Chapter Twenty-Six

Miles

I have yet to find something I can't love about Zoe, even the things I don't like.

Right now, as she crosses the threshold on our way back from lunch with Toby, and keeps walking without shedding her white sneakers, my eyes fixate on her lean legs and I can't help but think about how much I love even the little things.

Like she, the tiny thing that she is, doesn't feel the need to wear those ridiculously high heels all the time. Her existence is large enough, her aura not just demanding, but commanding all senses of every room she enters.

I'm about to remind her to change into her house slippers when she pauses. Back still to me, she rests her chin on her shoulder, gifting me a perfect view of her side profile.

"I wanted to give you your birthday gift, now that it's just the two of us."

Her phrasing paints a million unbidden forbidden images in my mind—none of them appropriate—reminding me of our unfinished business. Not that I was able to forget for a second in the past two torturous hours.

Clearing those dark thoughts from my throat, I manage to rasp out a question. "I thought the party was my gift?"

Zoe tucks a fallen tendril of the hair tamed in a long ponytail behind her ear, much like I always itch to do. "Come here, Blackstein."

She resumes her steps down the hall without bothering to check if I follow.

She knows I will always follow her everywhere.

Right now, everywhere is her office.

Zoe pauses for a fraction of a second, a hand on the handle. With one heaving breath, she swings the door open for me.

Rainbows pour from walls instantly, erupting from the spines of countless books neatly stacked in cream floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that blend seamlessly with the white walls. A fluffy snowy rug sits in front of an electric fireplace, surrounded by two reading chairs, a simple coffee table right in the middle of them.

Sun pours from the windows that make up the further wall. In the corner, a swinging egg-shaped chair rocks back and forth, and I stare. I can see myself sliding the window doors open, the early rays or late low-hanging sun against my face as the steam rises from the cup of coffee in one hand, the other occupied with a book.

I lose notion of how long I stand in the middle, a clock tick twirling around and around, mesmerized, taking in everything around me.

It isn't just the gift itself, which is so much fucking greater than anything my imagination could have conceived.

It's what it means.

It's Zoe's love language .

"Zoe… I—When—How—" In a room full of words, they fail me.

Uncharacteristically shy, she watches me watch everything. She's shed all shields to walk inside, vulnerable heart on a platter. She has never looked so beautiful to me. So perfectly mine and made for me.

Her eyes flit from her desk to me twice. "I'll take the desk when I lea—"

I refuse to let her finish the preposterous thought.

In six purposeful strides, I cross the room. She matches every one of my steps forward with two steps back until her back hits the bookshelves filled with fantastic worlds and magical existences.

I never want to escape this life.

I brace my hands on the white wood on each side of her, as though I can trap Zoe in this life, too. Ours. "The desk stays."

She cranes her neck, elegant unblemished cords that beg to be painted by my teeth, as her trembling hands scramble for balance until she curls them around my bulging biceps.

"I need to kiss you right now." A rough confession, a plea in hushed tones. I might actually lose my mind if I spend another second not kissing her.

Her tiptoes bring her parted mouth closer to mine. For a moment, I only stare at the permission. The invitation.

Leaning forward, my breath paints her cleavage as I run my fingertips along the back of her thighs, torturing a whimper out of her before I hoist her up, her ankles immediately locking behind my back. My lips hover over hers for a torturous beat, my tongue dipping to trace her plump bottom lip as I gulp her sweet, heady scent.

Then I shove her up against this wall of fantasy and foreign worlds she's curated for me, and my mouth collides with hers.

The kiss is hard, designed to confess everything I kept hidden in plain sight all this time. All the quotes I could cite and write about us, all the things that live inside my heart that belongs to her.

I try, I really try to go slow and soft. But I could only ever love Zoe with untamed ferocity and sweet abandon. She makes me feel feral.

I kiss her until I think I might die from lack of breath, and then I kiss her some more because I would gladly die kissing her.

Squeezing her ass with rough hands, I'm blind and deaf to the world as I walk us to the desk where I deposit her. Separating our lips to mold our foreheads together, I want to memorize her undone by me—long lashes dark against rosy cheeks as she catches her breath.

But she blinks quickly and untangles herself from my embrace, breaking the spell. With drunken steps, she traipses to the window—one step closer to her way out, should she choose to run from us.

"Zoe." She's lost in deep thought, trapped inside that stormy, beautiful mind of hers. I need to pull her out. "Come here."

Her head tilts the slightest bit to me, a troubled brow marring her flawless face as she debates her next step.

Get closer or get away.

When her hesitant decision tips in my direction, she approaches slowly, remaining on the other side of the desk.

