Page 27 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

“Come on, then,” he says, pulling me from the stool at the counter.

He leads me upstairs to his room before wandering into his closet, while my heart races at the thought of spreading my legs to some stranger while they test my slick.

Just the thought is horrifying, and I blink back tears.

Zayn returns in a pair of gray sweats hanging low on his hips and his chest bare.

My eyes roam over his tattooed, muscular body, desire pooling in my stomach.

He clears his throat. “Here, you can wear this.” He cups my cheek with his hand gently. “We’ll figure it out, just sleep. You’re safe here,” Zayn murmurs, and I nod.

“I’m going to make sure the house is locked, I’ll be back,” he tells me, leaving the room. Alone in his room, I strip my clothes off and pick up the shirt when I hear my phone notification go off.

Picking up my phone off the bed, I see another threatening message from my father. I toss my phone on the couch and pick up the shirt, my eyes going to Zayn’s bed. I stare at the shirt in my hand and bite my lip.

“Come on, Cleo, he kissed you. You could just be another notch in his belt. Rip the band-aid off or rip the virginity away and no alliance, simple,” I tell myself.

I suck in a breath, glancing at the door when my thoughts go to Deacon.

He’d be furious, but fuck him, he ditched me while drunk, and is now refusing to answer my calls.

With my anger slowly simmering hotter and my thoughts growing more panicked, I toss the shirt on the couch and shut the light off before slipping under the covers naked.

You can do this! He’s not that big, he’d be… what’s the word. Experienced. Beats losing it in the back of a car, right? Then I hear his footsteps, and the rhythm of my heart falls in beat with his steps.

Zayn taps on the door. “Are you decent?” he calls out. “Cleo?” he calls out again. Oh goddess, what am I doing?

I say nothing and after a few minutes, he opens the door, flicks the light on, and I pretend to be asleep. I hear him moving around the room before the lights go out, and he climbs into bed next to me. I remain frozen, stiff as a board, paralyzed by my own humiliation and panic.

“Cleo? Are you okay? Your heart is beating so fast,” he comments and sits up slightly, rolling me toward him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks again, shaking my shoulder, and I open my eyes, peeking out at him. He lets out a breath of relief.

“I called out to you, you said nothing. I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he offers, and I shake my head.

His brows furrow and I know he’s about to ask me what’s wrong, but before he can, I kiss him.

Unlike at the club, he freezes at the action, caught off guard, and I move to straddle him.

His hands grip my hips only for them to rip me away like I burned him. He pulls his face away.

“What are you doing, Cleo?” he growls. I kiss him again, he doesn’t respond, instead freezing beneath me when his hands grip my shoulders.

“Have you got clothes on?” he snarls, moving, and my eyes are assaulted by light as he flicks the lamp on.

His eyes roam over my naked body, making me feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Cleo, what the fuck?” he growls as his eyes take me in straddling him naked. His eyes flicker as they roam down my body, his rejection hits me loud and clear. My face burns and my eyes prickle with warmth. I scramble to climb off him.

“Fuck, Cleo. Wait, it’s not like that,” he grumbles, grabbing my hips before I can climb off him. He rolls, and I find myself pinned beneath him on the bed.

I look away, unable to meet his gaze, and it feels like all the blood has run to my face. Zayn watches my face for a second and curses. He then groans and drops his head onto my shoulder.

“I am not taking your virginity just because you’re scared you’ll be forced to marry Boyd,” he breathes out. I swallow, nodding and feeling foolish. I suddenly want to change my mind and ask him to take me home to face my father instead.

He lifts his head, and I refuse to meet his gaze, instead staring at the lampshade like it is a work of art. Well, it kind of is with its swirling shape.

“Cleo?” Zayn growls, pinching my chin between his fingers and turning my face to look at him. His eyes soften slightly. “I’m not rejecting you; you haven’t got your wolf.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in all that crap?” I snap out of embarrassment. He presses his lips in line.

“It’s not that, fuck. You caught me off guard, you just bitched me out for kissing you at the club, and now you’re trying to…” he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You’re drunk, and scared. I am not taking your virginity while you’re in this state! I, unlike some people, refuse to take advantage of you,” he whispers, lifting his head to look at me and brushing my cheek softly.

“It’s fine, Zayn. You don’t want me, it’s fine, I get it,” I tell him, pushing on his shoulders to shove him off. This is embarrassing enough, he doesn’t need to humiliate me more by lying to me now, we are both adults.

Zayn growls and grip my wrists, pinning them above my head.

“That’s not what I said,” he growls sexily, catching my lower lip between his teeth before soothing it with a languid lick.

His strong grip on my wrists sends a delicious shiver through me, anchoring my fluttering nerves and focusing all my attention on him.

I gasp as his hips grind against mine, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing against me even through the barrier of his pants.

My heart stutters erratically at the intimate contact, my body instinctively responding to his with a wanton yearning that takes me by surprise.

“Does that feel like I don’t want you?” he purrs, his voice low and rough, sending a tremor of desire rippling through my veins.

I swallow hard, my eyes snapping to his.

The heat in Zayn’s gaze is palpable; it sears into me, igniting a wildfire of longing deep within.

I squirm beneath him, unconsciously seeking more friction against the throbbing ache between my legs.

Zayn releases one of my hands, only to slide it down to cup my breast beneath.

His touch sends electricity zinging through my veins, drawing an involuntary moan from me.

He tweaks my nipple, earning another whimpered cry of pleasure from me.

The sensation spurs me on… liquid heat pools between my thighs, soaking into the fabric of his pants, and he groans, his hand trailing down my side, but his steely gaze finds mine.

A whimper escapes me as he tweaks my nipple again—challenging the very limits of my self-control. This sensation amplifies everything around me—the soft rustle of his clothes, the sheets beneath me and the intoxicating scent of Zayn himself. It is all too much and not nearly enough simultaneously.

His hand leaves a trail of tingling warmth down my side as he traces every curve with calloused fingers before stopping at the apex of my thighs. A bolt of electricity zaps through me at the contact, as I arch upward, unconsciously seeking more.

“I never claimed I didn’t want you—far from it.

Just not while you’re rattled and terrified, and certainly not when you’re drunk.

” His words come out as a low rumble, his gaze hungrily tracing the contours of my lips.

His tongue makes a pass over his own lips, causing my eyes to follow the motion in heated anticipation.

The desire for his mouth meeting mine is evident.

Zayn, seeming to read my thoughts, smirks before capturing my lips.

His tongue caresses the line of my mouth deliberately, coaxing them apart in an act of surrender to him. His tongue delves between my lips, tasting every inch of my mouth, devouring me. I kiss him back with equal intensity, desire burning through me.

When he finally pulls away, I’m left gasping, breathless.

“But not like this,” he murmurs slowly, each word heavy with unfulfilled promise. “Wait until you’re sober-minded and equipped to make decisions,” he tells me, gently pressing his lips against mine before rolling off me.