Chapter 89 Serena #2
“You have to tell me what you’re thinking,” I say.
A long sigh empties from his chest. “I’d love to say I don’t believe it, but….”
I swallow, nodding. “When you died—when I went in after you—I saw what we are as clear as if it were written on that wall. And I’m guessing you already knew.”
His eyes find mine. “Yes, I did.”
“That’s why you can read my mind, isn’t it?” I ask. “Why I can read yours.”
“Yes.”
I don’t breathe. He waits, his stare locking me in place.
“Why did you lie to me before?” I whisper. “If you already knew, why not tell me?”
“I don’t know, maybe because I didn’t know if you felt a modicum of what I feel for you, and that is fucking terrifying.
” He pauses, dragging his hand down his face.
“Because the last time something happened between us, it just seemed like you were looking for a distraction and I was the nearest option.”
“Do you really think I would lead you on if I didn’t feel the same? That I would hurt you like that?”
“You’re the only one who can,” he says, tossing me a desolate look. “It would be so easy. You could crush me.”
“Your faith in me is truly inspiring.” I rip my boots off and toss them aside.
He groans in frustration. “I’m just trying to keep up here. This is a lot to take in.”
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what Margot said sooner. I just—I didn’t know how. And I was so afraid that if I did…your feelings for me would change.”
“That’s what you were worried about? That I would change my mind once you told me?” He pushes to his feet.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You made it clear that you want me—all of me.”
“Of course I do, Serena. But I would rather have some small part of you than nothing at all because that is how badly I need you.”
I feel his words deep in my knees.
“Zadyn, you deserve so much more than—”
“Listen to me.” He takes a few slow steps toward me, leaving the cane resting against the nightstand. “We deserve each other. We deserve to be happy.”
“And what if I can’t make you happy? What if I let you down?”
What if I find a way to ruin this?
“There is no world in which being with you doesn’t make me the happiest I’ve ever been.” His words are sincere and heartbreakingly honest, melting away my resistance. “Just answer me one question. Do you want me?”
I let my gaze drag over the map of his face—the bronzed skin, the hollow of his cheeks, the sharp curve of his jaw, the caramel hair shadowing those earthy, depthless eyes.
Want doesn’t begin to cover it.
I give him a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Then the rest we can figure out in time.”
“And what if there is no time? Two weeks is almost up. What if this is the worst idea in the world?”
His voice is so confident, so sure, that I almost believe it. “We will have time. Because I will make sure of it. And like you said—on brand.”
I bite my lip, contemplating.
“You can’t keep looking at me like that if your answer is no.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“Serena.” He gives me a doubtful look, crossing his arms over his broad chest and sweeping dark promise into his voice. “You’re looking at me like you want me to bend you over that chair and fuck you stupid.”*
My jaw hits the ground.
Actually, that does sound pretty good.
He takes another slow step toward me.
“What’s it going to be?” His hand slides into my hair, tipping my face up to his. “Because I can’t go much longer without tasting you.”
Heat slashes across my cheeks and pools in my belly. I pull him closer, the need for him growing painful.
“Neither can I—”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he slams me back into the wall, pinning me with his hips.
He seems to have no trouble standing now with his body pressed against mine—his muscled arms caging me in, eyes drinking me in with ravenous thirst. His nearness chases away every thought, every worry, and my resistance withers away like leaves in a snowstorm.
His eyes drift closed, and his mouth sinks into mine.
Holy shit.
Zadyn knows how to kiss. I mean really kiss.
The kind of weak-kneed, jelly-legged, make you faint kind of kiss you only read about in books.
If I wasn’t sandwiched between him and the wall, I’d be a puddle at his feet.
I don’t know where he learned to do that—or how.
And frankly, the thought of him practicing on anyone else makes me blind with jealousy.
But right now, he’s mine.
He breaks off, his voice a low rumble against my lips. “Is this what you want?”
His words penetrate my skin, striking the very marrow of my bones. I nod, pressing myself against him.
“I need you to be certain. I need to hear you say it, Serena, because what I’m about to do to you—”
“Do it,” I dare, my eyes burning into his. “Do it all, Zadyn.”
His lips pull back.
I’m not expecting it when he surges forward and sinks his teeth into the side of my neck. A high-pitched sound leaves me. It pinches for no longer than a breath. Past the dull pain, there is a budding euphoria starting in my toes, slowly creeping higher, generating a wildfire within me.
