19. AVA
AVA
I sit up on the bed with a start, my heart racing at a thousand miles an hour. The room I’m in is pitch black, skyrocketing my anxiety. I start hyperventilating, a scream bubbling from the pit of my stomach before I can stop myself.
A door opens, the room is flooded with light as Zane materializes in nothing but a towel, dripping water everywhere. It’s almost comical, but I’m too panicked to laugh.
“Ava, it’s okay. You’re in my room. You’re safe—calm down,” he expresses with composure, taking tentative steps toward me.
The screams die down, but my racing heart does not. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and for some reason I find myself crawling onto his lap and crying on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight as he whispers reassuring words in my ear.
Maybe Ella was onto something—the reason I seek Zane out when I’m at my most vulnerable is because deep down I still have feelings for him and I know that I’m safe with him. That’s food for thought when I’m in a much better mental state.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, pulling away once I’ve calmed down a bit, wiping my tears and snot away with the back of my hand.
“What did we say about that word?” he glares at me.
“S—“
He shakes his head and takes over, wiping my tears away with his thumbs. “What am I going to do with you, Miss Diva?”
I bow my head in shame, but that only brings me in direct view of his abs and the tent in his towel, so I look back up, deciding that his face is the safer option.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your shower.”
“It’s okay. I was already done anyway.”
“How long have I been out?” I ask, trying to recall what happened to no avail.
My mind is blank from the moment I took off after being accosted by my mother. I have no idea where I ended up after that, who found me, or why I’m in Zane’s bed, wearing his clothes. He must have changed me, which should cause me to panic, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before.
“All day. It’s just after six,” he replies.
My jaw drops at his response, and I check the alarm clock on the bedside table just to be sure.
How could I have slept all day? How could I not though?
Running into my mother after not seeing or talking to her for so long sent me into shock.
And now I’ve dragged the Morgans into my mess, including Zane.
“How did I end up here?” I ask him, afraid of the answer.
“When you took off, Ella called Jace, so we came to help her look for you. She then called Lou, who sent us a pin of your location. I found you in an alley, missing one shoe, panicked and crying, so I picked you up and brought you here,” he explains.
“Lou knows?!”
Zane nods, making me want to go back to sleep and never wake up. I’m going to be in so much trouble with her.
“She’s very worried. Make sure to call her.”
I will call her—I don’t have much of a choice—but I’m not ready for the scolding I’ll get.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” I appreciate him.
“Don’t mention it.”
He gazes at me curiously, looking like he has lots of questions, which is understandable, but he doesn’t voice any of them.
“Why don’t you call Lou and take a shower while I find us some food? We’ll talk more over dinner,” he suggests.
I nod in agreement. “Okay.”
He gets up from the bed, walks to his closet, and puts on some clothes before leaving me alone in his bedroom.
My phone is on the nightstand, so I give myself some encouragement and call Lou. She picks up immediately.
After a ten-minute call that includes a lot of scolding, screaming, and then cajoling, I end it and get into the bathroom for a shower. I walk past the mirror like it doesn’t exist, knowing I look worse than I feel and not wanting to see it.
Back in the bedroom, I realize that my clothes are nowhere in sight, but Zane has laid out another one of his t-shirts for me on the bed. After drying off, I shrug it on and go in search of him. He’s in the kitchen, setting out dinner when I walk in.
“You made all this?!” I gape at the multiple dishes in front of me.
He chuckles and waves me off. “I am talented in many ways, but cooking is not one of them. These are from the main house. Everyone is super worried, by the way, but I’ve assured them that you’re okay.”
“I know I’ve worried you all. I’m s—“
I really need to learn another word.
“Yes, you have, but we can talk about that later. For now, sit—let’s eat,” he commands.
I take the empty stool across from him and watch as he serves me some rice, chicken, and a salad.
“Thank you,” I express, pulling the plate closer.
My hands fist by the plate as my stomach churns at the thought of eating. I’m hungry—that I know—but I don’t think I can stomach this.
“One spoon at a time,” Zane entices as he picks up my spoon, fills it with rice, and holds it up against my lips.
I take it from him and take a bite. It doesn’t go down easy and I nearly throw up, but the encouraging look on his face keeps me going.
I barely manage to eat a quarter of the plate before I push it away. Zane doesn’t force me to eat more, which I’m grateful for—he just replaces my plate with a glass of juice. I’d prefer coffee, but at least it’s not food, so it’s easier to consume.
“Thank you once again for today.”
“You can thank me by telling me what really happened.”
I knew he was going to ask—it’d be weird if he didn’t—but I don’t want to talk about it. I shake my head, looking away.
“Ava...”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I quickly decline.
He sighs, and I hear him get up from his stool. I expect him to be his usual pushy self, but when I hear him leaving the kitchen instead, I freak out. I get up and chase after him, catching up to him in the living room. I grab his arm to stop him.
“Zane...”
“What do you want, Ava? You’ve already made it clear you don’t want to talk to me,” he asks, refusing to turn around and face me.
“It’s not that easy—please understand,” I plead.
“Then how come everyone else knew but me?” he asks, pulling his hand away from my grip.
“They only know the basics. I can tell from your eyes that what you want are all the nasty details, and I don’t want to talk about them,” I explain.
“Then I guess we’re done here,” he grits out, turning to walk away once more.
I jump in his path, blocking his way. “No, please, don’t be angry.”
“How can I not be when you won’t tell me anything?” he seethes.
I don’t know what to tell him. What happened between my mother and me is hard for me to talk about. I don’t think I’m ready to be that vulnerable in front of him.
“God! You’re so frustrating, I could just—“ He growls, and before I know what’s happening, he pushes me against the wall, cups my face, and kisses me.
I accept him immediately because this is so much better than us arguing and fighting over my problems with my mother.
I hold onto his toned arms for support as my mouth falls open to accommodate his. This kiss is demanding, heated, bruising, and oh so perfect. I feel my nipples poking against the thin material of the t-shirt I’m wearing, which reminds me that I don’t have any underwear on.
He kisses me fervently, his tongue tasting like the orange juice we just had. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer.
I can feel his hard-on pressing against my stomach, awakening a primal need for him. He picks me up, and I’m forced to hoist my legs up around his waist.
“This is not how I saw this night going,” he rasps out.
I silence him with a kiss as I reach between us to push his pants and boxers down his legs. He springs free, leaking precum onto my hand.
“I don’t have it in me to be gentle, so last chance to bail out,” he warns, looking into my eyes.
“Gentle is the last thing I want,” I reply as I lift my hips up and align him with my pussy.
We both sigh in contentment as he pushes forward, his impressive length disappearing inside me, inch by inch.
Things have escalated quickly between us, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The alternative is to talk, and that is the last thing I want.
“Don’t think that we’re done with our conversation just yet,” he warns as he starts fucking me against the wall.
I pull the t-shirt over my head, revealing my boobs. I know Zane is crazy about them, so anything to keep him preoccupied and away from asking too many questions.
“Aren’t we?” I challenge as I cup my breasts, twisting my nipples with my fingers.
He groans and drops his head, his mouth latching onto one of my breasts. I have him exactly where I want him—complacent and quiet. But I have no idea how long I can keep this up before he’s back to asking questions.
I guess I’ll just have to wait and find out, but for now, I better keep him distracted.