CHAPTER 200
ZION
“Now,” I mutter, gaze dropping to her kiss-swollen lips,
“Where were we?”
She’s still breathless, cheeks stained with that soft, innocent blush that drives me absolutely fucking mad.
Like she’s shocked we just did that.
Like she didn’t just kiss me back like her life depended on it.
Like she wasn’t pressed against me, fingers tangled in my shirt, clinging like she’d fall without me.
Her lips part, trying to form a sentence—but nothing comes out.
Not a word.
Just this broken, shaky breath as her eyes flick up to mine, glassy and wide and so damn unsure.
Her mouth opens again, then closes just as fast.
A soft, helpless noise escapes the back of her throat.
And fuck if that doesn’t make something in my chest twist tight.
She’s not pushing me away.
She’s just overwhelmed.
Flustered.
Wrecked in the best way.
Blushing. Shy. Beautiful.
And mine?
Maybe not yet.
But she will be.
I take a slow step closer, brushing my hand against her jaw, needing to feel her, anchor her.
“Did I make you speechless after being kissed senseless?” I tease, dragging a knuckle lightly beneath her chin and lifting her gaze to meet mine.
Her eyes widen like she’s trying to find words but coming up empty.
I grin wider. “Or are you just quiet because you don’t want me to know how much you actually liked it?”
I let my thumb trace her jawline, slow, deliberate.
“Because, honestly, if that’s the case—” I pause, voice dropping lower, almost a growl
—“I’m gonna have to kiss you again… just to be sure.”
Her cheeks burn deeper, and her lashes flutter like she wants to protest—but all she manages is a tiny, breathy sound that makes my pulse spike.
“Damn,” I murmur, thumb stroking her cheek.
“You have no idea what that blush does to me.”
She finally lowers her gaze, teeth catching on her bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide how it trembles. Like she’s holding back everything she doesn’t want me to see.
And fuck if that doesn’t wreck me.
That mouth. Those lips.
I want them. Against mine. Open. Desperate. Tasting of every lie she told herself about not wanting this—about not wanting me.
I take a step closer, gaze fixed on her like a predator zeroing in on its prey. She doesn’t back away. Doesn’t even breathe.
I lean in, voice rough and low—right against her ear.
“You really shouldn’t bite your lip like that,” I murmur, letting the words drag.
“It gives me all kinds of thoughts. All kinds of fucking needs.”
She stiffens, a breath stuttering from her chest—but her face betrays her.
That colour.
That flush.
Blooming across her cheeks like a sin she doesn’t know how to repent for.
And God, she’s blushing again.
Mine.
I can feel the smirk pulling at my mouth as I tilt my head, eyes roaming her face with an intensity I don’t bother to hide.
“You’re blushing again Snowflake …” I murmur, fingers itching to touch her again.
She gives the faintest shake of her head, lips parting to speak—but nothing comes out. No denial. No smart-ass reply. Just that little inhale, soft and uncertain, like her whole body knows exactly what I do to her.
And I swear to God—I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her in this fucking moment.
“That for me?” I ask, voice all lazy amusement—but my eyes say something else entirely.
Hunger. Possession. Obsession.
Because she can try to play it down. Try to pretend this doesn’t matter. But her body knows. Her silence knows.
And now—so do I.
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but nothing comes out. Just that shaky breath that gives her away
I let out a low laugh.
“What happened to that fire from a minute ago? The one who couldn’t keep her hands off me?” I tilt my head, eyes locked on her flushed face.
“Gone quiet now, huh?”
She huffs—soft, annoyed, adorable—and pointedly looks away, her arms folding across her chest like some flimsy shield.
But the pink creeping up her neck betrays her.
I reach out, brushing my fingers lightly along her cheek, where her skin’s gone warm and pink.
“So soft,” I murmur, more to myself now, but I know she hears it.
“You always blush this easily? Or is it just me?”
She rolls her eyes, but it’s weak—betrayed by the way her gaze keeps darting to my mouth, her pulse fluttering like crazy at her neck.
