Well, this is far from it. Though with the beauty of the ship, I don't know why I’m so surprised that it would have an equally nice bathroom. I guess it's my inexperience with yachts. Having never been on one, I don't pretend to know much about them.
“And this.” He pushes open the last door on the right. “Is the master.” He flips on the lights and steps inside.
I follow closely behind, stopping right inside the door while Zayne continues further in.
The walls are covered in a deep burgundy and the bed is draped in all black. Black sheets, black pillowcases, black comforter. Hell, even the headboard is black. Something about this room makes me feel vulnerable and on edge, especially with the champagne swimming in my stomach.
The floor is covered in a thick black rug that makes me want to take my shoes off and feel the thickness and texture under my feet. I fight off the urge to make myself more comfortable and remain completely still as my eyes flicker from wall to wall. There is something so sexy and seductive about the dark fabric against the dark walls and the slow, steady sway of the floor beneath me.
I purposely avoid looking at Zayne but I can feel his eyes on me. “There's a master bathroom over there.” He points. Quickly following his line of sight, I spot another door on the left wall toward the back of the room. “So, what do you think?” he asks, slowly making his way toward me like a lion stalking its prey. I can't help but feel a little scared, though I don't know that scared is the right word.
I'm not frightened in any way. More like I am fearful of what might happen if I stand in this room for a moment longer with Zayne's eyes burning through the small scrap of fabric clinging to my body.
“It's amazing,” I stutter out, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Have you stayed here before?”
“I haven't.” He slides past me, his chest brushing against mine. “Shall we?”
I smile and nod, following him back down the hall and up the stairs.
Once I reach the fresh air above, I take a deep breath and immediately start to feel better, calmer, and less affected. I quickly make my way to the back of the yacht, leaning against the cool railing. The boat engine roars to life beneath me and causes an entirely different sort of panic to seep through me.
I don't know why, but the thought of being stuck on this boat with Zayne, with no way of escaping, sends me into a mild panic attack.
Resisting him is hard enough. Resisting him when I can't get away from him is an impossible situation. I look back toward the cabin to see Zayne approaching. Taking a deep breath, I do my best to plaster on a carefree smile, but I know as soon as I see his eyes that he can see right through it.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re considering jumping off the back of this yacht before we make it far from land?” An amused smile plays on his lips. Leaning against the railing next to me, he looks down at the water as the boat begins to pull away from the dock.
“Because I am,” I admit, mirroring his stance and looking down at the water.
Before I have time to process anything, he grabs me from the side and spins me toward him, successfully pinning my body between him and the railing, the wood digging into the center of my back as he pushes his body firmly into mine.
“Look at me, Grace,” he demands, turning my face up so that my eyes are forced to meet his. “Are you that unsure of me?”
“I'm that unsure of myself.” My voice comes out just above a whisper.
“It's okay.” He trails his finger down my bare arm.
“Is it?”
This is the moment. The one where I need to decide. Do I jump back in head first and pray to god that it turns out differently this time, or do I attempt to walk away knowing I will never be able to actually do it? I know that the second his lips touch mine, I’ll hold no power to resist him. And yet, as his face slowly begins to lower, I can't find the will to stop him.
Because no matter how unsure I am about all this, or how much I want to fight it, the truth still remains that I want this man. I want him despite the fact that I know I shouldn't. I want him and I know myself well enough to know that when I want something this badly, I lose all ability to see anything past that. Because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter that he hurt me or that he holds the power to not only destroy me but also my relationship with my brother. All that matters is that when I’m with him, I feel alive. And for someone who has spent years feeling dead inside, feeling alive is worth every risk and then some.
“It is,” he answers, his breath hot and sweet against my face as his lips trail lightly against mine. “Fuck. It has to be.” He takes my lips more forcefully.
That's all it takes for my entire body to melt into his arms. I should know better by now. Fighting this will only delay the inevitable. Right or wrong, it doesn't matter how we do it. The only thing that matters is this. The way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels. But even more importantly, the way he makes me feel. A throat clearing in the distance pulls me from my Zayne induced fog long enough to remember that we are not alone. Pushing gently against his chest, he reluctantly steps back and turns toward the intruder.
“So sorry to interrupt, sir, but your dinner is ready.” Sam nods in apology.
“Thank you.” Zayne turns his attention back to me. “Hungry?” he asks, a boyish smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.
“Starving,” I admit, though I don't specify that it's not really food that I want. As if reading my mind, Zayne’s eyes instantly darken.
Leading me to the front of the boat where a small white table has been dressed for dinner for two, I take the seat Sam pulls out for me.
“You never told me where we are going.”
“There doesn't have to be a destination to make the trip worthwhile. Now eat, before your food gets cold.” He gestures to the covered silver platter in front of me.
While I’m sure that I’m not the only woman to ever feel this way about a man, I find it quite difficult to believe that many men like Zayne actually exist in this world. He's crude and funny, smart and sweet, challenging and even more infuriating. And yet, as he watches me eat my grilled salmon and potatoes, I can't help but appreciate everything about him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” I ask innocently, taking a small drink of champagne as I lean back in my chair.
