Page 43 of Deeper

I tried to be strong, to hold my chin up. To detach myself from it all. “I’m good now, better—I’m fine.”

“Bianka.”

I focused down at the water, telling myself not to care because who gave a shit? “I’m fine.”

At twenty-five, I’d never broken a bone, never suffered from a serious ailment, but I knew the pain of a splintered heart. Outside of Victoria, I had no one. I was alone. I felt it every time my father rejected me and at the brutal distance Pryor had wedged between us.

I didn’t know I was crying until I felt his hand on my face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Zander concentrated on this task; his brows furrowed as he appeared thoughtful.

“I think that’s enough bath time for the day,” he said.

I agreed, having lost the joy in the moment.

Zander drained the tub before stepping out of it and helping me out next. We collected towels from the plush ottoman by the shower and headed back into the bedroom.

In his silk bed, Zander took me into his arms, as if to comfort me, to hold me. Somehow, when he was bathing my face in kisses, chasing those ugly tears away, my lips gravitated towards his, instinctively, naturally, rightfully.

It wasn’t long before he was inside of me, connecting us into one. And for a moment, he paused, feeling what we felt.Close.

Zander groaned, releasing my name on a tortured breath. “Bianka.”

Unlike the times before, he took me slow, caressing me gently, staring deep into my eyes, kissing me chastely, cradling my body and soul with a delicate sense of care. And I gave myself up to him, matching his tenderness with all that I had to give.

9

BETTER

Iclimbed out of bed, Zander’s tattooed hand gliding across my skin. He did not want to let me go.

Once I was on my feet, I looked behind me to find him still asleep. After the most intense session of lovemaking I’d ever experienced, we’d drifted off. Now awake, I could see that the sun had gone down and the house was quiet. My belly rumbled and I placed my hand on my naked flesh. I was starved.

With Zander still asleep, I contemplated packing my things and leaving. I hadn’t meant to break down like that. We weren’t supposed to getthatclose. But we had, and he’d taken care of me without a hint of judgment.

My stomach growled once more and I knew I at least had to eat before making a getaway.

I quickly freshened up in the bathroom before slipping on a T-shirt of Zander’s and heading down to the kitchen. Usually, I enjoyed listening to music while I cooked, but I didn’t want to wake Zander. Though, he lived in a large house which questioned the possibility.

Still, I settled on turning on the TV in the entertainment area and allowed a rerun ofPsychto play as I went about preparing the chicken breasts. I ransacked Zander’s seasonings and marveled at his ability toactuallycarry more than just salt and pepper. After collecting what I would use, I seasoned the chicken and set it in the oven to bake. For sides, I grabbed a jar of vodka sauce and prepared a pot to boil for penne, and took out a bag of broccoli from the freezer.

I shut the freezer door and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Zander was standing in the room. In just a pair of sweats, he was studying me and the pans I had out.

“Geez,” I breathed out, holding the frozen vegetables to my chest.

Zander came closer, assessing me as he did so. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t get the question because I thought it was obvious. “Cooking?” I went back to the island and peered into the pot, finding that the water wasn’t close to boiling.

“You don’t have to do that. We could’ve ordered takeout.”

We could’ve, but… “I promised I’d cook for you.”

Zander raked a hand through his hair, once more gazing at the food. “I didn’t think you’d still be in the mood.”

I chewed on my lip and focused on opening the broccoli. “It’s whatever.”

“Bianka…”

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