“Careful,” I add with a cocky smile, leaning in a little.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna think you want me to do it again.”
Her fingers twitch at her sides.
She can’t even meet my eyes.
God, she’s beautiful like this—flushed, flustered, trying to gather herself while I’m barely holding back from grabbing her again.
“Want me to kiss you again?”
Her eyes snap to mine—wide, glassy, and completely stunned, like she can’t believe I just said that out loud.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispers, her voice barely holding together.
I grin, slow and shameless.
“No… You love it.”
She opens her mouth—probably to deny it—but nothing comes out.
Just that shaky, nervous little breath that gives her away.
And fuck if that doesn’t make something primal in me snarl with satisfaction.
“You kissed me back remember,” I say, voice low now, serious.
“You kissed me back like you’ve been waiting to.”
She swallows hard, looking everywhere but at me.
“Zion…”
But I’m already reaching for her.
Not to kiss her—not yet.
Just to touch her.
Her cheek, her jaw, the soft skin behind her ear.
I just need proof that she’s real.
That this isn't some twisted dream my mind conjured out of desperation.
“You can pretend all you want,” I whisper, thumb brushing beneath her chin, tipping it until her gaze locks with mine.
“But your body doesn’t lie. And neither did that kiss.”
She shivers. Lips parting slightly.
That same damn spark ignites between us, so electric it’s almost violent.
I pull back just a breath, heart hammering.
“That…” I murmur, eyes locked on her lips.
“That was the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had.”
Her head snaps up, brows raised in disbelief.
“Really?” she says, almost scoffing.
“Because when you kissed me in the woods, you said something else. Something like it didn’t mean anything.”
And just like that, the guilt slams into me.
I freeze, jaw tight. A breath leaves me, harsh and ragged.
“Fuck,” I say quietly.
“Fuck! I know.”
Then I grab her gently but firmly—hands cradling her face—and lean in, pressing my forehead to hers.
“I was a fucking moron,” I breathe.
“A bastard.”
Her eyes flutter shut at the confession, breath catching softly against my cheek.
"Yes... Yes, you were," she whispers, but there’s no venom in her voice—just quiet honesty. It hurts more than if she’d screamed.
I exhale shakily, my forehead still pressed to hers, as if I move, I’ll lose her all over again.
“Snowflake…” My voice cracks around her name.
“That kiss... that kiss in the woods was everything. It wasn’t just heat or tension or some passing moment I could forget. It was like a lifeline. And it scared the fucking shit out of me......"
“....But I let my anger take over. I let it blind me. And I said things—god, I said things I didn’t mean just to push you away.”
My hands drop from her cheeks, curling into fists at my sides.
“I made it sound like you were just... nothing. Like that kiss meant nothing.....”
"It was a fucking lie....And I knew it. The second it happened—I fucking knew it meant something. But I was so angry. So lost in my own shit, so twisted up over something you didn’t even do, and I didn’t know where to put that rage. So I threw it at you...I made you the target..”
I laugh bitterly under my breath.
“And the second I walked away, I wanted to rip my own fucking throat out for it.”
She doesn’t say anything, not yet—but I see it in her eyes. The hurt. The confusion. The ache I put there.
I swallow hard and take a step closer.
“I’ll never forgive myself for those words,” I whisper.
“But if there’s even a small part of you that can… please, Snowflake. Just know that I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”
Her lashes tremble, but she doesn’t pull away.
My throat burns, the words clawing out like they’ve been trapped in my chest for months.
Her eyes open slowly, glassy, wide, searching.
I pull back just enough to see her face, my hands still cradling her jaw.
Her lips tremble. She doesn’t speak, and I feel something tighten in my chest.
“You have to believe me,” I murmur, my voice breaking around the edges.
“Please. Tell me you believe me.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence. Two.
Then, finally, she nods.
Small.
Barely there.
“I do,” she whispers.
And fuck, if that doesn’t wreck me more than any punishment could. Because she still chooses to believe me.
And that meant everything.
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