CHAPTER 208

**WINTER**

OMG.

He was literally undressing in front of me.

“You don’t have to—” I started, but the words stuck in my throat.

Because he’d already undone half the buttons.

The fabric fell open, revealing smooth, tan skin and just enough of his chest to make my heart trip over itself.

My breath hitched.

I knew I should’ve looked away.

I didn’t.

With each slow flick of his fingers, another button came undone—like he was in no rush, like he knew I was watching and was enjoying every second of it.

The shirt slid from his shoulders in one smooth motion, but instead of letting it fall, he caught it in one hand—slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. His eyes never left mine as he held it loosely, the fabric dangling from his fingers like an invitation.

But I wasn’t even looking at the shirt.

My eyes were on him—only him. On the way every line of muscle shifted beneath his skin. The shirt hung loosely from his fingers, forgotten, irrelevant.

All I could focus on was the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moonlight danced across his skin, carving shadows into every sharp angle. He looked unreal, like something out of a dream I had no business staring at—but couldn’t stop.

Was that an actual twelve-pack?

Did people even have those?

My mouth went dry.

And I… was still staring.

At his chest.

His shoulders.

His abs—were those twelve abs?

My face burned.

"Snowflake?"

“Oh my god,” I mumbled to myself, trying to cool the flush creeping up my neck and into my ears.

But it was no use.

My brain had short-circuited and the only thing playing on repeat was Zion.

Shirtless.

In front of me.

“How much do you work out?”

Oh no.

That was out loud.

Zion’s grin deepened, that mischievous glint in his eyes sparkling as he stepped just a little closer, his voice dropping to a velvety murmur.

“Well, clearly enough to catch your attention. I work out just enough to make sure every inch of me is worth the attention. And judging by that look, I’d say you definitely approve, baby.”

His smirk deepened as he held the shirt out, but made no move to close the distance.

“Want a better view? You know, for research purposes. Or maybe you need to touch to fully appreciate the definition?”

My mouth parted—no words, just a tiny noise of embarrassment escaping as her cheeks flamed.

He leaned in a little more, lowering his voice to a delicious whisper.

“Come on, Snowflake. I’m practically a public service at this point.”

“This masterpiece?” he said, dragging his hand across his chest like some Calvin Klein model who knew exactly the effect he was having.

“All yours. You can stare… touch… kiss—whatever helps you sleep better tonight.”

My jaw dropped.

No sound came out, just a strangled little squeak of embarrassment.

Was he serious?

Was he trying to kill me?

He stepped even closer, the air shifting between us like it knew something was about to combust.

“No need to be shy, Snowflake,” he murmured.

“I’m very cooperative.”

I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, clutching the shirt tighter.

“You are unbelievable,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Behind me, I heard the mattress dip as he flopped onto the bed, completely unbothered.

“Thanks,” he said, voice full of infuriating amusement.

“I do try.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Yep.

I was never making it through the night.

“Your turn.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

“What?”

He repeated, voice low and teasing,

“Your turn…”

Slowly, I turned around, and froze.

He was standing way too close—so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.

His cologne wrapped around me like a warm, dizzying fog, making my heart skip.

“My turn for what?” I stammered, struggling to keep my voice steady, though my cheeks burned with a nervous heat.

His eyes locked onto mine, that slow, knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You wanted to borrow a shirt,” he said with a casual shrug, holding out the one he’d just peeled off.

“Here. Go ahead—change into this.”

I licked my lips, desperate not to glance down at his bare chest, but my brain was refusing to cooperate.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away—he was like a magnet, every inch of him pulling me in, making my heart race and my thoughts scatter.

“Earth to Snowflake…” he teased, amusement dripping from his voice.

“Huh?”

“Shirt…”

Shit.

Get it together.

Stop acting like some lovesick schoolgirl.

I yanked the shirt from his hand, heat rushing to my cheeks.

“Right…”

Turning to leave, I started toward the bathroom.

“Hey, where are you going? I just stripped down for you—don’t you think it’s only fair I get the same show? You should change here, too.”

I paused, biting my lip.

“I’m not changing in front of you.”

He pouted, sulking just a little, that mischievous sparkle in his eyes never fading.

“Pity. But hey, a guy can always dream.”

Then, with that same shameless smirk, he added,

“Want me to turn around? If you’re feeling shy, I promise I won’t peek… well, maybe just a little. Depends on how long you take.”

I shot him a sharp look.

“I’ll just change in the bathroom.”

