“It was an act, Zayne. We were putting on a show for the crowd.” I don't know why I bother making excuses but they come anyway.
“That sure as hell didn't look like just an act to me. And if that's the case, did you really need to have him hanging all over you all night to drive the point home?” His voice rises and I can tell that he’s fighting to control his temper. Problem is, I'm completely dumbfounded by why he's even mad to begin with.
“Why do you care? Last time I checked, I don't answer to you,” I spit out, feeling the hurt from the last time I saw him boil back to the surface. “Or does that only apply to you? Because I'm sure Ashley would have a few things to say on the matter.” I turn toward the door, but before I can pull it open, Zayne spins me around and pins me back against it, his hard body pressing firmly against mine.
I try not to let the sexual tension now flowing through the air derail me. If he wants to do this right now, then I have a few choice things I would like to get off my chest.
“I already told you, it's not what it looked like,” he growls, his breath hot against my cheek.
I try to push him back again but he stands firm, not giving me one inch of wiggle room. Even more pissed that I can't get away, my temper finally starts to show itself.
“Really, Zayne. Not what it looked like? Well considering I saw her straddling your lap with her tongue in your mouth and you not fighting to remove her, I think I know exactly what it looked like and exactly what it was. Don't patronize me. I'm not a child.”
His gaze lightens the slightest but his face is still full of anger. “And the little kiss between you and the singer, aren't you telling me the same thing? That it isn't what it looked like to everyone watching?”
“Don't turn this around on me, you asshole!” I scream in his face, completely surprised by my own reaction but even more surprised by the hurt that flashes across his face at my words.
“Watch your mouth, Grace,” he scolds, finally taking a step back.
“Fuck you, Zayne.”
How dare he treat me like I don't have the right to choose what words I will and will not use. I’m a grown woman and by god if I want to curse, well then that's exactly what I will do.
“I find you practically fucking a woman in a conference room. Then you show up here, only to leave without even saying goodbye. You were gone for days without trying to contact me and if all of that isn't enough, you show up here demanding answers like I owe you one god damn thing.” I step forward, shoving my hands against his chest.
“Grace.” My name is a warning but I am too riled up now to back down. I can feel the explosion of emotions finally finding their way to the surface.
“Don't Grace me!” I throw my hands in the air. “Go away, Zayne. Just go away!” I scream inches from his face, the alcohol running rampant through my bloodstream clearly intensifying my reaction.
“Enough.” The word bounces off the walls and instantly silences me. Zayne's eyes are dark and I can tell that I have pushed him too far. “You saw me in the conference room with Ashley. She initiated it and I should have stopped it immediately. Hell, I did stop it. Just not quick enough. When I came here and you played that song for me. Fuck, Grace, it gutted me. To see how much pain I was causing you. I had to walk away, I needed space from all of this.” He gestures between the two of us. “I spent four days trying everything I could to get you out of my head and I couldn't do it. Grace, I can't do it.” His voice comes out softer, pleading even.
He reaches out and puts both hands on either side of my face, leaning down so that he is staring directly into my eyes. “I can't shake you. When I saw you with the singer, the way he was intentionally finding ways to touch you all night...” His voice trails off.
“You're jealous...” The words come off my lips in a ragged whisper, realization hitting me like a tidal wave.
It's not because he thinks of me as a child that he needs to take care of, it's because he's jealous. My anger quickly melts and my heartbeat kicks up a notch. He's jealous, that has to mean something, right?
“I'm jealous,” he admits. “I couldn't stand the sight of his hands on you and then when he kissed you. Fuck, Grace, it took everything I had not to jump up on that stage and beat the shit out of him.” He exhales loudly.
I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and close the short distance between our lips in a matter of seconds. No matter how much this man infuriates me, no matter how mad I still am over the Ashley situation, nothing could have prepared me for the elation I feel knowing that I am capable of making him jealous. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to feel him on me, inside of me. The deep ache I feel in his presence comes to the forefront and all words are lost until it’s the only thing left.
Chapter Nine
MY EYES FLUTTER OPEN and instantly close against the harsh sunlight filtering through the windows of Zayne's bedroom. I try again and manage to keep my eyes open long enough to catch sight of a smiling Zayne staring back at me.
“Good morning,” he husks, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to his chest. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and inhale deeply. God, how I've missed his smell.
“Morning,” I get out on a broken whisper, my throat feeling overly dry, no doubt from the amount of alcohol that burned its way down it all night last night.
“How are you feeling?” he asks into my hair, nuzzling me.
“I'm good.”
For days I tried to prepare myself for what it would feel like to never have this again. To be in his arms and surrounded by his scent. Now, to be lying next to him, to know that I’m actually here, well, let's just say it makes me feel happier than words could ever describe.
He lets out a light laugh, the vibration shaking my head slightly. “Hungry?” he asks, pulling back to peer at me.