"What are you so scared of, love?" The question is quiet and scared, too. Of scaring her away.

She flattens her palms on the wooden barrier, sweeping me in aquamarine storms.

"I'm scared of myself," she says so softly I might have imagined it. "I'm scared if I get too close, I won't be able to stop. I'm scared we want different things. And I'm really scared we want the same thing. I'm scared—I'm terrified of what I want."

I forget how to blink, how to breathe, determined not to miss a single glimpse of this vulnerable piece of her.

"I never really understood the emphasis put on love . Why everyone is so obsessed with finding someone to love. I never even cared enough to give it a second thought. I was just okay with being just me, you know? I never felt the need for anyone else. But then you…" Zoe nibbles on the corner of her lip before she continues with a slight shake of her head. "You awakened something. And I never understood it, or why. I just felt so frustrated because I was perfectly okay on my own, and then you come in and boom . There you are, in my work, in my home, in my freaking thoughts. You're such a nuisance, you know."

I chuckle knowingly, amused but humorlessly. "Yeah. I know."

I owe her a piece of my truth.

So that's what I give her.

"More than anything, I've always wanted a family. Always had this clear idea of the person I wanted and every little thing I wanted with them.

"Then I met you. You're not a nuisance, though. No, you're a fucking hurricane. You came in and you swept my whole life and you rearranged all my beliefs. You changed everything for me, too, Zoe. You've made me realize that what I dreamed of wasn't the true love I thought. I wanted someone to come into my life and fit into the storyline I had carefully drafted. Someone that would seamlessly fit my picture."

Zoe is the only thing I can see, hanging to my speech as the final tether. She isn't sure if she wants it to survive or if she wants to sever it.

"You came in and you burned the picture down. I don't know what it looks like anymore, just that you are in the center of it. Hell, you are the picture."

Our eyes don't waver, gray and green and all the shades in between, speaking ancient languages.

Not as confessions ricochet in the echoes of our silence.

Not as inevitability settles between us, of what this means, this single moment that is a collision, a culmination of many moments, and the catalyst of many more. Of what we are, what we were always meant to be.

Not as I make my way around the damn desk to her.

As soon as she's within my reach, my hands take hold of her, fingers clawing into her waist, vowing to never let go.

"I am going to kiss you, Zoe," I promise in her ear. Then, rolling her lobe between my teeth, I tell her all the things I've been dying to do to her. "I'm going to kiss that maddening mouth of yours. It makes me crazy just looking at it, and it really makes me insane when it spits your sweet venom at me."

"Good," she breathes out. I'm not sure what she means, kiss or insanity. Right now, I don't care.

"I'm gonna kiss every inch of your body. Every centimeter until my lips can draw it from memory." I run my tongue along her collarbone, around her small heart and up the pulsing vein in her slender neck. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you until you pass out." I feel the shiver that shakes her frame, and twist her face, finding only a thin band of my favorite blue. "And then, I'm gonna hold you as you sleep. And when you wake up and freak out a little, I'll kiss you again. I'll kiss you until all your fears are erased, until you finally get it into this beautiful head of yours that I'll never fucking let you go."

And I kiss her.

I slam my starved mouth into hers.

Zoe opens for me without hesitation, her tongue seeking mine with the same abandon, as though she's putting her fears to rest.

We are chaos and urgency and the deep-seated peace that comes with the bone-deep certainty that we will be like this, just like this, forever.

Savoring her, my hands move up from her waist, travel up her sides to land right under the swell of her breast. The pads of my thumbs brush her ribs, reveling in all smooth skin.

I groan into the kiss. She isn't wearing a bra. I twitch inside my pants, pushing my groin against her ass as my thumbs run a feather touch against hard nipples. She trembles at the sharp contrast of my calloused touch against her sensitive skin, then whines at the loss of it.

Coming up for breath, I twirl her around, slowly unbuttoning the four buttons of her vest under her dark, heated gaze.

She sways forward as I finish with the last button, letting me drag her top off with hunger. White knuckles fist the mahogany edges of the desk. She tiptoes in search of my touch. Round breasts heave, small and perky and tipped with perfect dusty pink nipples beckon my mouth.

Hypnotized, I cup one in each hand and marvel at the weight. At the perfect fit. I pinch a small nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Then my mouth is there, swallowing her, devouring her as she pulls me away and pushes me closer with a death-grip in my hair.

I plow my hand into her long hair and pull roughly, exposing the unblemished skin of her neck to my teeth—and that taunting tattoo that has tortured me for so long. She moans, grip tightening on the strands of my hair to keep herself upright.

Pliant under my touch, her body arches to me, utterly mine to do as I wish.

