Trusting Zane

by Casey Hagen

  Zane watched her with precision.

  She saw it in the set of his shoulders, the way his gaze never left hers, and the way his tightly clenched fists relaxed now that the focus had shifted.

  “The social worker picked me up from school and took me to a respite foster family while they tried to find placement for me.” She trailed her palm along his arm and to his shoulder, letting his warmth keep her anchored to this time and this place.

  “I didn’t speak. I didn’t look anyone in the eye. I just hugged my children’s bible to my chest and rocked.” She moved between him and the mirror, just enough to reach for the top button of his shirt.

  “After a little research, they discovered my mother was a devout Catholic, and they decided the best way for me to have a shot at opening up is if they found a Catholic family to take me in.”

  She popped his first button and swallowed the panic that shot into her throat. Her racing heart left her breathless and light-headed.

  “Everything was good. They took me to mass on Sundays, and I went to Sunday school right after. It was a different church than I was used to, but the mass, the teachings, they all kept me connected to my heart. My mother. After a few months, I opened up, and by the time I had lived there for six months, they started talking about adopting me. If I would like that.”

  Her skin grew damp. Her fingers shook. Another button slipped free.

  “For a little girl who had lost her mother, who had no other family to speak of, it was a dream come true. I didn’t shuffle from foster home to foster home. I found my forever family right off the bat, and they loved me a whole lot. So much that they even enrolled me in a private Catholic school.”

  She bit her lip to the point of pain and slipped another button free. Her vision wavered; another time, another place, another chest so very different tried to worm its way into the moment. She blinked it away and forced herself to focus on the smooth, powerful chest before her.

  Zane’s hands settled at her waist, and she swayed with relief.

  “I was officially their daughter by the time I turned eight. The adoption certificate hung proudly on the wall in the dining room where I beamed every time I looked at it.”

  She slid another button free, the backs of her fingers grazing his skin. Taking a deep breath, she held on to the familiar spicy scent of his cologne, aftershave, whatever it was, and let it wrap around her.

  Keeping her safe.

  “At one point shortly thereafter, my adoptive mother went on a religious retreat for a week. A day after she left, my father fell cleaning the gutters. He refused to go to the hospital, said his ribs were just bruised. That night, he called me into the bathroom. He needed help getting his shirt off to go in the shower.”

  Another button popped and she spotted a glimpse of the muscled ridges of his stomach.

  She swallowed back thick tears. “He had me stand on the toilet and pull his shirt over his head. Totally innocent and I wanted to help.”

  Zane’s grip tightened on her. She knew what she would see if she looked at his face.

  “And so it went each night. I’d stand on the toilet lid while the bathroom filled with steam from the shower, and I’d help him take his shirt off. On the fourth night, he took my hands and laid them on his chest.”

  She blinked, sending a torrent of tears running down her cheeks at the view of those same hands, two decades later, palms flat on Zane’s pecs.

  “Kinsley,” he whispered.

  “Shhh.” She reached for the second to last button and popped it free, her stomach dropping. “It felt weird. I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach like something wasn’t right, but I was too young, too innocent to know what. After all, these were godly people. The fault had to be mine.”

  She pressed her cheek against his chest and let more tears fall. As many tears as she needed in order to wash the past away. She reached for his belt and slid the leather out of the buckle before reaching for the button at his waist.

  Taking one deep breath, she let the words chase it out. “The next day, he took my hand and laid it on his zipper.”

  She released the button of his pants.

  “I haven’t been able to undress a man since. Until this moment,” she said. Reaching for the collar of his shirt, she pushed the cotton off his shoulders. He shuddered under her hands as she took a step back.

  He flinched, but he didn’t turn away.

  She interlaced her fingers with his and kissed his knuckles. “On the outside, I had this perfect family. One might argue even more perfect than what I had with my mother since I had two parents, but look what the pretty picture hid underneath.”

  She smoothed her hand over the jagged, raised slashes marring the skin along his ribs, drawing his gaze to them. “Beauty is shaped by so many things. My single mother, the one who worked tirelessly just to afford clothes at secondhand stores, who declared both Mondays and Fridays meatless in our house to save money, built an exquisite life for us.”

  She knelt down next to him and locked eyes with his. With a small smile, she pressed a kiss to them, learning the unique shape of him with her lips. “These tell a magnificent story of a man brave enough to suffer anything in order to protect those powerless to protect themselves,” she whispered against his coarse skin.

  He dragged her up to him, his hand sinking into her hair while he rained her with kisses, over her neck, her jaw, along her cheek. “I’m so sorry you suffered that. Jesus, Kinsley. No one will ever hurt you again. I swear it,” he promised.

  “I know,” she said. But not because he would protect her, but because she would protect herself.

  “When I get back, I want—”

  “No.” She tugged his chin, stopping the onslaught of his lips. “I don’t want to wait until you come back. I want us right here. Right now.”

  Chapter 14

  Zane locked his arms and battled the urge to scoop her up, to save those perfect lips of hers from the twisted, ugly part of him.