“Starving,” I purr, stretching my arms above my head. His smile is bright and brilliant in the morning sunlight and I have to fight to contain my own giddy smile finding its way to the surface.
“Don't move,” he instructs, flipping the covers back and crawling out of bed. I take a moment to appreciate his naked body. The way his muscles flex as he crosses the room to retrieve his boxers from the floor.
He turns slightly and catches me ogling him. His eyes darken in a very knowing way and his smile turns wicked. “Keep looking at me like that and it will be you that I have for breakfast. Now stay.” He quickly slips on his boxers before exiting the room.
I take the moment to run to the bathroom to freshen up. Deciding a shower is a must and hoping Zayne will join me, I turn the water on and allow it to warm up before slipping inside. It doesn't take me long to notice that an expensive girly bottle of shampoo and conditioner is sitting on the ledge next to his. There is also a bottle of vanilla scented body wash and a pink loofah perched next to it.
I can't help but wonder when he did this. I have given him crap about having to use his stuff when I’m here, but I never actually expected him to stock his bathroom for me. The thought makes me smile and I quickly start working the divine smelling shampoo through my long thick hair.
I’m just rinsing out the conditioner when Zayne finally slips in beside me. I peek one eye open and smile suggestively at him. “I thought I told you to stay put.” He steps forward to trail his hands down my sides, coming to a rest on my hips.
“Yeah but now you have me naked and wet in the shower. Are you complaining?” I wipe the water from my face.
“About this.” He lets his eyes trail down my body. My skin prickles as he takes in every inch of bare flesh in front of him. “You won't ever hear me complain,” he growls, taking my mouth with his.
His movements are slow and lazy but do not lack the fire and intensity that I have come to love about Zayne. He breaks away from my lips, getting a whimper of protest from me as he squirts some of the scented body wash into his hands and rubs them together. He takes his time washing me, trailing his hands across my breasts, down my stomach, across the t
ops of my thighs. Each movement increases my already rapid heartbeat and by the time he has washed every last inch of my body, I’m panting and withering beneath his hands.
“I love seeing you like this, Grace,” he whispers, taking my earlobe in between his teeth and nibbling gently before dropping his lips to my neck and kissing where my pulse is pounding under my flesh. “The way your body reacts to my touch.” He slides his fingertips across my collarbone. “The way your breath hitches when I do this.” He moves his hand down my stomach and gently caresses in between my thighs.
I exhale on a moan as his fingers slip inside my folds and his mouth claims mine once more. He teases and manipulates my body until I’m putty in his hands, molding to his every move. Deciding to not let him have all the fun, I find the strength to push him away, backing him into the side wall of the shower.
I squirt some of his body wash in my hands and begin the same tortuously slow process on his body. While I enjoy his hands on my body more than I could ever describe, there is something to be said about feeling his flesh beneath my hands. The definition and ripple of each muscle. The way they clench together when I graze just above his pubic bone.
Squirting some extra soap in my hands, I lather them together and slowly trace the perfect line to his waiting erection. When my hand closes around him, a small groan escapes his parted lips. It's enough to send my slow simmering fire into a full on inferno. I grip him tightly and slowly work my hand up and down, studying the array of expressions that cross over his face.
Eventually he stills my hand, turning just enough in the water to rinse the soap from his body before pinning me against the wall and trailing his tongue across my lower lip.
“You drive me crazy.” He grinds his erection into my belly. Taking my mouth with his, he carefully hoists me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, my back pressed firmly against the shower wall.
While I’m a bit concerned that him slipping and falling is a possibility, I want him too much to really question it. In one swift move, he plunges deep inside of me causing me to cry out in pleasure. There is nothing like the way this man makes me feel and it's not only physical. Maybe I'm crazy but as he pushes himself in and out of me, I can't help but feel like there is so much more to this for him as well.
I see it in the way he looks at me. The way he says my name. The way his body reacts to my touch. Pulling away from his lips, I catch his eyes with mine. Taking both sides of his face in my hands, I gently wipe the water from his brow, kissing his forehead as I do.
The intimacy of that one act seems to be his breaking point and within seconds his mouth is on mine full and hungry, his body pounding inside of me at a fast hard pace. We both fall over the edge quickly and Zayne sinks down to the shower floor, taking me along with him.
He embraces me in his lap, his hand making slow small circles across my back as we both try to regulate our breathing and gain enough strength to get out of the shower as the water is cooling off. A slight shiver runs through my body.
“Come on, let's get you warmed up.” He helps me to my feet before standing. “Your breakfast is probably cold by now.” He frowns slightly.
“Well worth it.” I grab his softening erection in my hand and give it a tight squeeze before winking at him.
THE ENTIRE DAY WE SPEND laying around watching television, snuggling, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. One of the biggest complaints I have about him is that I feel like he never actually answers any of my questions with one hundred percent honesty. While I don't feel like he lies to me, it seems like he’s holding back. After my emotional breakdown over Kyle, I was hoping that he would open up a little more but seeing that he is taking no initiative to do so, I decide to pry for information.
