15. Isla
CHAPTER 15
ISLA
The silence of the house was heavy. So heavy.
I’d paced myself into a tizzy and run the conversation in my head a dozen different ways, and not a single version of it ended well. But avoiding it wouldn’t make it better.
Avoiding it would only make it worse.
Zayn wasn’t a man you tried to bullshit. I’d tried that. It hadn’t worked out too well for me. No, he was a man you faced.
“And if I don’t tell him, someone else will,” I grumbled, my fingers tapping against my thigh.
Maybe I should tell Rye? Then he could tell Zayn.
Chicken.
Fine, I won’t tell Rye.
Plus, Julian could already be there, telling him everything. Shit. My mouth twisted into a sneer. No, he’d need to build his courage first.
Like I was, I snorted with disgust. Zayn wasn’t a monster. Neither was Julian. But I knew Julian, and I knew he wasn’t rushing to confess all. Which meant I still had a window. A slim one. I grabbed my phone from the table, my fingers hovering over his name in my contacts.
Just do it .
I tapped his name and pressed the phone to my ear. It rang once. Twice. Three times.
“Isla?”
His voice was low and rough like he’d been busy or barking orders just a second before, and background noise filtered in—the distant thrum of music and the occasional clink of glasses. Elixir already sounded busy.
“Hey,” I said quietly, clutching the hem of the hoodie. “You’re busy?”
There was a pause. “Not too busy for you.”
My stomach twisted. Damn him.
“I need to talk to you,” I said. “Privately.”
Something shifted in the tone of his silence. A tension pulling taut like a wire. “Are you okay? Are you still at the house?”
“Yes, and yes.” I smiled softly as I heard his concern. “I need to speak to you where you can’t be distracted.”
He hesitated. “I’ll go to the office. Can I call you back?”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“Isla?”
“Yeah?”
There was that edge again in his voice—quiet, cautious, unreadable. “You sure you’re okay?”
I closed my eyes. “I’m okay.”
The call ended.
As soon as it did, I regretted not just saying it right then. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you blurted out while he was surrounded by music, shadows, and people who would happily tear him down for one weak moment. Which sounded incredibly dramatic, but I knew he needed to be alone.
Focused. Not distracted. So he could fully absorb the irrational actions of the woman in his house…I needed to stop thinking I was going to get punished. I was a grown woman, and he wasn’t my boss.
Okay, he might not be the boss of me, but in this case, I should have listened when he told me to stay away from Julian right now.
I felt so nervous. It was like I cheated on him or something, which was preposterous. I walked back into the kitchen and topped up my wine. I needed this.
Ten minutes later, the phone lit up, and I stared at it for two full rings before answering. “Hey.”
“Hey.” His voice was calm. Controlled. But I could still feel the undercurrent of tension humming beneath it. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t speak right away. My throat was dry. My heartbeat was too loud. “I did something,” I said softly. “And I need you to hear it from me.”
Silence. Not even breathing on the other end.
I forged on even though my voice shook. “Julian came here.”
Still, nothing. Just a silence so thick it made my chest tighten.
“I let him in. I didn’t plan to—it just happened. He knocked, and I saw him, and I…” My voice cracked. “I should’ve sent him away. But I didn’t. I let him inside. I made him sit down. And we talked.”
Zayn’s voice, when it came, was quiet. Deadly. “When?”
“Earlier.”
“ When earlier? ”
“An hour. A little bit more.” Fine, two hours, but I didn’t need to tell him how long it took me to confess.
“You let him in the house ?” The steel in his tone made my eyes sting. “When you’re alone ?”
“Yes.”
“After everything that’s happened, you thought that was a good idea?”
“Yes?” I swallowed hard. “No. I didn’t think it was a good idea. I just… I needed to look him in the face and say what I needed to say.”
He let out a slow breath that sounded like he was forcing the air through clenched teeth. “And what exactly did you need to say?”
“That he doesn’t get to turn up and say sorry and that was all it would take to fix this,” I whispered. “That what happened was scary and unforgivable. That I don’t know who he is now.”
Another long silence. This one more dangerous than the last.
I filled the silence.
“I told him you wouldn’t hear it from me, that he came to the house, I mean,” I confessed, shame curling around every word. “But I realized I couldn’t keep it from you. You deserved to know. We need to have trust, and if I didn’t tell you that, then it would be hypocritical after everything we said today.” He still wasn’t saying anything. “You told me that only you or Rye would come through the door, and I, I let him in. I know you wanted me to wait, and I didn’t.”
“He came to the house when he knew you were alone .” There was no softness in the words. Just truth. Cold and clean.
“I realized that after he left,” I admitted.
“Did it occur to you that he might not be alone? ”
Oh.
