CHAPTER 199

**WINTER**

The kiss crashes into me like a wave I didn’t see coming—hard, hungry, and so full of feeling it nearly knocks the air from my lungs.

For a heartbeat, I freeze. I don’t move.
I don’t breathe.

It’s like my mind short-circuits and my body forgets how to respond.

But then his hands grip my waist—tight, desperate—and something inside me breaks open.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was chaos.

The kiss is deep and intense, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that steals every breath from my lungs. 

My mind is a whirlwind, my body rooted to the spot.

I gasp against him, startled—but he doesn’t stop.

He devours, like he’s been starving for this. For me.

My hands press against his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on—because I feel like I’m falling.

“Zion…” I whisper, breathless, trembling. 

“We shouldn’t…”

His lips hover over mine, breath ragged, eyes blazing with something dangerous and desperate.

“Then stop me,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and low, like it’s tearing him apart. 

“Resist me.”

His words hang in the air, heavy, dangerous. A challenge. 

A plea.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters against my mouth, every word laced with hunger and heat. 

His grip on my waist tightens, like he’s holding himself back with the last thread of control he has.

“Say stop and I will—but don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend you don’t want this too.”

My breath catches in my throat. 

My fingers curl into his shirt without thinking, clinging like it’s the only thing anchoring me. 

My lips are swollen from his, and my heart is a riot in my chest.

Do I want this?

“Zion…” I whisper, but it’s not a protest—

He leans in, forehead pressed to mine, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His voice breaks against my lips, rough and aching.

“Just—kiss me back,” he pleads, almost a growl now. 

“Don’t fucking make me beg.”

His hands tighten around my waist even more, pulling me closer like he can’t stand the inches between us. Like he needs to feel every part of me just to stay sane.

“Please, Snowflake…” he breathes, his voice frayed and raw, trembling with something feral. “I need this. I need you.”

His forehead presses to mine, eyes burning into me like he’s trying to carve the moment into memory.

“You don’t get it,” he whispers, almost broken. 

“I’ve been going insane wanting this. Dreaming about your mouth, your skin, your fucking voice. Every damn second—it's been you.”

His hand tightens at my waist, jaw clenched.

“Let me have this—just a taste,” he growls, obsession dripping from every word. 

“Because if I don’t touch you right now, I swear to God, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Without waiting for an answer, he crashes his lips against mine again—this time fiercer, deeper, like he’s trying to swallow every piece of me.

Like he’s trying to brand himself into me. 

There’s nothing soft about it. It’s fierce, consuming. His teeth graze my bottom lip, his grip unrelenting, like he’s terrified I’ll vanish if he lets go.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a claim. And I feel every shattered, buried emotion behind it.

His words are half-command, half-plea, shattering whatever resistance I have left.

And then—I do.

I kiss him back like I’ve been holding it in for years.

Because maybe I have.

“Fuck…” he breathes, the word ragged, like it’s torn from somewhere deep.

Then his mouth crashes into mine all over again—hot, wild, and claiming. His tongue parts my lips with a hunger so fierce, it strips the air from my lungs.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a storm.

Unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

A demand written in heat and desperation.

He didn’t ask.

He took.

And I let him—because nothing was soft about this, nothing careful.

It was bold.

It was bruising.

It was everything we’d both been denying.

His hands came up to cradle my face, rough and trembling like he was trying to anchor himself, like I was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely. 

His fingers curled into my hair, holding me in place—not to trap me, but like he was terrified I’d disappear if he let go.

And maybe… maybe I felt the same.

It doesn’t take long for my own hands to respond, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as our chests press tightly together, feeling his heart pounding against mine.

His lips are fierce, demanding, and I meet his passion with my own, our tongues dancing in a desperate, urgent rhythm. 

It’s everything and nothing all at once, as if the world has narrowed down to just this moment, just him and me. 

My head is spinning, my thoughts a chaotic blur as I try to make sense of this sudden, intense shift. 

I can feel every inch of him, the solidness of his body, the heat of his touch as his hands roam my back, pulling me into him with a desperation that matches my own. 

My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer with reckless desperation, our chests slamming together like we’re afraid one of us might vanish. 

His mouth is urgent against mine—raw, unfiltered, like he’s pouring all the things he can’t say into the kiss.

And God, I feel it. All of it.

His stubble grazes my skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips, and it sends a shiver skittering down my spine. 