  When her breath caressed him, for a split second, her words, her mouth, the assurance and attraction in her eyes, they all conspired to wipe away the clouds of the past that he’d let obscure the here and now. She let him see himself the way she saw him.

  She resurrected her pain, let it slide through her, all while trying to give him a glimpse of clarity.

  A glimpse that all too soon disappeared, but a glimpse nonetheless.

  “God, the faith you have in me to trust me with that,” he whispered over her lips, their breath mingling, their chests heaving.

  “I think my story was always meant for you,” she said, brushing her mouth over his.

  He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her face up to his. “I’m not sure how to touch you—I don’t want to make it worse.”

  “There are things, I—I don’t want to be held down,” she whispered.

  He wanted to crush something. Someone. Flashes of that little girl flickered through, and he wanted to slay every last demon that haunted her heart.

  “And if I use my mouth—just don’t hold my head against you. Please?” she asked.

  “You don’t have to even go there. It’s okay,” he said.

  She cupped the back of his head, her fingers kneading his hair, and brought his forehead down to hers. “I don’t want to write it off. Just—if I do decide, let me control it. That’s all I ask.”

  “Done,” he agreed.

  “Zane?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Can we stop talking now and just take this as we go?” she asked, pressing herself against him, her fingers tightening at his nape.

  A rough laugh escaped him. “Sure.”

  “Thank god.”

  Her words tumbled out in a rush, and she crushed her mouth to his, desire taking over and pulling them both under a veil of heat and need that pushed out the shadows of their pasts.

  Teeth gnashed, hands fumbled, and clothes fell away in a series of clunky movements that had her trapped by the neck

of her shirt with her arms over her head and him struggling for balance as he hopped on one foot while yanking his shoe from the other.

  Both laughing and blissfully naked, they fell onto the bed in a tumble of limbs.

  Taking a minute to catch his breath, he let his head sink into his feather pillows, his arm pinned under her naked skin. Just as he gathered the courage to run his hands over her ribs, so different from his own, she surprised him by pushing up on her elbow and climbing over him.

  Light kissed her flushed skin, caressing her everywhere he longed to touch. Her dark waves fell over her shoulders, the curled ends teasing her tight, dusky nipples.

  An honor-wielding warrior in the light of day and a forest nymph in a cocoon of their making, she enchanted him. If only they could stay like this, in this exact moment. No danger. No mission. Nothing, not even the pain they carried putting this connection between them at jeopardy.

  He sat up, wrapped his arm around her hips, and pulled her tight against him, her wet heat cradling the length of him. Teasing him.

  Face to face, breath to breath, skin to skin, he searched those eyes of hers, looking for any ounce of trepidation, but found only her unabashed fixed gaze and parted lips.

  “You lead, Kinsley,” he said.

  She held on to him, right over his ribs, giving him a moment of pause at the unfamiliar sensation before pushing up onto her knees.

  His cock jutted up and hovered there, the sensitive tip of him poised in her slick folds; his hips bucked, involuntarily seeking more, while the tip of her breast brushed his bottom lip.

  Staring down at him, she gasped and froze, making him wonder if she’d back out, but then those eyelids drifted shut on some spark of pleasure, and she arched her back, twisted to one side, and brushed that same nipple over his mouth again.

  Taking the hint, he flicked his tongue against her, tasting her. He closed his eyes and let the feel of that tight bud tickling his tongue shoot through him. Goosebumps broke out over his skin, shooting up the nape of his neck and over his scalp.

  On an exhale, she lowered herself onto him inch by agonizing inch. With his cheek pressed to her breast, he held her as whimpers and gasps slipped from her lips.

  Squeezing impossibly tight, he curled his fist into the sheets, struggling for control. So turned on he wanted to flip her over and plow into her, he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, doing anything he could to resist taking over.

  Taking all of him, she settled with a groan and nuzzled his neck, her damp tongue flicking over his skin.

  “Christ, woman,” he ground out.

  “It’s okay?” she asked, her voice muffled as she nipped at his Adam’s apple.

  He let out a grating chuckle. “Anymore okay and my balls might just burst into flames.”

  She pulled back, her hungry eyes roaming over his face. “Would I be a total cliché if I asked you to take control? To take me?”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded, and as if that wasn’t enough, she pulled her hips back and thrust down on him, making him hiss.

  They could make love to one another a thousand times, and it would never match this exact moment when Kinsley gave him her trust to give her pleasure while taking his own.

  Slanting his mouth over hers, he kissed her deep, sliding his tongue against hers. Digging his fingers into the round, soft flesh of her ass, he eased her back a fraction.

  She bit his bottom lip, and his restraint fled on a shot of pure lust. With a rough yank, he thrust into her. He swallowed her cries as he set the pace, her muscles pulsating as she rode him. He sucked his thumb into his mouth, getting it nice and slick, and reached between them, finding her swollen, wet clit. Grazing the spot over and over, he finally drove her over the edge, and her inner muscles locked around him.

  Eyes wide, she sobbed with the tremors that rocked her, thrashing her head as the orgasm ripped through her, finally leaving her sagging against him.

