CHAPTER 211

**ZION**

My lips brushed against hers.

Just barely. 

A whisper of contact.

And she giggled.

Soft. 

Unfiltered. 

It caught her off guard.

Like she hadn’t meant to let it out—but couldn’t help it.

And it hit me.

Hard.

Like a fucking freight train slamming straight into my chest.

That sound—God, that sound—I hadn’t heard it in years. 

It was her. 

The version of her I thought I’d lost.

It was everything I’d missed and everything I hadn’t even realised I was starving for.

One giggle —and I couldn’t think. 

I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like breaking the surface after being underwater for too long. 

And I was done for.

I didn’t think. Didn’t plan.

I just knew I had to.

Because that giggle was mine.

Because I needed her like blood in my veins.

Because if I didn’t kiss her right then, I might’ve fallen apart altogether.

So I leaned in—

And kissed her hard.

Poured everything into it. 

Every ache, every year of silence, every desperate second I’d spent pretending I didn’t need her. 

My hunger. 

My fear. 

My love. 

All of it.

Because she was it for me.

Because she was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.

I craved her in a way that scared the shit out of me.

Fuck!

Her lips were soft. 

Warm. 

Too damn perfect.

At first, I tried to keep it gentle. 

But the moment her mouth opened for me, the moment her tongue met mine?

I was gone.

Control snapped like a frayed wire.

Every promise I’d made to take it slow, to savour, to be careful—shattered.

I kissed her deeper, rougher, like I could lose myself in the taste of her. 

My hands slid up her back, fisting the fabric of my shirt still clinging to her body like a second skin. 

My hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, keeping her there, right where she belonged. 

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, as if she couldn’t get enough either.

She moaned into my mouth, and fuck, I nearly lost it.

She kissed me like she needed me. 

Like she’d been starving, too.

It wasn’t sweet—it was desperate. 

Primal. 

Messy. 

Perfect.

I could feel her need crashing into mine, sharp and hot and hungry.

Her body melted against me, and it hit me all at once—I wasn’t just kissing her.

I was unravelling.

Everything I’d ever wanted. 

Everything I’d ever hated myself for wanting.

Right there in my arms, moaning into my mouth, shaking me to my core.

And I wasn’t going to survive her.

I already knew—I’d never come back from this.

My cock shoved hard at the front of my pants, straining like it could break through denim. 

Every inch of me burned, and my voice came out low, rough—barely human.

“Tell me what you want,” 

I rasped, dragging my mouth away from hers for just a second—barely. My forehead pressed to hers as I fought to stay grounded. 

Every nerve in my body screamed to touch her, take her, claim her. 

But I needed to hear her say it. 

Needed her to know she had the power now, not me. 

Because I was already gone.

Her eyes met mine.

“You.”

My world stopped.

Everything—my breath, my heart, time itself—just…paused.

I’d dreamed those words before. 

More than once. 

Her voice, soft and sure, said she wanted me. 

But this wasn’t a dream. 

She was standing right in front of me. 

Real. 

Close. 

Wearing my fucking shirt. 

And saying exactly what I’d wanted to hear for what felt like forever.

I didn’t move. 

Couldn’t move. 

Couldn’t breathe. 

I was afraid that if I held her too tightly, she’d slip through my fingers like smoke.

But then she shifted closer, already in my arms, and her fingertips brushed over my shoulder—slow, steady. 

“You’re what I crave,” she said, her voice a breath against my skin.

I almost lost it right then.

I tried to breathe, but all I could inhale was her. 

Soft, sweet, everything I’d ever wanted.

“I want you so fucking much Snowflake,” I growled, barely recognising my own voice.

My hands locked onto her shoulders, and I dragged her close. 

Every part of me screamed with the need to claim her, but I held on—barely.

“You’re too good for me,” I said. The words tore out like a confession. 

“You always have been.”

But it didn’t matter. 

Not with her this close. 

Not with her looking at me like that—with trust, with heat, with something that looked a hell of a lot like forever.

I couldn’t stay away.

I leaned in and crushed my mouth to hers. 

No more restraint. 

No more pretending. 

This was needed. 

This was years of silence and wanting and heartbreak poured into one kiss. 

And I knew, right then, there was no turning back.

Not now.

Not ever.

Desire exploded through me like a damn fuse had been lit.

I tasted her. 

Savoured her. 

And it ruined me.

Her hands curled around my shoulders, tugging me closer, like she needed more—like she needed me.

I could feel her body pressed to mine.

The softness of her breasts crushed against my chest. The sharp peaks of her nipples brushed through the thin fabric.

God.

She felt like sin and salvation all at once.

I didn’t even realise I’d moved until I had her in my arms, lifting her like I’d done it a thousand times. 

Her legs wrapped around my waist, her body moulding to mine like she was made for me.

And maybe she was.

The shirt she wore—my shirt—had ridden up her thighs, and my cock, already hard as hell, shoved up against the heat between her legs.

I groaned, burying my face in her neck, still kissing her like I couldn’t stop. 

Like I’d die if I did.

I should slow down.

I know I should.

But it felt like we were speeding—racing forward at a hundred miles an hour with no brakes. 

And I didn’t want to stop.

Not when she tasted like this.

Not when her body fit mine like this.

Not when her moans were the most beautiful fucking sound I’d ever heard.

She kissed like she meant it—like this wasn’t a maybe.

This was us.

This was something else.

She was fired now. 

Raw, uninhibited fire.

And all I could think—over and over—was how badly I wanted to return and erase the years.