“Like that.” He gestures to my goofy smile while trying to fight his own.
“Just enjoying the view, I guess.” I swirl the bubbling liquid in my glass and watch it fizz for a moment before meeting his eyes once more.
“What do you want, Grace?”
“I want a lot of things, Zayne. Perhaps you should be more specific.” I play coy, finishing off the liquid in my glass before leaning forward and setting it on the table.
“You know what I'm asking, Grace. Don't play games.”
My stomach twists with nerves and I find it hard to meet his eyes.
“I'm not playing games. I'm not entirely sure I would know how to play even if I wanted to,” I admit, leaning forward to place my elbows on the edge of the table.
“What do you want, Grace?”
It's obvious that he wants a specific response, but for the life of me I can't figure out what. Not really knowing what else to say, I opt for the truth.
“You,” I admit. “You want to know what I want. Well, that's it. I want you, Zayne. I want you even when I don't want to want you.” My voice comes out surprisingly calm considering the storm of nerves raging inside of me.
He pushes back in his chair and studies me intently for what feels like forever before a slow smile creeps across his face. Without saying anything, he stands.
Holding his hand out to me, I take it without hesitation and let him lead me across the deck, our half eaten dinner left abandoned behind us.
I struggle to keep up with his quick pace but when he pushes his way through the door that leads below deck and starts down the hall toward the bedrooms,
my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest.
Without a word he pushes his way inside the master bedroom and slams the door shut the moment I cross the threshold. He spins toward me, backing me against the door.
I feel every curve of his body, every ripple of muscle. I feel his heart beating and his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath he takes. Running the back of his hand down my cheek, his fingers lightly graze my bottom lip, his eyes studying his own actions while I try my damnedest not to melt at the look on his face, or the way he sucks in his bottom lip and gnaws it with his teeth like he's fighting to hold back.
“Zayne.” My voice comes out a whisper.
“Shhh. Don't say anything. This is perfect,” he says on a staggered breath. “God, Grace, you are perfect.” He takes my mouth in a rough, heated kiss.
My hands instinctively fly to his hair as I hold on for dear life. As if the feeling of him against me is enough to give me the power of flight.
I can't fight the tremble of my hands or the quiver of my body as his tongue works slow circles against mine. He tastes sweet, like champagne, and it tastes so much better on him than out of some fancy glass.
“God, I've missed you,” he growls against my mouth. Hoisting me up, my legs wrap around his waist as he grinds his hips into me.
“What do you want, Grace?” His words are broken as he trails hot, wet kisses down my neck and across the top of my collar bone.
“You.” I moan when he nips the sensitive flesh at the base of my neck with his teeth. “I want you,” I repeat when he pulls back to meet my eyes.
As if those words are his undoing, I watch his control slip away. I feel it in the way his hands grip me tighter, in the way his breathing seems impossibly fast, and in the way that he can't seem to get enough of tasting every inch of my exposed flesh.
Pulling me away from the door, he carries me the distance of the room and deposits me on top of the bed, my body wedged between him and the mattress.
The dress that I cursed when Emma brought it out, now clings to my body like a second skin, allowing me to feel every inch of his body as his weight presses me further into the bed.
With each movement, the material rides further and further up my body until my lower half is completely exposed, black lace the only barrier left. Trailing his hand down my torso and across my hipbone, it doesn't take Zayne long to realize there’s nothing left between us.
Hitching his finger in the skinny band at my hip, he gives it a quick tug and I can feel the material rip away. I want to protest, but honestly I can't find it in me to care. Especially when I hear the zipper of his suit pants followed by the feeling of his smooth hardness pressed against my core.
Without breaking away from my lips, he gently pushes himself inside me, like he can't wait another second to feel me against him, around him.
Every movement is skilled and hits me at the perfect pace, the perfect position, rubbing me in the right spot that has me clawing at his back and unable to control my cries of pleasure.
Hooking his arm under the back of my leg, he positions it on his shoulder and quickens his pace, moving in and out of me in a hard pounding rhythm that has my body scooting further and further up the bed with each plunge.
I feel the build awakening every nerve ending in my body, heightened even more by the small growls and curses that are a never-ending flow from Zayne's mouth.
“Tell me what you want, Grace,” he pants as his pace increases even more, his hand gripping my hip, giving me no choice but to take all of him.
The feeling of being too stretched and too full is only outshined by the volcanic ache working its way through my lower belly and threatening to erupt.
“I. Want. You,” I manage to get out in broken words. “Only you. Always you.” The words flow freely from my mouth and try as I may, I can’t seem to stop them.
I’m seconds away from pronouncing my love to him when the powerful build inside of me causes my throat to seize up and my body to tighten beneath him.
“Don't hold back on me now,” he purrs against my mouth before taking my lips roughly, plunging his tongue deep inside.
