Chapter 15 #2
"Since I was sixteen, you're the first person who made me feel like I'm not alone," he said.
"And I need you to know that—before anything else happens tonight.
Because this isn't just physical for me.
It hasn't been since I figured out that Hopper's laugh was the only thing getting me through the week. "
A tear slid down her cheek. He caught it with his finger.
"You're an idiot," she whispered.
"I know."
"I care about you, too." She pulled her shirt over her head.
He stood there and stared at her wearing nothing but his boxers and her sports bra. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
"You make me forget I'm living underground," he said.
She smiled as she leaned into him. "It's not so bad with people who matter."
He dragged his lips along the line of her throat, feeling the tremor that ran through her when he sealed his lips at the base and sucked.
Making love to her these last few days had been—well, he hadn't known what he’d been missing. Sex with other women had always been good, but Zadie made him feel and want things he’d never even daydreamed about. Things like stability, constant human contact… things like his parents had had.
He ripped off his shirt and tossed it aside.
She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. The scrape of her nails along his neck sent a jolt of electricity through him. He teased her lips before diving his tongue deep into her mouth, savoring the way she always tasted like a combination of sweet and tart.
Heat rolled off her skin. He skimmed his palms over the smooth line of her sides, catching the fabric of her bra.
He eased it over her head, letting it drop to the floor.
Bringing his lips to her shoulder, he traced a path with his tongue across her skin to her taut nipple.
He circled it, tormenting her, while she dug her fingers into his scalp.
He grazed her with his teeth, and she let out a deep moan that raised goosebumps on his skin. He dragged a hand to the waistband of the boxers she wore, and her belly shivered as his knuckles brushed skin. Her fingers tightened in his hair, as he twisted and pulled at her nipple until she arched.
"Yes, oh god, yes."
He slid lower, kisses skimming over the ladder of her ribs, being careful as he delicately skimmed his lips over the bruises.
He continued his path lower to the warm plane of her stomach.
Her muscles jumped beneath his mouth. Curling his fingers under the elastic riding low on her hips, he eased the boxers down, the cotton dragging slowly over her thighs until they pooled at her ankles.
The bruise on her knee had darkened to a deep purple that had spread halfway down her shin. He ran his thumb gently across it.
"Lay back on the bed," he whispered as he helped lower her to the mattress. All he wanted was to please her. Worship her. Give her what she wanted. and make sure she knew she was desired.
A slight gasp escaped her lips as he spread her legs wider.
He kissed her knee, then higher, inhaling her fruity scent. Her hand slid down to his shoulder, fingers flexing. He took his time, tasting and teasing not just because he needed it for himself, but he wanted the pleasure to climb to the highest peak for her.
When he flattened his tongue, she trembled.
And then again when he changed the pressure.
He continued to chase the rhythm that made all the sounds spill out of her.
He filed them away in his mind so he could be fluent in them.
He wanted to understand everything about Zadie.
This was just one small part of who she was, but it was an important part.
It connected him to her like hardware to software.
She raised her hips to meet his mouth. "Oh, god, I’m…" Her fingers tangled hard in his hair, and she groaned. He'd never believed in fate. Or that things happened for a reason.
But Hopper…Felicity…Zadie…this?
Lifting his head, he circled his thumb gently over her clit and watched her face as she bit down on her lower lip, her eyelids fluttered closed as she moaned.
This was exactly where he was supposed to be and Zadie was…fate. She was everything.
Her muscles quivered, and she was so close. He inserted two fingers and she immediately tightened around him.
He lowered his head, flicking his tongue across her, and she exploded again as her legs clamped down around his face.
She held him there for a long moment before she shuddered, sighed, and released her grip.
He kissed the soft, shaking skin of her stomach and drew back, chest heaving, mouth wet, proud and half-wild with it.
"Kiss me." She yanked him on top of her and kissed him hard. Her hands were everywhere—his shoulders, down his back, inching into his jeans. "Get out of these things," she said. "It’s my turn."
He shoved his jeans down, rough with haste, because he couldn’t deny Zadie anything. His belt clanged against the floor. The room felt warmer and lamplight pooled over her skin.
He reached toward the nightstand, closing his fingers around the edge of the drawer, digging inside, and pulling out the condom.
"Give that to me," she said, voice low enough to hum through him.
He set the foil in her palm.
She sat up, knees bracketing his hips, and stroked him with a slow surety that made his breath lock. He caught himself on the headboard with one hand as she set the condom aside.
He rested his forehead to hers for a second, just to pull air into his lungs. Her mouth curved. She shifted, nudging him back. She followed, bending over him, hair falling in a dark curtain against his chest.
"I said, my turn." She kissed a line from his collarbone lower, open-mouthed, and a little greedy.
He felt every scrape of her teeth like an electric pulse.
