Chapter 12 Alessa #2
“I need to move on from this,” I say, wiping my tears away before grabbing Ryder’s hand again. “He didn’t fucking break me. He doesn’t fucking own me. He will regret the day he ever fucked with me.”
“We’ll be right outside, Pretty girl,” Gage says, kissing my cheek and leaving me at Zane’s door.
After my declaration, Gage thought it was a good idea for me to go on a date with Zane. So, Dex and Gage are sitting outside Zane’s apartment on the lookout while I do. Nothing says crazy quite like that.
I rub my hands down my jeans nervously. It’s the first time I’ve had jeans on. I paired it with a smaller t-shirt that isn’t one of the guys, but I opted for flats rather than my usual heels. I’m not ready for that yet.
“Get your shit together,” I whisper to myself. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve seen this man naked, but butterflies are attacking my stomach. I knock, and he opens it almost immediately.
His sandalwood scent hits me first, and I swallow more nerves.
What the hell? I’m acting like a simpering virgin getting ready to get her cherry popped. Damn it. That is not the right image to see right when my eyes lock onto his; neither is remembering how good he looks naked.
He sweeps his arm out, welcoming me inside. He shuts the door behind me, giving me a nervous laugh. “I don’t know why this is so awkward,” he says.
Some of the nerves leave since he’s feeling it too. “Could be because two of my boyfriends are guarding us right now.”
He barks out a laugh. “Could be.” He slides his hand into mine. “Dinner’s almost ready.” He pulls me toward the kitchen before seating me at the island. He kisses the top of my head before walking to the stove and stirring something that smells divine.
“You cooked for me?” I ask in awe. I figured he would order something. I forgot Zane could cook, unlike the rest of us.
“I hope I remembered it right. I made Ragu Alla Bolognese sauce.”
Oh. My. God. He made my grandma’s signature sauce, which my mom also made. Those stubborn tears spring into my eyes. “You didn’t have to.” He glances at me, and I can see the panic when he sees the tears. I wave my hand with a laugh. “Don’t worry.”
He eyes me doubtfully, flipping the stove off for the sauce and pasta. The flavors fill the air as he mixes the sauce over a bed of fettuccini pasta. I’m zapped back to my childhood of my mom making the same thing, and it makes me smile because he knows how much my dad loved this dish too.
“What can I do?” I ask, so I stop staring at how sexy he looks, moving around the kitchen. His t-shirt is stretched across his muscular back; every time he moves, I can see the muscles shift, and his faded jeans are molded to his ass.
“You can set the table,” he says, turning around with a smile.
I pull my boots off and slide by him in the kitchen to the cabinet he’s pointing to.
The kitchen is small, and it puts us elbow to elbow.
Maybe I should have stayed my ass on the stool.
I suck it up and reach on tiptoe for the plates, and he chuckles.
“Shut up,” I grouch, finally pulling them down. “Not all of us can be giants, okay?”
He tucks his lips in to keep from laughing. My dad was six-four, and my mom was five-ten. How the hell I ended up being five-four, I’ll never know. Stupid genetics. “Silverware is in there. Wine glasses are in there. And the wine is in the refrigerator,” he says, pointing everything out.
I get everything on the table when he walks over with our food. Walking back to the kitchen, he brings out the best-smelling garlic bread. It might even rival Micah’s, not that I would tell him.
He pulls my chair out for me before plating up our food. “I can do that,” I say to him with a smile.
He shrugs. “I know. I want to.” When done, he pops the cork on a chilled Chianti Classico, the perfect pairing for the main dish.
We eat in silence after he sits down, sneaking glances at each other the whole time. Time hasn’t done anything to Zane except make him sexier. The laugh lines add to his sex appeal. There isn’t a gray hair in sight, and I know Zane wouldn’t dye his hair.
“That was perfetto,” I say after I’ve eaten all I can. I take another sip of my wine and let the taste explode on my tongue.
“I hope I did it justice,” Zane says, sipping his own. “I knew this was your favorite growing up.”
“It was delicious, Zane. Thank you,” I tell him honestly, then smile. “Pulling out all stops, huh?” I joke.
“Anything for you, Beautiful,” he chuckles. “I do have competition.”
