17. Calling for Help
Calling for Help
Evelyn
M y body still trembles from the intensity of my orgasm as Zeke’s touch turns gentle. His calloused fingers caress my oversensitive skin while he carefully removes the nipple clamps. A soft whimper escapes my lips at the rush of blood flow returning.
“Shhh,” he soothes, pressing tender kisses to each aching peak. His tongue laves the sensitized flesh, the wet heat both soothing and electrifying. “I’ve got you.”
The contrast between his earlier dominance and current tenderness makes my heart flutter. This is a side of Zeke few ever see—the nurturer beneath the ruthless exterior. His beard tickles against my skin as he trails kisses down my stomach, hands stroking my thighs with reverent care.
“Deep breath for me,” he murmurs, slowly easing the vibrator from my body. The loss leaves me feeling strangely empty, but Zeke’s touch remains steady and grounding. He massages the tender muscles with practiced fingers, dropping feather-light kisses along my inner thighs.
My bound hands twitch, wanting to touch him in return. Zeke reaches up to untie the silky fabric from my wrists. His thumbs rub gentle circles over the faint marks left behind, bringing each wrist to his lips for tender kisses.
“You’re incredible,” he breathes against my skin.
The raw honesty in his voice sends a tremor through me.
This isn’t just aftercare—this is something deeper, more intimate than I’m ready to name.
“Perfect.” He kisses my stomach, just below my belly button, and I take this opportunity now that my arms are free, to shove my fingers into his hair.
He looks up at me as he peppers more light kisses on my belly and toward my clit. “Next time, it’ll be my cock in your ass, and a vibrator in your pussy. Think you can handle that?”
My breath hitches as I hold his intense gaze. A mix of fear and excitement washes over me, but I nod. I told him I’d submit, and I will. I trust him. He’ll only show me pleasure.
“Good girl.” He smiles. “Don’t move, I’ll be back.”
Zeke’s heat leaves me momentarily as he rises from my side, his hands trailing gently along my arm as he goes. I turn my head to watch him disappear into the en suite, his broad shoulders outlined by the soft glow of the bathroom light.
His absence leaves a strange void, as though the air is colder without him. I pull myself up onto my elbows, wincing slightly at the dull ache between my legs, a pleasant reminder of what we just shared.
Falling back, I lay sprawled on the plush carpet of Zeke’s walk-in closet, my limbs heavy and sated, my skin still humming with the aftershocks of his possession. The cool air kisses my heated flesh as I stare at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
The faucet turns on in the bathroom, the rush of water filling the tub, steam beginning to curl out from the doorway. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafts through the air, soothing and warm, and I can’t help but smile.
Zeke returns a moment later, his bare chest glistening slightly with a faint sheen of sweat. His dark eyes are soft as they meet mine.
Without a word, he crouches down beside me, his large hands sliding beneath my back and knees, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. It’s automatic the way I wrap my arms around his neck, holding myself close to him. His scent—musky and masculine—fills my senses, grounding me.
“You’re too perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly as he carries me into the bathroom.
The steam surrounds us, wrapping me in warmth, and I sigh against his chest. He sets me down gently on the edge of the tub, the water perfectly warm to the touch, the bubbles already forming a foamy layer on the surface.
“Get in,” he says, his voice commanding yet tender. I do as he says, lowering myself into the water, the heat immediately soothing my sore muscles. I sink deeper as water laps against my skin, and I close my eyes for a moment as tension melts away.
Zeke kneels beside the tub, his eyes never leaving me as he grabs a washcloth and dips it into the water. His movements are slow, deliberate, as he runs the cloth along my shoulders and the warmth seeps into my skin. His touch is gentle yet firm, as though he’s memorizing every inch of me.
“You’re mine,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “In here, out there—always.”
I open my eyes to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his dark eyes takes my breath away. There’s something unspoken between us, something that goes beyond the physical. It’s deeper, more raw, and it terrifies me as much as it excites me. I nod, unable to find the words to respond.
