27. Zola #3
"No." The word comes out fierce, certain. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I don't want to leave. I don't want to keep protecting myself from possibilities. I don't want to live life waiting to lose you, trying to keep you at arm's length in case it all falls apart."
Something shifts in his expression—hope, maybe, or relief.
"I want you." I curl my fingers into his shirt. "All of you. The dangerous parts and the gentle parts and everything in between. I want to stop being terrified of needing you. I want to build something real instead of just surviving."
"Zola—"
"I'm choosing you." My voice breaks. "I'm choosing this. Choosing us. Choosing to let myself have what I actually want instead of what feels safe."
Declan makes a sound low in his throat and then his mouth is on mine, kissing me like he's been drowning and I'm air. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back, deepening the kiss until I'm gasping against him.
"I'm here." He breathes it against my lips. "I've been here. I've just been waiting for you to let me in."
"I'm letting you in." I pull him closer, needing to feel the solid reality of him. "All the way in. No more holding back. No more protecting myself from this."
He kisses me again, slower this time, deliberate. His hands slide down to my waist and then he's lifting me, setting me on the counter like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him between them, and he groans against my mouth.
"I love you." His hands are everywhere, sliding up my sides, pulling my shirt loose. "I've loved you for eight years. Never stopped. Never even slowed down."
"I know." I'm working at his buttons, needing his skin against mine. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I wasted so much time being scared."
"Don't apologize." He pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him. "You're here now. That's all that matters."
His mouth finds my throat, teeth scraping gently, and I arch into him. His hands are warm on my bare skin, sliding up my ribcage, and when he cups my breasts through my bra I make a sound that's half gasp, half whimper.
"All I've ever wanted was you, love." He's kissing along my collarbone now, working the clasp of my bra. "Every night for eight years. All I've wanted was you back here, giving me your entire heart the way you stole mine."
"Now you can have it." I help him with his shirt, needing him bare.
He gets my bra off and his mouth is on my breast immediately, tongue circling my nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. I cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, and he makes that satisfied sound he used to make when I responded to him.
His hands slide to my jeans, working the button and zipper while his mouth moves to my other breast. I lift my hips to help him pull the denim down, and then I'm sitting on his kitchen counter in just my underwear while he stands between my thighs looking at me like I'm something holy.
"You're so fucking beautiful." His hands slide up my thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin. "Always have been. Always will be."
"Declan—" His name comes out desperate and he smiles, that small private smile he only ever gave me.
"I've got you, love." He hooks his fingers in my underwear, pulling them down slowly. "I'm going to take care of you."
He spreads my thighs wider, looking at me with such naked want that I feel it like a physical touch. Then his fingers are sliding through my wetness, testing, teasing, and I buck against his hand.
"Please." I don't even know what I'm begging for.
"Tell me what you want." His thumb finds my clit, circling slowly. "I want to hear you say it."
"I want you inside me." I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. "I want to feel you. I want everything."
He helps me with his pants, shoving them down just far enough, and then he's there—the thick head of him pressing against me. He pauses, one hand on my hip, the other braced beside me on the counter.
"Look at me." His voice is rough. "I want to see your eyes when I'm inside you."
I meet his gaze, those dark green eyes burning with intensity, and he pushes forward slowly. The stretch is overwhelming, perfect, and I gasp as he fills me inch by careful inch.
"Fuck." His forehead drops against mine. "You feel exactly how I remembered. Better."
He starts moving, slow deep thrusts that light up every nerve ending. His hands are everywhere—sliding up my back, tangling in my hair, gripping my hips to pull me closer. He kisses my neck, my shoulder, the spot behind my ear that always made me shiver.
"I'm never letting you go again." He murmurs it against my skin between thrusts. "You're mine. You've always been mine."
"Yours." I agree, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Only yours."
He picks up the pace, still slow but with more force behind each thrust, and I can feel the tension building low in my belly. His thumb finds my clit again, circling in rhythm with his movements, and I'm making sounds I can't control.
"That's it." His voice is strained. "Let me hear you. Let me know what I do to you."
"Declan—" His name is a plea, a prayer, everything I couldn't say for eight years condensed into two syllables.
"I've got you." He kisses me, swallowing my cries as he drives deeper. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
The orgasm hits me like a wave, pleasure rolling through me in pulses that make my entire body shake. Declan keeps moving, working me through it, and I feel him stiffen—his rhythm faltering as he follows me over the edge.
He comes with his face buried in my neck, breathing my name like an incantation, and I hold him through it, fingers stroking through his hair.
We stay like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. His hands are gentle now, stroking my back, my sides, like he's memorizing the feel of me.
"I love you." His voice is quiet but certain. "I need you to know that. I need you to believe it."
I pull back enough to look at him, this man who waited eight years, who kept a house like a museum, who showed up every day for weeks with breakfast and patience and love.
"I love you too." The words feel monumental, like I'm reshaping my entire world around them. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."
He kisses me soft and sweet, and I taste promise in it—a future we're finally brave enough to reach for.