His hands are everywhere—on my back, on my waist, pressing me closer like even that’s not enough. Like he wants to crawl inside my skin and stay there. 

And maybe, deep down, I want that too. 

The way he touches me is rough, aching, like he’s been starving for this-for me-and now that he has a taste, he doesn’t know how to stop.

The kiss isn’t perfect. It’s messy and breathless and far too intense—but it’s real. It’s us. All the pain, all the longing, all the things we never said, tangled up in this one impossible moment.

I don’t know where we are anymore. 

I don’t care. 

The world’s gone quiet. 

It’s just his heartbeat and mine, slamming together in the space between our bodies, in the space where everything else falls away.

And then his hands slide up, cupping my face with a gentleness that nearly breaks me. 

When we finally break apart, our foreheads rest together, breath coming hard and fast like we’ve just run a marathon. 

His eyes find mine, searching, burning, begging. I don’t even know what he’s asking for—but God, I want to give it.

I’m leaning against the wall, my body still trembling from the force of it all. His eyes search mine, like he’s waiting for something—some sign, some reaction.

I can feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, my breath coming in sharp, unsteady gasps as the reality of what just happened begins to sink in. 

I push at his chest, my palms pressing against his solid frame, trying to create some distance between us.

Zion doesn’t move, his hands still gripping my face, but his eyes flicker with something dark, something I can’t name.

We were both breathing hard, the silence thick and electric as our foreheads rested against each other’s. 

My lips still tingled from his kiss—his hands still lightly gripping my waist like he wasn’t ready to let go.

His chest rose and fell against mine. Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to.

Then—

BANG.

The door flew open.

“There you are,” Clark barked, completely oblivious. 

“We’ve been searching the whole fucking house—Ro almost checked the laundry chute—”

I practically jumped, heart slamming into my ribs as I scrambled away from Zion.
He swore under his breath, low and lethal.

Clark stopped.

Dead in his tracks.

So did Ro. 

So did Harry.

All three stared.

Zion didn’t move.

I didn’t breathe.

Ro’s eyes flicked between us, a knowing glint in them. 

A smirk teased her lips.

Harry blinked once and grinned. 

“Oops. Did we interrupt something?”

Clark’s gaze bounced from me to Zion to our suspiciously close proximity—our swollen lips, the guilty silence—and then realisation slammed into him like a train.

“Oh. Oh hell no. You’ve got to be kidding me.” He pointed dramatically. 

“We’re running around like idiots trying to find you,” Clark huffed, striding into the room without knocking. 

“And you’re just up here hiding like it’s a damn nap break during finals week.”

He waved a hand around, oblivious.

Silence.

His brow furrowed. 

“Wait… why do you both look like you just got caught committing a felony?”

Zion muttered something low and deadly under his breath. His jaw clenched, and he slowly turned toward Clark.

“For fuck’s sake…” Zion growled, voice dark and low. 

“Get. Out.”

Clark blinked, genuinely confused. 

“What?”

He threw his hands up, full of dramatic flair.

“Unbelievable. I could be making out with someone right now—living my best life—but instead, I rush over here because you threatened to, and I quote, ‘rip our spines out through our throats’ if we didn’t show up on the dot for some assignment I still don’t even understand! ”

He pointed a finger, stepping back.

“And now? Now you’re telling us to get out? After dragging us across town like your personal homework slaves? You’re in here playing the brooding bad boy, and we’re just supposed to back out like the opening scene of a horror movie?”

Clark blinked at us, totally missing the tension radiating off Zion like a live wire.

Zion muttered under his breath, voice low and lethal,

“Clark,” he said, his voice a razor’s edge. 

“If you don’t shut up and leave in the next five seconds, I’m going to personally show you what spine extraction feels like.”

Clark opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

Ro grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

“Alright, alright. Time to evacuate before Zion commits a felony.”

Harry backed toward the door with a grin. 

“Later, lovers. Don’t break the furniture.”

Clark froze for a beat.

"Wait. What,"

Ro smirked, grabbing Clark’s shirt and tugging him back,

“Clark, let’s go.”

Harry grinned widely,

“Relax, Romeo. We’ll leave you and Juliet to… bond.”

He made exaggerated smacking noises as he dragged a baffled Clark away.

Zion shot a sharp glance back at me, a rough edge in his eyes softening into something small and fierce.

A crooked smile tugged at his lips.

“Now, Snowflake… where were we?”