Page 20 of His Fury

“That doesn’t mean I don’t need to fucking see it with my own eyes.”

Her breath stuttered, her fingers curling into fists at her side as she bumped them off her thighs uncertainly. I was pushing her. But she’d been pushing me too.

For a long, unbearable moment, we just stood there watching each other. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us looked away.

And then she moved. Quick and sharp, like she’d made the decision in an instant. She shoved me. My chest barely moved with the force of it, but I don’t think she noticed.

Her voice cracked. “I hate him for this.”

Julian.

I exhaled slowly. “No, you don’t.”

Isla shoved me again, harder this time. “I hate that you’re the one who came. It’s always you. You always show up. You always make me feel—” Her voice cut off, her lips parting on a shallow breath.

My pulse was hammering in my ears. Waiting. Daring her to say it.

Isla watched me; she was panting like she had run a race, her pupils blown wide. And then she did the one thing I hadn’t expected.

She grabbed me and kissed me.

She kissed me like she hated me for it. Fierce. Desperate. Like she was trying to punish me and herself in the same breath. Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt, yanking me closer, and I let her—for a second.

Just one fucking second, I gave in to her.

Then, I took control.

I grabbed her wrists, twisting them behind her back as I walked her backwards, forcing her into the nearest wall. She gasped against my mouth, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t let her think too much.

Didn’t let myself think. She was here. In my arms.

Safe.

My grip on her tightened as I deepened the kiss, tilting her head back with my thumb under her jaw, pressing just enough to let her know—I had her.

I had her. She was here. She was mine.

And she could lie to herself all she wanted, but she wasn’t fighting me on this anymore. Isla’s body melted into mine, the heat of her seeping through my clothes, her breath ragged against my lips.

My hands ran down her sides, gripping the curve of her waist, memorizing the way she felt. Because no matter what happened after this, no matter how much she tried to push me away again, I wasn’t letting her go.

I dragged my mouth down the column of her throat, her pulse hammering beneath my lips. Fast. Frantic. Just like mine.

“Zayn,” she whispered, her voice barely there.

It was a plea. A warning. It was everything unsaid.

I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, her breathing steady. Her eyes locked on to mine, dark and burning with the need I knew she didn’t want to admit.

She was uncertain. With me. With herself. At whatever the fuck this was between us.

I smirked, running a slow hand down her side, fingerspushing under her shirt, touching her flesh. “Still wish it wasn’t me?”

She broke eye contact, but she didn’t answer. That was all I needed.

My lips traced her ear. “I don’t care if you hate me, Is.” I nipped at her earlobe. “Take what you need from me.”

A shudder ran through her, but before I could claim her mouth again, she yanked her arms free, pushing me back.

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