Chapter 11 #2
He grins dangerously and yanks my shirt over my head. I try to do the same to him, but he gently pins my wrists and kisses the hollow of my throat. The scrape of his teeth makes me arch into him.
“God, Helena,” he says, voice hoarse, “you have no idea.”
I want to say, “I do,” but all that comes out is a gasp as he licks a slow, hot path from one nipple to the other.
It’s almost clinical at first. He’s clearly determined to make me lose my mind with patience.
But the longer he tastes me, the rougher his motions get.
I’m shaking by the time he settles me onto the sofa and kneels between my legs, pushing my shorts down with a care that borders on reverent.
The candle’s flame throws gold and shadow across the room. He looks up, waiting for a sign that this is too much. But I am so far past that point that I barely remember my own name.
He kisses the inside of my thigh, then higher. His teasing seems to last forever until his mouth is finally on me. Stars bloom behind my eyes. His tongue is slow, methodical, as if he were trying to unravel all the knots in my body with just his mouth. Except there’s one knot I do want in my body.
I bury my hands in his hair and pull him closer, not wanting him to ever stop.
A sob rips through me as I cum, so loud, I’m sure the neighbors will call the police. I hear him laugh, low and pleased, and then he’s crawling up my body, kissing every inch of me on the way.
I’m still trembling from the aftershocks, but my hands work with the precision of a thief’s as I tug at Zane’s sweats, dragging the waistband down his hips.
The soft cotton peels away and, for the first time, I see exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about for years.
He’s huge—fitting, really, considering the rest of him—and already so hard, it bobs upward as soon as I free it.
Good lord.
My breath stutters, a laugh blooming out of pure disbelief. Zane huffs and reaches to cover himself, but I catch his wrist and pin it to the sofa.
“Let me.” I’m surprised by the greed in my own voice.
His chest heaves and the air between us is as charged as lightning. The power’s still out, leaving only the candle’s golden light to break the darkness.
I kneel between his knees as the last of the storm’s thunder rolls through the eaves. Zane shivers, not from cold, but from something more urgent and raw, a tension as old as time.
I want to see him come undone.
I let my hands trace his hips, gentle, reverent, drawing out the anticipation as I slide his sweatpants down further, baring him completely.
He’s beautiful. I want to remember every detail: the way his breath hitches as I wrap my fingers around him, the tremor in his thigh muscles as he tries to will himself steady.
I stroke him slowly with both hands. An unguarded, primal sound coils from his lips with the motion.
My body flushes with heat in response. I savor the moment, the power and the trust. The way he gives himself over to me with no expectation, just a hunger that’s both familiar and shocking in its intensity.
With every movement, his restraint threatens to snap, but Zane is Zane; even stripped of every defense, he wants to do the honorable thing.
I tease him, barely brushing my lips to the tip, tracing the length of him with just the wet edge of my tongue. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to look down at me. Maybe because if he saw me like this, kneeling for him, he’d lose it completely. It’s a tantalizing thought.
I swallow him inch by inch, filling my mouth with the taste of him, letting my tongue work circles until I feel his leg jump against my shoulder.
He tries to warn me. “Helena—” My name is a plea and a curse, cracked at the edge of his control. “You’re an absolute goddess with that tongue.”
I grin around him and do not stop. I want him wrecked. I want to strip every layer away, every ounce of stoic discipline, until there’s nothing left but the man who watched over me for years and never asked for a thing in return.
I glance up. His face is wild, flushed and desperate, a storm of emotion he never lets anyone else see. The intimacy of this moment is so much. So everything.
His hand finds my hair and grips tight to anchor himself. He doesn’t force me, just holds on.
“Helena—” He tries again, but the word dissolves in the low growl that vibrates from his chest. His hips jerk against my mouth, all control gone.
I moan around him. Seeing Zane fall apart like this, to be so vulnerable in my hands, is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
His whole body tenses. The storm outside is nothing compared to the one inside Zane, the way his need detonates through him and into me.
Zane gasps loud enough to drown out the rain.
It turns into a growl as I swallow all of him without breaking eye contact.
I let him see what he’s done to me, how greedy I am for everything he is.
The aftershocks ripple through his legs.
Zane collapses back against the cushions, head thrown back, eyes closed in absolute surrender.
Only the sound of our breathing fills the air between rumbles of thunder.
The world is reduced to candlelight and two people who’ve just crossed a line they can never uncross.
I sit back on my heels and wipe the corner of my mouth.
I’m a little shaky but far more triumphant—and suddenly, weirdly shy.
Zane looks at me as if I were a miracle he doesn’t deserve. “Goddess,” he repeats.
“Nothing about that felt holy.”
But I’m wrong. I’m so, so wrong.
He holds my gaze for a beat, the blue of his eyes softened by the candle’s glow. Then he reaches for me, pulling me onto his lap so he can wrap his massive arms around me. Our mouths meet.
I melt into his kiss, dizzy with the knowledge that I could do this for the rest of my life.
When I pull back, I whisper, “You had me first, Zane. You will always have me. But we may have a pack.”
Zane holds my face with his warm hand. “I know. Collect them tomorrow.”
I smile warmly. “I will.”
The candle burns itself down to nothing while we sleep there on the couch together. Outside, the storm moves on.