Chapter 3 #2
“Like you want to devour me.” His fingers trace the collar of my t-shirt. “Like you’re thinking about all the things you want to do to me.” His hand slides lower, palm flat against my chest. “Are you, X? Thinking about it?”
I exhale, almost in a whisper, “Yes.”
His eyes darken with hunger, possession, and desire so fierce it’s frightening. His hand moves to the hem of my shirt, fingers slipping underneath to graze bare skin.
“Can I?” he asks, voice thick with restraint.
I lift my arms without thinking, and he tugs the shirt overhead, tossing it aside. The cool morning air raises goosebumps across my skin, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, as if I am something precious and rare.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, hands skimming down my shoulders, my chest, my stomach. Each touch leaves fire in its wake, making my breath catch.
I reach for him, needing more. He obliges, sliding a knee on the bed beside my thigh and leaning down for another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier, a clear claim rather than exploration. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer until we tumble back in a tangle of limbs.
Zach catches himself on his forearms, hovering above me, our faces only inches apart. “This okay?” he asks, voice strained with restraint.
“More than okay,” I assure him, hands sliding down his back.
He lowers himself carefully, his body aligning with mine from chest to thigh. The weight of him, solid and warm, sends a shiver of pleasure through me. I feel every point of contact: his chest against mine, our legs intertwined, the undeniable evidence of his desire pressing into my hip.
“Tell me what you want.” His lips brush my ear. “Anything, X. Just tell me.”
My mind floods with every fantasy I’d ever entertained on lonely nights, but in this moment, with him so real and present, I want something simpler.
“Just touch me,” I whisper. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
His pupils darken until only a thin ring of brown remains. “I can do that.”
His mouth finds mine again as his hand slides down, fingers tracing patterns across my chest and stomach, slipping teasingly beneath the waistband of my sleep pants. I arch into the touch, a soft sound escaping me, swallowed by his kiss.
Then his phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand, the vibration loud against the wood. We freeze, the spell broken. Zach curses softly, forehead dropping against my shoulder.
“Ignore it,” I say, threading my fingers through his hair.
It goes silent for a moment, then buzzes again. He sighs, warmth from his breath tickling my neck.
“I can’t,” he says, regret heavy in his voice. “If they’re calling back-to-back, it’s an emergency.”
I nod, trying to mask my disappointment as he pushes up and reaches for the phone. The loss of contact leaves me cold, despite the warmth in the room.
He checks the screen, his expression hardening into something I haven’t seen. A cold, dangerous mask that reminds me sharply of who he is outside these walls.
“I need to take this,” he says, already stepping off the bed. “Give me a minute.”
I watch him close the bedroom door and the soft whisper of his voice carries through, too low to decipher but tense enough to make my chest tighten.
I sit up, running a hand through my hair and trying to calm my racing heart.
The interruption was probably for the best. Things had escalated way too quickly for something I wanted to last.
Because I do want this to last. Deep down I know it isn’t just physical attraction or a long-held fantasy coming true. Somewhere during the night between words, touches, and shared laughter my feelings had taken root and grown into something real.
The door opens and Zach reappears, his face grim. “I have to go,” he says, already reaching for his jeans over the chair. “Club emergency.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious of my bare chest and the obvious evidence of what we’d been doing.
He pauses mid-button, eyes softening as they meet mine. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he says gently. “Just business that needs handling.”
I nod, fighting the sting of exclusion. We’d crossed a line last night, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to share that side of his life with me.
“When will I see you again?” I ask, vulnerability raw in my voice.
He steps closer, cupping the back of my neck, and kisses me gently. “Tonight,” he promises against my lips. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Relief floods me. “Okay.”
He pulls back, reaching for his shirt. “I hate leaving like this,” he admits as he tugs the Henley overhead. “But—”
“I understand,” I interrupt. “Really. Go do what you need to do.”
He studies me for a moment, eyes searching as if memorizing every detail. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, voice rough with an emotion I can’t quite name.
Before I can respond, he closes the distance again, kissing me with an intensity that leaves me breathless, like a promise, a claim, something I’ve been waiting for my whole life without realizing it.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed as if gathering strength. “Tonight,” he repeats, the word both a promise and a plea.
