22. "Iɽ rather walk into the path of a live bomb."
I had just gotten out of the shower, my hair wet and body indulged in my favourite vanilla fragrance.
Finding a soft silk robe, I draped it around my body, when I heard footsteps approach the room next to mine.
Zayden's room. Then I heard the door being pulled open forcefully, but the sound of it shutting never came through.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed what I already suspected.
Zayden was home.
Late, as usual.
The house was dead silent, and from what I knew, Mr. and Mrs. Ashford had gone to bed an hour ago.
I pulled my door open and padded toward his room, curiosity or boredom or the irresistible urge to push his buttons pulling me like a string. His door was ajar, light spilling out into the hallway.
He really needed to close his door all the way.
A little peek wouldn't hurt.
Except, when I got closer, I saw him.
Standing in the centre of the room, his back toward the door, tugging his shirt off his shoulders. His back flexed with the motion, those stupidly broad shoulders stretching, skin gleaming faintly under the light.
Oh.
Okay.
Not a peek, then. A front-row seat.
He hadn't noticed me yet, his attention focused on now removing his watch before he tossed the expensive object on the bed like it didn't cost a fortune.
I stood with my mouth watering as my jaw hung open at the sight. I was caught up in a trance which broke the moment I heard the sound of the buckle of his belt unfastening.
And that was my cue.
I cleared my throat. Loudly. Awkwardly.
He turned sharply, brows drawing together as his gaze landed on me casually leaning in his doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled, his skin still flushed from whatever tension the day had brought him. His jaw was tight, but not from anger.
Not yet.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, voice low and guarded.
I was surprised he hadn't yelled.
I stepped inside, letting the robe fall slightly off one shoulder as I crossed my arms casually. "I heard you come home and decided to pay you a visit since I was bored."
His eyes dropped to the exposed skin of my shoulder, then my legs before flicking back to my face. "So you wander into people's bedrooms when you're bored and then watch them strip?"
My cheeks heated up. "Just yours," I said cheekily. "It's the only one with entertainment value."
He gave no expression. "Your reasons are ridiculously pathetic."
"Oh come on... do I even have to have a reason to see you?" I said innocently, strolling over to his bed like I owned it. I sat at the edge, crossing my legs slowly, watching his throat bob as he swallowed.
His eyes were hooded as he spoke. "You shouldn't come see me even if you have a super valid reason."
I let out a soft laugh. "Admit it already," I said, running my eyes over his sexy, defined torso. "You like my company."
He uttered a small humourless laugh. "I'd rather converse with donkeys."
I rolled my eyes. "Stubborn as always."
He inhaled deeply, as if he was done with life. "You've made it your mission to drive me insane, haven't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, tilting my head with mock innocence.
He watched me like I was a nuisance, but I could tell he was struggling to stay composed. Struggling not to reach forward and experience the feel of my skin against his. His fists flexed at his sides. His chest rose and fell, steady but tense.
"I'm going to shower," he muttered. "And you, get out."
I stood up and stepped directly into his path.
"Or," I said softly, running a finger lightly across his bare shoulder. "Or you could stay right here. With me."
"I'd rather walk into the path of a live bomb." He mumbled, keeping his eyes elsewhere.
"Really? Your behaviour last night spoke otherwise." I taunted.
He snapped his head towards me. "What behaviour?"
"Getting jealous. Trying to control my social outings. Getting touchy under the table." I teased.
His face turned colder. "Whatever floats your boat, Sinclair."
I smirked, shaking my head. "When do you plan on being honest, Zayden?"
He snorted. "I've been honest since day one. It's not my fault you're delusional. That you think every man in your path is dying to make you his."
"Sure." I mocked.
He exhaled sharply, but didn't move away.
"I saw the way you looked at Blake," I continued, voice teasing. "You nearly combusted at the table."
"Are you here to gloat?" He snapped.
"No," I said, stepping even closer, our chests inches apart. "I'm here because you make things interesting."
My fingers danced along the waistband of his pants, brief, featherlight. His breath hitched, just for a second. But it was enough.
"I should walk away." He said quietly.
"Then do it."
Silence.
He didn't move.
"I knew you wouldn't." I smiled, then leaned up on my toes and whispered against his ear, "admit it, you're enticed by me, Zayden Ashford."
I watched as his throat bobbed up and down, his eyes darkened with an indecipherable emotion.
He took a step closer, our chests now touching ever so slightly.
He was about to give in. Again. I could feel it. Another second and his arms would be around me.
But there was absolutely no rush.
I trailed my fingers over his forearm, watching goosebumps erupt all over his skin. He took another step towards me, my covered breasts now firmly pressed against his bare chest. I could feel the warmth of his skin seeping into mine.
"Aurelia." He uttered a low growl, a look of pure hunger darkening his eyes.
I stood on my tiptoes, lips ghosting over his earlobe. "Good night, Zayden."
And just like that, I took a big step back, breaking the spell between us.
I turned on my heel, walking out of his room with deliberate grace, making sure he saw the robe shift with every step. I didn't look back. I didn't need to.
Because the burn of his stare followed me all the way to my bedroom.
And the ache in his silence? That little growl of surrender and lust he had uttered?
That was the sweetest victory yet.