Page 13

Wyatt

I spent all of Sunday tangled up in Zane’s sheets.

Now, there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

By the time Monday rolled around, I was still so blissed out, my body humming with the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he completely unraveled me, that dragging myself out of his bed felt impossible. But real life had a way of ruining good things, so I forced myself home, showered, and attempted to look like a functioning student instead of a woman who had spent the past twenty-four hours letting Zane wreck her in every way possible.

As if going to class wasn’t already torture, focusing was downright impossible. I should’ve earned extra credit just for managing to walk through the door.

And Zane? That asshole was making it worse.

Every time a new text from him came through, my stomach tightened, my skin prickled with heat, and my thighs pressed together beneath the desk. It was like he knew exactly what he was doing—like he got off on knowing he could still get to me even when he wasn’t in the same room.

Turning my phone on silent might’ve helped, but of course, I forgot about the notifications syncing to my laptop. One after another, they popped up in the corner of my screen, teasing me, taunting me.

Zane: I can still taste you on my lips.

Zane: Do you know how hard it is to get through a workout with a hard-on that won’t go away?

Zane: I was tempted to sneak into a bathroom stall in the locker room just to rub one out.

Zane: Meet me at my place when you get out of class. I have a couple of hours between when you get out and I have econ.

My eyes keep flicking to the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move faster, but time seems to be working against me. Every time I check, I convince myself twenty minutes have passed—only to realize it’s barely been five.

The anticipation is unbearable.

By the time the bell finally rings, I’m already moving, shoving my laptop into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I weave through the crowd of students filing out. I don’t slow down. My heart pounds in sync with my footsteps as I make a beeline for the exit.

The crisp afternoon air hits my face as I step outside, but I barely notice. My focus is singular—getting out of here as fast as humanly possible.

Thankfully, my stroke of bad luck this morning—running late—worked in my favor. Someone from the previous class had just pulled out as I arrived, leaving me with a rare front-row parking spot. Now, it’s paying off.

In less than five minutes, I’m behind the wheel and pulling out of the parking lot, leaving campus in my rearview mirror.

And just like that, the knot in my stomach loosens.

Because I know exactly where I’m going.

Zane: I want you waiting for me in my room. Pants off, bent over grabbing your ankles.

“Oh fuck,” I groan, pressing my thighs together, desperate for any friction to ease the ache building inside me.

How is he so damn good at this? At making me fall apart with just his words?

My mind is a tangled mess of anticipation as I pull into my driveway instead of his. It’s not like I don’t have every right to park at his place, but something about walking in, knowing I’m breaking my own rules for him, only heightens the thrill.

I don’t bother grabbing my bag or even locking my car. My only focus is getting inside, getting ready for him.

The code to his door is second nature now. I punch it in, stepping inside and toeing off my shoes before dropping my purse onto the couch. The silence in his house is thick, charged with the knowledge of what’s coming.

Heat curls low in my stomach at the thought of him walking in to find me waiting.

I pull my fleece sweater over my head, letting it fall to the floor before unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down my legs. For a second, I hesitate, my fingers lingering at the waistband of my panties. Do I keep them on? Do I leave my bra?

Screw it.

I slip out of both, baring every inch of my skin to the cool air. A shiver skates down my spine, but it has nothing to do with the temperature.

I make my way to his bed, perching on the edge, fingers curling into the sheets as I wait. If I thought sitting through class was unbearable, this is pure torture.

Every second drags.

And then… the unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking.

I move fast, stepping into position, angling my body so the moment he walks through the door, he’ll see exactly what’s waiting for him.

The house is quiet except for the measured thud of his boots on the floor.

Then I hear it—the low, appreciative hum that vibrates from his throat.

Followed by the unmistakable clink of metal as he unhooks his belt, tugs it free, and lets it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.

My breath catches, my pulse hammering as his slow, deliberate footsteps move closer.

He still hasn’t said a word, but I can feel the weight of his gaze. And I know—he’s about to ruin me.

“I can see how fuckin’ wet you are for me. Your thighs are coated in it,” Zane murmurs, his voice thick with hunger.

My breath stutters, my pulse hammering in my ears. I shift, widening my legs just a little more, desperate for him.

Zane groans, the sound rough and needy, as he unbuttons his jeans, the slow drag of his zipper filling the quiet space between us.

And then— BANG, BANG.

Two heavy knocks against the front door.

“What the fuck,” Zane hisses, his head snapping toward the sound. He exhales sharply, yanking his jeans back up and fastening them in record time before striding out of the room.

I don’t have time to think before I hear his hushed, irritated voice from the entryway.

“It’s your fuckin’ brother.”

Oh, shit.

Panic surges through me, my body going rigid. What the hell is Colter doing here?

I scramble, pressing myself against the dresser, my chest rising and falling in frantic breaths as the deadbolt clicks.

“What’s up?” Zane asks, somehow managing to sound completely unaffected—like he wasn’t just about to bury himself inside me.