Then all I feel is surrender. It’s a marking of territory. A claim.
He lets out a muffled groan, tugging at the roots of my hair, angling my head the way he wants. I arch into him, feeling his fingers dig into my waist, and my only thought is of his handprints. How I want them on me, all over me.
I want everyone to see it. To know who I belong to.
He releases my neck and pulls back to look at me with blown-out pupils. I lean forward and flick my tongue out to clean the small drop of black off his lips.
And then it snaps.
I watch that precious restraint of his shatter like a crystallized wall of ice that I’ve just taken a steel bat to.
Animal hunger swallows his eyes as he plunges his mouth into mine with wild desperation. Years of pent-up longing. Years I didn’t even know he was there—that he existed—or that his heart belonged to me, clueless as I was.
We’re still mauling each other when he hoists me up and hooks my thighs around his waist. My ass meets the edge of the tall dresser as his arm snakes behind me, sweeping across the surface and sending the contents clattering to the floor.
It’s ridiculously hot.
My legs part for him as I grapple with his shirt. “This needs to go.”
Hauling it over his head, my fingers glide over the outline of his chest, the tattoo over his heart that signifies our bond. His scar. Even his skin feels good—fevered, smooth, and electric.
“So does this,” he growls, twisting the hem of my shirt. I slowly tug at the laces down the front, testing his patience. In no mood for games, he gives me a scalding look before ripping it straight down the middle.
My jaw detaches from my skull and waddles out of the room.
“It was in my way,” he says unapologetically. “Deal with it.”
I gape at him for one more second before diving back into his lips.
“I wanted to murder Cece,” I gasp between kisses. “I wanted to rip her hair out every time she laid a hand on you.”
“I know the feeling,” he hums, his teeth scraping across my bottom lip.
God.
I run my hand over the seam of his pants, over the prominent ridge straining against the material.
“Fuck,” he rasps, pushing against my palm.
I swirl my tongue around his and with a low, feral noise, he tugs me toward the edge of the dresser.
His mouth laves over the slope of my chest as I continue to stroke him.
My breathing hitches as his teeth close over my breast, and I feel the echoes of his attention between my legs.
I squeeze him through the fabric of his pants, making him hiss.
Then he yanks me off the dresser and spins me around to face the mirror behind it.
My heavy, lust-filled eyes peer back at me.
“Look at you,” he whispers, dragging my hair behind my shoulders.
Shaking his head, he marvels at my naked torso in the mirror like I’m some work of art.
I watch his hand slide over my throat, his thumb skimming over the twin puncture wounds he left there.
He leans in, grazing those sharp canines from my shoulder all the way up to my ear, sending a shiver through me. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
I melt beneath his hands, his mouth, though his touch isn’t tender like it was the first few times we kissed.
It is insistent. Demanding.
His fingers trail lower and lower at a taunting pace until I’m flustered and desperate and practically begging him to just touch me already. His dark chuckle nips at my ear as he finally has mercy on me, ripping free the laces of my pants and slipping inside to feel just how badly I want him.
“Serena.” He lets out a soft moan. “Fuck, I knew you’d feel like this.”
“How do I feel?”
He buries his face in my hair. “You feel like mine.”
Mine.
My heart swells at the word.
His fingers begin to circle me, alternating between light teasing touches, and the perfect amount of pressure to have my hips writhing against him.
He touches me like he’s done it a million times, like he knows exactly what I want and what I need, coaxing sounds from me I didn’t know I could make, awakening something dark and innately feminine and primal.
“Zadyn,” I pant, my entire body pulsing in time to his touch.
My nails dig into the muscled arm wrapped around my waist as I urge him to give me more. He utters my name like a prayer, his eyes scouring me in the mirror, watching me unravel as he delivers wave after wave of perfectly balanced pleasure.
“That’s it.” He sighs. “Use my hand, baby, ride it how you like.”
Fuck, Zadyn.
I clutch the back of his neck and tilt my hips backward, driving my ass into his lap as he mutters more deliciously filthy praises in my ear. I grind up and down his hard length, a sense of satisfaction blooming in me when he groans.
“Are you trying to drive me insane?”
I answer with another roll of my hips. “Just making sure you’re still awake back there.”