“No.” He must think I was stupid. It was such a sneaky thing for Julian to do to come when they weren’t there, but I hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t be alone. “Zayn?—”
“I’ll call you later.”
Click. Just like that, he was gone.
“Well, that was a roaring success,” I grumbled.
Was Zayn McCabe going quiet a good thing? I knew it wasn’t.
“This sucks,” I told the empty kitchen. I moved like a ghost through the house—closing doors I hadn’t opened, rinsing a coffee cup I hadn’t used, and folding the throw blanket on a bed I hadn’t slept in.
My hands needed something to do. My mind was too full.
Zayn was angry, but I knew his anger was directed towards Julian. I also knew he was probably pissed off with me, and I wasn’t looking forward to the face-to-face conversation I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid.
I’d told him what he needed to know. I knew he was smart enough to know Julian would be heading his way, and that was worrying. But that was a conversation that needed to happen between them .
By midnight, the silence in the house felt suffocating, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I climbed into bed wearing one of his shirts, ignoring the pajamas he’d ordered for me. Was I hoping he liked seeing me in his clothes and that it would make him less grumpy with me? Maybe. Was I ashamed I was using such an obvious distraction technique? Not one bit.
I left the bedside lamp on just in case. Not for comfort. For clarity. So I could see the second he walked through that door—if I didn’t fall asleep. Worry gnawed at me as I thought of what Jullian would say to him. Please, Lord, don’t let him say something stupid .
Sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts spun and tangled, every moment of the day replaying on a loop. My words. His silence. Julian’s face. Zayn’s voice.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
I don’t know what time it was when I stirred—just that the room was darker, the air cooler, and that the other side of the bed was no longer empty.
Zayn was there.
Lying on his back with one arm behind his head and the other resting across his chest, he appeared like a man deep in thought. His breathing was steady, awake yet silent, his shirt collar undone and his pants still on.
My heart thudded as I turned to face him slowly. “Zayn?”
His eyes opened, glinting in the faint light from the hallway. “Go back to sleep, Isla.”
His voice wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t soft either.
I wanted to say something. Apologize again. Explain more. But something in his tone told me this wasn’t the best time. So I lay there perfectly still, the silence settling between us.
Until I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Did Julian come?”
He didn’t move or look at me as he spoke. “No.”
Idiot .
“Are you surprised?” Zayn’s tone was low. Mocking.
Yes. Wait, was I?
I sat up slowly, my heart thudding against my ribs. “I need to use the bathroom.” He said nothing as I slipped from the bed and made my way across the room. Once finished, I took the opportunity to fluff my hair up and stare at myself as I wondered why Julian hadn’t gone to him. They’d been friends for so long; his behavior didn’t make sense.
When I opened the door, Zayn turned his head to look at me, his eyes running over my body, his face impassive, but I was very, very conscious of the fact that his T-shirt was brushing the tops of my thighs.
He was still stretched out on the bed and looked relaxed. Too relaxed. When his eyes lifted to mine, I saw the calculated calm as he watched me. I hovered for a second longer in the doorway, unsure if I should speak or wait for him to.
He watched me as I made my way back to bed, saying nothing as I debated for a moment whether to slip back under the covers or lie on top of them like he was.
“You’re still dressed.”
He didn’t look at me, but I saw the twitch in his jaw when he said, “You sleep?”
“Eventually,” I murmured.
He gave a slight nod. “Good.”
I sat carefully on the bed and turned towards him, pulling my legs under me and tugging the T-shirt down. I tried to keep my voice even. “It’s late.”
“You noticed.”
“I waited.” My face heated. “I tried to.” I cleared my throat. “I’m not really a night owl.”
“I know.”
I swallowed hard. “You didn’t call back.”
He finally turned to face me, and his eyes landed on me—dark, unreadable. “What did you want me to say, Is?” he asked simply.
This was no fun. The silence returned for a moment as we held each other’s gaze, tension weaving between us like thread.
“I told you because I didn’t want anyone else to,” I said quietly. “Plus, I knew you’d find out. You always do.”
He studied me. “And if I hadn’t?”
“I was never going to not tell you.” I heard the frustration in my voice. I didn’t need to explain myself to him. Shit, did I?
Zayn exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You letting him in? It wasn’t smart.”
“I know.”
“It wasn’t safe.”
“I know that too.”
His eyes searched mine for a long moment. “But you told me.”
“I did.”
And when he looked at me then—really looked—something shifted. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But something close.
He sat up, his body twisting slightly so we remained face-to-face. He wasn’t avoiding my gaze as much as I wished I could look away when he looked at me like that.
“Are you scared of me?”