I snort, very unladylike. “They can’t cook, so you have them there.”
Together we clean up from dinner, set the pots to soak, grab our wine, and he leads me to his couch. I sit down against his side with my feet tucked under me. “Did you have all this here to make?”
“No.” He rolls his eyes. “Your crazy as fuck boyfriend told me I wasn’t allowed to leave the house alone, so I had the ingredients delivered.”
I can’t help but laugh. Without asking, I know that was Gage. “He’s right, you know.”
“I know,” he says, nodding, and then chuckles. “That asshole almost scalded me with hot coffee the day he came here.”
A laugh bubbles out. “What?”
“When he got here,” he starts, taking a sip of his wine before sitting it on the coffee table, taking mine, and sitting it beside his. “I wasn’t good. He bullied me into drinking coffee and taking a shower after he poured my whiskey down the sink.”
“I’m glad he did,” I tell him honestly. Ever since he told me what he was going through, I couldn’t help but feel like shit for leaving him alone. I had my guys; he didn’t have anyone. The one friend I know of was Jay, who turned out to be a sadistic bastard.
“Me too,” Zane admits and then looks at me. “You know that boy isn’t right in the head?”
I laugh because I can hear the humor in Zane’s voice. “I’m well aware. I like him like that.”
He rolls his eyes again. “Of course you do.”
I grin at him, and something in his expression changes.
All the humor leaves his face, and in its place is an expression I can’t decipher.
It’s answered for me when he slides a hand to cup the side of my face and leans in until his lips almost touch mine, leaving that bit of distance for me to close.
“Please let me kiss you now,” he says hoarsely.
I slide my hand up to his face, pressing our lips together.
We shiver at the contact while he splits my lips apart with his tongue, massaging mine with his. We made it one hour before his lips were on mine. That’s got to be some sort of record.
He kisses me slowly, letting me get used to his lips on mine again. I forgot what it feels like to kiss him. He kissed me that first day we were grabbed, but that was desperate and quick. This is sweet, unhurried.
I slide my hand down to his chest, over his pounding heart, causing him to groan into my mouth. Ever so slightly, he leans into me, making me lie down on the couch. He rearranges my legs so he can lie between my spread thighs, his body weight on me, his lips never leaving mine.
“Wait. Wait!” I panic, jerking my mouth away.
He sits back on his heels immediately, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit. I’m sorry, Beautiful. I didn’t mean to take it that far.” He goes to step off the couch, and I grab his hand.
“It’s not that.” It wasn’t the kiss; I don’t regret that not since I know where the guys stand. “I can’t be like that.”
He frowns, then I can see the moment he realizes.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean to...shit.” He leans down until our lips are inches apart with one hand braced on the arm of the couch behind my head, not putting any weight on me.
“I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t stop him.
” I can see the torment in his eyes and peck his lips.
“Neither of us could stop him.” I rub my hand down his cheek. “I don’t blame anyone but myself, Zane. I didn’t take the threat seriously.”
He slowly sits up, taking me with him, arranging me back under his arm. “I should have seen something,” he says; it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve worked with him for two years and never saw anything.”
I take his other hand in mine. “People like him are good at hiding. I never picked up anything from him but hatred; I would never have thought…” I can’t finish that sentence out loud.
Never in a million years did I think something like that would happen to me twice in a lifetime.
It just shows me that I got complacent, something I can’t afford to be anymore.
Zane squeezes my hand in his and pulls me even closer.
I lay my head on his chest and just soak in the strength that Zane has always had.
Even though it feels good to be back in his arms, I can’t help but feel guilty.
My guys understand more than I ever thought they would.
Especially Ryder. He’s had the hardest time with all of this, and here I am, away from them with another guy.
But what Zane and I went through can’t be described. Gage got me to admit the one thing that I need, that one thing is Zane. There are several other things, but this is the biggest one.
After being around him for six weeks, even if they were all bad, I didn’t see him for two weeks.
Too afraid to reach out to him to ask how he was, too worried about me.
I felt like a piece of me was missing; if I was honest with myself, it’s been missing the whole time I’ve been away from Zane after we broke up.
I need to decide where it concerns Zane and me; he deserves that.