“Did you forget I was coming by?” Colter asks, his tone casual and oblivious.

“Oh shit. Yeah, my bad. Totally forgot about that,” Zane lies smoothly. “Hang on, give me a second.”

I hear Colter chuckle, his footsteps echoing against the tile as he steps inside.

Zane rushes back into the bedroom, his movements quick and precise as he yanks open his top dresser drawer. He rummages around before pulling out a small velvet box—one that looks suspiciously like a jewelry box.

I mouth, “ What is that? ”

Zane barely spares me a glance, holding up a single finger, silently telling me to wait. Then he’s gone again, slipping back into the living room.

My heart pounds as I strain to listen.

“Thanks again for holding this for me,” Colter says. “With Ava staying over at my place, I was worried she might find it, and I didn’t want to spoil it for her.”

My eyes widen. Oh my God.

“It’s no problem, man,” Zane replies. “Anytime. You know that.”

A beat of silence. Then the distinct clap of hands—followed by their signature bro hug, one I’ve seen them do a hundred times before.

I sag against the dresser, pressing a hand to my chest, my heart still racing.

Colter has no idea I’m here. No idea what I was just doing with his best friend.

And if he ever finds out?

We’re both so screwed.

“I’m taking her out to dinner tonight for our anniversary, so I wanted it to be a surprise,” Colter says, his voice full of excitement. “I don’t think she has a clue what I have planned.”

Zane hums, the sound casual. “That’s awesome, man. I’m excited for you. You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

He’s too much of a nice guy to push Colter out the door, but I can hear the restraint in his tone. Like he’s itching to get rid of him. Like he’s just as on edge as I am, standing here completely naked, still aching with need.

I glance toward the doorway, debating if I should scramble for my clothes, but then Zane finally answers the silent question hanging in the air.

“Well,” he says, feigning nonchalance, “I was about to jump in the shower before you got here. I have class soon and need to run by the student center to print some things off for an assignment.”

It’s a perfectly crafted excuse, and I have to fight a grin.

“All right, man,” Colter replies, clapping him on the back. “I’ll catch you later.”

The door opens. A few muffled words pass between them, and then it closes with a quiet thud. A second later, the lock clicks into place, sending a rush straight through me.

Adrenaline surges through me. Heat floods my body, and I don’t waste a second. I move back into position, my pulse hammering as I widen my stance, bending at the waist, my hands gripping my ankles just like before.

I don’t even have to look to know Zane is watching.

A deep, guttural groan vibrates through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering, fabric rustling as he shoves his jeans down.

His heavy footfalls approach, slow and deliberate. A hand slides over my hip, then lower, until he’s cupping me, his fingers tracing through the slickness waiting for him.

“If only your brother knew what his sweet little sister was doing back here,” he murmurs, his voice dark and dripping with possession. He presses against me, his length thick and hard against my ass, making my knees go weak. “He’d kick my ass if he knew all the ways I’ve dreamed about pleasuring you, firecracker.”

A shiver rolls down my spine. My body is already unraveling, practically begging him to keep going.

“Zane,” I breathe, arching into his touch, the words escaping on a moan. “Please.”

He pushes his jeans down to the floor, his underwear right behind them. I glance between my legs up at him. His fist is wrapped around his length, his eyes zeroed in on my pussy.

I shimmy, eager for him to finally touch me. I need it, need him, like my next fuckin’ breath.

Zane kneels on the floor behind me, and from this angle, I get a perfect view of his dick bobbing in front of him, slapping against his tight stomach.

He wraps his hand around himself, fisting his cock in one hand when he leans forward and swipes his tongue over my clit until he’s thrusting into my pussy.

“Holy shit,” I moan, my body swaying.

Zane holds my waist, keeping me from falling over when he does it again. Only this time instead of fucking me with his tongue, he continues the path up until he flicks over my hole.

“One of these days, I’m going to take you here.” He brushes his finger over the tight ring, and I quietly release a low, “Please.”

“You want me to fuck you in your tight little ass?”

“Zane.”

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

“Ye-yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want you to fuck my ass.”

“Mmm,” he hums, rewarding me by burying his face between my legs. He releases his hold on his dick, grabbing me with both of his hands by the waist to keep me upright, and devours me.

I’m so lost in the feeling that I have to release the grip on my ankles and move my hands to the floor to steady myself, or I’ll go tumbling to the floor.

“Up,” he orders. “Bend over the side of the bed.”

The mattress is tall, bringing me nearly at level with his waist. I hoist one of my legs over the side, spreading myself out for him.

Like a predator closing in on its prey, Zane moves with deliberate intent, his grip firm as he catches my waist, holding me in place. His body is hot, solid, every inch of him radiating possession as he lines himself up at my entrance again.

There’s no warning this time. No teasing buildup.

He thrusts into me hard and deep, stealing the breath from my lungs. A strangled moan escapes me, my fingers clawing at the sheets as he folds himself over me, pressing me flush to the mattress. His weight, his heat—it consumes me.

