CHAPTER 261

**ZION**

She came.

Her body convulsed against mine, breath ragged and uneven, and she choked out my name like it was a prayer torn from her soul. 

Her head snapped forward, teeth grazing my shoulder in a perfect, feral, maddening little bite that sent sparks exploding through my veins.

Her sex clenched around my fingers, tight and unrelenting, every shiver, every trembling motion, driving me closer to the edge of sanity. 

My chest tightened, heart hammering like a war drum—I’d lose it completely if I didn’t get inside her now. 

Sixty seconds. 

Maybe less.

I lifted her without thinking, water still cascading over both of us in relentless, steaming torrents, drenching my skin, slick and hot against hers. 

She wrapped her legs instinctively around my hips, body pressed tight, moulding to me like she was made for this. I carried her through the bathroom, every step a brutal battle to keep from exploding before we reached the bed, the steam swirling around us like a haze of pure desire.

I set her down on the mattress, soft but firm, letting her arch into me, every curve and line of her perfect body claiming my undivided attention, pulling me under. The bed groaned under us, sheets twisting and tangling under the weight and friction of our bodies, the air thick with the scent of sex and rain-soaked skin.

My hand dove into the bedside drawer, yanking out a condom, fumbling just slightly—too much adrenaline surging through me, too much raw need—but I got it on, just in time, my fingers trembling with the urgency.

“Zion…” she whispered, breathless, her voice a fragile thread of sound, but I didn’t answer with words.

I drove into her, hard and fast, claiming her in one brutal thrust. We gasped together, a jolt of heat and friction and raw sound ripping through the room. 

Her hands shot up instinctively, and I captured them, intertwining my fingers with hers before pinning them above her head on the rumpled sheets, holding her captive to my rhythm.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Not now. 

Not when she was here, pressed to me, trembling under my hands like a live wire. I drove into her hard, fast, every thrust a claim, every motion a wildfire of need consuming us both. 

My eyes locked onto hers, searching the depths, devouring the storm of emotions there, losing myself in the heat and fear and want shining back at me like a mirror to my own desperation.

Her breath hitched, quick and ragged, and her hips moved against mine—not just yielding, but meeting me with her own fierce force, her body demanding, driving back as fiercely as I pushed, matching my intensity stroke for stroke. 

She held me tight, legs wrapped around my waist like iron bands, core clenching, squeezing me like she wanted to consume me whole, pull me into her forever.

God, she was intoxicating. 

Every curve, every tremor, every shiver under my hands pulled me further over the edge, deeper into the abyss. 

I was drowning in her, losing control and loving every second of it, addicted to the way she tightened around me, the way her body answered mine with precision and hunger that bordered on madness.

And then it hit—simultaneously, explosively, a cataclysm we couldn’t escape. Her orgasm ripped through her like a storm, and I felt it all, every contraction, every shudder pulsing around me, and my own release followed in perfect, shattering sync. I came inside her, shuddering violently, the heat of her climax colliding with mine like fire meeting fire in an inferno. 

My muscles convulsed, every nerve ending screaming in ecstasy, every heartbeat pounding against my chest like it might burst free.

Her mouth found mine as we came, and I kissed her like I’d never kiss anyone again, teeth grazing, tongues tangling in a frenzy, breaths mingling in hot, desperate gasps, her cries and moans like a symphony in my ears, etching themselves into my soul.

I collapsed against her, chest to chest, arms wrapped tight around her trembling form, holding her as if letting go even for a second would destroy me, shatter the fragile world we’d built in this moment. 

Every pulse of hers, every soft shiver rippling through her, every whispered word etched itself into me deeper than any mark. She was mine—completely, wholly, in a way I’d never imagined possible, a possession that went beyond flesh to something primal and eternal.

Even as my body began to calm, muscles unclenching in the aftermath, my mind refused to follow. 

I was still drunk on her—the taste of her on my lips, the scent of her skin mingling with the steam, the heat of her pressed to me like a brand—and I knew, deep down in the core of me, I’d never be the same again, irrevocably changed by this woman who had stormed into my life.

I lifted my head slowly, reluctantly. 

She was staring up at me—and were those tears sparkling in her eyes like diamonds in the dim light, or was I just losing it completely, hallucinating from the overload? 

My heart didn’t just thunder. 

It flat-out tripped over itself, stumbled, and probably face-planted somewhere in my chest, leaving me breathless.

“Snowflake?” I croaked, voice rough and gravelly, completely useless after the strain.

She tilted her head, that tiny, guilty little smile curling her lips like a secret shared just between us. 

“I think… You left the water running.”

Oh, perfect. 

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My internal monologue immediately filed a complaint: Wow, idiot. You’ve just had the sexiest, wettest, most mind-melting shower moment ever—and now you’re worried about a damn faucet dripping away like some mundane interruption?

“Fuck."

But my eyes betrayed me before my brain could catch up, roaming greedily over her. 

Her skin glistening with remnants of water and sweat, her wet hair clinging to every curve like dark silk… my cock had long since decided it didn’t care about faucets or apologies or anything else. 

Every nerve in me screamed fuck her again, now, forget everything else, dive back in.

I tried to move rationally, tried to get my head back in the game, but it was hopeless, utterly futile. 

"Zion..."

“Ok… fuck. Right… water,” I muttered, but my body refused to move an inch. 