I explode around him, my entire body quivering and shaking. That’s all it takes to send him toppling over as well, my name a cry on his lips as he spills his release inside of me.
Moments later, he collapses on top of me.
Completely spent and in no hurry to move, I wrap my arms around him and slowly trail my fingers up and down his back. I feel his breathing start to calm and his heartbeat slow, yet he makes no attempt to remove his body from mine.
After what feels like an eternity, yet not long enough at the same time, he finally pushes himself off of me and rolls to his back, pulling my body with his so that I’m curled against his chest.
“Do you really not know how badly I want you?” I ask, not sure if he will understand my question.
He hesitates for a moment as if considering how to answer and then looks down at my face. “I needed to hear you say it.”
“And why is that?” I suspect that if I push hard enough, he might answer. I can tell by his hesitation and the two deep breaths that he takes before speaking, that whatever he's about to say is not something he's used to talking about.
“I've never been in love before. I’ve only ever been in one real relationship. I didn't bother to question whether she wanted me, I just assumed she felt the same as I did. I was a stupid kid.” He shakes his head before turning his eyes to the ceiling.
“Tell me about her.”
“It's stupid.” He rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. “When I was seventeen, I became involved with my best friend's girlfriend. I know how wrong that was now, but back then... Well, I was blinded by lust and greed and fueled by jealousy. I wanted what they had so I tried to steal it. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't wrong because she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. That it meant the same to her.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “It had been going on for months. Everyday Chad and I would hang out at school, play basketball at his parents’ house, and race our cars through the old, abandoned horse track a couple of miles outside of town. The typical stupid shit teenage boys do. But then I would make some lame excuse about needing to be home early and I would bail on him. Only I didn't go home. I went to see her. I knew that eventually things would come out, but I held on to the ridiculous notion that I could continue to do whatever I wanted for however long I wanted. And that it was okay because I was who she wanted, not him. He was the one she pranced around with, the boy that her parents approved of. I was too cocky, too rough around the edges for someone as classy as her. What a fucking joke.” He lets out a rough laugh.
“What happened?” I ask when he falls silent for a moment.
“She got pregnant. She told me first. Said it was mine. But when I tried to take responsibility, she shut me down. Said I couldn't be the father even if biologically the child was mine. That Chad would leave her and her parents would disown her. She was prepared to walk away and let another man raise my child because she didn't even think I was good enough. I thought she wanted me, I thought I was enough for her. Turns out, I wasn't. Eventually, the truth came out. I was so angry and hurt by her actions that I wanted to hurt her just as deeply. In reality, I ended up hurting myself a lot more. My father barely spoke to me for weeks after she admitted the truth. He kept saying how I threw my future away on a girl who would never settle for someone like me. Chad, obviously, never spoke to me again. Of course that was after he walked up to me and clocked me right in the jaw. Can't say I blame him, I kind of had it coming.”
“And the baby?” I can't help but ask.
“She lost it a few weeks later.”
“So you're worried about what? That I don't actually want this? That I’m somehow playing you, and that in the end you're going to lose not just me but Alec too?”
“I want to make sure that I’m worth the risk for you, Grace. My relationship experience
begins and ends with what I just told you. I've never cared for another person enough to want anything more.” He finally meets my eyes. “I'm not good. I leave heartache and disappointment everywhere I go. Hell, I've already shown you how epically I can fail and the mistakes I make when I panic. You deserve so much more than this, Grace, but I can't seem to let you go.”
“The tattoo.” I prop my chin on his chest, finally putting together the meaning behind the Johnny Cash lyrics tattooed across his bicep.
“It represents a very long line of people I have hurt along the way. Make no mistake, I have been far from perfect since then. But this, you and me, it kind of hits close to home.”
“I get it. I get how similar this situation is to your past and how uneasy that must make you but, Zayne, I'm not her. I don't think you're not enough and I don't want you to be anything but exactly who you are. I may be inexperienced but I’m not stupid and I’m choosing to enter into this with my eyes wide open. Yes, you hurt me and yes, this may end horribly, but right now I don't care. I just want you.”
“But Alec,” he starts, but I hold my fingers up to his mouth to silence him.
“Alec has nothing to do with this. We are both adults and what we choose to do when he's not around is not a concern of his. I need you to start treating me like Grace and stop treating me like Alec's fragile little sister. I'm not made of glass, and trust me, I've survived much worse...” I break off, not able to complete my sentence.
“I wasn't... I'm sorry, Grace. It's just all a little too familiar. After Chad, I swore I would never hurt someone I cared about that way again. Despite our competitive nature, he was like a brother to me and it gutted me when I saw how badly I hurt him. I have only formed one other relationship like that in my life. Alec is not only my best friend and business partner, he's my brother.” He rolls to his side to face me.
I readjust, reaching up to brush his messy hair from his forehead. “And I love that about you. I love how much you value your friendship with him. But again, I’m a grown woman. I make my own choices. Is it wrong to keep this from Alec? Maybe it is. But we have to be free to explore whatever this is without him influencing which way this goes.”
The Way Back Page 23