Chapter 67

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

ZAIN

She's shaking. Her breath leaves her lips in short, sharp gasps, and the pulse in her throat is a rapid beat against my fingers. And finally, finally there's fear in her eyes.

When I remind her of what I said in court, that fear seems to spike. Her eyes dilate, her lips part, and the color leaves her face.

Why am I doing it? Why am I terrifying her?

Because seeing the way she responds to it is becoming addictive. It's like a drug that, if I'm not careful, I'm going to get addicted to. The problem is, I already want more of it.

But it's also because I don't want her to think about why I was so close behind her when she slipped on the stairs.

I don't want her to know that when I saw her slip, my heart fucking stopped.

I don't want her to realize that the second she lost her balance, I shot up those fucking stairs like there was a dangerous predator chasing me.

Because the thought of her lifeless body on the floor makes me feel things I do not want to examine .

Because if she realizes all that, then she might ask me why. And I don't even want to ask myself that question.

But the second my mouth touches hers, it's no longer about what happened out in the hallway. It's not even about what happened in court all those years ago.

It becomes about touch, about taste, about how soft her lips are beneath mine. It becomes about something I haven't experienced in over fourteen years.

Desire .

My fingers flex around her throat, and the soft gasp she releases sends all my blood running south, straight to my dick. It also parts her lips, and I run my tongue over them, then dip inside to stroke it along hers, and step closer. My other hand lifts, cups the back of her head, holding her still so I can deepen the kiss.

There's a rushing sound in my ears, fire burning through my veins, and the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my fingertips matches the sudden chaotic beat of my heart.

I drag my mouth from hers, and kiss my way along her jaw, and up to her ear. My teeth scrape over her lobe, and she shivers. The move sets off explosions in my blood. My hand tightens on her throat.

I want more. More of her touch. More of her taste. More of her moans.

My hand drops from her throat to her waist, and I lift her up onto the counter, and step between her thighs. Cupping her face, I bring my mouth back to hers. Her lips part the second mine touch them, and her arms lift and loop around my neck.

It's not enough. I want more. I need more .

The thought is like a bucket of cold water thrown over me.

What the fuck am I doing?

Pulling away, I untangle her arms from around me, step backward, turn and walk out, without saying a word.

"Darling, is Ashley okay?" My mom is on her feet the second I walk into the dining room.

"What?" For a second I think she's talking about what just happened in the bathroom.

"Sondra told me what happened."

"Oh … yeah. She's fine. A little shaken up, but she'll be down shortly. Why don't we all sit?" I walk around the table and take a seat.

Mom and Dad place covered dishes in the center of the table then take the seats at either end. Sondra moves to sit beside me. I rest my hand on the back of the seat.

"My wife will be sitting next to me."

Her lips tighten, but she says nothing and keeps moving so she can walk around to the opposite side and sit down.

"Should we wait?"

I'm about to answer Mom's question when Ashley appears in the doorway. She's pale, but she holds her head up high as she walks into the room.

"I'm sorry for keeping everyone." Her voice is quiet, and there's a slight tremor to it, but her steps are steady as she comes toward us.

I stand, and pull out the chair beside me. I'm half-expecting her to ignore me and sit next to Sondra, but she doesn't and lowers herself onto the seat. When I sit back down, I rest one hand on the back of her chair again. Sondra's eyes move from me to my hand and back again.

"Ashley, here. You look like you need this." Mom pours a glass of red wine and slides it across the table.

Ashley smiles. "Thank you." She doesn't look at me, lifts the glass and takes a large mouthful.

"Well, eat up, everyone. I didn't spend hours cooking for it all to go cold."

Dad moves before Mom finishes speaking, taking the covered dish closest to himself and adding a portion to plate before setting it down and reaching for the next. The dishes are passed around, plates are filled, and everyone tucks in.

I'm aware of Ashley beside me, of how little is on her plate, and the way she pushes it around with her fork. Her wine glass is empty, so I reach for the bottle and top it up.

"Don't you like the food?" I ask her in a low voice.

"It's fine. I'm just not hungry." Her reply is just as quiet, barely audible above the conversation going on between my parents and Sondra.

"Eat the food."

In response, she picks up her glass and drains half of it. "I'm not hungry."

There's no way she can't be hungry.

"So, Ashley , how did you cross paths with Zain? I would have thought after everything that happened, you'd have tried to avoid him." Sondra's voice holds nothing but curiosity, but I catch the look in her eyes, before she lowers her lashes to hide it .

Ashley gulps down another mouthful of wine. "I was at Jason's grave, and he sneaked up on me."

"There was no sneaking. You were talking, and didn't hear me."

"Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh." She waves a hand, and refills her glass. "Anyway, he crept up on me, and then invited me to dinner … to talk things out."

Sondra points at the wedding ring in clear view on one of the fingers clutching the stem of the glass. "And how did you go from that to that? "

Ashley's smile is brittle. She takes another sip from her glass.

"Oh, that's the best story of all." She turns her head, blue eyes hard as she looks at me. "Why don't you tell that one, darling ?"