Page 82 of Her Ruin

“It’s fine.” He brushed it off. “Sooner or later, you have to accept that I’m the same guy, just a decade older.”

“Well, you’re not thesameguy,” I protested lightly. “You’re no longer fighting in a back alley.” I tried for lightness, but even I knew I failed.

“How do you know?” he teased back, letting the mood soften despite my best efforts to put my foot in it tonight. Before I could answer, he was kissing me, his tongue stroking mine, his hands cupping my face, my body swaying into his. Zayn pulled back. “I tried to resist that,” he said, and I didn’t believe him, but I also wasn’t complaining. “We both know what happens when we’re together,” he said, his tone soft but laced with command. “It feels…inevitable.”

I shivered under his touch, and for a moment, I wanted nothing more than to let go of the past, all the carefully constructed barriers. “It does,” I admitted quietly even as a part of me screamed to hold on to my own self.

For a heartbeat, we stood there, caught between the pull of our past and the possibility of something new—a secret intimacy that defied the harsh reality we had yet to accept about each other. Then, without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. It wasn’t the fierce, consuming kiss of earlier; it was softer, tentative—a moment of truce.

I responded slowly at first, following his lead until the kiss became more urgent. The unspoken tension that had defined us for so long was once more pushed to the side. We existed only in the dim, private space of Elixir. The weight between us faded into nothingness. It was just us, our past reduced to soft touches, stifled moans, and smothered cries of longing.

When we finally broke apart, our foreheads rested together, breaths mingling as we caught our breath. I saw a glimmer of something in Zayn’s eyes, triumph, perhaps, or was it regret? I couldn’t be sure. But I didn’t want to ask because we had a lot to talk about despite our best efforts to ignore it. As the days passed and we became each other’s go-to escape, I knew we couldn’t continue as we were.

But I didn’t want to burst the bubble of contentment I was currently enjoying. I was in complete denial—I knew it, and I accepted it—but I was still happily living in it.

I turned my head away as I fixed my clothes and pulled my pants back on. “Well...not done that before,” I mumbled, my cheeks beginning to burn.

Zayn’s hand ran down my back, soothing me. “Liar, you’ve done that and more many,manytimes over the last few weeks.”

I was already shaking my head at his nonsense. “I meant in a club.” He simply smirked that infuriating, sexy smirk of his. “Someone could have walked in!”

Zayn shrugged as he stood. “Only Rye would come in, and he knows you’re here.”

I pointed to the ceiling. “You have cameras everywhere; I can’t see them,” I said as I looked around the room, more flustered now that my sensible Isla head was on and not my dirty harlot one. I turned to him with wide eyes. “What if Ryewatched?”

Zayn threw his head back and laughed—full-out—at me. The only reaction I deemed worthy was to punch him in the arm. He just laughed louder. “There are no cameras in here,” he told me, dropping down to kiss me, his smile still distracting me. “This is why we meet here.”

I looked at the leather couch and single chair with skepticism. “It’s a booty call room?”

He laughed again. “It’s a quietsanctuaryfor me when I’m having a shit night and I need to take a few minutes before Idopunch someone.”

“There’s no door.” I persisted stubbornly.

“Two people in this building will come into this room if it’s not me. One is Rye, and the other is Jayden, who wouldonlycome in here if Rye was in here with me.” He helped me to my feet, dipping his head so his lips were at my ear. “No one else but me saw you ride my cock, Is.”

I reared back, my hands on my cheeks. “Zayn!”

He laughed again, fully relaxed. “You’re funny,” he said with another chuckle. Looking at his shirt which was in his hand, he frowned. “I need a new shirt.”

Slipping my feet back into my shoes, I looked up at him. “Don’t you have a spare in your office?”

“No.” He hesitated. “I live upstairs. The whole top floor is a converted loft,” he added. “Julian designed it, actually.”

I tried not to react to the information or that he’d done the forbidden and brought Julian into the conversation when I was still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. “You mentioned the one who should not be mentioned.”

Zayn’s lips twitched into that familiar, haughty smirk. “Does it matter?” he asked. “Really?”

“Yes!” I pulled my hair over my shoulder, hoping it didn’t look like I’d just had sex. “He wouldn’t understand. We don’t like each other, remember?” I let out a huge sigh. “And even though we might, well…” I gestured between us. “We’re doing this. He won’t understand when I tell him how long I’ve been boning his friend. My supposed hated nemesis!”

Zayn was watching me, one eyebrow raised. “This all turned very…high school. Boning? Really? We’re fucking. We’re two single adults who like to meet up and fuck each other.”

Oh god, why was this so awkward and making me cringe? “Could you not be so…?”

“Honest?”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, that would be new for you.” I regretted it as soon as I said it, and I saw Zayn shut down.

“Right.” His voice was soft. “I forgot my role.”

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