Page 87 of Symphony for Lies

That wasn’t a question.

His breath ghosted over my skin, making my heart slam against my ribs, but before I could protest, he was already pulling me under the warm cascade of water.

After the shower, I slipped into one of his shirts, and the oversized fabric engulfed me. Zane meanwhile pulled on a pair of sweatpants, leaving his chest completely bare.

I knew he had a good body, but seeing him like that was unfair. My gaze dropped to the hard ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his V-line, and the faint red marks I left behind on his golden skin.

When I looked up, I froze.

He caught me.

Of course, he did.

His lips curled into a lazy, knowing smirk as he leaned casually against the doorframe.“You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I folded my arms across my chest as heat crept up my neck. “Why don’t you have a shirt on?”

He closed the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps.“Because I noticed last night that you like looking at me.” His hands brushed my waist. “So, I thought I’d do you a favor.”

I rolled my eyes as he moved behind me, pressing his chest flush against my back and holding me in his arms.

His heat was like a drug. A slow, intoxicating burn.

He dipped his head, his cheek brushing against mine. “I want to give you everything the same way you give me everything.”

His lips found my cheek while his fingers traced slow, idle circles on my waist. I felt like I was losing my footing.

“Wh-what are we, Zane?”

His grip tightened for a second before he pulled back just enough to look at me in the mirror.

“Are we dating?”

He leaned in, his lips hovering at my ear. In a seductive murmur that sent a delicious shiver down my spine, he asked, “Does it matter?”

I bit my lip. “I mean… our order of things is a little messed up.”

He chuckled, “Do we need an order?” His fingers slid under the hem of my shirt, teasing and exploring. “You already belong to me.”

My heart raced.

Zane turned me in his arms, tilting my chin up with two fingers before claiming my lips. A tingling sensation raced down my body.

By the time he pulled away, I was breathless, dazed.

His eyes gleamed with a quiet satisfaction.“Come. Let’s have breakfast, my angel.”

Zane treated me like a princess.

He easily lifted me onto the kitchen counter, positioning me comfortably before working with quiet, effortless control. I watched him with fascination. Every movement he made was smooth and calculated, as if even the smallest actions reflected his confidence.

As I let my gaze wander, I took in the immaculate kitchen that had signs of his personality: a worn recipe book with scribbled notes in the margins and a bowl of perfectly arranged lemons, as though even the chaos was carefully curated.

When I looked back at Zane, I caught him watching me.