  He peeled the hair from where it stuck to the damp skin of her collarbone and brushed it back. Fighting to keep his eyes focused after having her bring him right to the brink, only relaxing her grip on his cock before he found relief, he pressed openmouthed kisses to her shoulder. Salt from the sheen that slickened her skin burst on the tip of his tongue.

  The bed rocked; the room filled with the sounds of their moans as he teased himself by searching for release, and right on the verge of achieving it, slowing down to taste her again.

  To savor and touch.

  To listen to her whispered needs and desires.

  When she reached that frantic point for the third time, her nails biting into his skin, a lusty growl of frustration escaping her, he flipped her over, lifted her hips, and rolled into her over and over.

  His muscles tightened from his thighs to his shoulders. A sheen of sweat dotted his skin. All other feeling faded into nothing as his balls tightened and that sharp zing built in the base of his spine.

  Her breasts swayed with every collide of their fevered hips. Her half-lidded gaze found his; her breaths came in broken gasps, and she tightened on him once more.

  Tears in her eyes, she grabbed the pillow and pressed it against her kiss-swollen lips, letting out what would have been a piercing scream.

  The cords in her neck strained, and she thrashed below him.

  Her warm release surrounding him proved to be his undoing. He buried himself deep, his hip bones digging into the inside of her thighs, growls tearing from his heaving lungs, and everything inside of him pulsing and spilling into her.

  Wrenching the pillow from her hands, he threw it, cupped her cheek, and turned her face to him.

  He’d never forget the way her eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the pink splotches of color high on her cheekbones, and that pink mouth of hers, bruised, yet satisfied, judging by the smile on her face.

  She grazed his lip with her thumb. “There you are,” she whispered. “I was hoping I might see you.”

  “See me?” he asked with a nervous laugh, kissing the tips of her fingers.

  “You’re striking when you’ve forgotten about your scars. Absolutely perfect,” she murmured.

  His heart flooded with an unfamiliar rush of affection. He knew exactly what Tex would have to say about it.

  Love.

  “I’m coming back. One mission and I’m coming right back here, to this bed, to you,” he promised.

  Chapter 15

  From well outside the property line of the empty mill, Zane watched the men move about the cracked asphalt lot littered with shipping crates. They walked the perimeter of the fencing, some with their hands clearly on their weapons, others ready to shoot the minute a canary broke wind.

  From this distance, he couldn’t distinguish the details of their faces, but they all carried that same gait, shoulders bunched, ready to spring into violence at the least provocation.

  The occasional cigarette coal flared before fading away as a few of the men took deep drags.

  “Remember, stealth going in because once you break through that door, they’ll know you’re there. You won’t have long to get Chloe and get out,” Tex said from where he sat in the bed of the pickup next to Zane.

  “You’re sure the tunnel is still operational?”

  “Not a hundred percent,” Tex said with a shrug.

  “Give me a percent that doesn’t make my ass clench,” Zane said.

  “About eighty. According to the plans, there’s an iron door below. I can’t guarantee it’s not locked. But you’ve got everything you need to handle that in a matter of seconds.”

  “Seconds after they already know I’m there,” he muttered.

  They’d agreed he would break through their perimeter just outside the door to the crate holding his sister. With so many men patrolling the area, there’d be no way to deactivate their security system without being seen so he had to bust in while they patrolled the third quadrant, because they were arrogant enough to think they could move in clusters, that by just their existence and word on the street, no one would even try to break through.

  Especially not on the ocean side. With the containers butting up within feet of the water, it would be the last place they checked.

  The fact that they had his sister for two days now and no one had rushed in to rescue her worked in their favor. They likely assumed she had no other ties than the piece of shit that dragged her into this mess with his idiocy.

  “It’s time” Tex said, hoisting the oxygen tank.

  Zane slipped on the gear, the weight oddly familiar. Drizzle fell from the sky, not that it mattered. In a matter of minutes, he’d be submerged in the salty water of the Pacific and working his way toward the port.

  Thirty-eight concrete pillars anchored into the bottom of the ocean to be exact.

  Tex had checked the air hose, air cylinder, regulator, and information console, along with the other dozens of components that went into a dive, but Zane did the same. A diver always checked their own equipment to make sure everything was operational.

  He slipped weights into his BC and grabbed his fins. Hopping off the back of the truck, he dropped down to the edge of the concrete, the black ocean water lapping against the structure.

  The last time he’d been under the surface, in the black, alone, silent, and cold, he’d been snatched out by a band of enemies. The days that ensued were pain-ridden and hopeless, leading to a decade-long period of desolation and pain.

  Kinsley’s soft, warm body lay in his bed right now, right this very minute.

  Waiting for him to get back to her.

  With the fog of grief lifted, he was ready to live again.

  Once he had his sister back.

  And no one would take what was his ever again. Not those he loved and not his peace of mind.

  With one last signal, he secured his mask and fins. Tex counted down from five with hand signals and right on cue, Zane dropped straight into the water.

  The cold enveloped him right away, and the water trickled between the gaps of his suit, sending shivers through him. He regulated his breathing, let his body adjust to the temperature, then slipped farther below the surface, following the concrete supports.

  -->