Page 23 of Finding Haven
Myname.Not Sugar.
I was so caught up in the heat of the moment that I didn't notice the near slip. What would I have done if he had said my name, and why does the thought of hearing my name fall from his lips as his body shudders with release send a wave of heat straight to my core?
The storm swirling through my brain only continues to build, and as expected, I was so distracted when we arrived at the location that I didn’t even have a chance to be excited about playing laser tag. I was completely useless during the game.
It isn’t until we all arrive at the beach that I finally feel like I can take a full breath. The tang of the salted air mixed with the cool breeze blowing in off the ocean settles over my skin, sending a chill through my body and peppering goosebumps along my arms and down my back.
I watch in amusement as Zack and Ethan try to get the bonfire going. Zack douses the pile of wood in kerosene and then tosses in a match, sending out a softwhooshas Ethan jumps back with a shout before hunching over in laughter. Now, I’m sitting in front of the fire on a soft blanket with my socks and shoes discarded to the side, digging my toes into the cool sand to ground my thoughts and trying to settle the nerves swirling through my body. I’ve been avoiding Zack since we first got out of the SUV, doing my best to come to terms with the fact that he knows who I am and what I do.
The salty ocean breeze surrounding me suddenly grows heavier as Zack sinks down onto the blanket beside me. His bare feet dig into the cool sand as he pulls his legs up, arms hanging loosely over his knees. I turn my head to look at him, admiring the way his dark features are illuminated as the firelight dances across his skin. The shadows cast across the lines of his face provide the perfect contrast to the light, and I would give anything to have my camera with me right now. I watch his jaw clench, amber eyes locked on the dancing flames in front of us as though he’s afraid to meet my gaze.
Despite the fire burning in the sand, an icy air radiates off of him, warning me to proceed with caution. His body seems poised and in control, but I sense the tension coiled under the surface, preparing to fight and defend. I don’t want him to be guarded with me when every moment with him has left me feeling seen and cared for. As the manI briefly met at the bar, the customer at the bakery, and the man who enjoys my body, he senses my needs and has never made me feel less than.
“So. . .” I drag the word out as his eyes flick in my direction and then jump back to the fire. “I think it’s a little rude for my boyfriend to be sitting so far away,” I tease, reflecting on how he told the boutique employee that’s what he was in order to pay for my lingerie without raising any red flags.
His eyes catch mine, and the pressure that had been building in my chest begins to dissipate as his lips curl into a small smile. Some of the tension wrapped around him seems to melt away as he leans his body towards mine and whispers, “Need me to warm you up, Sugar?” The name rolls off his tongue with ease as he unzips his hooded sweatshirt, slipping his arms out of the sleeves and draping it over my shoulders.
Hearing him say the nickname, seeing the way his lips form around the word, and being completely enveloped by his deep masculine scent make all of the puzzle pieces shift into place. The hurricane that’s been wreaking havoc on my mind settles into one cohesive thought.
“Zack,” I say softly, turning my body towards him. His jaw tightens with visible strain, head tilting to the side as his warm brown eyes land on mine. He doesn’t say anything in return, just watches me behind a carefully guarded expression. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
His eyes flick to the ground, and his head dips to his chest, shoulders slumping as he releases a deep exhale of breath. He runs a hand through his dark hair, sweeping the soft curls off his forehead before finally turning to face me. “You’re not upset?”
“You’ve done nothing but make me feel safe and seen since we met. I promise that even with everything I’m feeling, being angry or upset withyou never once crossed my mind. If anything”—I huff out a small laugh, shaking my head as I tuck a strand of hair behind one ear—“I just can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out. I don’t know how I didn’t realize it.”
His body shifts to fully face mine. “Deceiving you was never my intention. I didn’t find your account on Frisk until after we met at the bar, and I didn’t know right away that it was you. I think on some level I recognized you, but I wasn’t convinced until I saw the CGM on your arm.” His shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh as he leans to the side and pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He opens it and pulls out a slim piece of. . .plastic?
Why does he have a glucose test strip in his wallet?
He holds the thin strip between his thumb and forefinger, raising it up for me to see. “You dropped this when you left the bar. I wasn’t positive, but I thought, what are the odds that both you and the captivating masked woman on Frisk are both diabetic? And then I saw this,” Zack reaches out and takes my hand in his, turning it over so my palm is facing up as he runs his thumb softly over my wrist and the tattoo decorating my skin. For most people, the design probably just looks like a line followed by a series of arrows, and I guess that’s exactly what it is, but it means so much more to me than that.
“It means, I’m greater than the highs and the lows,” I murmur, watching as his thumb softly rubs back and forth over my wrist.
My thighs clench as a new heat ignites. One that has nothing to do with the fire burning in the sand in front of us. Our gazes meet, but he doesn’t respond, silently encouraging me to continue.
My mind spins, frantically trying to focus on a single thought, on a way to explain. “Every aspect of my life is about control. I have to monitor and calculate every single thing I eat or drink just to stay alive. I do my best to plan for how my body is going to react to certain activities, and yet sometimes, it’s still not enough. There are so many days when I do everything right, calculate every carb, stay hydrated, exercise, get enough sleep, andstillmy body rebels. My blood sugar will still drop or skyrocket for what feels like no reason.”
I pause and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as the words flow out of me.
“There are nights when I don’t sleep, when alarms wake me at two a.m. with a low blood sugar alert, and I find myself shaking, dripping in sweat, and lightheaded while grasping for something to get me back within range. Then, I wind up overcompensating, eating too much sugar, and spend the rest of the night trying to recover from the backlash. And when that happens, the world doesn’t stop. I can’t take a day off because I didn’t sleep well. I have to get up and pretend that my body didn’t fight with me all night. I have to pretend that I’m not silently suffering on some level, all while putting a smile on my face.”
When I finally stop, my pulse is thrumming. “It’s exhausting,” I confess with a sigh.
“You are incredible, Quinn.” He raises my wrist to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin, holding my gaze. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you go through every single day. And you do it all with a smile on your face? I’m in awe of you.”
“Zack. . .”
“Would you ever be comfortable giving up some of that control?” He releases my wrist and moves his hand to my thigh, squeezing gently.
Relinquishing control to a partner, both in the bedroom and in life, has been a fantasy of mine for longer than I care to admit. Being able to live and enjoy my life without the constant stress of every decision I have to make pressing down on my shoulders would be such a relief. The thought of giving Zack control in the bedroom, having him tell me what to do, and giving him free rein over everything ignites a fire within my body that blazes over my skin.
My teeth scrape over my bottom lip, relishing the feeling of his hand gripping my thigh. With a deep breath, I meet his gaze. “I’d like to try.”
The amber tones of his eyes darken as he brings his other hand up to cup my face in his palm, his thumb stroking across my lower lip. “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” His eyes drop to my mouth.
The question takes me by surprise. Nobody has ever asked if they can kiss me. Every guy I’ve ever been with has always just taken what they wanted, assuming they had some level of consent because I had already agreed to a date or to being their girlfriend.
Him asking only makes me want him more.