“Tonight,” I echo, committing myself to whatever comes next.
The promise of “tonight” hangs in the air between us as Zach reluctantly leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.
I sit on the edge of my bed for several long minutes, trying to process everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours.
My fingertips trace my lips, still feeling the pressure of Zach’s mouth against mine.
Eventually, I force himself to get moving.
A quick shower, fresh clothes, and I’m heading out the door, mind still half lost in memories of strong hands and dark eyes.
The drive to my parents’ house is automatic, muscle memory guiding me through familiar streets while my thoughts remain tangled around Zach.
I pull into the driveway of the modest two-story home where I’d grown up, noting my father Ethan’s police cruiser and my mother Braelyn’s gardening tools scattered near the rosebushes. Home. No matter how old I get, this place still feels like sanctuary.
The front door opens before I can knock, my mother’s familiar silhouette appearing in the doorway.
“There’s my boy,” Mom says, arms already opening for a hug. She is tiny compared to me, barely reaching my chest, but her embrace is fierce and grounding. She smells like tomato sauce and the lavender lotion she’s used for as long as I can remember.
“Hi, Mom.” I let myself be enveloped in her warmth.
She pulls back, hands settling on my shoulders as she studies me with those sharp eyes that have never missed anything. “Something’s different about you,” she says, head tilting slightly.
Heat creeps up my neck. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums, clearly unconvinced. “Come in. Your father’s watching the game. Food’s almost ready.”
I follow her inside, the familiar scent of her lasagna wrapping around me like a blanket. Dad looks up from the television, his face breaking into a wide smile.
“There he is,” my dad says, rising from his recliner. His handshake turns into a half hug, strong and brief. “Thought we’d have to send out a search party. Been weeks since we’ve seen you.”
“Sorry, Dad. The hospital’s been crazy,” I reply, the excuse worn but true.
“Well, you’re here now. Beer?” He’s already moving toward the kitchen.
“Sure.”
He nods sagely. “Usually is crazy.” He mutes the television and turns his full attention to me. “This about that guy your mother thinks you’re seeing?”
I nearly choke on my beer. “What?
“Ah.” He nods again, understanding dawning in his eyes.
The directness of the question shouldn’t have surprised me. Dad has never been one to dance around anything. Still, I feel my face heat as I nod slowly.
“Someone special?” he asks.
I stare at the condensation sliding down my beer bottle. “Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “I think so. It’s… new. But also not new, if that makes any sense.”
Dad chuckles. “Makes perfect sense. Known him a while?”
“Since high school,” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips despite my nerves. “We just reconnected recently.”
He takes a thoughtful sip of his beer. “Anyone I know?”
I hesitate. This is the tricky part. “Maybe. His name’s Zach.”
He grins, taking a sip of his beer. “Knew this was coming.”
My eyes widen and my mom comes to sit down next to us. She giggles at my shocked expression. “Baby, we have all known you’ve liked each other since you were a teenager.”
My face reddens like this is my first ever crush, but I guess in a way he is.
“Shaylin, his mother, is going to be thrilled. We connected during a school event and we have kept in touch over the years knowing this would have eventually happened.”
My mouth falls open in utter shock at what she is confessing right now.
My dad is a cop and I do know the MC does things that aren’t legal when it comes to protecting their family and businesses.
“Me and the Devil Souls came to an agreement a long time ago when they helped save my sister’s life and Liam, who is like a son to me, too, is a part of the club. And there’s your uncle who was a huge part of your life growing up.”
My shoulders sink in relief because Zach means so much to me already and I want people to approve of him.
“Come on, let’s go eat,” Mom yells to us, and all talk of my relationship status is over.
* * *
Zach
I arrive at the clubhouse, the familiar rumble of my bike dying beneath me as I cut the engine.
The parking lot is a sea of chrome and leather with at least twice as many bikes as there should be for a Thursday morning.
My gut tightens. Brothers rush through the double doors with expressions that tell me everything I need to know before I even step inside.
Something’s gone seriously wrong.