not to mention it's fat free. To a girl, that's a win win.” I say, loving the playful banter that we are sharing. It's so refreshing to see him relaxed and carefree. Usually he seems so serious. It's nice to see these little glimpses into who he really is as a person.
The conversation dies off for a few moments as we simply lie together. His hand sliding gently up and down my back while my fingers continue to trail across his stomach and chest, eventually finding their way to his bicep.
“Why did you get this?” I ask, pulling my head back slightly, resting it on the pillow so I can look at the black tribal tattoo covering his perfect flesh. I trail the outline with my fingertips, waiting for him to answer. When he doesn't, I look back up to his face. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling and while he seems completely at ease, I get the feeling it's not something he really wants to talk about.
Wanting to know as much as I can about this man, I push for more. “Does it mean something? The design I mean. Does it symbolize something for you?” I ask. Looking a little closer at the black lines, I realize that some of them aren't lines at all but words.
Squinting so that I can make out each word that swirls and dips with the design of the tattoo, I slowly read them aloud. “ Got a long line of heartache, I carry it well. The list of lives I've broken reach from here to hell. Bad luck blowing at my back. I pray you don't look at me, I pray you don't look back.”
I recognize the lyrics immediately. “Thirteen” by Johnny Cash. I look up at him questionably. For the first time since asking about the tattoo his eyes meet mine. “Johnny Cash?” I ask, my voice breaking slightly.
He let's out a light laugh, clearly trying to brush it off as nothing. “I got it a few years ago. I was going through something and well, it just seemed fitting.” He says, not giving me anymore explanation.
“You realize that life is a lot less lonely when you let people in from time to time?” I say.
“This from the girl who closes herself off to the world.” He responds, turning his face down to me. “You would do well to follow your own advice from time to time Ms. Morgan.” He says, his face unreadable.
“Spoken like a true master of avoidance.” I reply, rolling to my back on a loud sigh. He rolls towards me and props up on his elbow so that he is hovering over me.
“Did I offend you?” He asks, his eyebrows arching in question.
“Not at all.” I say, turning to meet his gaze. “Does it ever bother you? You know, that no one really knows you. That people assume you are a certain type of person and you are constantly judged on what people don't actually know about you?” I ask.
“Not really.” He says on a shrug. “If I let people believe the bad then I don't have to worry about disappointing them. If people see good, they expect good and I don't want to have to live my life pleasing other people.”
“But you failed.” I say, a small smile playing on my lips.
“How so?” He asks, his forehead knitting together in confusion.
; “I see the good.” I say, my voice barely a whisper. Before he can say anything, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his lips down to mine.
Chapter Eighteen
Just after six in the evening I manage to escape the confines of Zayne's bed. Insisting that if I don't get food in me immediately I will simply die. While Zayne busies himself in the large, chef style kitchen making us sandwiches, I sneak off to explore his apartment.
It really is a beautiful place. The first floor is open and light with more windows than I would ever care to have. Just imagining having to clean all of them gives me anxiety but then again, I almost bet Zayne has someone that takes care of all of that for him. I can't imagine him cleaning windows of all things.
The apartment is a one level but the size is massive. I have a feeling my mom was right in her assumption of just how well Zayne and Alec have done for themselves. Everything about this place screams money.
The front door opens into a huge foyer with hardwood floors that spread into the open living room which is decorated very modern. A black leather wrap around couch sits in the middle of the room, two glass end tables and a matching coffee table surrounding it. An enormous flat panel television is mounted to the adjacent wall and currently has an episode of Family Guy playing on it. More for background noise than anything. The ceilings are vaulted which gives the room an even larger feel.
A few paintings line the walls that aren't occupied by windows. All beautiful but nothing like the painting in his bedroom. Based on the style and mainly the use of colors, I can only assume that they are from the same artist.
To the left of the apartment there is a hallway that houses four bedrooms, two additional bathrooms, a study and then the master at the very end of the hall. And to the right is the kitchen which only has a half wall that separates it from the living area.
I walk to the back wall and pull open the sliding glass door. The patio isn't huge but it's spacious enough that a table and four chairs fit with plenty of room to spare. I step out into the warm summer air and take a few steps out to the railing. The view is one you would expect in New York; buildings, buildings, and more buildings, but we're high enough up that I can only really see the rooftops of a good portion of them.
Collide (Two Hearts, #1) Page 11