Chapter 41 #2
The breath of relief was overwhelming. “You didn’t like me, Zariah.
I never would’ve thought that you’d check in on me.
I promise. I wouldn’t do that.” My words rushed out.
“I know the defense schedule and the parking fee’s fucked up, I know, I’m sorry.
” I swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to push you, I just… I wanted to see you.”
Her eyes were steady on mine. “I don’t like that someone had to tell me this. You should’ve told me.”
“Somebody? Who told you?”
“Cleo.”
“Ah.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Shit.”
“She was going to tell Sémajuste, but I talked her down.”
The anxiety about Cleo knowing these things about me was real but Zariah was still touching my cock. It mixed together, leaving me flustered and turned-on, on edge, throbbing for Zariah, apologetic, and not thinking clearly at all.
“I told her I could handle this. I could handle you. So I’m going to ask you this once,” Zariah said, her voice firm. “What else are you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly before I bit back the rest of my words. “No—that’s not true. There’s something.”
“What is it?”
“There’s—uh—in my wallet, there’s…I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d find it one day, or I’d drop my wallet and you’d see…”
I was too embarrassed to say it out loud. Zariah crossed the bed for my wallet, and I pulled up my pajamas, flushed with embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I told her, but I had to tell her. My pulse raced. I simultaneously wanted to toss the wallet out the window and watch her reaction.
Zariah slipped the piece of paper out of my wallet. It’d been folded so many times, it was taped up from where I’d carefully put it back together.
“What is this?” she asked, confused. The ink was faded, and I watched her scan the shadow of the words. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“Did you find this at your parent’s house? During Christmas?”
“It’s been in my wallet, Zariah,” I admitted. “Every wallet for the last five years.”
Her eyes darted to mine and they didn’t waver. God, they were so beautiful. Deep and dark, they were eyes I submerged myself into, eyes that danced with the lights of the room.
“You kept this?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Zariah carefully folded it again, returning it to my wallet. “We’re not going back to five years ago,” she said. When I tried to agree, she shook her head. “Listen to me.”
My mouth snapped shut. I nodded.
“I love when you’re sweet. I love when you listen.
That’s how it’s going to be, Denali. I’m not going to be pushed around again.
” She crept closer. “Before, you did it openly. You ignored what I wanted, you made decisions for the both of us, and it wasn’t healthy.
Now, you’re doing shit behind my back, and that’s going to stop. ”
I nodded faster.
“While we’re on the topic, nobody’s ever going to tell me, ‘do you know what your boyfriend’s up to?’ again. Do you understand?”
“Yeah.” Another quick nod. “And I’ll move my car. I’ll change the parking spot.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I blinked, confused, as Zariah calmly watched me. “I don’t…?”
“Denali, I like that you want to see me drenched in sweat after my Pilates class. That’s not the issue.
Us doing weird shit together is not the problem.
It’s when you decide to do shit behind my back—that’s what I’m not okay with,” she said simply.
“It’s when you take away my option to say no that pisses me off.
So you need to talk to me. I want open communication. ”
She pushed up on her knees, touching the back of my neck. The effect was immediate. My cock leaped against my pajama pants again.
“We’re not going back to five years ago,” she whispered. “You’re going to be honest with me.”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“We need to figure out a gameplan to tell our families and Elijah. Because if Cleo could figure it out, so can others. Our time’s running out.” Zariah stretched closer and a shiver traveled up my spine at the close contact. “But after we tell them, no more secrets.”
“No more secrets.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
Two words and I was putty in her hands. My eyes glazed over. I was nodding before I realized I was nodding, and I stared hard at her lips. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to so fucking bad.
“I know you’re possessive. I know who you are. I know what I signed up for,” Zariah whispered, tilting her head. “You’re mine, Denali. You’re not going anywhere. So you need to learn how to be a good boyfriend, because I won’t accept anything else.”
