Chapter Forty-One
Chloe
The storm outside felt alive.
Thunder was crashing so violently it shook the room, rattling the windows as though they might give out at any second, each strike louder and more aggressive than the last.
I’d never been particularly afraid of thunderstorms; I actually found them fascinating. But this one? It was different. It wasn’t just noise; it was a force.
A raw, untamed energy that felt like a scream and it was screaming at me. Every time it hit, even my insides shook, an invisible force that seemed to pulse through my bones.
The night had already stretched on for what felt like forever when I finally heard cars parking outside. Followed by the sound of familiar footsteps outside my door moments later.
I could recognize the sound of his footsteps in any room, in any space, and feel the shift in the air whenever he was near.
He stood still on the other side of my door for one agonizing second, and I thought he might come in. I hoped he would.
But the moment passed, and his footsteps continued down the hall to his bedroom.
I tossed and turned as the storm raged on, becoming closer and closer, more vicious and with every crack, my mind replayed the same agonizing scenes.
Thudum. The sky rumbled again.
The shadow outside the window.
THUDUM!
My sister, vulnerable and bruised.
THUDUM!
Bruce’s heinous words.
THUDUM!
I pushed myself up, suffering palpitations as I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the mattress while I forced my ragged breaths to slow.
Breathe, Chloe, Breathe.
A loud crack tore through the windows, light flooding the room. Each flash seemed to be swallowing me more and more until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
And I couldn’t take it anymore.
I jumped out of bed and didn’t bother to turn on any lights as I padded down the hall to Zane’s room.
Maybe he’d send me away. Maybe the last thing he wanted was to deal with me. But I didn’t let any of this stop me. I just wanted to see him, hoping that a small glimpse of his face would calm me and make me believe, even if just for a moment, that everything would be fine.
Just the way he always did, without even realizing it.
I opened the door, sucking in a breath as a cold breeze hit my bare legs.
The doors to the balcony were standing wide open, the curtains billowing softly with the wind, a clear sign of where he was.
Despite the thunderstorm raging, it wasn’t raining. The air felt dry.
I approached slowly, watching him leaning against the stone wall, framed by the night sky. His broad, bare back expanded with each breath he took. His muscles were tense, burdened by the weight of something I couldn’t see.
Heat from his body evaporated into the air, like smoke rising into the cold.
Zane was a formidable man, capable of leaving me stunned each time I looked at him.
Even though it was the middle of winter, he stood shirtless, as if the biting cold didn’t affect him at all.
His sweatpants were low on his hips, as his arms—strong, veined, infinitely capable—gripped the stone like he was sculpted into it.
I stepped out cautiously, the icy floor stinging my feet. He didn’t move, but I knew he’d sensed me long before I stepped out to join him. He always did.
“Tough night?” I asked, my breath forming clouds of vapor as I stopped beside him, wrapping my arms around myself against the cold.
My dressing gown did little to shield me; the chill still seeped straight to my bones.
The sky lit up with a bolt of lightning that ripped the sky, splitting it in two. The thunderclap ensuing was so strong I instinctively curled into myself.
“You first,” he replied, and while he didn’t look at me, his tone carried a strange hint of humor.
I fought to hide the smile tugging at my lips. I was up too after all.
For someone who’d probably spent all night dealing with his own chaos, he was surprisingly calm.
His jaw was rougher than usual, his stubble darker, as if he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. The rugged edge somehow made him annoyingly hotter.
We stared at the sky in silence.
Sometimes, the bolts didn’t make sounds, just lit up the sky and split it, leaving jagged scars of electricity behind—pink, purple, sometimes blue. Powerful. Unforgiving. But standing next to Zane, everything felt bearable again.
“Something’s changing,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.
His voice was low, as if he was talking to himself.
My pulse spiked.
I didn’t know if it was the cold or the weight of everything I knew and he didn’t, that made my throat tighten, but I tried to swallow it down. Hard.
“What’s changing?”
I had the power to change the whole course of events for better or worse, yet I was powerless to do anything about it.
Zane exhaled heavily, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if looking for answers there.