He doesn’t deserve me leading him on if this isn’t what I want.
I take stock of how I feel at this moment.
Comfortable. Protected. Safe. I look at him, studying his profile when something settles over me.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my hand from his, sliding it up his cheek so I can turn his face back to me.
His eyes slam into mine, and I know what to do.
Something that will help me figure out if this is right.
Taking a deep breath, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips are a breath away from mine, and his breathing immediately speeds up. I tug against him until he starts to lay me back on the couch. “Les, you don’t…”
I silence him with a kiss. “I said he didn’t win, and he didn’t.
It’s time for me to take the power back from him.
” I kiss his lips again. “Let me take it back.” I love it when any of the guys are pressed against me, their body weight resting on me.
It made me feel...safe. Protected. I’ll be damned if he takes that.
I’m putting a lot into Zane, letting him show me that I can trust him by giving him this.
Zane slowly settles his weight on me until we’re chest to chest. “Is this okay?” I take a shaky breath and nod.
“Let me help you take it back from him,” he whispers against my lips before sealing our lips together.
Tears spring in my eyes, and I ignore them.
Nothing is going to stop me from taking my life back.
It takes several agonizing minutes of focusing on Zane’s lips moving against mine, his tongue massaging mine, until I feel myself melt into the couch.
He never speeds up; he doesn’t rush me and lets me go at my own pace.
When he feels me relax, he lowers the bottom half of his body.
His hard cock comes in contact with my center through my jeans, and I can’t stop the moan.
My hips raise, seeking friction on their own accord.
We can’t go any further than this; neither of us is ready for that.
But the more I kiss him, the harder it is to pull away.
“We have to stop,” Zane says against my lips, echoing my thoughts, before latching on to my lips again like he can’t get enough. His hips start moving with mine, seeking his friction, and it feels so damn good.
“Yeah,” I agree when he comes back up for air, laying kisses on my neck.
If he doesn’t stop, we won’t be able to turn back.
My hips are pushing up, and his are grinding down, both of our bodies begging to be set free.
He kisses to the neckline of my shirt before suddenly sitting back, pulling me with him.
“We have to stop,” he repeats, smoothing the hair back from my face.
I’m so keyed up that I almost tell him fuck it, but we can’t. Not yet. “I know.” This is a momentous thing for us. I don’t want to mess it up by moving too fast.
He slants his mouth over mine, laying me back on the couch again before pulling back.
“Text one of them to come get you before I take you right here,” he says while kissing my neck.
A moan slips out, the thought flashing behind my eyes.
He stands up, adjusting his cock through his jeans.
“None of that,” he warns, pointing at me. “Les. Now.”
I chuckle at him, but I know he’s right. He’s just as keyed up as me, and I know it won’t take much to tip this over the edge. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I message Gage that I’m ready and wait. Zane is as far away from me as he can get, and I can’t help but laugh. “Are you scared of me?”
He narrows his eyes. “We need to go slow. I want to do this right, but my dick is rock hard right now, and all I can think about is sinking into your pussy.” He takes another step back from me. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” I ask with another laugh.
“Stop giving me that look. Damn it, Beautiful. You’re testing my willpower right now.
” A knock sounds at the door, and I don’t know if he’s relieved or pissed.
He strides over and jerks it open. “Take her,” he tells Gage as he steps in, looking between Zane and me.
His face morphs into one of his grins when he takes in Zane’s wrinkled shirt and my messy hair until he’s full-on belly laughing.
“It’s not funny, asshole,” Zane growls, making Gage laugh harder.
I forgot how infectious that laugh is. I don’t know what I expected when Gage walked in, but it wasn’t this.
Gage wipes tears from his cheeks. “Fuck yeah, it is. Not even the mighty Zane can resist her.” Zane growls again, and Gage dances away from him when he tries to grab him.
“Come on, Pretty girl,” Gage laughs, pulling me from the couch. I walk over and slide my boots back on before walking to the door, where Zane is still standing with it wide open.
I run my hand up his chest and lay a peck on his lips. “See you later.”
“Later, Beautiful,” Zane says, running his hand down my cheek.
Walking out with Gage’s arm around my shoulders, I feel this could work.
The real test will be Ryder and Zane in the same room.