Page 19 of Her Ohio Old Flame

There was no hesitation in him. No stiff, uncertain strokes or clumsy fumbling. His kiss was urgent and uncompromising, like he needed her the way he needed air.

He devoured and gave all at once, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with intent, coaxing and demanding in equal measure. Her pulse skyrocketed, heart pounding as if trying to keep pace with his need. Her brain scattered, every coherent thought burning away in the heat of his touch, the press of his body, the sheer force of emotion behind his kiss.

When he broke their lip-lock, he whispered against her mouth, “Be mine, Asha.” He sucked on her bottom lip and gave it a nibble before soothing the little indentation his teeth had left with his tongue. Her knees turned weak.

“In my mind, you’ve always been mine. Let’s forget about the past and forget about tomorrow. Let us have this. Be in the moment with me, babygirl. Just feel.”

She wanted to believe it was possible. To believe she could let go of the past and allow herself to stop worrying aboutwhat might come next. And maybe it wasn’t simply temptation anymore. Maybe she was already there, fully surrendering in body, mind, and soul.

“Stay with me.” A command wrapped in a plea.

She gave a single nod.

That was all the permission he needed.

Closing the distance in a heartbeat, Zane captured her mouth with a kiss that shattered every barrier. He didn’t hold back. He swept in his tongue like he owned her—like he’d always owned her—and the intensity of his claiming made her knees buckle. She clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something solid as the world tilted.

He licked, bit, devoured—taking her mouth with an all-consuming hunger, dominating, and impossible to resist. One hand tangled in her hair, tightening just enough to send a thrill through her body. The other dug into her hip, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them, only heat and the maddening friction of need.

She couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. All she could do was hang on and ride the wave as her body responded instinctively, as it arched, writhed, and yearned more. Still kissing her, Zane backed her into the wall, anchoring her as if he’d never let her go again.

Shameless now, Asha rubbed herself against the solid thigh Zane pressed between her legs, chasing friction like it was oxygen. A raw moan tore from her throat, her body past the point of pretending this wasn’t exactly what she needed.

He tasted like coffee and heat—dark, rich, with an edge of something primal and unmistakably male. The flavor of him spun through her head, stripping away thought until only want remained. Every reason she’d clung to for why this was a bad idea crumbled beneath the pressure of his mouth, his hands, his presence.

With a growl of determination, Zane gripped her ass, lifted her as though she weighed nothing, and pinned her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them together, and rolled her hips, grinding her needy center against his hard length, chasing relief that only he could give.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he rumbled. “You with me?”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled in his neck.

“Baby, do I have your consent?”

Asha blinked, and her brain frog evaporated. No, no, no. She didn’t want to think. “Please, Zane. Please. Make love to me.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist, he took her upstairs, two steps at the time.

How was he doing that? Yeah, she’d slimmed down, but she was still a considerable weight. He carried her like she was a miniature dog, not a five-feet-five-inch woman with a big booty.

At the top of the stairs, he turned into a room she assumed was his. She barely had time to register anything before he crossed to the bed, but impressions of the space sank in. It was all earthy tones and dark wood, nothing flashy or staged. Just strong and practical furniture in a clean and lived-in room. The space was as masculine as its owner and made her body respond all over again.

A framed photo above the dresser caught her eye—Zane and two other men in uniform, standing beside a fire engine, all sweaty and grinning. Another showed him suspended halfway up a rock face, harnessed and confident, mid-climb, a look of pure focus on his face.

God, he really was that guy.

And he was carrying her like she was his.

Then the world shifted again.

She landed on the bed with a soft bounce, her breath catching as the mattress dipped beneath his weight a heartbeat later. Hedidn’t give her time to adjust, to think, to doubt—just blanketed her with heat and power, his body pressed flush against hers.

She reached for him, desperate to taste him again, but he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.

“Nuh-uh, baby girl,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “In the bedroom, I call the shots.”

The words hit her like a live wire. Her breath hitched, her thighs clenching around his hips.

“Oh my god.”

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