Chapter Five
Georgia
Mick’s apartment smells like damp soil and lemon cleaner, which is odd, because it usually smells like liquor and smoke from his notorious parties.
“There are schedules on the fridge,” he says, tapping a neat list with his finger. “They’re color-coded. Please don’t improvise.”
I blink at him. “You’re aware you’re talking about plants, right?”
He gives me a look. “You haven’t met my sister.”
That earns a small smile from me as I step farther inside. There are several rows of vibrantly colored orchids and some other tropical greenery I can’t quite pinpoint. Not too many plants, but certainly more than I would expect for a man who is barely ever home.
“She owns a floral shop in New York,” he adds, already reaching for his jacket. “This is her idea of bonding. She sends me increasingly high-maintenance plants just to see if I’ll say no.”
“You don’t,” I guess.
He snorts. “I don’t. I just got her back into my life, and any way I can keep in contact with her is fine by me. Even if it means looking after plants like they’re kids.”
It fits him in a strange way—duty disguised as tolerance. I tuck the detail away without knowing why it feels important.
“I’ll be gone for a few days,” he says. “You don’t have to stay long when you come. Just keep them alive.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promise.
He hands me the keys and tells me I can lock up when I’m done before heading out the door. I decided to stay back and familiarize myself with the plants and their schedules, and by the time I’m ready to go, it’s already dark outside.
I pull my jacket tighter around myself, hunching my shoulders against the evening chill. I check my phone without really thinking about it.
Nothing new.
That’s not unusual but it still irritates me.
It’s been nearly a week since Zane has crashed into my life and stirred it up in ways I would never have imagined possible. Now, I can’t imagine a night without his voice in my ears, filling my dark room, guiding me as I touch myself to ecstasy.
Yet, he won’t meet me in person.
I grip the steering wheel harder than necessary as I drive home, frustration buzzing under my skin.
I know he’s been watching me. I know he’s been inside my apartment while I sleep.
I know because sometimes, I feel the faint brush of lips against my forehead.
And sometimes, I wake up to the scent of him lingering in the air.
Other times, he leaves behind small offerings—coffee, pastries, chocolate—proof he was real and not something I imagined…
But he’s always gone before I wake. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of waiting. I don’t like being kept at a distance. Not when everything else about him feels so close. Not when he knows the rhythm of my days better than anyone ever has.
Maybe that’s why I lingered at Mick’s. Maybe I wanted to shake-up my routine to shake-up Zane’s…to make him wonder where I was, who I was with. Maybe it will make him finally want to see me for real, be with me for real.
I replay it all as I take the last turn that leads to my apartment…The timing of the letters. The way they’re always there when I get home, never early, never late. The care in his handwriting. The certainty… He’s methodical. Predictable in the way careful people are. Which means he can be caught.
The thought settles slowly in my chest, not as excitement, but as resolve. I don’t need to confront him. I don’t need to demand anything. I just need to disrupt the pattern. Be somewhere unexpected at an unexpected time…
The thought excites me more than it should, and by the time I reach my building, I’m bubbling with giddiness. I feel oddly light, energized by the plan forming quietly in my head. I ride the elevator up, listening to the hum of it, wondering if he’s watching right now.
Not that I’d mind.
When I unlock my door, the apartment is dark.
Too dark.
I reach for the switch on instinct, but the lights don’t come on. I try another. Still nothing. A ripple of unease moves through me, not fear, exactly, but awareness. The building has power. The elevator worked. So this isn’t random.
I step inside slowly, keeping one hand against the wall, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The air feels different…charged with something achingly familiar.
Suddenly, a small lamp clicks on.
It’s low, angled upward, illuminating the lower half of a man seated in a chair in my living room.
My breath catches hard enough to hurt, and for a split second, my instinct flares, my body bracing for danger, but it dissolves almost immediately into something else—a mixture of recognition, relief and anticipation sharp enough to make my fingers curl.
There’s only one person this could be.
“Zane?” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
“Yes.” He doesn’t move. “Stay where you are.”
The command lands differently than it ever has through the cameras. There’s tension in his voice tonight. Something tight and restrained beneath the calm. It sends a slow shiver down my spine.
Is he…mad at me?
