Once he finished, he grabbed a blanket from the cabinet and pulled it over us as he slid into bed beside me. I turned instinctively, laying my head against his chest, fingers tracing slow patterns across the ink on his skin.
His arm wrapped around me tight. Protective. Possessive.
I exhaled, letting myself fully relax for the first time in weeks.
Pure bliss.
That was the only way to describe it. Warm, safe, full. Like my body had been starving and didn’t even know it until he fed every part of me.
But the peace didn’t last long.
Because under that softness, beneath the stillness of the jet slicing through the sky, something else began to stir.
Hunger.
A deeper one.
My lips parted as I shifted slightly. The friction of my thighs sliding together made me gasp—and I felt him twitch beside me in response.
I bit my bottom lip.
I should’ve rested.
But I didn’t want rest.
I wantedhim.
Again.
And again.
My fingers slid across his stomach, slow and deliberate. I kissed his chest once. Then again. Then lower.
He stirred, eyes cracking open just enough to catch me hovering.
“You serious?” he murmured, voice rough with sleep and desire.
I climbed over him, straddling his hips, rubbing myself against the hardness already growing beneath me.
“Dead serious.”
He smiled. A dimpled, dangerous smile that made my breath hitch.
“Damn, Zoe…how you freaked out already?”
“I blame you,” I whispered, grinding slow. “You the one that lit the match. Now you gotta put the fire out.”
He groaned, hands gripping my hips as I leaned down and kissed him—slow, deep, full of need.
“I want more,” I breathed against his lips.
“You gon’ get it,” he promised, flipping us without warning, his body settling between mine like he never left.
And this time?
We didn’t hold back.
“Zoe…”