I didn’t have a retort for that, but eagerness gathered in the pit of my belly. Side by side we ate our dinner. Every time I tried to eat a fry, Z yelled out, “Lady and the Tramp!” And then he’d seal his lips to mine and his teeth would snap off half my french fry.
Eventually, I pushed him away, saying, “Stop stealing my dinner!” I pretended to glare.
Z gave a mock pout, the kind that was so damn cute that I just wanted to toss his burger on the ground and then squish him to death with hugs. “I’m being romantic,” he fussed.
“You’re just using it as an excuse to get more than your share of the food.”
He blew a raspberry at me. “You do not appreciate true romance, Hayley Dunemark.”
“Oh, don’t I?” I pulled his half-eaten burger from his hand and wrapped it back up, setting it back in the bag along with my own. I ignored his whines about dying of starvation and took his hands in mine. The second he saw the look on my face, his mood changed from playful to serious.
I stared up at him as my heart swelled with all the ridiculous and amazing things he made it feel. I couldn’t help the tiny shake that came into my hands at what I was about to confess. “From the moment I saw you, Z, I knew you’d be trouble because you’d distract me from my goals. And I was right.” I leaned over and stroked his hair. “You distract me all the damn time. And I couldn’t be happier about it.”
“A distraction, huh?” His words were soft and breathy. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s actually the best thing. Z, you helped me realize there was more to life. It’s not just about getting stuff done … who cares if you reach your goal, but do it alone? If no one’s there to celebrate with you, is there really anything to celebrate?”
His eyes turned soft and he opened his mouth to respond. But I wasn’t finished, so I hurriedly continued, “You accepted me. You knew me better than I knew myself,” I gave a brittle little laugh as tears filled my eyes. “You knew my heart before I did—how I needed all of you. And I’m going to be grateful to you for the rest of my life for that.”
I found myself flat on my back a second later, Z hovering over me. His eyes trailed over my face and I could feel his gaze like it was the softest touch. He braced himself on his forearm and leaned down, giving me a soft, sweet kiss, his lips brushing mine gently until I reached up and pulled him slowly down.
“More,” I whispered, dragging my hands through that sloppy hair that I loved, thinking—with naughty satisfaction—that soon it actually would be just-fucked hair.
Z’s tongue plundered my mouth. His chest pressed down on me and after I’d played with his hair, I moved my hands to trace his triceps, which were hard as stone, as were other parts of him. He slid his hand along my side for a second before he groaned and pulled himself off of me, sitting up and declaring, “Break-in outfits are not good make-out outfits. Take it off.”
He grabbed my hand and helped pull me up into a seated position. I shucked off my shirt and then stood so he could unlace my boots and help me shimmy out of my pants. Then I was in nothing but a sports bra and panties—not the sexiest because I hadn’t been expecting this date. But Z didn’t seem to mind.
“Gimme the boobies,” he commanded, yanking me down onto his lap.
“You are absolutely ruining the mood!” I scolded.
But when his lips latched onto my neck and his tongue traced designs over my pulse as his hand traveled up and down my hip, my complaints fell away and the mood returned one-hundred-fold. Z held me in his lap and kissed me for a long time, more patient than I’d ever seen him, more content to revel in the moment, to move from softly kissing my lips to sucking on my earlobe, to licking gently up the side of my neck.
I was the one who got impatient. I pushed him back slightly and turned on his lap so that I straddled him. I ground down against the hard bulge in his shorts and yanked off my sports bra.
“Z,” I whispered.
I didn’t have to say anything else. His head bent down and he kissed my right breast, his hand coming up to cup the left. They were so sensitive after his kisses that sensation immediately spiraled down from them right to my core. And when he sucked on my nipple, pinching it between his lips, I was sucked under by a whirlpool of sensation.
My eyes fluttered closed, only opening when he switched sides. But when he did, I realized what a sight we made. I saw myself in mirror after mirror and realized how wanton I looked. A naughty switch flipped on inside my brain like a neon light, buzzing with this newfound kink. I arched my back and watched Z lean forward to follow me, reveling in the sight of us together.
But I couldn’t see enough of him. I tossed my palm up and created a second ball of light because my first was not bright enough; this one I tinged blue, so that I could see every hollow and cut of Zavier’s muscles. I gently put my hands on either of his cheeks and pulled him from my breast, watching it stretch in the mirror when he didn’t want to unlatch.
So fucking hot.
“I need to see you,” I commanded.
Z leaned back and whipped his shirt off. The light sculpted his muscles perfectly and I raised my hand to increase the shadows in the room, to make the contrast in the mirrors even greater.
Z saw that my eyes were fixated on the sight of him in the mirror and he grinned. “I thought you might like this.”
“Well, you do know me better than I know myself, apparently,” I replied.
Z pulled me to my feet and then stood behind me as he shucked off his shorts and shoes. I could only catch glimpses of him in the mirror when I craned my neck. I tried to turn around, but Z’s arm wrapped around my waist and he gave a firm, “No. Watch.”
He kissed the back of my neck, then along my spine, and his hands hooked onto the hem of my panties. He slowly slid them down my legs, helping me step out. And then Zavier knelt behind me and started to kiss down the curve of my ass.
That made me nervous for some reason. Ass play was … it was a tangential thing for me. Not a main precursor. Definitely not a main event. An uncomfortable giggle erupted from my throat. “Z, stop kissing my ass,” I tried to use humor to dissuade him.
He only paused in his kisses and growled, “Watch.” Then he pulled apart my ass cheeks and kissed the very top of my crack.
I was about to step forward, away, but suddenly, there was a streak of peach color in the mirror and Z was no longer behind me. Instead, he knelt in front of my pussy, his hot breath warming it even as the wind caused by his movement finally caught up with me and chilled my nipples. Z’s hands clamped down on my hips as he leaned forward and lapped at my slit, his tongue hot and pointed against my folds.
I closed my eyes and relaxed. That was more like it. I let my eyes drift to his perfectly sculpted ass in the mirror, wanting to bite it.
Another streak raced across the mirror and Z’s teeth bit down on my ass cheek.
Streak.
He was back in front of me, using his fingers to pull my pussy lips apart so his mouth could kiss my clit. His talented tongue worked in circles until my legs started to tremble.
Streak.
Z spit on his left pointer finger and circled my back hole as his tongue licked up my ass cheek.
Streak.