Eagerness fumbles to work the button of her pants until she slaps my impatient hands away and does it herself. As soon as it's undone, her pants are on the floor. Right beside them, I fall to my knees, spreading her wide for my eyes to feast.

Silk in the palest shade of pink with only a dark spot in the middle. I lean to breathe her in, mouth watering, envious of the fabric that soaks her essence. Pulling her panties to the side, I find my glistening pink paradise.

Fucking perfect .

Unable to wait a second longer, I dive in, assaulting her seam with a long lick. As the first hint of her hits my tongue, rich and earthy, my eye roll back, and I groan against her core, brushing my nose against her clit.

Her breath catches in her throat for a moment, becoming quick puffs when I taste her again, thorough, languorous laps that drive us wild, from her entrance to her magical spot. She throws her head back, rolling her nipples between her fingers. I gently clamp my teeth on her clit, drawing out a shaking scream.

"Eyes on me, Zoe. "

Her elbows falter, but she keeps herself upright, bathing me in the darkness of her oceanic irises, as ordered. Watching me as I suck, lick, bite like a mad man until she's a writhing mess of moans that are pleas, demands, declarations.

"Mi—" She hiccups a breathless cry, blinking confusion and frustration. "Why—Why did you stop?"

My greedy thumb cleans the corners of my mouth before I push it into hers. She sucks it, her tongue lapping, tasting. All the while, mine trails a wet path from her pussy to her navel, all the way through her sternum to arrive at its final destination.

"The first time I make you come will be on my cock."

I murmur directly against her mouth, and then I'm plunging in, pulling a whimper from her as she finds her taste on my tongue.

She allows me one ardent kiss before she leans back. "You've seen all of me." Supported by her forearms behind her on the desk, she watches me through heavy lashes, heavier voice. "It's time you reciprocate."

What my girl wants, my girl gets.

Within seconds, I shed the last piece of clothing between us, fisting my cock, desperate and hungry.

Her eyes deliberately fall down my naked body, dark flames of hunger and lust and desire boiling with an intensity that burns every inch, every ridge, every corner of me. When they reach my naked cock, her ragged breathing halts.

For one, two, three heartbeats, she's still as a statue—a Greek goddess, fucking glorious in her nakedness. Then her head tilts back to the ceiling exposing the flesh of her neck, no longer unblemished, painted by the worship of my teeth, and I track the low laugh flowing through her swollen lips to tug at the corner of mine.

Jesus Christ, only Zoe Westwood would be laughing right now.

I erase the torturous distance between us, my fingers itching unbearably to get back to her. With a hand around her waist, I glue her body to mine, skin on miles of silky skin. My cock straining against her flat stomach, I kiss her, swallowing her chuckles until they become moans again.

I trace a path of wet kisses along her jaw until I come to her earlobe, sucking roughly. "If I were a lesser man I'd be offended, right now."

"Hm." Her mind is lost, the chuckles of less than a minute ago long forgotten for her. Unfortunately for her—and for me—I have a good memory and a curious streak.

"You were chuckling." I break the kiss, refusing to let go of her lower lip. "Something amusing here?"

"Uh-uh." She shakes her head, impossibly shy and impatient, biting the swollen lip.

Her fingers touch my waist, kneading abstract patterns on my skin that send tingles all the way down my spine. Only the barest of touches and she already has me at the edge of the precipice.

"What were you thinking?" I release the abused flesh, pulling it with my thumb instead.

"I was thinking…" She seizes me, settling me between her parted thighs, rubbing my cock right between the wet folds of her pussy. I still her with a growl, a punishing grip on her hips. "I'm in big trouble."

"Don't worry, love." I steal another kiss. How could I not? I would spend my life stealing kisses from her lips. "We'll make it fit. "

With a hand on her sternum, I press her gently to the desk, unable to draw back without tugging on one beckoning nipple.

"Condom?" I ask with a few rough pulls of my throbbing cock.

She stuns me, though, making me twitch violently in my own hand. "I'm on birth control. I'm clean."

"Me too." I circle her entrance, torturing her and torturing myself, to gather her wetness and drag it to her clit, then back. Again and again. "You sure?"

"Will you just fuck me already?" She is all flippancy and need .

A slap on her inner thigh and she jolts up to rush me with the force of her glare. It's scorching, all ice melted.

"Will you fuck me, please ?"

The answer to her sarcasm is a taunting smirk, the one that belongs solely to her. "You're so much more agreeable when you're all naked and spread open for me. Your manners really stand out."

"Not naked."

"We'll get to that in a minute, love." My hands massage tense muscles, from her knees to the apex of her thighs, brushing her, but not quite. "No rush."

