Page 75 of Her Ruin

“You should go.”

The tension hung between us until Zayn stepped forward, pulling me into a kiss that was as raw and filthy as we’d been in my bed.

“This isn’t a onetime thing,” he told me, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “Agreed?”

“You don’t even like me,” I protested weakly despite my body humming with anticipation at the thought of us having sex again.

Zayn smirked. “And you hate me, so”—his teeth nipped at my bottom lip—“we’re even.”

“So, what…we’re hate fucking?”

His eyes flared with desire at the term, but it was gone just as quick. “No need for labels, Is. Just go with it.”

He patted my cheek, and I slapped his hand away, causing him to chuckle. Then he was out of the door, and moments later, I heard a car thrum to life.

“What the hell did I just do?” I asked the empty apartment.

Zayn had claimed more than just a fleeting moment in my bed—he had ignited something within me that I couldn’t simply turn off. And despite every instinct screaming at me not to do something stupid, a small, stubborn part of me was already waiting for his next move.

CHAPTER21

ZAYN

I wokeup to the harsh glare of late-morning light slanting through my bedroom window. My shirt was a crumpled mess on the floor, and my pants were just as bad. I’d come home, stripped, and fallen face-first onto my pillow. My clothes and I were a testament to last night’s chaos. I felt hungover as I stumbled to the bathroom, wincing when I saw my bloodshot eyes in the mirror.

“Fuck,” I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face, not able to rub away the images of Isla’s naked body as she moved under me. “Fuck!” Turning on the shower, I stripped off my boxers and stood under the jet spray until I felt semi-human again.

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I poured a cup of black coffee, the bitter warmth doing little to chase away the lingering taste of Isla on my tongue. Good fucking god, who the hell taught her how to use her mouth like that?

I wanted to punch him.

I wanted to shake his hand.

No…fuck that. Ireallywanted to kill him.

“Focus,” I scolded myself. I had deals to close, contracts to sign, shipments to verify…Rye to handle. I needed to get dressed and go to work. I knew that, and I didn’t move as I replayed the night’s event over and over.

The game between Isla and me was control. A game that I now knew was a dangerous dance in which I had thought I was in command. I’d expected to toy with her, nothing more.

But when she opened her door in that towel after the way she’d leaned into me in the club, everything unraveled. Isla had come at me with a fire I couldn’t resist. In the quiet moments after she fell asleep, I’d realized I’d allowed a crack in my armor. It was subtle, probably imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t me, but the truth was that I knew it was there.

I wasn’t completely untouchable, not where she was concerned.

It had been one night, and I already knew she made me vulnerable.

I hadn’t been weak since I was seventeen years old.

Fuck.

I forced myself to focus. The hum of Elixir’s operations below me and the steady buzzing of my phone reminded me the world was ignorant of my internal strife. Picking up my phone, I scanned the message from Rye confirming our most recent delivery of speakers had arrived. I sucked my teeth as I checked the paperwork he’d sent for a delivery we never received.

I went to toss the phone when he messaged again.

Are you getting your ass out of bed? Or should I say Wells’ bed?

Jealous?

Of having those legs wrapped around me? Maybe…

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