Chapter 21- Zane
We left the house just before sunset, both of us sweaty, dirty, and worn out from swinging hammers and gutting walls. My clothes were stuck to my skin with sweat and dust, and my hair was ruined under the hard hat.
Sam asked if I wanted to grab dinner, and for a second, I almost said yes. But reality set in fast. Mark would be waiting for me. My phone had been buzzing non-stop with calls from Mark that I hadn’t answered. This would probably be the one night he was home on time. Checking on me.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Not because of Mark though, because I told Sam no.
He was disappointed. I saw it. Even though he covered it with a nod, acting like he wasn’t mad.
But I knew better. I knew he was mad about me not calling or texting him already, but I had been too in my head about it.
I kept thinking if I let myself fall for him and he one day wanted nothing to do with me…
I wouldn’t survive it. It wouldn’t be like it was with Mark.
When things started falling apart there, all I felt was regret—wasted time, wasted chances.
But with Sam? I knew it would break something in me that couldn’t be fixed.
I tapped on my steering wheel, frustrated, still sitting outside the house in my car long after Sam had pulled off. All day I had been thinking about everything he said to me. How he touched me. How he wasn’t trying to buy me. He was giving me a way out. A way up.
He wasn’t controlling like Mark was. He saw me. Nobody had ever read me the way Sam did.
I wanted him. God, I wanted him. Why couldn’t I have met him instead of Mark?
The rain started just as I pulled onto the street—heavy, fast, slamming against the windshield like the sky was falling apart. I bit my lip, hands clenching the steering wheel. I didn’t want to go home.
I didn’t want to walk into that perfect house and sit across from a man who didn’t even see me unless he needed something to brag about.
Sam’s house was closer. And right now, all I wanted was to be somewhere I didn’t have to pretend.
I headed in the direction of Sam’s Airbnb before I could talk myself out of it.
He said he hadn’t been back home since that night he came and got me.
He said he didn’t plan to either. He was lying to his wife about being out of town on business until his investigator got enough evidence on her and Mark.
Then he’d file for divorce.
My heart hammered in my chest at the thought. Then what?
I didn’t want to think about the then what, I focused on driving.
Keeping my eyes forward and my mind blank.
The windshield wipers were fighting the rain—and losing, it was already hard to see.
I just needed to concentrate on driving.
Ten minutes later, I was putting the code into his privacy gate, and parking in front of his place.
I sat there for a full minute, breathing, staring at my own trembling hands.
Then I got out, dragging my tired, aching body up the short walkway. I knocked once. The door opened almost immediately.
Sam stood on the other side of it, in basketball shorts and a black T-shirt, barefoot, smirking. "I knew you were coming," he said. "I ordered you ribs and a spiked strawberry lemonade from your favorite spot."
I didn’t say anything. I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom like I owned him. I finally understood I had a right to want more and e would give it to me.
I pulled him into the bathroom. He didn’t say anything. Just leaned back against the sink and watched me as I worked.
The shower steamed up quick, hot enough to fog the mirror in seconds. I peeled off my shirt, tossing it somewhere behind me. Kicked off my boots, shimmied out of my leggings— not looking at him, because if I looked, I might lose my nerve.
He didn’t say a word. I could feel him—his eyes heavy as fingertips tracing my flesh.
When I finally turned, he was already pulling his shirt off, and I mapped out the places I wanted to kiss. His eyes were heavy, he looked almost pained.
We stepped into the shower together, the spray washing over our dirty skin, plastering my hair to my back. His hands found my waist first. Then my hips.
He slid his fingers over my stomach, up to my breasts, cupping them like he needed to memorize me.
I kissed him this time. Pressed my mouth to his.
He groaned low in his throat, grabbing the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.
His mouth tasted like Hennessy. The water beat down on us, but I only felt him.
His tongue sliding against mine. His hands everywhere.
His dick pressing against my thigh, hard and ready.
When he finally lined himself up, rubbing the head between my slick folds, I whimpered. He pulled back just enough to look me dead in the eye.
"You know you mine now?" he rasped.
I nodded, breathless. "Sam... please."
He wrapped one big hand around my neck making me swallow my words.
He slid into me slowly, dragging a moan from both of us. He let my neck go so his forehead could rest against mine as he bottomed out inside me.
I clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, feeling the stretch, the ache, the overwhelming fucking relief of finally having him where I needed him.
He moved slow at first, deep and steady, like he had all the time in the world to tear me apart.
The water masked the soft, desperate sounds leaving my throat. But nothing could hide the truth anymore.
I loved this man. God, I loved him.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and he gripped my ass, lifting me higher, driving into me harder, deeper, until I was trembling against him.
"Like I was saying.” He pushed deep enough for me to feel it in my stomach. “You’re mine now," he growled into my neck, his teeth scraping my skin. "Ain’t no walking away now. You came to me."
I cried out, the orgasm building sharp and fast, spiraling out of me until I was shaking uncontrollably. When I came, it ripped out of me, soaking his dick, making him curse low and filthy against my mouth.
He fucked me through it, holding me so tight I couldn’t even think about running.
“Shhh, baby. That’s it,” he growled in my ear, voice low and thick with need. “Ride that shit. I got you.”
He kissed me hard, like he needed my breath to finish. When he came, it was with a deep grunt, grinding into me, burying himself as deep as he could.
We stayed tangled under the water—his fingers running slow and steady down my spine, my forehead pressed to the warm strength of his collarbone.
And for the first time in a long, long time— I didn’t feel empty.