He flexed his hands uselessly in the sheets while she dragged her tongue along the cut of his abdomen, then took him in her hand again and stroked him slowly, teasingly, her finger pressing just enough to short-circuiting his thoughts.
"Zadie," he said, or tried to.
She exhaled, her breath hot against the head of his cock and then closed her mouth over him. Hot. Wet. The soft pull of her lips and the slick slide of her tongue dragged him headlong into a sea of unrelenting sensation, and he lost the fight to keep himself quiet.
He forced his eyes open because not watching would’ve been a crime he couldn’t live with.
He'd never been a selfish lover. But he'd also never been with anyone like Zadie before.
She was special. Unique. And not because of what she was doing to him, but because how she gave herself to him.
How she shared her vulnerability. Her strength.
Mostly, how she was always herself, even in the most impossible situations.
He reached down, stroked her hair back. His thighs tightened. His toes curled. He wasn’t going to last. Not like this. Not tonight. Not with how she made him feel… everything. She’s mended so many wounds with a simple touch.
He drew her up with hands that were shakier than he liked. He kissed her, rough and grateful. Again, not for the act, but the emotion that came with it. The connection they'd made. He'd been lost, and she'd found him. He didn’t want to ever let her go.
She broke off the kiss, reached for the condom, and before he could catch his breath, she was rolling it over him.
"Tell me," he said, voice hoarse. "How you want it."
"Like this," she whispered, as she straddled him, and he sank into her like a slow exhale.
He gripped her hips and held on as she settled, taking him all the way. They both went still for a heartbeat. He could feel his own pulse in his throat, in his wrists, in the way she squeezed around him.
She drew up an inch, and he followed, thrusting shallowly. She moaned quietly against his neck. When she moved, he matched her. Slow at first. It didn’t matter how they got there, only that they found it together.
He slid a hand up her back, fingers mapping the knobs and dips, then down again to cup her ass.
He angled his hips and felt her clench, felt her breath stutter against his jaw.
He did it again, and she rolled her hips in response, seemingly chasing the sensation with a little gasp that had him seeing white around the edges.
The sight of her riding him—head thrown back, throat bared, sweat catching at her collarbone—overrode him in some fundamental way. He dragged a finger to where they were joined, found her clit, and flicked lightly. Her whole body shivered. He felt it ripple through his palm.
"Gideon," she said. "Yes. Yes."
She clenched hard around him, and he ground up into her, holding her down through it, his own control shredding when her nails bit into his shoulders. She came with a shudder that rolled through her entire frame and dragged him right to the edge with her.
He didn’t follow. Not yet. He wanted more. Needed more.
"Turn," he whispered against her skin. "Please."
She lifted. He slid out of her and guided her down to the mattress on her hands and knees, pressing a kiss to the small of her back as she went.
He ran his hands along her sides, fingertips skimming the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips.
He fit himself behind her and eased back in slowly, almost painfully, until he couldn’t go any further and had to close his eyes.
He wrapped an arm around her, palm flat against her belly to pull her back against him.
His other hand splayed on the mattress. Her hair stuck to the sweat at the nape of her neck.
He kissed her there and felt her tremble.
He moved. Deeper this time, each thrust deliberate, angled until his vision blurred with the sound of her breath scraping out of her.
She pushed back against him in short, hungry little motions that made him dizzy.
"Tell me if—"
"Don’t stop," she said. "God, please don’t stop.
" Her arms buckled, and she collapsed to her forearms, cheek turned to the pillow, body shaking hard. He held her right there, pressed deep, and rode her release with her. She squeezed him so tightly, he lost the tiny bit of control he’d been clinging to.
He groaned, snapping his hips twice, before he stilled and let the wave take him under.
It rolled through him in sharp, blinding flashes—pleasure that bordered on pain, everything in him unwinding at once.
He stayed buried inside her, forehead resting on her damp shoulder blade, trying to catch his breath, but his lungs burned.
He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
Slowly, her body relaxed, and she let out a long sigh.
He tucked her back against his chest and fell into the mattress on his side.
Her soft curves settled against his hollows as if they'd been individually carved to fit together.
He dragged the sheet up over them with clumsy fingers and pressed his mouth to the soft place behind her ear.
"That was…"
"Incredible? Amazing?" She laughed. "You’ve wrecked me."
"Is that a good or bad thing?"
"As if you even have to ask." She took his hand and pulled it around her body. "You’d better be destroyed. I’m a jealous woman, and I don’t ever want it to be that good for you with anyone else."
"I don’t ever want to be with anyone but you again," he whispered. "It will always be you."
She hugged his arm tighter but said nothing, and that was okay. There were too many unknown to start making declarations. But he meant what he said, and he knew he was falling in love with her. Knew that before he’d even known Hopper was Zadie.
If and when this thing with Finch ever ended, Gideon would show her what kind of man he could be. He’d prove to her he was worthy. It might take some time, but she was worth it.