Zariah yanked me down for a kiss and my arms locked around her, hands clutching her pajama top, seeking bare skin.
Her lips were delicious. I was addicted, I needed more. She brought me to the bed, and I pushed her down to the blankets. We were rough, pawing at each other until I shoved her down, her back to my chest.
Her fingers were on the back of my neck again, rough and greedy, her other hand fumbled at my thigh to remove the pajama pants. I yanked them down, my cock pressing insistently against her.
“Mine, mine, mine,” bubbled from her lips and my blood sang with her words.
Our fucking was animalistic. We were on our knees, consumed by the hard thrusts, the rough slap of skin-on-skin contact. My balls slapped against her pussy, my cock was desperate to shove inside her.
I was curled against her, my mouth at her neck. It was an uncomfortable position, I was too fucking tall to do this, but it was the only way I could cover her as much as I wanted to.
This was the possessiveness Zariah wanted, in the cool darkness of her dorm, hidden from the rest of the world. It was only a taste of what I wanted, but it was so good, I’d take it. I craved it.
I wanted to say, ‘I love you.’ No, I needed to say, ‘I love you.’ The arousal clouded my judgment, I was scrambling to think of a reason for why I couldn’t say it.
I couldn’t because Zariah wasn’t there yet.
If I really respected her boundaries, I’d wait for her to catch up to me.
That made sense but it was too much thinking in the moment.
The words burned in my throat, tattooed themselves on my tongue.
‘I love you’ was too close, I couldn’t stop it.
I sank my teeth into her neck to keep my silence and an inhuman cry ripped from her. “I’m cumming!”
Her fingernails dug into my flesh. The pain was searing, but it couldn’t stop my orgasm. I slammed my cock into her. Waves crashed into me, taking my breath, as I spilled deep inside.
The relief left me dizzy. I panted, holding her close.
“Oh, fuck,” she moaned. “That was so good.”
I nodded, drained in every way. “Yeah.”
It was quiet for long seconds, both of us pressed against each other until Zariah finally released my neck. “Denali, I—” Her voice rose an octave. “Oh my god—there’s blood. There’s blood!”
I didn’t know what she was talking about until I saw her hand. My neck ached, but after cumming, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I was numb with pleasure while Zariah limped, tugging me into the bathroom.
“It’s okay,” I mumbled. “It’s just a scratch.”
“No, it’s not okay, there’s so much blood!” Zariah yanked a first aid kit from under her sink, tearing out supplies. “Ryan got this for me for Christmas. I barely use it—oh, this is going to sting—”
“Shit,” slipped out of me and I flinched from the wipes.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Zariah adjusted me on the edge of the tub and pressed my cheek to her stomach as she carefully cleaned me up. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
I relaxed against her bare skin, eyelids drooping. “Mm-hmm.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you either.”
She kissed my hair. “You didn’t hurt me. I already knew you were a pervert. You didn’t have to pay a hundred-dollar parking fee to prove it to me.”
I snorted and winced from the pain. In the end, I had thick bandages on the back of my neck which would definitely be a point of conversation with the guys at practice tomorrow.
“Do you want to watch the rest of the movie?” Zariah murmured and I nodded. We moved to the couch, and I laid on top of her, my face to her chest. Her fingers played through my hair. “Don’t ever keep anything from me again.”
I nodded. “I promise.”
She was quiet for a moment, I could hear her smile in her voice. “I can’t believe you kept that note.”
“I’ll always keep that note.”
“Oh, god. You’re choclava,” she teased. “You’re a cavity. You’re so sweet.”
“Zariah?”
“Hm?”
“Do you want to go ice skating with me?”
That question was tied to the note in my wallet. It was what that day had been centered around five years ago, the real beginning of us. When things became more than a crush, when they evolved into something more.
“I haven’t put on skates in years,” she confessed.
“But you’ll do it for me?”
She hummed, pulling me closer, pressing her lips to my forehead. “Yeah, Alaska. I’d do it for you.”