Chapter 2 #2
“Nothing changed,” Zach says, his voice rough with honesty.
“I’ve wanted you since high school. Watched you walk those hallways with your head high, never backing down, no matter how much shit they gave you.
” His eyes light with the memory. “You were the smartest kid in school. Knew exactly who you were and didn’t apologize for it.
While the rest of us were still trying to figure out our lives, you had yours mapped out. ”
I blink, surprised by his perception. “I didn’t think you noticed me back then.”
A sound that might be a laugh escapes Zach. “I noticed everything about you, X. The way you’d bite your lip when you were concentrating. How you’d stand up for the younger kids when bullies came around. The fact that you never once looked scared, even when you were outnumbered.”
My heart stutters in my chest. All those years I’d thought my crush was one-sided, that Zach, with his motorcycle and leather jacket and dangerous reputation, wouldn’t give someone like me a second glance.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Zach’s expression darkens. “You were headed for med school. I was headed for a life that would’ve dragged you down.” He takes another pull from his beer. “Still might.”
I set my burger down, appetite forgotten. “That should’ve been my choice to make.”
“Yeah, well, I was a teenager and stupid,” Zach says, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “Thought I was doing you a favor by staying away.”
“And now?” I ask, heart in my throat.
Zach’s eyes lock with mine, and the raw hunger I see there makes my breath catch. “Now I’m done staying away.” He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine in a touch that is somehow more intimate than if he’d grabbed me. “Unless you tell me to.”
The ball is in my court. I could end this now, go back to the safety of my ordered life, my careful routines. Or I can take the risk I’ve been wanting to take since I was seventeen.
I turn my hand over, letting our palms press together, feeling the roughness of his calluses against my skin. “I don’t want you to stay away,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “I never did.”
The tension between us shifts, electric and dangerous. Zach’s fingers tighten around mine, and the look in his eyes promises things that make heat pool low in my stomach.
“Good,” he says, voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. “Because I’ve got seven years to make up for, Doc. And I plan to start tonight.”
I watch as Zach stands, his movement deliberate and unhurried.
The wooden chair scrapes against my floor, the sound unnaturally loud in the suddenly quiet apartment.
My heart hammers against my ribs as he rounds the table, his eyes never leaving mine.
There’s something primal in that gaze, hunger mixed with a patience that makes my skin flush hot.
He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can smell him. Leather and soap and something distinctly male. Without a word, he extends his hand, palm up, an invitation that feels more significant than it should.
I place my hand in his, our skin connecting with a jolt that races up my arm and settles somewhere deep in my chest. His fingers close around mine, warm and calloused, as he pulls me to my feet.
Suddenly we’re standing chest to chest, barely inches separating us.
The apartment feels smaller, the air thicker, charged with electricity that’s been building for seven years.
“I’ve thought about this.” His voice is a low rumble that vibrates through me. His free hand lifts slowly, fingers tracing the line of my jaw with a gentleness that seems at odds with his rough exterior. “Every night. Every damn day.”
My eyes flutter closed at his touch. The pad of his thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I can’t stop the small intake of breath. “Show me,” I whisper, surprised by my own boldness.
His fingers slide to the nape of my neck, tangling in my still damp hair.
With gentle pressure, he tilts my head back, exposing my throat.
I feel vulnerable, yet completely safe in the same moment.
His breath is warm against my skin, sending goosebumps racing down my arms seconds before his lips press against my pulse point.
“Jesus,” I gasp, the word barely audible as his mouth moves along the column of my neck. Each kiss is deliberate, exploratory, like he’s committing every inch of me to memory. When his teeth graze the sensitive juncture where my neck meets my shoulder, my knees nearly give out.
“Wanted this,” he whispers against my skin, the vibration of his words sending shivers down my spine. “Wanted you.”
My hands find his waist, fingers digging into solid muscle beneath soft cotton. He shifts upward, his lips brushing the shell of my ear in a way that makes heat pool low in my stomach.
“Remember senior year?” His voice is rough, intimate, stirring memories I’ve kept buried. “That day in the library when you were studying for finals?”
I nod, not trusting my voice as his hands slide down my back, one settling at my waist while the other presses lower, drawing me closer until our bodies align perfectly.
“You were wearing those glasses,” he continues, his thumb tracing small circles against my spine. “Biting your pencil while you read. I had to leave the room because I couldn’t handle watching you another minute without touching you.”
My breath catches in my throat. “I didn’t know.”
“I’ve watched you for years,” he admits, his lips hovering just above mine, our breaths mingling. “Followed you home more nights than I can count, just to make sure you were safe.”
A shiver runs through me at his confession, something that should send me running but instead ignites something primal and possessive inside me. The knowledge that he’s been there, watching over me, makes my pulse race.
“Why didn’t you ever approach me?” I ask, my voice barely audible even in the quiet room.
His eyes darken, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of brown remains. “Because once I started,” he says, his gaze dropping to my mouth, “I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
The last word is barely out before his mouth claims mine.
The first touch is gentle, a soft press of lips that sends electricity racing through my veins.
Then something breaks between us, and the kiss deepens into something hungry and desperate.
My hands slide up his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his shirt as his tongue sweeps into my mouth.
He tastes like beer and something darker, something uniquely him that makes my head spin.
He walks me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, our bodies pressed tight from chest to thigh.
One of his hands braces against the wall beside my head while the other grips my hip, his thumb finding the sliver of skin where my shirt has ridden up.
The contact of his rough finger against my bare skin draws a sound from my throat I barely recognize.
When we break apart for air, he rests his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine, the synchronicity of our racing hearts.
“Do you have any idea,” he rasps, his voice strained with restraint, “how many times I’ve dreamed about having you like this?”
I slide my hands up to frame his face, my thumbs tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the slight stubble on his jaw rough against my palms. “Tell me.”
His eyes darken further, something raw and honest flashing in their depths.
“First time was sophomore year. You stood up to those seniors hassling the freshman girls. Told them to back off or you’d make them regret it.
” His finger brushes across my lower lip, sending sparks of sensation straight to my core.
“You were so fierce. So goddamn beautiful. I went home and couldn’t get you out of my head for weeks. ”
My chest tightens at his words, at the realization that he saw me, truly saw me, all those years ago when I thought I was invisible to someone like him.
“What else?” I whisper, needing to hear more, needing to understand how long I’ve been living in his thoughts.
In one smooth motion, he lifts me slightly, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs as my feet leave the floor. He adjusts me so our eyes align perfectly, my back still pressed against the wall. The display of strength sends a thrill through me.
“Junior year. You tutored my cousin in biology, spent hours explaining cellular respiration until she finally got it.” He leans in, his lips brushing mine with a reverence that makes my chest ache.
“I sat outside the library in my car, watching you, thinking about how your hands moved when you talked.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, arms looping around his neck to steady myself. He inhales sharply at the contact, his fingers flexing against my thighs.
“And after graduation?” I prompt, my voice husky with need.
“Harder then,” he admits, shifting his weight to carry me away from the wall. He moves with surprising grace for such a powerful man, crossing the small living room toward the couch. “You went to college; I joined the club.”
He lays me down gently, propping himself on one elbow beside me, his body half covering mine. “But I still found ways to check on you. Drove past your dorm some nights. Asked around how you were doing.”
Instead of feeling disturbed by this admission, warmth floods my chest. All those years I thought I was alone, navigating the world by myself, someone had been watching over me, caring from a distance.
“And more recently?” I reach up to free his hair from its knot, watching as dark strands fall around his face, softening the hard edges of his features.