CHAPTER 260

**ZION**

Her body pressed into mine, hips rising instinctively to meet me, and the heat of her nearly burned straight through my skin. 

Her mouth tore from mine on a broken gasp—my name spilling out like I was the only thing keeping her upright. Raw. Needy. Shaken.

Her head tipped back, baring the delicate line of her throat, and I moved without thought—my mouth tracing that vulnerable curve. 

My stubble rasped over her skin, too rough, and I froze, forcing restraint into my touch.

Be gentle.

Don’t push.

Don’t take what she’s not truly giving.

She pulled back just enough to lock her eyes on mine, every drop of water sliding over her skin, glistening, tracing the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips, the smooth line of her stomach. Steam clung to her, softening her edges, making her look almost untouchable—and impossibly real all at once. Her hair clung wet to her shoulders, framing her face, lips parted, eyes fierce and needy.

“I want you to fuck me…”

My Adam’s apple bobbed, swallowing hard, throat tight, pulse hammering so violently it felt like it could rip me apart.

She repeated it, just a whisper this time, letting it linger between us.

“I want you now…”

Her voice—breathless, wrecked, begging—lodged itself in my chest and detonated. Heat slammed through me so fast it felt like my blood turned molten. 

My cock throbbed so hard it was painful, my grip on her hips tightening before I could stop it.

A low, feral sound tore up my throat—half-growl, half-prayer—and I had to lock my jaw to keep it from escaping. My vision tunnelled, every instinct sharpening to one single, savage focus:

Take her. 

Claim her. 

Make her forget everything but me.

“Zion… what’s the matter? Don’t you want to fuck me?”

Her words cut straight through my brain, looping again and again, each syllable raw, desperate, trembling. She stared up at me, eyes wide, glistening with need, lips parted, like she was offering herself completely, fragile and unguarded.

My pulse thundered in my ears. My hands clenched around her, instinct threatening to crush rather than hold. Heat coiled through my gut like a live wire, relentless and sharp, every nerve screaming for her.

Of course, I want to fuck you.

God, every part of me wanted her—every inch, every drop of her skin, every quiver and gasp—but it wasn’t just lust. It was an obsession. It was the need to be the only thing she remembered, the only thing that mattered.

It’s at the top of my goddamn list.
Right at the very top.

But fuck

...

The condoms are in my room. 

My fucking room.

A whole few steps away—might as well be a mile—and I’m standing here, burning alive for her.

And then her mouth found my neck.

Soft. Wet. Desperate.

Her lips dragged over my skin, and heat shot through my veins so fast it stole my breath.

My muscles locked, every instinct in me snapping tight, coiled, ready to take—
to pin her to the wall and give her exactly what she begged for.

Her teeth grazed lightly, her breath shaky against my throat, and a low, feral sound tore out of me before I could stop it.

I wanted her.

So bad it fucking hurt.

...

I wanted to destroy every second between us, wanted to bury myself inside her and make her mine in the only way that could satisfy this fire.

But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Condoms first. Safety first. Restraint first.

I ground my teeth, holding her close, feeling her wet warmth pressing against me, every curve, every soft gasp, every trembling inch. 

Her hands dug into my shoulders, nails dragging lightly over my skin, pulling me impossibly closer. I let out a low growl, teeth grazing her shoulder, heat burning through every nerve.

But beneath the fire, another voice cut through—quiet, steady, iron-strong. The part of me that remembered how shaken she’d been, how close she came to being hurt, how raw and fragile she still was. That voice tethered me, kept me from losing myself completely.

“Zion…please…” she whispered, voice trembling, barely more than a breath, and it hit me like a punch.

Okay.

I can do this. I will.

I can make her forget everything else—forget the fear, the chaos, the night she shouldn’t have had to endure.
I can make her melt, scream, tremble, beg—all without crossing the line.

My lips trailed down her throat, kissing, sucking, teasing, and my hands roamed, exploring, cupping, tracing the shape of her body, memorising every curve. She gasped, shivered, grinding lightly against me, and I stiffened, fighting the temptation to let go.

My dick throbbed against my jeans, rock hard and relentless, aching to bury itself deep inside her. 

I wanted it, needed it, craved it with every fibre of my being. The urge to take her, to claim her, was almost overwhelming, a primal need that pulsed through my veins. But I’d promised to protect her, and protecting her meant more than just giving in to my lust.

It meant restraint. 

It meant putting her needs above my own, even when every instinct screamed for me to lose control. 

I could feel the tension in my body, the way my muscles coiled tight, ready to snap, but I forced myself to hold back, to focus on her, on giving her the comfort and pleasure she needed without taking more than she was ready to give.

I took a deep breath, letting the cool air of the bathroom steady me, even as the heat of the shower and the scent of her threatened to consume me. 

Her hands shot up, gripping my shoulders before I could step back. Her mouth crashed against mine—hard, desperate, claiming. The heat of her lips, the press of her body against mine, stole my breath.

I wanted to pull away.

