15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
~LILLY~
I’m toweling the ends of my hair, drawn like a magnet to the window to peek behind the blinds again.
His car is still parked outside, a different one this time, and a giddy smile stretches across my lips.
The interior is a cavern of shadows, and no matter how much I squint and strain against the glass, I can’t make out his silhouette.
But I can see the steering wheel, the empty leather seats, even the ones in the back.
Wait.
Where…
He’s not in the car.
The realization punches through me just as a faint shift of weight echoes behind me, instantly snapping every nerve ending in my body to attention. I whip around, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Zed is standing in my doorway.
Big and broad and filling the entire frame.
The quiet menace coming off him makes my bedroom suddenly feel claustrophobic.
His black T-shirt clings to the prominent muscles of his chest and shoulders.
Dark tattoos crawl up both arms, disappearing under his sleeves.
The black ink matches his jeans and heavy boots.
A thick silver chain catches a sharp line of light at his throat.
His eyes rake over me, taking in everything from my wet hair to my bare legs, from the oversized sleep shirt down to my feet on the rug. He strips away every layer without even touching me.
“Nice house.”
“How the hell did you get in?”
“Through the door.” He takes a heavy step forward, crossing the threshold into my personal space.
A dizzying realization crashes over me, and my mind flashes back to earlier today, when I joked about him breaking into my house. Obviously, he took it as an invitation.
“Generally, front doors require someone to open them from the other side.” I try to keep my voice steady.
“Yours required about forty seconds.”
He closes the remaining distance between us with slow, confident strides. Before I can draw breath, his fingers close around my jaw, his thumb pressing into the soft skin of my cheek as he lifts my head and forces me to meet his eyes.
“You wanna stick your tongue out at me now, Lilly?”
A shot of pure adrenaline floods my veins. There’s no denying I love the way he touches me. The second his skin meets mine, my entire body lights up, burning away every drop of logic I have left.
Emboldened by the rush of it all, I deliberately stick the tip of my tongue out at him again.
His reaction is instant.
Before I can blink, his mouth is on mine. My hands fly up, grabbing his heavy forearms as I take the full force of the kiss. It’s rough and deep, his tongue pushing into my mouth with a hunger that leaves me struggling to catch my breath.
His hand stays on my jaw while the other lands at my waist and pulls me into him. He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth along my jaw.
“You left,” I say, but it comes out as a confession.
Two days of his constant attention made me miss him the second he was gone.
His mouth shifts against my jaw. “Did you not want me to leave?”
I answer him with a small shake of my head.
“Do you want me to stop and leave now, Lilly?”
The truth? I want him so badly it aches—a low, twisting need in my stomach. But giving in to Zed Mercer feels like jumping off a cliff without knowing where I’ll land.
Instead, I say, “I haven’t decided yet.”
His mouth shifts into a half smile.
“In that case,” he says, voice low and certain, “let me persuade you.”
Before the words can fully register in my brain, his hands are under my thighs and he’s lifting my entire body off the floor.
A sharp squeal of surprise tears from my throat as my instincts take over.
My legs wrap tightly around his waist, and my arms fly up to grip his shoulders to keep from falling.
But the second I press against the hard ridge between us, a rush of heat shoots straight through me.
Even through our clothes, I can feel how thick he is, pressed firmly between my legs.
He grunts at the contact before bringing his mouth down on mine. His hands lock under my thighs, pulling me tighter against him as he presses himself between my legs.
I lean into the kiss, burying one hand in his hair. A rough sound vibrates against my mouth as he bites my bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, grinding his hips forward until I can feel every thick inch of him against me.
My other hand slides over his shoulders and across the top of his back, searching for something to hold on to. The heavy muscles flex and stretch under my palm with every step he takes toward my bed.
I’m not completely aware of what I’ve gotten myself into, but I know I don’t want to stop this anymore.
He reaches the bed and turns, keeping me wrapped around him. Then he lowers us onto it without breaking the kiss.
One knee sinks into the mattress beside my hip. Before I can catch my breath, he lowers himself over me, bracing his hands on either side of my head. He settles between my thighs, his massive body pinning me to the mattress—heavy and overwhelming.
