Falling for the Ghost of You(69)

Are we going to stay in separate bedrooms? That seems pretty silly at this point. Zane brings both our bags into the master suite and sets them on the bed. He’s been watching me with amusement as I zip around, inspecting every detail of our luxurious accommodations.

Now I find myself standing next to him by the bed, both of us silent and tense. We’re staring at each other as though lost in a dream. Why do I suddenly feel so shy and uncertain around him when a couple of hours ago, I was ready to jump him?

Come on, Violet, make a move! This is simply the next step in our relationship, a natural progression that’s been a long time coming. And it isn’t like we haven’t already done other intimate…things before.

Ahh, I shouldn't have thought that—now I'm really blushing!

"What are you thinking?"

Zane's voice startles me. He's got that half-smile on his face as he studies my expression.

"N-nothing," I stammer, turning even more red.

"Yeah? Why is 'nothing' making you blush?"

"I don't know!"

Zane sits down on the edge of the bed and beckons me over. "Come here."

I go over to him and he pulls me into his lap. When I put my arms around his neck and absorb some of his strength and warmth, I feel a tiny bit more relaxed.

"You're over thinking things again," he says, resting his hands on my hips. "Just relax, okay? There's no pressure."

I take a deep breath, inhaling his familiar sexy scent. "I know. But don’t you want to...?"

One hand leaves my hip and moves up and down my back, rubbing the tension out. "Let's get something to eat first, maybe check out the park. Okay?"

I can't help the relieved smile that bursts onto my face. "Okay! I'm kind of starving."

I jump off his lap. Zane sighs quietly and runs a hand over his face. Impulsively, I step toward him, nudging into the space between his legs, and place my hands on his shoulders.

"Thank you for being so patient," I say, looking directly into his eyes.

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"Yes, I do. Thank you for this, too." I gesture at our surroundings.

Zane pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Anything for you."

I lean forward to kiss him, and it's only meant to be a light peck. But once I touch his mouth with mine, a wild hunger springs up and overwhelms me. It drowns every little doubt and voice of reason in my head, taking over my limbs. My hands move to cup Zane's face as the kiss deepens and spirals out of control. He responds by aggressively lifting me up and onto him so that I'm straddling his lap.

A beautiful aching heat rolls slowly through my insides, while the outside trembles with need. I feel desperate, crazy to get closer to him. I yank his shirt off, and hold my arms up so he can return the favor. Then I push him back on the bed so I'm lying on top of him.

I feel all this frantic need, but...I'm not quite sure what to do! My inexperience makes me clumsy when I want to be bold, when I need to—I don't know what I need!

Fortunately, Zane takes over. He rolls us so that he's on top, taking control of the kiss. I move restlessly beneath him, my fingers working to undo his jeans.

Half-laughing, half-groaning, Zane grabs my hands and pins them above my head.

"Stop, Violet," he says breathlessly. "We have to slow down, or I'll hurt you."

"I don't care," I tell him recklessly. "I want you to."

"Shit," he mutters, and briefly closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they burn into mine. "No. We're taking it nice and slow, even if it kills me."

Does he not understand I'm the one dying here? I strain against his hold. "No, Zane," I almost sob. "I can't wait another second!"

"Fuck, Violet." He swears roughly. The tortured look on his face is hitting all my good time buttons in just the right spot. "I owe you new underwear," he growls.

"Why?"

"Because I'm ripping this one off you."

Yes, please.











Chapter 28



What happens next is...wow, I don't know how to describe it. It's not anywhere near what I pictured my first time to be. I was expecting a bittersweet love song, full of candlelight and soft sighs.

But that's not me—not with Zane. Maybe it's because it's been building up between us for so long, or maybe that's the way we're both wired—I don't know. Instead of the gentle rain tapping at the windows, I get a beautiful savage hurricane. Instead of my love song, I get hard rock—a screaming outdoor concert in the storm, with pounding bass and feral dancing in the rain and mud. It's pain, mixed with an overwhelming pleasure, and that somehow makes it more amazing.

It couldn't have been more perfect, or more right.