My mouth dropped open. I hadn’t anticipated that being a question. I shook my head. “No.” He raised an eyebrow. “ No ,” I said more firmly. The eyebrow didn’t lower. “You’re intimidating, okay. You know that.” I pushed myself off the bed. Now, I was the one who needed distance.
“This is still new between us. This relationship. If it even is a relationship. I don’t want to piss you off, and I’m sure you don’t want to piss me off…” I gave him a look of speculation. “Or maybe you do, I don’t know.” I ran my hands through my hair, piling it on top of my head as I considered him. “I don’t know how we work because we haven’t had a chance to work yet, and I want to try, which is why when I told my best friend that you wouldn’t hear that he dropped in unannounced to speak to me about me getting kidnapped because of him , I then told you anyway!”
Zayn’s lips twitched as he watched me .
“Are you laughing at me?” I asked him, my eyes narrowing as I watched him.
“You’re really cute when you’re frustrated.”
The fight went out of me. If it even was fight. My shoulders slumped as my arms dropped to my sides, my hair spilling over my shoulders. “Asshole, I thought you were mad at me,” I grumbled as I climbed back onto the bed.
“I am mad at you,” he corrected me, his hand reaching out and running over my thigh. “But you have that sexy just-woke-up thing happening, wearing my shirt and”—he leaned over and kissed the top of my thigh where his T-shirt barely covered—“with no underwear on.”
He pushed the shirt up higher. “On your back,” he instructed. He looked up at me. “We’re going to talk about this,” he assured me. “Not in a way that I intimidate you,” he added. “We’ll come back to that later as well.” He gave me a hooded look that made me bite my lower lip. He sat up, took hold of my legs, pulled me down the bed, parted my legs, and settled in between them. “But right now, I need to clear my head because you wore my shirt to bed, you innocently flashed your pussy…” He gave me a look that told me exactly how innocent he thought I had been. “You knew exactly what you were doing, little Isla.” His mouth lowered until he was inches from my core. “I’m not the only one who can manipulate,” he teased, placing a gentle kiss above my center.
My cheeks heated at being caught, and I had forgotten I was bare when I had my hands on top of my head. Good grief, he would have seen everything. But I couldn’t concentrate on a defense when he used his thumbs to part me and his tongue took a swipe over my wetness. Instead, my hands tangled in his short hair, and I pulled him closer.
He worked me over slowly, licking, sucking, and teasing until I was begging for more. His shirt was off, and I helped him push his pants down, and then he was sliding inside me, filling me in a way only he could. The rhythm was hard and breathless, and after I had come undone, he helped me roll us so that I was on top. My hips moved over him at my pace, and the sight of Zayn below me, eyes dark with lust, equally as breathless, did something to me that I couldn’t explain. I rode him slow and deep, which was enough to make me tip my head back in pleasure as I got lost in the sensation of being with him.
“Is, I’m going to come if you keep that up,” he warned me as I used my muscles to squeeze his thick cock. His hands dug into my hips as he helped move me. Not making me go faster, just holding on, steadying me, giving me control.
“I just need a minute.” My head dropped down to my chest. “God, that feels so good.” My hands were on his chest as I picked up my pace.
Swiftly he sat up, his arms wrapping around me as he urged his hips up into me. “Zayn, not God. Only my name on your lips when you come, Is.” He kissed me deeply. His teeth caught my bottom lip, dragging over it gently as he drew back to watch me. “No one else, only me.”
“Only you.” My eyes closed with pleasure as he moved me up and down his cock.
“Look at me,” he instructed quietly. “Look at me as you come all over my cock, Is.”
Fuck . I couldn’t hold it off any longer. My body surrendered, and my cry of euphoria was swallowed as he kissed me, letting me ride it out, and then he was thrusting up and into me, his head burrowing into my neck as he came, and then we were falling down onto the bed, breathless and spent.
We lay in silence for a long time, and then I went to the bathroom and cleaned up. Zayn followed me not long thereafter, and we climbed back into bed. He pulled me into his arms, his hand stroking over my hair as I pressed my lips to his chest.
“I need you to mean it when you say you’re with me, Isla,” he said softly into the peaceful quiet. “No divided loyalties. No blurred lines. They can’t exist between us, not in my world.”
I nodded, tilting my head to look up at him. “I’m with you.” It came out steadier than I expected.
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my jaw. “Then we move forward,” he said. “Together.”
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I finally let it out.
Together.
The word felt heavier than it used to. But it also felt right.
“Go to sleep. It’s late,” he said, tilting my head so he could kiss me. He switched off the light, and I closed my eyes, snuggling into his warmth. “Isla?”
“Mmhmm?”
“We are in a relationship. Don’t doubt that again.”
I smiled in the dark, my lips skimming over his pecs. “I won’t.”