Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
JENNY
T he morning light seeps through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling warmth across the room. My eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep, and for a moment, I feel disoriented. My head throbs faintly from last night’s alcohol, and my body feels… different. Sensitive. Sore. As though it belongs to someone else entirely.
And then I feel him.
Zack’s arm is draped over my waist, his hand resting possessively against my stomach, his chest pressed against my back. Heat radiates from his body, sinking into my skin, and I can feel every inch of him…solid, warm, devastatingly close. My breath catches, the reality of last night slamming into me with vivid, all-consuming clarity.
His hands had roamed my body like he owned it. I recall the feel of his cock inside of me.
I can still feel the ache, the way he’d moved inside me with unrelenting precision, each thrust pushing me higher, harder, until I’d shattered beneath him.
I remember the way the orgasm had overtaken me…violent, unstoppable, leaving me trembling and clutching at him like he was the only thing anchoring me to reality. My thighs had shaken uncontrollably, my cries muffled against his chest, and he hadn’t stopped. He’d kept going, drawing wave after wave of pleasure from me until I was nothing but a trembling, gasping mess in his arms.
My face burns at the memory, a mix of shame and something far more dangerous pooling low in my stomach. I squeeze my thighs together, but the dull throb there only reminds me of how completely he’d undone me.
And now… now I’m lying here in his arms, no longer a virgin, no longer the same girl I was yesterday.
My chest tightens as Brett’s face flashes in my mind. Brett, who was supposed to be the one. Brett, who I’d imagined for years as the boy I’d give myself to. Brett, whose name now feels like a distant echo compared to the man lying beside me.
God, what have I done?
I glance over my shoulder, careful not to move too much, and my breath hitches. Zack is still asleep, his face relaxed in a way I’ve never seen before. His dark hair falls in messy waves across his forehead, his jawline sharp and dusted with stubble. The sheet rests low on his hips, revealing the hard planes of his chest, and I feel my pulse quicken.
He looks... devastatingly handsome. Untouchable. Like something out of a dream I’m not yet sure I want to have.
The worst part is, I can’t stop staring at him. Last night, in the dim lights of the club, he’d looked like a force of nature…fury and power incarnate as he defended me. And then later, in this bed, he’d become something else entirely. Tender. Consuming. Irresistible. The way he’d whispered my name, the way his body had moved against mine, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered…it’s all imprinted on me, and I know I’ll never forget it.
But how can I feel this way about Zack when my heart is supposed to belong to Brett?
The thought sends a sharp pang through me, and I carefully lift Zack’s arm, sliding out of the bed as quietly as I can. My dress is crumpled on the floor, a stark reminder of the reckless decisions I made last night, and I grab it hastily, pulling it on with trembling hands. My panties are nowhere to be found, and the realization sends another jolt of embarrassment through me.
I glance at Zack one last time before I reach the door. I shouldn’t. But I do.
And the sight of him nearly undoes me.
He’s sprawled across the bed, the sheet tangled around his hips, his arm stretched across the space I’ve just left. The sunlight streaming through the window catches in his hair, painting him in gold, and his face is serene in sleep. Soft. Beautiful. Devastating.
My chest tightens, and for a moment, I can’t move. My heart races as I take in the sight of him, my pulse thundering in my ears. He looks like everything I’ve ever wanted…everything I didn’t know I needed. And the realization terrifies me.
How can I feel this way about Zack? How can I feel anything for him when it’s supposed to be Brett?
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I force myself to turn away, to shut the door quietly behind me. But as I step into the hallway, the ache in my chest only deepens, and I know one thing for certain.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
The morning feels like a whirlwind, my head still spinning as I rush to pull myself together. The haze of last night clings to me.
The memories are vivid, too vivid, and they’re making it impossible to focus.
I force myself into the shower, letting the cool water wash over me as I scrub away the remnants of sleep and something deeper…something raw and dangerous that has settled under my skin. My legs feel weak, my body sore in places I’ve never felt before, and I can’t stop thinking about how I’d given him everything.
And then there’s the gnawing worry about protection. I hadn’t even thought about it last night, lost in the heat of the moment, but now it’s a steady thrum in the back of my mind. I push the thought away as I dry off quickly, wrapping the towel tightly around me as I glance at the clock.
There’s no time to wallow. My schedule today is packed, starting with a photoshoot for Tod’s at Castel Sant’Angelo.
I dress quickly, pulling on a simple but elegant outfit for the day…high-waisted trousers, a fitted white blouse, and sleek flats. My hair is still damp as I gather my essentials, shoving my phone and lipstick into my purse with shaking hands. Just as I sling the strap over my shoulder, there’s a knock.