His eyebrows lifted, full of teasing challenge.

“Oh? Afraid you won’t be able to resist me once the shirt’s off?”

I groaned, spinning on my heel with a reluctant laugh.

“Fine, I’ll change here… but you better turn around, Romeo.”

"But..."

“Just turn around.”

He chuckled but obediently spun to face the wall, raising both hands like he was under arrest.

“Turning, turning. But fair warning, I’ve got terrible self-control when it comes to blushing girls in oversized shirts.”

My cheeks burned hotter. “Zion.”

“I’m not looking!” he whispered, not even trying to hide the laugh in his voice.

He spun around with a casual flourish, giving me a clear view of his broad, powerful back and those perfectly sculpted shoulders.

No wonder every girl seemed to fall for him—those muscles looked like they were carved by some kind of work of art.

I tugged off my shirt and jeans, letting them drop softly to the floor.

I was still in my simple white cotton bra and panties, feeling suddenly exposed and a little vulnerable.

Hurriedly, I slipped my arms into the oversized shirt he’d handed me. It was massive, swallowing me up, but it carried his crisp, familiar scent—warm and intoxicating.

My fingers fumbled as I tried to button it, the fabric feeling foreign and comforting all at once.

The shirt was long enough to cover my butt, which was a relief.

“Okay, I’m good,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the heat rising in my cheeks.

He turned back toward me slowly, eyes tracing a deliberate path from my face down my body. His gaze held an intensity that made my breath hitch.

“Fuck!...Your Far better than good,” he murmured, voice low and full of something that sent a thrill straight through me.

He stared at me like I was some kind of spell he couldn’t break, voice low and rough.

“Fuck… you wear my shirt better than I ever could. Damn, Snowflake… if your plan was to look irresistible, you nailed it—completely.”

His eyes darkened, caught in some kind of trance, like I’d just turned the whole room upside down.

Suddenly feeling nervous, I forced my gaze away from him—only for it to land on the bed. And immediately, I regretted it.

We were supposed to sleep together. In the same bed.

With me wearing this.

And him looking like that!

My entire body betrayed me, heating with anticipation I had no right to feel.

The thought of lying that close to him… skin brushing skin… his hands possibly—God.

I was actually looking forward to it.

Nope. Nope.

My brain couldn’t survive another second picturing him like that—bare, confident, dangerous to every coherent thought I had left.

“I’m not going to bite, Snowflake,” he said, his voice a teasing drawl.

I swallowed hard.

“Unless you’d like me to.”

My gaze snapped to his.

And just like that, the air between us shifted—charged and heavy.

There was no mistaking the look in his eyes: hot, dark, and devastating. Like he could devour me whole and still be hungry.

I turned quickly, pacing to the window in a desperate attempt to get away from the burn crawling up my skin.

My heart was thundering, my thoughts a blur. I slid open the balcony door just a little, letting the sharp night air hit my face.

Maybe that would cool me down.

Because the way he’d been looking at me...

“Shit… Snowflake,”

Zion muttered behind me, voice lower now, regret lacing every word.

“I was just messing around. God, my timing is trash, isn’t it?”

Before I could turn, I felt him—his hands sliding around my waist as he stepped in behind me, his chest warm against my back.

The contact made me shiver for a different reason entirely.

“I’m supposed to be the guy who makes you feel safe right now. You’re going through hell, and here I am... hitting on you like an asshole.”

But I didn’t move away. I leaned back into him—just slightly—and his arms tightened like it was instinct. Like he needed to hold me just as badly as I needed to be held.

“I don’t feel unsafe,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them—quiet, honest, trembling with something I hadn’t fully admitted until now.

His breath caught.

“In fact…” I swallowed hard, barely able to look at him. “I want you to help me feel safe. I want to feel you…”

The rest of the sentence dissolved on my tongue, too heavy, too intimate. But the meaning hung thick in the air between us.

Zion stilled behind me. I felt his breath ghost over the side of my neck—warm, unsteady.

“Fuck, Snowflake,” he murmured, like he didn’t quite believe me. Like I’d just pulled the floor out from under him.

"R-really?"

I nodded, unable to look at him, unable to breathe.

“I’ll give you whatever you need,” he said softly, voice rough, reverent.

“Whatever you want, Snowflake. Just say the word.”

I didn’t answer with words—I couldn’t. Instead, I leaned back into him, into the warmth of his bare chest, letting my head rest against his shoulder.

We stood there like that, our breaths mingling, our hearts racing, and the night air curling around us like a promise.