CHAPTER 50
**WINTER**
I sighed heavily, the weight of the evening pressing down on me. Part of me wanted to just let Zion deal with his own injuries—after all, he had been nothing but rude and infuriating all night.
But another part of me couldn’t ignore the fact that he was likely bruised all over. As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
I hesitated, torn between my anger and a nagging sense of responsibility. He didn’t deserve my help, not after the way he’d treated me, but still, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away knowing he was hurt. With a reluctant sigh, I decided I’d at least bring the kit to his room. What he did with it afterward was up to him.
I headed to the kitchen cabinet where Jenny had told me the first aid kit would be when I first moved in, just in case of any incidents.
It felt almost surreal as I moved through the house, the tension still lingering from our earlier confrontation.
With every step, I felt a mix of frustration and reluctant concern.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I approached Zion's room, my heart pounding in my chest.
I hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.
Silence.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
I called out, “Zion?” before tapping lightly on his bedroom door again.
When there was no response, I tried again, louder this time. “Zion!” hoping for an answer.
SILENCE
"Maybe I should just leave. Why should I even care?"
But I couldn’t walk away.
I had to set aside my anger for the moment and focus on taking care of his injuries. It wasn’t about forgiving him or forgetting what had happened—it was about doing what was right, despite everything.
Holding the first aid kit in my hand, I hesitated briefly before turning the knob and stepping into his room. I glanced around but found no sign of him.
Did he actually go to meet Cindy after all?
My gaze shifted to the partially open bathroom door. Steam and the sound of running water seeped through the gap. He was in the shower?
I placed the first aid kit on his side table. He could deal with his injuries on his own.
Just as I turned to leave, I heard a loud grunt and froze in my tracks.
Oh God!
Was he in that much pain?
What should I do.
But against my better judgment, I found myself moving towards the bathroom door. I expected to see him showering behind a frosted glass panel, with steam obscuring most of his body. I only wanted to check if he was okay.
What I didn’t expect was the sight of him with his palm pressed against the glass, his breathing heavy and labored.
I saw his naked form clearly—one hand gripping his shaft, his head thrown back as if caught in the throes of climax. The image was both shocking and intimate, and I stood there, momentarily frozen.
I begin to back away, intending to leave before things get even more complicated, but I freeze when I hear him groan,
“Fuck, Snowflake... fuck.”
What?
Did he just call out my name?
The sound of my name, heavy with raw need, sends a shiver down my spine. Against my better judgment, I glance back, just in time to see his body tense, the muscles in his arm flexing as his hand moves faster. He’s lost in his own world, eyes shut tight, completely unaware that I’m here.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn around and leave, to give him the privacy he deserved. But something kept me rooted to the spot, unable to look away from him in this raw, exposed moment—something I’d never witnessed before.
He hadn't said my name...
I tried convincing myself that I must have heard wrong.
But then, “Fuck, Snowflake,” slipped from his lips again, unmistakable this time.
I couldn’t help it; I stumbled back, hitting the door with a loud bang that echoed off the walls.
The noise seemed to break through his haze, and his eyes flew open, locking onto mine with a fierce, almost mesmerizing intensity.
“Snowflake?” he rasps, his gaze piercing as he looks straight at me.
I drop my eyes in a desperate attempt to shield myself from his nakedness, a strangled,
"Sorry” escaping my mouth, as I cover my face with my hands.
It’s futile, though; the image of him in that vulnerable, raw state is etched into my mind, unerasable. My heart pounds as I turn my back, desperately trying to find my composure.
"Snowflake?"
“I... I was just…” I stammer, fighting to keep my voice steady, “I was just trying to…”
"I was what, Snowflake?” His voice is thick with lingering arousal, laced with a bitter edge.
“Watching me jerk off?”
"What... no... I wasn’t..." I stammer, the words tangling on my tongue. My voice falters, betraying my mounting embarrassment. Shaking my head, I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
I swallow hard, trying to push down the wave of shame washing over me. Without another word, I spin around, the flush of humiliation burning up my neck and into my cheeks.
Before I can make it more than a few steps, a strong hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me back so hard that I stumble.
My body slams into something solid—Zion’s chest, damp from the shower. His arms quickly wrap around me, trapping me against him, and the warmth of his bare skin seeps through my clothes, setting my pulse into overdrive.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice rumbles low in my ear, the sound making my spine tingle. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, each rise and fall of his chest pressing into my back, making it impossible to ignore just how close he is. Way too close.
I twist in his grip, trying to break free, but his arms only tighten, holding me firmly in place. The wet heat of his skin soaks into my shirt, and I can’t help but notice the way his muscles ripple with each movement.
"Let me go," I demand, but the words come out shaky, more like a plea than the command I intended. My voice betrays the storm of emotions churning inside me—fear, anger, and something I can’t quite name.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver racing through me.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