The sound startles me, freezing me in place. My heart leaps into my throat, and for a moment, I don’t move, listening intently. The knock comes again, softer this time, and I realize it’s not coming from the main door. It’s the adjoining door between Zack’s room and mine.
Panic flares in my chest. I can’t face him. Not now, not after everything. My heart pounds as I step back from the sound, trying to pretend I haven’t heard it. If I stay quiet, maybe he’ll go away.
But then my phone buzzes in my purse, the shrill tone breaking the silence. My hands fumble as I grab it, silencing the noise. Too late. He knows I’m here.
“Jenny,” Zack’s voice comes through, low and clipped. “Answer.”
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, I lift the phone to my ear. “H-hi,” I manage, my voice hoarse and shaky.
“Where’s your first shoot today?”
The question catches me off guard, his tone devoid of anything that hints at the intimacy of last night.
“Um.. why?” I ask, my chest tightening.
“The morning-after pill. I’ll have it sent to your location as soon as possible.”
My cheeks flush hot, a mix of embarrassment and something else I can’t quite name. His words are practical, responsible, but they still leave me feeling exposed, vulnerable.
“Oh okay, Thank you. I’ll be at Castel Sant’Angelo.”
“Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks,” I manage finally, my voice barely audible. I hang up quickly, my hands trembling as I shove the phone into my bag.
There’s really no need for me to be this nervous and on edge, but I can’t help it. I find myself nearly tiptoeing out from my room into the foyer, and only when I shut the door to the suite behind me do I finally breathe.
The shoot at Castel Sant’Angelo is already in full swing, but I can barely focus. The setting is breathtaking…the ancient fortress rising against the clear Roman sky, a perfect backdrop for the sleek luxury of Tod’s. The photographer barks directions, his voice cutting through the buzz of the crew, but his words barely register. My mind is a mess, my body still reeling from the night before.
As I pose in the soft leather jacket and ankle boots they’ve styled me in, I catch myself stealing glances at the entrance, wondering if Zack will show up. My stomach flips at the thought, and I curse myself for letting him invade my head like this.
The heat of the midday sun is almost oppressive, and I excuse myself to grab some water. Just as I reach for a bottle, my phone buzzes insistently in my bag. I pull it out, seeing Zack’s name flash on the screen.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Did the driver find you?” His voice is calm but direct, laced with something that sounds suspiciously like concern.
I glance around, spotting the sleek black car parked discreetly near the set. “Yeah, he’s here.”
“Good.” There’s a pause, and I can almost picture him on the other end, his jaw tight, his gray eyes focused. “Make sure you take it, Jenny. Don’t forget.”
The clinical nature of the reminder makes my cheeks flush, but there’s no mistaking the care beneath his words. “I know,” I reply quickly, wishing my voice sounded steadier. “I will.”
“Good,” he says again, softer this time. “What time do you finish?”
“Probably around two,” I say, my fingers tightening around the bottle of water. “Why?”
“I’ll be close by. Let’s grab lunch after,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The casualness of his suggestion, the way he acts like this is perfectly normal, throws me. “You don’t have to?—”
“I’ll see you then, Jenny,” he cuts me off gently, but firmly, before ending the call.
I stare at the screen, my heart racing. The phone feels heavier in my hand as I shove it back into my bag, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead blanket.
The driver approaches me with the small, discreet package. My cheeks burn as I take it, muttering a quiet thanks before slipping it into my bag. The other girls on set notice, their eyes darting between the car and me, their whispers carrying just enough for me to catch.
“So you do have connections,” one of them says. “How lucky.”
I ignore them because my insides are churning for completely different reasons.
At two we wrap up earlier than expected but to my surprise, I spot the car waiting for me again.
For a brief, irrational moment, I think he’s inside, but when the door opens, it’s only the driver.
“Mr. Jackson asked me to take you to him,” the driver says, his tone polite but professional. “He’s nearby.”
My pulse quickens as I climb into the car, my mind racing. Lunch. It’s just lunch, I tell myself, trying to tamp down the flurry of emotions. But when I see him waiting outside the small café, looking impossibly put together in a navy button-up that makes his gray eyes even sharper, I know it’s not just lunch. Not for me.
It’s about Zack…the way he makes my heart race and my knees weak, the way he’s managed to slip under my skin without me even realizing it.
As I step out of the car, Zack’s gaze locks onto mine, his expression unreadable but intense. He holds the door open for me, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and the simple contact sends a shiver down my spine.
“You’re early,” he says, his voice low, almost teasing.
“They finished ahead of schedule,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Good,” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “I’m starving.”
I follow him inside, my heart pounding with every step. There’s an air of casualness to him, but I can feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface. It’s in the way he pulls out my chair, the way his eyes linger on mine just a second too long.