"You're insufferable. So fucking full of yourself."

"Yeah?" I spread her wider, basking in the view. "In a second you'll be, too."

We both watch as I slip inside, fulfilling my promise, both unable to look away. Just one single inch. Zoe draws a sharp breath. Her pussy contracts around my tip, squeezing a choked sound from me. With one swift thrust, I sheath myself completely inside her, stars and rainbows popping under my eyelids. I still to give her body the time to stretch and adjust, choppy breaths echoing in the quiet room, drowned by pounding hearts.

"See?" My knuckle circles her clit, once, twice. Mesmerized. "Full of me."

" So full." For the first time, her sarcasm isn't only sarcasm.

Her eyes pan back to my cock in her pussy, her fingers joining to feel us together. I pull back until only the crown remains inside and hook a finger around lace. With a rough pull, it tears like wrapping paper, the sweetest swish.

Zoe gasps, gaze jumping between my smirk and the remains of lace.

"All naked and spread open for me," I confirm.

Then I slam inside her again with a deep, deliberate stroke.

Her body bows to meet mine and her lips part with a gasp, nails like five little half-moons on my back. As our foreheads meet in the middle, so do our eyes. And our mouths.

And we fit.

We fit perfectly.

As though every inch of my body was made for hers. As though every soft curve of her body was molded to spend eternity against every hard ridge of mine.

The feeling of her, being inside her, her body against mine, her nipples brushing my chest, is almost too much.

"Fuck, Zoe." Against her neck, against her inky heart, my voice carries the notes of a rich torture. "You feel so good. So good."

The most exquisite torture.

Her moans escalate from unintelligible murmurs to raspy screams as the pace of my strokes increases, and with her nipples between my fingers, she's coming around me and screaming my name.

I painfully peel my lips off her neck and slow the rhythm of this dance between our sweaty naked bodies—it's too soon to be over.

I breathe a long breath, memorizing her in as I take her languidly, etching every single detail of her into my mind—her face twisted in raw agonizing pleasure, eyes closed, mouth agape. The flush on her cheeks, the wild mess of her inky hair, the lovebites on her breasts heaving up and down with her breaths.

So torturously beautiful. So beautifully mine .

Pulling out of her, I groan at the loss, even if for only a minute, and flip her over, bending her on the desk. I dot a trail of haphazard kisses along her back, feeling the rough intake of her erratic breathing as my exploring fingers crawl along the sides of her torso.

Unable to spend another second not inside of her, I spread her legs with my knee and grab her hips as I position myself at her entrance, reveling in her glistening softness. I push inside of her again, and we groan in unison. Groans that become louder, competing with telltale smacks of skin against skin.

Propping one of her knees on the desk, I slide deep, deep, deeper with the new angle, hitting her in all the right places. Her hands slip on the surface and send the last pieces of paper floating to the floor. Zoe follows, falling off the edge with a raspy cry.

I fuck her through her orgasm, through her screams, brutal strokes to keep her flying, to keep her grounded until she's on earth again.

"Miles." I never was a believer, but my name in her breathless voice is my new religion. I look up at the sky, searching for something. "Don't come yet. Not like this, Mil—"

Squeezing her hips with a warning, I manage to grunt. "Baby, if you don't want me to come right now, you have to stop moaning my name like that."

The words keep coming in pants. "I want to see your face when you come."

Well, fuck. How can I deny my girl?

With a last deep stroke, I pull out. Before she's coherent enough to complain, I have her up on my arms and walk forward. Shoving her against the shelves, I push my cock inside her pussy, my new favorite place in the world.

I wanna take residence and make her arms my permanent address.

Knowing I won't last much longer, I lead her hand to the small bud between her legs.

"I don't—I don't think I can come again."

I dip my head to her chest and bite a tight nipple. "You can. You will."

She shakes her head, but her body bounces, pushing back against me. Taking advantage of my hold on her, I spread her cheeks, a finger applying pressure to the tight rim of muscle in an unspoken promise. Her sharp breath is surprised as wide eyes stare, delirious. As soon as I push inside, she screams and strangles my cock—and my finger—harder than before.

"Good girl," I grunt between clenched teeth.

She clenches again. I don't know if I'm breathing at all anymore. Darkness encircles my vision and my head falls back, my eyes rolling to the back of my mind, finding fireworks and shooting stars and all the colors in the fucking rainbow as I empty myself into her .

God, I've never felt anything remotely close to this. It's so much more than blinding pleasure or mind-blowing euphoria. It's pure bliss. Happiness. Peace. Plenitude.

She, us, this. All of this.

It's better than heaven.

It's home .