Chapter 20 Zoey
ZOEY
The world doesn’t reform beneath me all at once.
It returns in fragments. Sound first, then sensation, then awareness that feels like I’m hovering just outside of myself, waiting for everything to catch up.
I’m standing in the cabin, but I don’t remember walking inside.
My hands hang uselessly at my sides, and when I try to move my fingers, there’s a delay before they respond.
It’s like everything is slightly disconnected, like I’m still half outside, still stuck in the moment where the gunshots split the air wide-open.
I hear Whiz talking from somewhere nearby.
His voice cuts through the haze, and he’s focused in a way I haven’t heard from him before.
I can’t track the conversation, not completely, but I catch pieces: short, clipped instructions, something about clothes, the urgency clear even if I don’t follow the details.
“Yeah, whatever you can get. Doesn’t matter. Just bring it,” he says. There’s a pause, his tone shifting slightly. “No, she’s here. She’s fine.”
Fine. What a stupid word.
I stare at the floor, but something red catches my eye. Moving my gaze up, I take in my skinned knees and the blood smeared across my skin. The abrasions sting, but the pain doesn’t fully register until I bend slightly to get a closer look.
The call ends, and Whiz is in front of me before I even realize he moved.
“Zoey.”
My name sounds different when he says it like that, when he’s not trying to boss me around or keep himself carefully tucked behind the emotional walls he’s built.
I blink up at him, trying to focus. His gaze drops immediately, scanning over my body, and I can feel the second his eyes land on my wounds.
“You’re bleeding.”
I follow his gaze again, staring at my knees like I’ve never seen them before. “I’m fine,” I say automatically, my tone hollow.
“You need to clean that.”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, shaking my head.
His shoulders stiffen, and I brace myself, expecting him to push, to argue, but he simply exhales like he’s made a life-altering decision.
For the second time today, the ground under my feet disappears. Whiz’s arms are around me, solid and strong, lifting me without hesitation.
“What are you—”
“Shower,” he mutters like that explains everything.
It doesn’t explain shit, but I don’t have the energy to press for more. Instead, I rest my head on his shoulder as he carries me down the short hallway and into the bathroom. Without losing his hold on me, he turns on the light and then the water.
He sets me down inside the shower stall, fully clothed, and the spray hits a second later.
I gasp, more startled than anything else, the shock of it pulling me just a little more into the present. The water soaks through my clothes instantly, making them cling to my skin.
“What are you doing?” I manage to sputter without swallowing a mouthful.
“Stay there,” he says before turning away.
I don’t move. I can’t. The water runs over me, washing away dirt, blood, and any other physical remnants of what happened.
His hands come back into view before his body does, and he proceeds to remove my clothes, layer by layer until the last barrier between us lands in a wet heap on the bathroom floor.
I don’t help, but I don’t resist either.
The steam builds, the air thickening as the water runs hotter, and I finally start to feel like myself again.
When he steps back for a second, I think it’s over, that he’s putting distance between us, but then I hear the shift of movement, fabric hitting tile, and before I can process it, he’s back. Only this time, he’s as naked as I am, and his solid heat presses into me as he steps under the spray.
Being this close to him changes everything and nothing all at once. For a minute, neither of us moves, but only for a moment. Whiz locks his gaze on mine, and he lifts his hand to cup my cheek.
We both break at the contact, the need for something other than what we just walked away from consumes us, and when he leans closer, I meet him there without hesitation. His mouth finds mine, and his kiss is rough and raw.
I respond just as fiercely, hands gripping his forearms like that’s the only way I’ll remain upright. There’s nothing soft or gentle in the way we devour each other. It’s a desperate meeting of desire and need.
Everything else fades away, and I know the reprieve from reality is temporary, but I don’t care. Right here, right now, there’s just us. No funeral, no gunfire, no fear.
Whiz pulls back to look me in the eyes, and even though no words are spoken, I instinctively know he’s asking for permission to take things further. I don’t think, just react.
I pull his head down until his mouth hovers centimeters away from my tits. He settles his hands on my waist, his fingers digging into the flesh even as his tongue traces lazy circles around my nipple.
Throwing my head back with a low moan of pleasure, I give into the sensations he evokes. He lavishes me with his tongue, his teeth and lips. Slowly, he trails a path down the valley between my breasts to my stomach.
After a few seconds of attention to my belly button, Whiz drops to his knees and fastens his mouth around my clit. My hips jerk of their own accord, thrusting my pussy into his face. He steadies me with one hand and lifts my leg to drape it over his shoulder with the other.
And then he catapults me into the stratosphere. Whiz eats my cunt with the enthusiasm of a kid tearing into their gifts on Christmas morning.
“Ahhhh, fuuuuuck,” I groan, an orgasm ripping through me.
“Mmmm,” he hums against my clit before slowing his tongue and lowering my leg.
He keeps a hold of me so I don’t collapse as he stands and turns off the water. I try to step out and grab a towel, but he beats me to it. He quickly dries me off before bending to lift me up by my thighs, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist.
Not that I’m complaining.
“What are you doing?” I ask lazily.
“Oh, Zoey, we’re not done.”