The weight of him steals my breath. His chest presses against my breasts, his hips forcing my legs open. When he starts to move, every slow grind of his hard cock against my soaked panties sends heat through me.
“Zed.”
His hand slides up the back of my thigh, under the hem of my T-shirt, gripping a handful of my ass and squeezing.
“So fucking soft,” he rasps against my neck, rocking his hips forward again.
I moan, lifting my back off the bed and pulling him closer with my legs.
He holds himself up with a single elbow, keeping enough weight off me not to crush me. My hands travel up his back, greedy and shaky, feeling the way his muscles shift and tighten under my palms. He’s so warm, so solid, and so big I can barely reach the middle of his upper back.
Last night at the camp, I could barely see him. Now, my bedside lamp casts light across his face.
He is breathtakingly beautiful. His skin glows in the warmth of the lamp, flawless and smooth. Everything about his face is so perfectly put together he looks almost unreal: the sharp line of his jaw, the straight bridge of his nose, the dark lashes framing his eyes.
His hand glides over me, following the dip of my waist and the curve of my hip.
“Nothing you don’t give,” he murmurs.
I swallow, staring straight into those beautiful eyes.
“I know,” I tell him honestly, my voice a breathy whisper.
His hand slides to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my damp hair before his fist closes, angling my face higher and holding me still under his gaze.
“I will fuck you, Lilly.” His eyes stay locked on mine. “But first, you’re going to beg nicely.”
I look into his eyes and see the meaning behind his fierce words.
For all the control in his grip and the certainty in his voice, he’s giving me control over how far this goes.
I nod, and a deep hum of satisfaction vibrates through him.
His grip on my hair relaxes, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand lingers at the back of my head, keeping me close as he begins a slow path of kisses down the sensitive column of my throat.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I tilt my head back, giving him more room, while his other hand travels over my side and settles on my stomach. His rough palm moves higher, fingers catching the hem of my shirt and drawing it upward, gathering it inch by inch over my ribs.
I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair and tugging him closer, silently begging for more of this weight, more of him.
With one fluid movement, he lifts the shirt over my head and tosses it to the end of my bed.
In the warm light of the bedside lamp, there are no shadows left to hide behind. Last night, the darkness was a shield. Right now, I know he can see me with terrifying clarity.
Insecurity prickles through me.
Zed is, without a doubt, the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And judging by what I’ve seen online, he’s one of the most talked-about star athletes in the NHL. He’s definitely experienced.
And he’s definitely seen more than his fair share of tits.
I instinctively draw my shoulders inward, a subconscious attempt to hide myself from his judgment.
But he doesn’t give me the chance.
His hand cups my left breast, weighing the soft fullness in his palm before giving it a slow, lingering squeeze. My breath stutters when his thumb circles my nipple before dragging firmly across the sensitive tip.
“So fucking perfect,” he rasps.
I bite my lip, a flutter traveling straight down between my legs at his words.
Using his free hand, he hooks his fingers around my left knee, parting my leg wider until his large frame is nestled completely between my thighs.
He shifts his hips, dragging himself against me. Even through the frustrating barrier of my panties and his denim jeans, the friction sends another rush of pleasure through me.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice dropping lower.
I blink through the haze of arousal and find him staring down at me. Up close, the hunger in his eyes scares and thrills me at the same time.
I can feel my heart trying to burst through my skin. He leans down, his dark hair brushing my brow, his scent—fresh linen, cologne, and the warmth of his skin—filling my lungs until I can’t breathe anything else.
“Every fucking inch of you is for me. Just me, Lilly.”
His words leave me breathless. For a moment, he stays there, his body covering mine, his chest pressing me into the mattress.
Then he shifts his weight and pushes off me entirely until he’s sitting back on his heels, his large body taking up the space between my legs.
Even without his chest pinning me down, his presence is overwhelming. He towers over me, a massive, broad wall of muscle and ink that blocks out the rest of the room.
Panic, cold and sharp, floods my veins, and my muscles lock up.
I squeeze my leg against his waist, clinging to him.
I don’t want him seeing it—the ugly, jagged reminder of the day my figure-skating career died.