“Tell me about your family,” I say, interrupting our silence. We have been lying in bed for at least two hours at this point and for a moment I think he may have dozed off. But then his head lulls toward me and he gives me a sleepy smile.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, trying to hide his yawn. Suddenly, I feel guilty for pushing him to talk even more after we have spent the entire day doing just that. Seeing how it's after one in the morning, I would venture to guess that he's probably exhausted.
Yet he doesn't seem the least bit annoyed that I'm asking, so I continue, “I don't know. Tell me about your parents. Where do they live? Are they still together? What about siblings, do you have any?” He laughs at my overload of questions and rolls to his side to face me, our noses inches apart.
“We'll start with one question at a time.” He smiles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “My parents live in upstate New York and yes they are still together, legally anyway.”
“Legally?” I question, confused as to why he decided to word it that way.
“As in, by law they are still married and they still live under the same roof, but not because they love each other. Quite the opposite actually.”
“Wait. Why are they still together if they dislike each other so much?” I’m not able to understand why anyone would force themselves to stay in a loveless marriage when they don't have to.
“I think at first it was for us, me and my brothers. But then after that, I don't know. Honestly, I think it's kind of become a game between them. They spend every waking moment making each other as miserable as possible just to see who will break first. Unfortunately, both of them are very proud people and this little hate war they have going on will probably never end.”
“I'm sorry, that's awful,” I respond, not really sure what else to say.
“Don't be. It is what it is. Besides, I don't visit often. Honestly, I can't be in the same room with either of them for longer than five minutes without wanting to throw myself out of a second story window. I get that they stayed together for us, but I wish they would have realized that by staying together it made it worse on us.”
“You said you have brothers?” I try to steer the conversation hopefully into a happier territory.
“Two. Brock is six years younger than me and still lives at home. He should be finishing his MA in Business next spring, at which time he intends to join me at Zalec.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice. “Aiden on the other hand, well let's just say out of all of us, he took after my dad the most. He's three years older than me and we have never been close, not even as kids. He's a righteous asshole that thinks he's right about everything. He lives in L.A. with his wife that he has never been faithful to and I believe they are on baby number three.”
“Wow. Sounds like a real piece of work. So if he took after your dad does that mean that you took after your mom?” I ask, brushing his hair away from his forehead.
“Brock is a lot like Mom but me... I don't know. I think I have both of my parents in me, but really I like to think that I am who I decide to be. That no matter who created me genetically, I can choose to be nothing like either of them. Do you think that's possible?” He trails his fingertips up and down my arm.
“I don't know. I mean, to an extent I think so, but I also think some of who we are is just hardwired. No matter how much we wish it weren't. With my parents, I wish I saw more of them in me. In a way I kind of feel like I have done a great disservice to both of them by being their daughter.” I shrug, realizing I probably should have kept that information to myself.
He pulls back a few inches to look at me, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “How could you ever say that?” He takes my face in his hands. “Grace Morgan, you are the most amazing, talented, selfless person I have ever met. Your parents could never be anything but proud of the beautiful woman you’ve become.” His lips lightly brush against mine before he pulls away.
“Thank you.” The words barely make it past my lips. I didn't realize how much his reassurance would soothe me but that's exactly what he's done.
“Don't ever doubt your strength, Grace. If I have to make it my life's goal, one of these days I’m going to make you re
alize just how damn incredible you really are.” He takes my mouth with his once more, officially ending the conversation.
“YOU'RE BURNING THE bacon.” Zayne laughs from beside me, urging me to the side so that he can take over.
“It was your bright idea to cook breakfast together,” I remind him. “I told you I’m a disaster in the kitchen.” I laugh, shrugging my shoulders.
“That you did. I just didn't realize the extent of it.” He laughs louder when I reach out and smack his arm. “What?” he questions innocently. “You said it first.” He grabs a plate and removes the bacon from the pan.
After last night, I didn't think I could feel any fonder of the man standing next to me but now, well, now I'm starting to realize that there is no limit to the amount of ways that Zayne can make me fall even harder for him. Seeing him so playful, so at ease. I feel like he's showing me a part of himself that he doesn't show often and I can't help but feel so incredibly lucky to get to share moments like this with him.
I step back and watch him dump some scrambled eggs on a plate next to the bacon. His broad back is on full display as he's wearing nothing but a pair of lounge pants that hang just right on his narrow hips.
He turns around to find me studying him. “What?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up in question.
I shake my head at him and smile wider. “You're just nice to look at,” I say casually, as if it's every day that I get to look at a man as perfect as the one before me.
“You're not so bad yourself.” He closes the distance between us in two long strides, pinning my body against the kitchen island. “Have I told you how much I love you in my clothes?” he asks, trailing his fingers down the front of the red NYU t-shirt that I snagged from his dresser this morning.
“Only like every time I'm here.” He laughs and then leans his face down to meet mine.
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