Chapter Twelve #2
I closed the door behind me softly. My eyes took in the room. It wasn’t too big, but it felt and looked comfortable; the window was covered by a thin white curtain, giving the room a dark but light vibe that seemed comfortable for sleeping.
My gaze moved to Zahra again.
She didn’t cover herself, so I had a full view of her naked stomach. The tiny shirt she wore stopped just below her breasts, and her shorts were folded at the waist like they were oversized. Her legs were on display, lips parted slightly, breathing steady, lost in sleep.
Comfortable but careless.
I silently kicked off my shoes, walking toward the bed.
I stood right before her sleeping figure.
Dipping one knee into the bed, her body followed my weight, but she didn’t move.
I frowned, knowing how easy it was to overpower her this way. What if I had actually wanted to harm her? We would need to discuss this. It was one thing to sleep when necessary, but it was another to leave yourself completely vulnerable.
I placed a fist on the mattress beside her head, hovering above her, casting a shadow.
Apparently, that action was not enough to alert her—
Her eyes snapped open, unfocused, as her hand, with blinding speed, slipped under her pillow while her knees lifted, slamming hard against my stomach; I lost my balance.
I was on my back, and she was straddling me, the cold barrel of a gun—my gun—pressing tightly against my throat.
She unlocked it from the safety, but before she could pull the trigger, my hand forcefully swung hers away.
The gun went off, the bullet shattering a vase by the side of the bed.
She immediately brought the weapon back to me, about to hit me with the hilt, when I grabbed onto her wrist in midair.
Her chest was heaving with adrenaline, eyes burning in a dazed anger. “Zahra,” I called firmly.
She still fought me, her hand pressing my right shoulder down while she tried to twist her wrist out of my hold.
“Zahra, hey! Calm down, it’s just me.”
“Oh, I know it’s you, you motherfucker,” she gritted out.
I blinked, frowning in confusion, locking my grip. “Then why are you still fighting me?”
“Why did you sneak up on me?”
“I did not sneak up on you.”
“So, you just hover over random people when they sleep? That’s fucking—grade-twenty creepy shit, Elio. Nobody does that unless they want to fucking kill you.”
I relaxed. “Did it ever occur to you that I just wanted to kiss your forehead?”
She backed up like I had said the most ridiculous thing. “Why the fuck would you come all the way here to kiss my forehead?”
I took in her face, momentarily getting lost before my gaze locked with hers once more. “Because it’s a pretty forehead?”
There was a knock on the door before a muffled voice yelled, “Anybody dead?”
Her head turned toward the door and then back to me. She relaxed.
The voice came again. “It’s gonna be a shit ton of work to carry a body out of this suite without drawing attention to a bloodied bedsheet, so I hope for you both it’s a case of injured but still breathing.”
The woman above me stopped fighting as she sighed. “It’s your lucky day, Dog; I missed,” she yelled back as I let her wrist go, and she dropped her hand and my gun.
“I can never get a fucking break,” Dog muttered, his footsteps retreating.
Looking back at me, she sighed.
“You almost killed me,” I pointed out, “with my gun, no less. Talk about finishing the job for me.”
“Shut up. I would have killed you. Always call my name before you make me feel like you’re about to suffocate me with a pillow. I kill first, ask questions later … most times.”
“That is not wise.”
“Your opinion was not needed.”
“Hurtful.”
She scoffed, like me and that word had no relationship.
“You still have my gun,” I said, eyeing the weapon. “Why?”
She had taken the gun from me the night I almost killed my father. I didn’t expect her to still have it. Keep it so close. Under her pillow.
Something tightened in my chest.
“I kept it for people who try to murder me in my sleep,” she said.
I held back a smile. “Why did you respond that way when we texted earlier today?” I asked.
She raised a brow at me. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “You have—You’re so annoying sometimes, but I’ll let it slide because you can be weird, but maybe next time, don’t respond to me like you are trying to send an email to the mayor of Milan.”
“I have never emailed the mayor of Milan; I have people who do that for me.”
She glared. “Elio.”
“I do not—” I breathed. “I do not know how to text like you want me to. If you want to teach me, then I will gladly learn as long as it pleases you.”
“Oh, how kind.”
“I am kind to you, even though you just tried to kill me, which is a clear message that you have no trust in me, which is wise. I must commend you, but you should appreciate me more. There are lots of terrible ways I could have reacted to subdue you.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have hovered.”