Erase every mistake.

Every girl I ever kissed.

Every girl I touched.

Every time I fucked someone just to feel something.

None of them was her.

None of them even came close.

And now, with her in my arms, looking at me like I was everything—

God, I hated myself for wasting time.

For letting anyone else touch a single piece of me she should’ve had first.

Because this—she—was all I’d ever needed.

And I’d been too fucking blind to see it

Because it should’ve been with her.

It should’ve always been with her.

I carried her to the bed like a man possessed.

No hesitation. 

No second-guessing.

Her body pressed to mine, her warmth seeping through my skin, her scent driving me absolutely fucking insane.

I laid her down, gently—almost reverently—but the moment her back hit the mattress, my restraint shattered.

I tore my hands from her hips and slammed them into the mattress on either side of her, caging her in as my mouth found hers again.

God, I’d been starved for her.

Her taste. 

Her touch. 

Her.

No more holding back.

No more pretending I could stay away.

She was mine. 

And I was hers. 

And fuck the world if it didn’t like it.

We were going to burn together.

I devoured her mouth like I’d been starved for years—because I had been. 

Every kiss was deep, hungry, and full of all the restraint I’d already lost.

And when she let out that soft, breathy moan against my lips?

Fuck.

It nearly brought me to my knees.

That sound—God, that sound—I wanted more of it. 

Needed more of it.

By the time I was done with her, I wanted her screaming my name, undone and ruined by my hands. 

By my mouth. 

By everything I’d been holding back.

My tongue tangled with hers, urgent and possessive. 

Her nipples strained against the front of the shirt—my shirt—and the sight made my blood roar in my veins. 

I needed them in my mouth. Needed all of her.

Every. 

Fucking. 

Inch.

“I'm going to fuck you hard,” I rasped, my voice so hoarse it didn’t even sound like mine anymore.

Her lips brushed mine as she whispered,

“Good… because that’s exactly what I want to do with you.”

That was it.

I crashed my mouth against hers again, kissing her like she was oxygen and I hadn’t breathed in days.

Fucking hell, I couldn’t get enough.

She was everything.

And I was about to lose myself in her completely.

And then—

A phone.

Shrill, sharp. 

Distant. 

Somewhere in the damn house.

I ignored it.

But she didn’t.

Her hands pressed to my chest. 

“I… I think that’s my phone.”

Her voice was breathless, eyes clouded with need—but she was still trying to be responsible.

“No,” I growled. 

“Let it ring.”

And before she could argue, I kissed her neck—slow, possessive—claiming her all over again.

Because I wasn’t done.

Not even close.

She shivered beneath me, arching like her body needed mine.

My mouth found the sweet spot right over her pulse, and I sucked—slow, deep, relentless.

“God… oh jeez, that feels good.”

Her voice was breathless, wrecked. I was wrecked.

The world outside that bed could burn for all I cared.

My hands slid from the sheets and found her thighs—warm, soft, addictive.

I couldn’t stop touching her. 

Couldn’t stop needing more.

Slowly, I pushed her legs apart, settling between them, and my breath caught like a damn punch to the chest.

The shirt—my shirt—had ridden up just enough to tease me with bare skin… and the flash of red beneath.

Lace.

Tiny, red lace panties that looked like they were made to destroy me.

I gripped the hem of the shirt and shoved it higher, needing to see her—all of her.

And when I did?

“Fuck,” I choked out, voice hoarse. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She was laid out beneath me like temptation itself.

Wearing my shirt.

In those panties.

Looking up at me like I was the only man she’d ever see.

The phone had stopped ringing, finally. 

Good. 

Whoever it was could rot for interrupting us.

She was beneath me, flushed and panting, wearing nothing but my shirt and that look that made my cock throb like a second heartbeat.

Another ringtone cut through the air.

Not hers this time.

Mine.

I froze. 

The sound blasted through the lust-hazed fog in my skull.

My phone. 

Still in my back pocket.

“Answer it,” she whispered, reluctantly, her lips still parted, pupils blown wide.

I looked down at her—kiss-bruised lips, hair all over my shirt, cheeks flushed with need.

She looked like mine.

She was mine.

And fuck, we hadn’t even started.

My jaw clenched as I pulled back, my breathing ragged. 

My body was tight, aching. 

My cock was so hard I could barely think. 

Every cell in me screamed to go back to kissing her, tasting her, finishing what we’d started.

But that ringtone…

I knew it.

Clark.

Of course, it was Clark.

I yanked the phone out of my pocket and barked, 

“This had better be really fucking urgent.”

There was static on the other end. 

Then—

Clark’s voice, sharp and panicked.

“Where the fuck are you two?”

I stood there, furious, rock hard, trying not to look down at Winter—thoroughly kissed, hair wild, legs tangled in my sheets. 

We hadn’t even gotten close to what I wanted to do to her. 

What needed to happen.

“Get to the fucking point, Clark,” I snapped, ready to throw the phone across the room.

Then, a shuffle.

A second voice cut in—Claire.

Her tone was flat, serious. 

“Zion… a new message just came in.”

A pause. 

“It’s bad.”

Everything in me went still.

The air changed.

Winter sat up behind me slowly, her hand brushing my back. 

My pulse, still raging from want, now pounded with something colder.

Dread.

“What message?” I ground out, already bracing for whatever came next.

Because if they were calling at this hour—

If Claire sounded like that—

Then whatever was coming…

It wasn’t just bad.

It was about to blow everything up.