Page 49

Ziva

His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes. “Neither,” he breathes, wetting his lips.

We lean in simultaneously, drawn by an irresistible force. Our lips meet, and it’s like a dam breaking. Everything I’ve been holding back, everything we’ve been hiding—our fear, our hope, our desperation—collides in the space between us.

The kiss is charged with warmth and need, but his lips are soft, a kind of tenderness that pulls me deeper. My hands slowly trace the contours of his jaw. My fingers curl into his hair, reveling in the softness of his locks. His strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me tightly against him.

All my doubts dissolve as I press closer to him, unable to ignore how perfectly this feels. For the first time, I understand why we’re fighting. Not just for survival, but for a future where moments like this are possible.

Myall deepens the kiss, our bodies pressed together as if trying to meld into one.

I am consumed by the overwhelming sensations, savoring the taste of him, in the way his touch lights every nerve ending in my body, making me burn with desire.

Is this real? Are we really about to do this?

But I can’t pull away, can’t break the contact that feels like a promise finally being fulfilled. His touch, warm and sure against my skin, grounds me in the reality of the moment, and yet, my mind refuses to accept it.

Every part of me wants to retreat, to protect myself from what comes after, but his lips, his hands—everything about him is pulling me deeper. We’ve denied ourselves this for so long, and now, it feels like a truth I’ve been too afraid to face.

Myall’s hands roam the contours of my back as he kisses me, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I melt into him, a quiet moan escaping as his touch ignites something deep within me. He responds with a low growl, making my toes curl in my boots.

With a gentle whisper, he speaks my name, his lips brushing against mine. “Ziva,” he murmurs. I feel the intensity of his desire in every breath, sending goosebumps over my skin.

Breaking away from his lips, my cheeks are flushed and my breaths coming out in ragged pants. I look into his eyes, searching for any hesitation or doubt, but all I see is an unbridled longing mirroring my own.

I’ve studied the anatomy of desire, but this—this raw need—is something I’ve only read about in forbidden books. The heroines in those stories always seemed to experience overwhelming pleasure. I want that—want it with him.

“Show me,” I whisper, my voice trembling, raw with desire I’ve only dreamed of. I sound bolder than I feel, but I can’t hold back now, not when he’s made me feel everything I’ve been hiding from.

His fingers move with purpose, undressing me slowly, almost reverently. With each movement, the coolness of the room against my exposed skin heightens the warmth spreading from his touch. Our eyes lock and I am entranced by his intense gaze, unable to break away.

He undoes each button carefully, fingers grazing my collarbone, sending a rush of heat through my veins. With each inch of fabric that falls away, my breath quickens, a mixture of anticipation and nerves flooding me. Slowly, he slides the garment off my shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I’ve dreamed of this… of you,” I whisper, my voice thick with longing.

“Me too,” he rasps, throat bobbing. His fingers work with practiced ease, pulling my uniform until it falls in a heap around my ankles, stirring up dust motes. The cool air brushes my skin, but a searing heat pulses within me, consuming every inch.

Myall drops to his knees on the dusty stage, his hands trailing down my bare legs, sending shivers up my spine.

He undoes my boot laces with deliberate slowness, pulling each one off as if savoring the moment.

The sight of him kneeling at my feet, so focused and close, nearly shatters my control.

Standing before him in nothing but my underwear, I’ve never felt so exposed—and yet so powerful.

His calloused fingers trace over me as he stands, sending another shiver of pleasure through me, my inner muscles clenching involuntarily.

Our gazes lock and hold for a beat before my fingers move toward the buttons on his uniform, hesitant but determined.

Every nerve in my body trembles as I fumble with them, my hands shaky with urgency, terrified I’ll ruin the moment.

Myall’s heartbeat thrums through the fabric, wild and uneven, syncing with the frantic pulse in my chest.

As his uniform drops to the floor, my gaze sweeps over his bare form, the only fabric his underwear.

His body is sculpted from muscle, a faint trail of dark hair across his chest, leading down to his waistband.

He mirrors my tension, his body vibrating with anticipation, and I feel my throat tighten, dry and aching, as the air between us thickens with heat.