I needed to get the condoms first—I need to get the fucking condoms first, my mind screamed—but her kiss stole every rational thought.

Her tongue probed, her body pressed closer, and I groaned against her, caught in the impossible tension between raw desire and disciplined restraint.

I pressed my lips to her throat again, feeling her pulse thrumming beneath my mouth, wild and fast.

Her whispered moans, her heat pressed to mine, her pulse thundering beneath my fingers—it was like electricity in every vein, a wildfire coiled in my chest.

Fuck.

Okay, fine.

I could give her what she wanted, another way. 

I could make her cum, right here, right now, drive her wild, before I got those goddamn condoms. 

I can make her feel it, make her lose herself, before I grab those goddamn condoms.

I cursed myself under my breath for being unprepared, for letting the heat hit me like this, but her hands gripped my chest, urging me closer, daring me.

But I’m not about to let that stop me from giving her everything she needs.

My hand slid between us, teasing, exploring, every nerve alight, every touch a war between pleasure and self-control. I pushed a finger into her, and she hissed out a breath that shot straight to my cock, sharp and hot.

Fuck. 

I was dangerously close to losing it entirely.

My lips trailed down her neck, tasting the water droplets that clung to her skin, each one a sweet torment. I could feel her heart racing, her breath hitching with every touch, every kiss. 

It was intoxicating, a mix of vulnerability and desire that made my head spin and my cock throb with need.

My lips found hers again, hungry and demanding, my tongue exploring her mouth with a fervour that left us both breathless. My hands roamed her body, tracing every curve, every line, committing every inch of her to memory. 

I could feel her respond to my touch, her body pressing against mine, seeking more, needing more.

Her body trembled against me, legs instinctively clinging to my hips, and my jaw clenched against the heat roaring through me. 

Every fibre of me wanted to give in, to lose myself in her—but I forced it down. 

Carefully, deliberately, I eased her off me, setting her feet on the wet tile.

I ground my lips against the side of her neck, tasting the salt of the water, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her skin—a heartbeat that matched my own, fast and erratic. 

My hands slid along her sides, tracing her curves, skimming, teasing, doing everything I could to pull her close without crossing the line.

I slid my hand between her thighs, feeling the heat of her, the wetness that told me she was ready for me. 

I pushed two fingers into her, and she gasped, her back arching as I filled her. 

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," I growled against her neck, my voice a low, primal rumble. 

"So ready. So fucking perfect."

I worked another finger into her, feeling her tighten around me, her muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythm that was both torturous and perfect. I could feel every inch of her, the way her body responded to my touch, the way she trusted me with her pleasure. 

It was a connection that went beyond the physical, a bond that was being forged in the heat of our desire.

I curled my fingers, finding that spot that made her eyes roll back and her breath hitch. I worked her slowly at first, building the pleasure, drawing out the sensation until she was a trembling, gasping mess in my arms. 

Her hands dug into my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent a jolt of desire straight to my cock.

I leaned in, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, my tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that matched the need pulsing between her thighs. 

I could taste her desire, could feel it in the way her body melted against mine, in the way her hands roamed my back, pulling me closer.

Her moans rose in pitch every time I pushed in farther, finding that spot that made her gasp. 

"I love that you’re sitting on my hand right now," I whispered against her skin, voice low and wrecked. 

"You’re so fucking tight, baby."

I could feel her body responding, the way her hips rolled, seeking more, needing more. And I was more than willing to give it to her. 

I increased the pace, my fingers moving faster, deeper, claiming every inch of her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the effort of holding back, of trying to control the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. 

But I wasn’t going to let her hold back. 

Not tonight. 

Not ever.

My fingers moved with purpose, slow at first, teasing, learning every reaction she couldn’t hide. When her breath hitched and her thighs trembled, I adjusted—faster, deeper, giving her exactly what her body begged for.

“Z–Zion…” she gasped, her voice breaking around my name, a sound that nearly snapped the last thread of my control.

I pressed my mouth to her ear, letting my words sink into her, claiming her attention, her focus, her sanity.

“Come for me, Snowflake,” I murmured, my voice low, rough, a command wrapped in comfort.

She moaned—soft at first, then louder, desperate, her head falling back as water cascaded down her throat and chest, making her body slick and warm under my hands.

My other arm locked around her waist, holding her steady as her legs threatened to give out.

“Let go,” I whispered, lips brushing her skin. “I’ve got you… I’m right here.”

Her fingers fisted in my hair, her hips jerking helplessly into my hand, a broken, breathless whimper tearing from her lips—

And then she shattered.

Her body clenched around my fingers, her inner muscles squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that was both torturous and perfect. 

She cried out, her voice a mix of pleasure and surprise, her body shuddering against mine as the waves of her orgasm washed over her.

I held her through it, my arms wrapped tightly around her, my lips pressed to her throat, feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat against my lips. And as she came down from the high, as her breathing slowly returned to normal, I knew that I would do anything to protect her, to keep her safe, to be the anchor she needed in the storm of her life.