My eyes stayed locked on her, glued for a second too long, drinking her in. 

Great. Really smart, Zion—leave your smoking-hot, naked girl sprawled out like a temptation just to switch off a damn faucet.

My cock throbbed relentlessly, arguing with my brain: 

Her skin. 

Her curves. 

Me inside her. 

Fuck.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to shove the thoughts down for just a few seconds, muscles taut with restraint.

Get it together, Zion, I muttered under my breath.

Turn off the water. 

Then it was round two, no holds barred. But every inch of me still screamed for her, every fibre burning. 

I started to step back, forcing my legs to move, and she hissed, low and teasing, the sound slithering down my spine. 

My stomach twisted into knots, and I had to bite back a groan that rumbled in my throat. 

Fuck—that felt so goddamn good, that little sound of hers. I wanted her so badly it hurt—but I couldn’t let that be all that mattered. 

Her hand shot out, catching mine—warm, wet, trembling slightly from the aftershocks—but certain, unyielding.

“Hurry back…”

Fuck.

My chest tightened to the point of pain, pulse rocketing skyward, heat coiling low and fast in my gut, building again already.

Every sane thought in my head screamed to forget the fucking water, and fuck her so hard she wouldn’t remember her own name, let alone the rest of the world spinning outside this room. 

To stay. 

To claim her all over again.

Hurry back?

My brain short-circuited completely, sparks flying. 

She wants me. 

Again. 

Every inch of me burned to obey, to drop to my knees right there, to pin her beneath me and make sure she never doubted who she belonged to, branding her with my touch. 

To kiss her until she forgot why she ever asked me to walk away in the first place, even for a second.

She was mine.

I’d be back.

And nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to stop me from getting inside her again the second that water was off, from losing myself in her once more.

I bolted to the bathroom like a man possessed, turned off the shower with a twist that echoed too loudly, tossed the condom somewhere vaguely safe in the trash, muttering curses that sounded suspiciously like excuses for my momentary lapse, and shot back to the bedroom. 

Heart hammering wildly, brain short-circuiting with anticipation, eyes locked on her like a predator returning to its prey.

Damp hair splayed across the pillows, glistening skin glowing in the low light, that smirk that made me want to punch myself for being such a weak, lovesick fool who’d fall apart at her feet…

God. I’m completely undone, unravelled, remade in her image.

“What’s wrong?”

Winter pushed up on one elbow, watching me with those piercing eyes like she could read every chaotic thought in my head, every filthy desire and tender ache. 

Hell, maybe she could—because my thoughts were a mess. A satisfied, dangerously addicted, completely ruined for anyone else's mess that revolved entirely around her.

I moved toward the bed, slow and deliberate, savouring the build-up. 

She looked wrecked in the best possible way—hair a sexy, tousled disaster, cheeks still flushed with the glow of what we’d done, lips swollen and red from where I’d devoured them like a starving man. Mine. 

Every part of her looked like mine, marked by me, claimed.

I reached out before I could stop myself, sliding my fingers along her throat with deliberate tenderness. The faint marks I’d left were already visible, blooming like badges of our passion.

“I left marks on you,” I muttered, a rough edge in my voice laced with possession and a hint of regret. 

“I should shave.”

“Do not even think of shaving that stubble.” 

She glared up at me like I’d suggested murder, fire in her eyes. 

“I love it in a million different ways, every scrape and burn.”

My chest tightened further.

“And I don’t mind the marks, the kind that remind me of you for days.”

My cock twitched—again. 

Pathetic. 

Predictable. 

Entirely under her control, rising to her every word.

“They’ll fade by morning,” I said quietly, eyes adjusting to the dark, still tracing her skin with my gaze, memorising every line. 

She yawned, the sound soft, unguarded, vulnerable in a way that pierced straight through me. 

“Can we sleep together?” she asked, settling into the pillows like she belonged there, like this bed was ours now.

A smirk tugged at my lips, unable to resist. 

“I thought we just did, in the most thorough way possible.”

She shoved my shoulder lightly, playfully, her touch lingering. 

“No, that was our awesome sex.” 

She said it like it was a certified category, an undisputed fact. 

“I mean actually sleep. You and me. In this bed. I don’t want you pulling your crazy BS about staying alert and keeping guard like some lone wolf.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept going—voice softer, too real, too honest, stripping away my defences.

“I know you’re obsessed with catching this guy. And I want to catch him too, more than you know.”

Her eyes met mine, steady and unwavering in the dark.

“But right now… You need sleep. You need rest, Zion. Let me take care of you for once.”

Her caring—fuck, it did things to me, twisted something deep inside. 

Made something warm settle in my chest, something I wasn’t used to feeling, something that felt like someone had put a hand around my heart to steady it, to hold it safe.

I slid into bed beside her, pulling her into me like she was the only warmth that mattered in the entire world, her body fitting against mine perfectly.

“Snowflake,” I murmured into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply, 

“I wasn’t planning on leaving this bed.”

My fingers traced the curve of her hip, slow, possessive, mapping her like territory I’d never surrender.

“Besides…” I whispered against her ear, voice slipping into a darker promise, laced with hunger that hadn’t fully abated, 

“You still owe me round two, and I’m a man who collects his debts.”

And I fully intended to collect, slowly, thoroughly, until the sun came up.

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