My hands shake as I reach for his boots, eager to strip them away, but his quiet voice halts me.

“Let me.” His words stir something deep inside me, and before I can react, he drops to his knees in front of me.

His hands grip the worn leather of his boots, peeling them off with a soft scrape.

There’s a raw, primal energy in his motions, and I can’t look away, mesmerized by the precision of his movements—every pull of his hands, every controlled breath.

When he rises, the heat in his gaze makes my breath falter. He takes my hand, guiding me toward the chaise at the back of the stage, my legs trembling as if they might collapse beneath me.

His voice, soft and deep, hums against my skin. “You’re so beautiful Ziva.”

The words hang heavy between us before his lips graze my shoulder, a rush of warmth flooding through me.

His fingers glide gently down my arm, raising goosebumps, each stroke a spark that races to my chest. I can’t find my voice, consumed by the sensations he stirs within me.

His touch ignites something deep inside me, a flame that spreads through every nerve, and I crave more.

“I want you, Ziva,” he says, his voice raw with need. I shiver under his touch, heat radiates from his fingertips as he gently explores my body.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you, I just didn’t understand it at the time,”

he confesses.

“I know,” I breathe, unable to resist as he guides me towards the chaise.

Myall pulls us down, our bodies entwined as we disturb the quiet air, sending a flurry of dust motes swirling around us. The chaise groans beneath us, creaking under the weight of our bodies.

My skin tingles as he caresses every inch of it, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I grip the worn chaise, desperately seeking support, utterly consumed by the waves of heat his touch ignites inside me.

He presses soft, heated kisses along the curve of my neck, his lips leaving a burning trail on my skin. “I want to taste every inch of you,” he murmurs, moving to kiss my mouth.

His hardness presses against me through our underwear, and I moan into his mouth, wanting nothing more than to remove this barrier between us. Desperate for more, I flip us over, straddling him.

My hands roam down to his waistband, feeling the outline of his arousal through the fabric. Our eyes lock as I slowly remove his underwear, savoring the moment. His hips lift, assisting me before flipping us again.

With a gentle touch, he reaches to unclasp my bra, sliding the straps down my arms. He trails his hand lower and removes my underwear, the fabric slightly damp, revealing my most intimate parts to him. In the dim light, Myall’s eyes devour me. He leans in, lips brushing against mine.

When his lips meet mine, it’s more than hunger, more than desire.

It’s release—a floodgate opening. Every part of me that’s been locked away for so long floods to the surface, unstoppable.

His arms tighten around me, and I melt into him, the fear of tomorrow dissolving.

In this moment, it’s just him and me, and I let myself believe, for the first time, that this is real—that he feels the same.

Breaking our kiss, his lips trail down my body. Every touch fills me with a wave of pleasure, my breasts growing heavy and sensitive.

His lips brush against my pebbled nipple, tingles of pleasure coursing through my body. I arch into him, a low moan escaping. Myall’s tongue delicately explores and swirls around my hardened peak, making my core tighten.

“More,” I whimper, fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him back to my throbbing nipple. The cool night air already settling over my sensitive peak.

He smiles devilishly before giving the same attention to my other nipple. My whole body shudders as he teases and caresses it with his tongue. The sensation almost too much to bear, my core trembling and aching for more

“Myall,” I moan, voice breaking, breaths coming in short and shallow. “I need more.”

His touch is delicate as he traces a line down my torso, eyes never leaving mine. He parts my legs and slowly, ever so slowly, slips a finger inside of me.

A small gasp escapes me at the overwhelming sensation.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes in my ear, his voice husky with desire.

He slides another finger inside me, stretching and filling me in a way I’ve never felt before. But with Myall, I feel safe, complete.

A low moan escapes my lips, head falling back against the chaise. My inner muscles tighten like something is building, begging for release. His hardness presses against my thigh, and I ache to trace my fingers along its length.

Myall continues his steady rhythm, each stroke of his fingers sending waves of pleasure through my body. My core tightens with every stroke, the gentle pressure building.

His thumb circles and rubs against my sensitive nub, pushing further over the edge. Our ragged breathing and Myall’s steady rhythm the only sounds in the theater.