Page 152 of Celestial Combat

I could only nod. My mouth was parted but only moans came out – broken little gasps as my whole body tensed under him.

“Come for me,” he said, voice like gravel, hand pressing me down harder into the cushions.

The orgasm hit me like a snap. I cried out, my thighs clenching around him as everything in me clenched and shuddered. The friction, the pressure, the sound of his voice – God, it tore through me like wildfire.

Zane swore behind me, hips slamming forward one last time as he jerked against me, breath punching out of his chest. “Fuck, Kali – ”

I felt him pulse between my thighs, hot and messy, coating my skin and shirt underneath us as he came hard, his grip on me unrelenting. He stayed like that for a moment, pressed over me, body heavy and breath ragged in my ear.

Neither of us moved. The air was thick with heat, sweat, and the smell of sex.

He finally let go of my hair, smoothing the strands down gently before leaning in to kiss the back of my neck. “You drive me insane.”

I smiled, catching my breath. “Good.”

I laid sprawled on the white fluffy rug in the living room, muscles loosening mid-stretch. The sunlight had shifted behind the curtains, painting soft stripes across the plush carpet.

The apartment was quiet but alive – music still lingering around us – Zane laying big next to me, to my side.

I rolled onto my side and rubbed my eyes, spotting something perched on a low shelf of the bookshelf – a Polaroid camera beside a photo album. Light caught gold lettering embossed on its leather spine.

I sat up, curious.

My fingertips traced the worn stitches as I flipped open the cover.

The album was completely empty.

I sank back gently, and maybe that was the point. I could almost see it. Memories meant to be collected, never captured.

I looked over my shoulder to see Zane watching me silently. Shirtless, the sunlight outlining his silhouette.

I swallowed.

“I’ve been meaning to fill it,” he said quietly, cheekbones turning warmer. “Just haven’t got around to it.”

I closed the album and checked the back cover. “This date is from five years ago.”

He picked it up, thumb brushing my hand, and flipped to the embossed date. “Didn’t have anything meaningful to keep,” He murmured.

I sat in the quiet, the weight of those words slowing my breath.

I shrank a little, shy, unsure how to ask. “Can I… Take one?”

His lips lifted in that half-smile I’d grown addicted to. “Only if it’s of us.”

My heart did a small flip.

I carefully grabbed the camera in both hands, positioning it. I held it out, voice soft. “Will you smile?”

He moved closer, using his forgotten T-shirt form the floor to cover my breasts. “For you,” he said.

I clicked the shutter. The Polaroid popped out slowly, purpling at the edges. We stayed still – side by side, warmth mingling through his shirt.

The photo shimmered in my hand as the image appeared: us. Smiling, relaxed, together. Undeniably together.

Zane softly took the picture out of my hand. I raised my brows, but before I could ask, he reached over and placed the photo on the first page of the album.

He wrapped his arm around me, pulled me close into his side. I could feel his breath on my neck, steady and soft.“Now, I have something meaningful to keep.”

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