“I wish I knew, but something is.”
He already sensed the danger lurking around him. The betrayal circling around his neck like an invisible noose. It didn’t surprise me that he would after a lifetime of it.
And I wondered if, one day, he’d regret not getting rid of me when he had the chance. Would he wish he’d let me fall from this balcony and ended everything before it even began?
“...And to think, you almost threw me off this balcony,” I said, forcing a playful scoff to cut through the tension. It sounded hollow, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He shook his head with a faint smirk, his sharp features softening just a little.
“I would never have let you fall, Chloe,” he murmured, almost apologetically. “I was just... you made me want you so bad… I didn’t know any other way to stay away from you.”
His confession caught me off guard, leaving me breathless.
He finally turned to face me, his frame looking enormous compared to mine, though perhaps it was the guilt twisting in my gut that made me shrink.
My eyes dropped to his chest and chiseled stomach involuntarily, and the moment they did, a warmth between my legs started to form.
“And it won’t happen again,” he continued, his voice so low, so soft and husky. “You’re safe here. You have my word.”
Before I could respond, he reached out and took my hand in his, slowly, as if he thought I might pull away. Then he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm as if he was craving my touch and no longer cared to hide it.
His lips were warm, almost searing against my cold skin, and I felt his need for me in the way his mouth lingered.
Suddenly, I wasn’t cold anymore.
My lips parted, but not for words to come out.
He didn’t look drunk, so maybe exhaustion had left him high, softer than usual; it had to be it.
But before I could ask, he pulled me in, capturing my mouth with his.
His tongue demanded entrance, swirling with mine. The kiss was less aggressive than usual, letting my frozen lips slowly melt into his, and I let it linger, loving the way he felt so tender.
“Did something happen today?” I breathed out, barely able to push the words out between kisses.
“I just need my daily dose of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “Couldn’t think about anything else all day.”
I sucked in a breath. He spoke like I was a drug he was addicted to.
My arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.
“Why didn’t you come to my room when you arrived then?” I teased, pulling my lips from his.
“I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”
I placed a tender kiss along the corner of his mouth, and trailed my parted lips over his, not allowing him to take them fully, feeling him tense beneath the restraint, aching for it.
“I was waiting for my dose of you too.” I finally confessed.
A low growl rumbled from his chest as his hands slid down to grip my ass.
In one smooth motion, he lifted me into his arms, and my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried me inside.
He set me down on my feet by his bed, stopping the kiss to watch me as I parted the dressing gown, revealing the black lacy lingerie he’d bought me when I’d first arrived.
My gaze never left his, not even as I shrugged the robe off my shoulders and let it pool at my feet.
“Take it all off,” he demanded.
My fingers trailed to my back to unclasp the bra, letting it slide to the floor too.
The black thong was next, his eyes darkening with lust with my every move, his pupils blown wide until the blue was nothing but a thin ring.
Countless men had admired my body when I was performing, but no one—not a single one—had ever looked at me the way he did.
“Lie down,” he said, cocking his chin toward the bed.
I backed away, my breath catching as I lowered myself onto the mattress, swallowing hard.
I loved how he told me exactly what he wanted, how he wanted me.
I loved how he took that pressure from me after a lifetime of it.
A woman shouldn’t have to feel obligated to act like some insatiable seductress at every damn interaction, to be the one putting on a show, following some unspoken script.
That was the last thing I wanted to do in my life outside the club.
And yet, it was always expected. Sometimes we just want to be desired, used, and control nothing about it.
Maybe that was why I had never craved a man the way I did Zane.
Zane knew what he wanted and he gave me exactly what I needed.
Taking that weight off my shoulders allowed me to experience sex in a way I never had before, without the illusion, guilt or expectations.
For the first time, I wasn’t acting and my body didn’t move because I was following a script.
It only followed him and that didn’t make me feel any less of a woman.
If anything, it made me feel sexier, more wanted than ever.
I lay on my back as he commanded, my spine arching slightly so I could still see him positioning himself between my legs.
I sucked in a breath when I saw Zane fall to his knees, burning hot with anticipation.