“Not anywhere anyone will see us together,” he says like he is reading my thoughts. “So what will it be?”
“Deal,” I agree, and I stand only to look down. “Ah, Zayn?” I ask, and he tilts his head to the side. “My clothes?”
He blinks at me. “Ah, right. You threw up on them. I threw them in the trash.”
I glance down at the shirt I’m wearing. I can’t go to breakfast like this and certainly not home in this. My eyes widen in horror, another thing I will need to explain to my father.
Zayn moves toward me, and I peer up at him. He grabs my shoulders. I stare at him like a damn moron, then warmth rushes through me. Oh, no, what if he did sire my wolf? He must realize where my thoughts went because he chuckles and rolls his eyes, steering me toward the bathroom.
The bathroom is spacious and modern, with gleaming fixtures and a large, glasswalled shower.
“I think you sired my wolf!” I blurt embarrassingly, and my hands move to my mouth.
“Why? Fantasizing about me now?” he purrs.
“And you don’t sound the least bit upset about that!” I growl. He appears to think for a second. “Nope, not at all.”
Zayn’s nonchalance about the possibility of having sired my wolf only adds to the swirling chaos of emotions inside me. His casual dismissal of something so significant makes my head spin, yet his next words stop me dead in my tracks.
“Would it be such a bad thing if I sired you?” he muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “At least I know how to treat a woman.”
I scoff at his audacity. “Really? You? How exactly would you treat me differently?”
He steps closer, and the intensity of his gaze sends a thrill down my spine. “For starters, I wouldn’t leave you vulnerable and alone at a club,” he begins, his voice low and steady. “I’d respect you, protect you…” His words trail off.
I roll my eyes, trying to mask the effect his words are having on me.
His proximity is overwhelming, his scent envelopes me, making it hard to think. The idea of being with Zayn, of being his, sends a jolt of excitement mixed with fear throughme. His words, though seemingly playful, carry a weight that’s impossible to ignore.
“And how exactly would you do that?” I challenge, my voice barely above a whisper.
Zayn’s smile evolves into something more predatory, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sends a rush of excitement through me. He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand lifts, tracing a line down the side of my face, his touch feather-light, causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach.
“You have no idea, Cleo, how much I could appreciate you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive hum that vibrates through me. His hand moves lower, skimming the curve of my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
His other hand comes up to gently cup my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I’d worship every inch of your body,” he continues, his gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. “Every curve, every line…” His fingers trail down to the neckline of the oversized shirt I’m wearing, teasing the edge of the fabric.
I catch my breath, my body responding to his touch in ways I can’t control. His proximity, the heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze—it’s overwhelming, intoxicating.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “With my hands, my tongue, I would trace every inch of you. You’d never be out of my sight, you’d be lucky if I let you out of my bed,” he whispers, sending heat throughout my body. “I’d make sure you were safe, cherished...”
His words are like a caress, wrapping around me, pulling me deeper into the spell he’s weaving. I can feel myself getting lost in the moment, in the fantasy he’s painting—a fantasy where I am adored, where I am the center of someone’s world.
Then he ruins it, his voice turning teasing, almost taunting. “I certainly wouldn’t abandon you while you were in a vulnerable state,” his face pulls away with a smirk.
“By the smell of your arousal, I bet you want to find out exactly how I’d worship you, don’t you?” His fingers trace lower, brushing just below the hem of the shirt, teasing the bare skin of my thighs. “I bet Deacon doesn’t get the same reaction from you.”
The spell breaks, and I step back, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat my face.
So intimate and raw, that cuts through me, reminding me of the reality of the situation.
“I... You can’t just say things like that,” I stammer, trying to regain my composure. The mix of arousal and embarrassment leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Zayn’s expression shifts, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes before he masks it with a smirk. “Can’t I?”
Turning away from him, I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a turmoil of emotions raging inside me. Zayn’s words, his touch, have awakened something within me, something I can’t quite understand. And as much as I want to explore it, I’m also terrified it may mean he has sired me.
The heat rises in my cheeks.