His mouth skims my ear, voice rough and desperate. “How the fuck am I ever supposed to get enough of you, Wy?” he pants, his breath ragged. “I can’t. I won’t. This is what I was afraid of.” His fingers tighten over mine, pinning me beneath him as he thrusts again, deeper this time. “One taste, and I knew—I fucking knew—I’d never be able to let you go.”

My chest squeezes, a storm of emotions crashing into me all at once.

I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed by him, by the way he’s burying himself inside me like he’s staking a claim. My body moves with his, meeting him stroke for stroke, but my mind spirals.

Because I know what’s coming.

The crash after the high. The moment this ends and I’m left to pick up the pieces.

Zane rears back, his muscles tensing, before he slams back into me, his body so unrelenting, so intense, I swear I feel it in my bones. The bed creaks beneath us, each powerful thrust shaking something loose inside me—not just physically, but something deeper. Something I’m not ready to face.

This angle. This feeling. The way his skin slicks against mine, sweat mixing, breaths tangling, hearts racing in sync.

It’s everything.

And I already know I’ll never get enough of him either.

But what happens when he walks away?

What happens when I have to let go of the only person who’s ever made me feel like I belong to something bigger than myself?

Zane holds everything. Every shred of me. Every fragile, breakable piece of my heart.

I’ve always thought of myself as strong. I’ve been through hell and survived.

But I’m afraid if I lose him, I’ll lose myself in the process.

Zane presses a lingering kiss to the back of my neck, his thrusts growing desperate. The need in his movements bleeds into mine, our bodies working together in sync, chasing the inevitable. His grip tightens, one hand sliding between my stomach and the mattress, his fingers searching, finding the swollen bundle of nerves already pulsing for him.

“Come for me, baby.” His voice is a low rasp, thick with want. “Let me feel my firecracker detonate around me. Take everything I have. Let me feel you fall apart on my dick.”

“Oh God, Zane—please.” My plea comes out breathless, my body tightening around him, strung so tight I might snap.

I slam my hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust, the sharp slap of skin-on-skin pushing me closer to the edge. His fingers stroke my clit, circling, pressing, demanding, until the stars start to flicker, a molten wave spreading through every limb.

“Give it to me, Wyatt.” His voice is thick and strained. “I want all of you.”

Those words—those five words—are my undoing.

I shatter, my orgasm crashing into me so violently, I forget to breathe. My body spasms, gripping him tight, and he groans, a deep, throaty sound as he jerks inside me, finding his own release.

For a moment, neither of us moves, our bodies tangled, his weight pressing me into the mattress, our hearts pounding in sync.

Then, slowly, he pulls out, his lips skimming the back of my shoulder before he releases me. My muscles are useless, but Zane doesn’t give me the chance to recover. He takes my hand, helping me stand, and just when I think he’s going to let me find my balance—he bends down, sweeps me into his arms, and carries me into the bathroom.

The warmth of the room contrasts with the lingering chill on my skin, but Zane doesn’t set me down right away. Instead, he presses me against the cool marble counter, his grip firm but gentle as he keeps me locked in place. His hands roam, slow and deliberate, tracing every dip and curve of my body as if memorizing me all over again.

“Zane,” I whisper, my breath hitching when his lips graze my jaw.

He smirks, his fingers trailing down my spine. “Just making sure this is all real, firecracker.”

With a final lingering kiss against my bare shoulder, he lowers me onto my feet. My legs feel unsteady, weak from everything we just did, and he steadies me with a firm grip on my waist.

He doesn’t bother covering himself, and I don’t have the energy to pretend I care about modesty either. His body is all sharp angles and taut muscle, but it’s his dick—still half hard—that makes my pulse skitter.

Zane catches my gaze, the corner of his mouth curving into a knowing smirk.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his voice full of satisfaction as he leans down to brush a slow, teasing kiss against my lips.

“Like what?” I challenge, tilting my head. “Well fucked?”

His smirk deepens. “Yes,” he admits, “but also this.”

Before I can ask what he means, he drags his fingers between my legs, gathering the slickness there before lifting them to my mouth.

Heat pools low in my belly.

I don’t know what takes over me—what happened to the old Wyatt who might’ve hesitated—but I grab his wrist, my fingers wrapping around his, and without breaking eye contact, I suck his finger into my mouth.

Zane swears under his breath.

His hips jerk forward, his cock pressing against me, already thickening again.

“What am I going to do with you?” he mutters, almost to himself.

I barely get the chance to smirk before he reaches around me, delivering a sharp smack to my ass that makes me yelp. Then—just like that—he’s lifting me over his shoulder, carrying me into the shower.

The warm spray hits my skin as he sets me down, his hands lingering on my hips before sliding up my sides. I barely have time to catch my breath before I tip my chin up, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know,” I tease, pressing my body against his, my hands trailing over his damp skin. Then, rising onto my tiptoes, I kiss him—slow and deep, drawing him in. “But I can think of a few things.”