I shifted a bit but stilled a wince. The muscles in my stomach ached from the impact of her knees slamming into my torso.
She noticed my discomfort because now there was a frown on her face. “You idiot,” she said, her fingers going to unfasten the buttons on my shirt.
Oh?
My gaze left her fingers, moving to her face. My eyes took in all there was to see, but it was not enough; her hair, wild and curly, a mess … a beautiful mess.
She caught my stare, looked away, and then back in a double take.
“What?” she snapped at me, brows furrowing in annoyance.
“I like looking at you,” I told her.
Her fingers paused their movement on my shirt, her eyes searching mine as I rose onto my elbows.
I watched her swallow, watched the way she flushed and her pupils dilate an inch, her blinking abnormal, alongside her breathing.
She looked away from me, fingers working unsteadily on my last button. “I think by now you should know those little flirty compliments do nothing for me,” she said while she pulled my shirt apart, her fingers pressing softly on the bruise that was already forming.
“They don’t?” I asked, supporting my weight with one elbow while I raised my other hand to her hair, smoothing loose strands behind her ear.
She raised her head, eyes locking with mine. “No—they don’t.”
“Are you all right?” I asked with a mock concerned frown, raising myself until I was at eye level with her, my hand caressing the side of her neck, below her ear, and inside her hair.
Her gaze dropped to my lips. “Yeah, why?”
“You’re flustered.”
“I’m not.”
“It is cute.”
“Stop it; those compliments make me cringe. I told you it does nothing for me.”
I felt her breath as I drew closer. “You look quite taken by it.”
“You are wrong,” she said with a lowered voice, her pupils widening in size, our body heat mixing.
“I can even hear your heartbeat.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Then maybe it is mine.” My voice was hoarse and raspy but soft as I tilted my head to the side, drawing my face closer, the side of my nose brushing against hers. Our breathing mingled, our lips were so close, one push, just one push. “It gets hard to tell sometimes,” I whispered.
She closed the distance, her lips catching mine in a kiss that tickled my reasoning.
My hold on the side of her head held firm as our lips moved tentatively, testing the waters, basking in the soft, warm feel, dragging it along like we had all the time in the world to feel the heat that came with each other’s taste, parting to allow the intrusion of our tongues.
My heart, which had been hammering like that was its new function, had me feeling dizzy.
My teeth bit her bottom lip, pulling softly, letting us catch our breaths before we joined our lips together, completely in sync—God, I love kissing her.
I love it so much. I loved how it made me feel like we were lost in a place where time had no effect, a standstill that had me thinking that we could do this forever, survive on the feverish high, a loop of us getting lost in each other.
Her tongue was soft against mine, and her lips perfectly fit mine.
Hell, the soft sounds that left her—unguarded, unshielded. A trance I couldn’t escape—the perfect hypnotism.
This woman has cursed me.
I was aroused; her grinding on my erection served as a predator to the prey that was my control.
I held her firm as I switched our position, my arousal between her legs as I retook her lips, my hand holding onto her hip, squeezing before riding up the dip in her waist, her fingers burying themselves to the back of my head, tangled around my hair.
We broke away to catch our breaths.
My eyes searched hers. “I’m addicted, Sport.” I bit her chin, my fingers working between her legs, touching her through her shorts. “I’m addicted to you.”
Her lips parted as she let out a breathy moan, so quiet—for my ears only. I almost shivered; I almost asked her to grant me mercy. This was killing me; she was killing me. I was so hard, and it was so painful.
I never intended for this. I only wanted to talk. But just like every other occurrence with us, I could never predict it.
I kissed down her neck—no, I sucked down her neck, bruising her.
She liked it because she arched, giving me more room as my hand left between her legs, moving up her stomach as I lifted the small shirt, caressing her breast in my hand, loving the feel as my thumb brushed her pierced nipple, the coldness of the steel having the same effect on my cock as the first time.
Perfect in every word. In every sense.
And now this is mine … she is mine to touch, my possession. My little witch.
Inside her … I needed to be inside her.
I lifted myself a little as my hand came to the folded hem of her shorts.
She got the message, her shaky hands coming to do the job while I got rid of my own clothes.
“The shorts are Dog’s,” she said, her voice heavy.
My eyes snapped to hers. “Do you lack clothes?”
“No?”