He continues to bathe me, his hands moving with a care that makes my heart swell. The water laps against my skin, and I let myself relax into his touch, trusting him completely. The heat of the bath, his hands on my body, the quiet intimacy of this moment—it’s overwhelming in the best way.
The bathwater laps gently around us as Zeke slides in behind me, his powerful thighs bracketing my hips.
His chest presses against my back, warm and solid, as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer.
I let my head fall back against his shoulder, utterly safe and cherished in his embrace.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. His hands move in slow, soothing circles across my stomach, up my sides, over my breasts. Not sexual now, just tender. Caring. My muscles gradually unwind under his touch, tension melting away like sugar in hot tea.
The lavender-scented steam rises around us in lazy spirals.
Zeke’s heartbeat thrums steady and strong against my back, its rhythm syncing with my own.
His fingers trail along my collarbone, trace the curve of my shoulder, massage the nape of my neck.
Each touch feels like a wordless promise, a silent vow of protection.
I love him. There’s no doubt about it. It hits me, clear as crystal and twice as sharp.
The emotion steals my breath, makes my heart stutter.
I love his strength and his gentleness, his darkness and his light.
I love how he is with Leo, how he takes care of me, how he makes me feel both safe and wild at once.
The truth of it burns in my chest, threatening to spill from my lips. But fear clamps my throat, holds the words hostage. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if this is just possession to him—something to conquer—not love? What if saying it out loud shatters whatever this is between us?
So I stay quiet, the words settling unspoken in my heart. Instead, I thread my fingers through his where they rest on my stomach and squeeze gently. His arms tighten around me in response, and he presses a soft kiss to my temple.
The water embraces us like silk, and I float in this moment of perfect intimacy, this pocket of peace where nothing exists except his touch, his warmth, and this love I dare not name.
Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting shadows across the rumpled sheets beside me.
My body aches in all the right places, a delicious reminder of last night’s activities.
I stretch, feeling the pull of well-used muscles, and press my face into Zeke’s pillow.
His scent lingers there—spice and leather and raw power.
The memories flood back, vivid and overwhelming. His hands on my skin. The way he took control, demanding my submission. The gentle aftercare in the bath, his touch so tender it made my heart squeeze.
My chest tightens as panic claws its way up my throat. I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again. Wouldn’t let myself fall for him. But here I am, drowning in feelings I can’t control, wanting things I have no right to want.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling as my thoughts spiral. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This marriage was meant to be a business arrangement—protection in exchange for my cooperation. Nothing more. But last night—the way he looked at me, touched me, cared for me—it felt real. Too real.
The weight in my chest grows heavier as I remember how safe I felt in his arms, how completely I trusted him. That terrifies me more than anything else.
Trust is dangerous.
Love is dangerous.
Both lead to heartbreak, and I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to hold back the sting of tears.
I can’t do this again. Can’t let myself be this vulnerable.
The last time I opened my heart to Zeke he disappeared without a word.
Left me wondering what I’d done wrong. And now here we are again, and I’m falling harder than before.
A sob catches in my throat. This isn’t just about protecting my heart anymore.
There’s Leo to consider, my job, the investigation.
Everything is tangled together in a mess of complications and conflicting loyalties.
And at the center of it all is Zeke, pulling me deeper into his world with every touch, every kiss, every moment of tenderness that makes me question everything I thought I knew about him.
I need a break from my own thoughts. From case files. From Zeke. From everything. I’m going to make myself sick overanalyzing our relationship. Nothing good will come from that.
I need a distraction.
But most importantly, I need time with Leo.
I check the time, and it’s almost 11:30 AM. Zeke let me sleep late. Moving quickly, I get dressed and run down the hall.
“Hey, buddy,” I call out, poking my head into Leo’s room where he’s sprawled on the floor with his LEGOs. “Want to go get some ice cream?”
His face lights up instantly. “Really? Now?”
“Yep. Right now.” I lean against his doorframe, watching as he scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping over his scattered toys. “Just you and me.”
Within thirty minutes, we’re in my car, Eli following close behind, and heading to our favorite ice cream parlor.