“Why?” I ask, though my feet remain planted.
“Whose apartment were you in this evening?” he says. “Who were you with?”
He’s curious. Good.
“My boss,” I say after a moment. “He’s going out of town. I’m house-sitting.”
Silence stretches between us.
I take a step forward without thinking. I still can’t see his face, but I can smell him now…warm, familiar, unmistakably male. The scent settles into me, and my body reacts instantly, heat blooming low in my stomach.
“I was working,” I add quietly.
The light goes out and the darkness closes in, thick and charged with an unmistakable tension.
I hear him stand. His footsteps are unhurried as he approaches, and my breathing grows shallow in response. He stops close enough that I can feel his presence before he touches me.
Then his fingers brush my cheek.
The contact is soft, the reality of it hits me hard.
He’s real…
He’s here. Right in front of me.
Without thinking, I lift my hands and press them to his chest. He feels solid. Warm. Alive…
His breathing is as uneven as mine. He trails his fingertips over my jaw and down my neck, as if he’s memorizing the angles of my face.
“Zane,” I whisper almost breathlessly, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. “Kiss me. Please.”
I need to be sure this isn’t some kind of dream…
Without a word, he wraps an arm around my waist and presses my body against his. Then he lowers his head, his lips brushing slightly over mine. My lips fall open with a shaky breath, and Zane steals that moment to seal his mouth over mine.
The kiss is slow, deliberate, nothing rushed or rough about it. The kind of kiss that feels earned, like restraint finally loosening its grip—the kind that makes the knees go weak. If Zane wasn’t holding me so steadily, I’d probably be a puddle on the floor.
Suddenly, he lifts me in his arms without breaking the kiss. Before I can wrap my head around what’s happening, he’s carrying me down the hall, straight to my bedroom.
I’m more impressed than surprised that he knows his way around my house in the dark.
Maybe I’m more twisted than I’d like to admit…
He lets me down gently, and for a moment we both stand there in the darkness, breathing hard.
I still can’t believe he’s here, right in front of me…close enough for me to touch…to kiss.
“My little mouse,” he whispers, his fingers brushing my jaw. He caresses my face slowly, almost like he’s learning the curves and angles.
He tilts my head slightly to the side, and before I know it, claims my mouth with searing possession, tasting me with slow, deep licks.
His passion and hunger explode across my senses, and I whimper, my hands tangling in his shirt.
His answering groan vibrates through me, tightening my nipples and sending goose bumps racing across my skin.
I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I sink my fingers into his hair. It feels silky, full, and rich, and I can’t help but moan at the delicious feel of his mouth against mine.
Then he pulls away, but not far. He’s still close enough that I can feel his breath on my face.
He rubs the tip of his nose against me, his hands sliding reverently along my arms, leaving a hot trail across my skin.
I reach out for him, splaying my palms over his chest. His muscles feel rock hard beneath my palms, warm and…
alive. Then I reach for his face, running my fingers across his cheekbones, along his jaw and lips…
I can’t see anything in the pitch darkness of the room, but maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I can get a mental image of what he really looks like.
But then he catches my hand in his and places a kiss on the inside of my palm, and I immediately lose my train of thought.
“I can’t believe you’re here,“ I whisper, my voice husky with emotion. “Are you real?”
“I am, Georgia.”
The way he says my name…the sound of his deep sexy voice… Heat washes over me, creating a pool in the area between my thighs.
“Touch me, Zane,” I say, brushing my thumb over his lower lip. “I want to feel you.”
Zane reaches behind me, and in one simple tug, my dress comes undone. Gently, he slides the dress off my shoulders, and it pools at my feet. My bra goes next. I stand there in the darkness, breathing shakily as he undresses me, and when I’m finally completely naked, he steps away from me.
For a moment, I’m surrounded only by the sounds of our uneven breathing. It’s only when he pulls me against him that I realize he’s also naked.
My heart jumps, my body heating furiously at the contact.
“Ah, Georgia…
His voice throbs with emotion, making my eyes sting.
He pulls me closer, enough for the tips of my breasts to touch his chest, sending a sudden rush of sensation through my body.
And it suddenly hits me… This is different—it’s different from talking to him over the camera as he watches me touch myself.
This is the real deal.