“You smell like I remember,” I whisper.
And it’s true. He does. The same alluring scent of vanilla and musk.
His nostrils flare, his pupils expanding until they nearly overtake his irises. I wonder for a brief moment if I smell like he remembers. If his memory plays tricks on him every time he breathes me in, just like mine does.
But I never get a chance to ask.
Because a half-second later, Zaid drops his head, crushing his lips against mine.
My entire body jerks in reaction, shock shooting through me like a lightning bolt. His lips are firm and warm, hungry and demanding. A groan rumbles through his chest and into my mouth as he deepens the kiss, and he shifts his body on the bed until he’s half on top of me.
A jab of pain flares in the wound in my side, but it’s not strong enough to steal my attention.
All I’m aware of is Zaid.
All I can feel is Zaid.
I’m drunk on the taste, touch, and feel of Zaid on top of me, body pressing into me, lips devouring my mouth and jawline and neck and ears. I’ve kissed him before, but although there’s an echo of that previous kiss in this one, it’s foreign and unfamiliar too. He’s all man now. There’s no trace of the boy he used to be left in his touch.
He’s dominance and possession, hunger and wrath.
As he shifts his hips against mine, I feel the length of him, already hard against my lower belly. It makes a pulse of arousal throb deep between my legs, rising up above my pain and shock and confusion. A moan spills from me against my will, and he shifts again, grinding against me.
“You like that, kitten?” His voice is a ragged rasp, like he’s been drugged by whatever poison has infected me. Like he’s as out of control as I am.
I want to wrap my arms around him and pull him closer, but I’m caught against the binds above my head, held fast in his control. I wonder if he’s going to use it as some power play, but instead, he reaches above us, his lips still consuming every inch of me they can reach, his breath hot against my skin. He gropes blindly for the ropes, and I can feel his frustration building as he struggles to undo them faster. His hips grind harder against mine as he finally unties first one wrist and then the other.
My arms fall free, and he groans, burying his face in my neck and sucking on the tender skin there.
Sparks dance before my eyes, and I feel like I might pass out again—like I might succumb to darkness just like I did in the van when I was bleeding out on the seat.
It’s too much.
Too fucking overwhelming.
Rationally, I know this is my moment to escape, but my body has other plans—my arms wrap around his shoulders, broadened by the years, pulling his body flush up against mine. Another stab of pain radiates through my side, but it only makes the feelings churning inside me spiral higher, making every nerve ending in my body sing.
I feel like I’m outside of myself, like whatever rational mind I have left is observing all of this from the outside.
Whatever is in charge of my body right now is anything but rational. It’s pure animal instinct, the basest of human desires.
The need to feel. To beat back pain with pleasure.
I tilt my head up, letting Zaid kiss and lick his way up my neck and throat.
It’s not enough, so I wrap my legs around him, rolling my hips against his hardness. My breasts strain against the thin shirt I’m wearing, my nipples going taut. I want the full weight of his toned chest against mine, his hands on my breasts, his mouth on my skin. I don’t care if it pulls my stitches. In fact, a reckless part of me hopes it does. Hopes I bleed out in Zaid’s arms, my life flaring like a spark before winking out.
His tongue swirls against the column of my throat, dipping lower as his teeth scrape my collarbone. I grip his head, pressing him into me, weaving my hands through his soft hair as an inarticulate groan falls from my lips. My clit pulses with every suck and nip of his tongue and teeth, jealous of his attention.
His chuckle reverberates through my entire body as he palms my breast, letting his thumb roll in delicate circles across my peaked nipple. My panties are already soaked. I can feel them sticking to my skin, wet with my arousal.
No. This is so fucking wrong. I need to… escape.
But there’s never been a simple escape from Zaid’s touch. He was an addiction when I was sixteen, and now I’m like a druggie falling off the wagon—tossing away six years of sobriety for a momentary high.
Nothing that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours has made sense. It all feels like a fucked up dream.
And this is no different.
Zaid grunts against my skin as he reaches for the zipper of my borrowed jeans, yanking it down and rubbing against my wet panties before slipping a hand all the way down to the heat of my core.
Madness tears through me. Pure insanity.
I buck against his touch, and when he pulls his hand out of my pants to slide his own zipper down, I make no move to stop him. He braces himself on one arm above me, staring down at me with eyes that look almost black. Devilish.
My chest is rising and falling fast, my nipples hard buds beneath the fabric of my shirt, and when his gaze moves down my body, he groans.
“Oh, Jesus…”
He drops his head, his lips claiming mine again as his tongue slides into my mouth with demanding strokes—
“What the fuck?”
The furious shout tears through the almost dream-state I’ve ended up in, and my heart freezes in my chest before taking off like a panicked rabbit. I wrench my mouth away from Zaid’s as we both turn our heads.
The door slams shut behind Hale as he storms into the room.
My blood turns to water, and I can feel the color draining from my cheeks.
The look on his face is pure fury.
6
Grace
“What in the actual fuck is going on in here?”
The words are barely out of Hale’s mouth before he grabs Zaid by the shoulder, throwing him off the bed. The blond man lands hard on the floor with a grunt, and Hale rounds on him. He doesn’t even seem to have noticed that my wrists have been untied—or if he has, he doesn’t care.
Relief and terror clash inside me as I watch Zaid scramble to his feet.
What the fuck did I just do? What would I have done if we weren’t interrupted?
Things were never supposed to go that far. I had hoped to remind Zaid of the friendship we used to have, of the feelings that once existed between us—but those weren’t the feelings I was trying to reignite.
The craving.
The addiction.
The desire.
I didn’t think I would let things get that far, but as soon as they started, I didn’t know how to stop him. I could’ve tried to push him away and make a run for it the second my hands were untied. So why didn’t I? Is it because he was too strong, his bodyweight too solid as he pressed me into the mattress?
Or is it because in that insane, fucked-up moment, I didn’t want to?
Because for one wild second, I would’ve traded my life and freedom just to feel Zaid inside me again?
You’re fucked in the head, Grace.
There’s a crunch as Hale’s fist meets Zaid’s face without warning, vicious and brutal. Zaid’s body absorbs the impact, and he stumbles to the side of the room, rocking the dresser that’s set against one wall and leaving dents in the plaster behind it. Before he has time to recover, Hale rushes at him full-force, hitting him again, blood from his fists splattering their shirts.