“Should I worry that you know this hotel so well?” I asked Zayn dryly.
“You should worry that Gerard Fitzsimmons’ hands may be permanently removed from his body if he keeps touching you,darling.” Zayn stared down at me, his expression unreadable.
“He’s old enough to be my father.”
“Don’t care.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Was he jealous? “Are you jealous?” I watched his eyes narrow, and I laughed. “OfGerard?”
“No one touches what’s mine.” Zayn stepped closer, pressing me against something at my back, a disused table perhaps. His hand skimmed down my arm.
I moved away slightly, breaking contact. “I’m not a possession.”
Without warning, Zayn reached out, his hand sliding into my hair, resting at the delicate nape of my neck. The unexpected pull drew my head close to his. He lowered his head, our faces nearly touching, and an electric jolt of desire surged through me. My breath caught as his fingers tangled gently in the soft strands of my hair, sending ripples of heat along my skin.
“Be very careful, little Isla,” he murmured, his lips inches from mine. “You don’t want to challenge me here, do you?” Lips brushed over mine. “I have no problem lifting that skirt, fucking you where you stand, and reminding you who owns that tight pussy.” His teeth nipped my bottom lip. “Do you doubt me, Is?”
How was I supposed to speak? My body was arching into his, desperate for him to do exactly as he promised, but my head was yelling at me todefinitelyseek professional help. He did notownme, but my god, why did the very fact he was being so possessive turn my insides into jelly and make my core tighten with need?
Zayn’s mouth claimed mine, his lips moving over mine with a controlled urgency. The taste of him mingled with the sweetness of champagne was intoxicating. He kissed me with an insatiable hunger, and I responded as the rest of the world faded away. In his embrace, every sensation was bigger as we surrendered to the heat of our attraction, each kiss more consuming than the last.
I felt cool air under my dress before his hand squeezed my thigh, encouraging me to spread my legs. His lips left mine, and after putting his mouth on my neck, he left a trail of hungry kisses down my throat.
“Zayn…”
“You’re fucking addictive,” he muttered, his hand cupping me, fingers deftly pushing aside my panties as two fingers stroked through my wetness.
“Anyone could come in,” I whispered frantically as a finger pressed into me, and my head tilted back at the sensation.
“Mmhmm.” He added a second finger, and I held on to his shoulders desperately. “He offered you a job?”
What?
“Gerard?” I yelped when my clit was pinched hard.
“Only my name, Is.”
God, he was a bossy bastard. I shuddered as his thumb rubbed against me and his fingers plunged in and out of me.
“Did he try to take what’s mine?” Zayn asked against my throat.
I shook my head. “No,” I gasped as he pushed deeper. “No!” My eyes were trained on the door, terrified someone would come in and see us in such a compromising position. “He offered. I said he couldn’t afford me.”
Zayn’s low growl was as sexy as it was worrying. “Not a no, Is. You tell him no so he knows it’s adefiniteno.” He kissed me savagely. I felt the loss of his fingers and whimpered in protest until he lifted me, settled me on the table, and pushed his cock into me.
He fucked me hard. I was barely holding on, but I was meeting him thrust for thrust. Our moans were low and contained despite the factwewere very much out of control. Zayn’s hand covered my mouth, and I bit the flesh of his palm as I convulsed around his cock. I felt his teeth sink into my neck as he released inside me with a low growl.
I couldn’t breathe. What the hell had I just done? This was so unprofessional. Pushing against him, I slid off the table and tried to compose myself.
I heard the zip of his pants, turned to look at him, and saw the satisfied smirk he gave me as he examined me. Zayn pulled me to him and kissed me gently, tenderly. He pushed my hair over my shoulder and looked at my neck before he kissed me again.
“Now they know you’re mine.”
What the hell did that mean?
There was a rap at the door, and Rye pushed his head into the room. “You good here?” He glanced at me, his grin full of amusement. “You need to find a brush, girl, you look like you just got owned.”
“Enough.” Zayn’s warning was low, but itwasa warning. When he looked at me this time, he frowned and looked almost sheepish. “You might want to visit the bathroom.”