Page 161 of Interion

This was the first time I'd been awake and this close to his body. It felt like a dream too good to be true, yet my heart rate kept spiking with each passing second.

“Don't be afraid, I'm here, nothing bad will happen,” Zion said in my ear.

Every hair on my body must have stood on end.

“I know. Don't worry, I'm fine.”

“Then why...”

I interrupted him.

“Zion. Everything. Is. Fine.”

Something must have clicked in his mind, and then a suppressed laugh echoed through the dark room. If I looked up, I'd surely see a smug smile aimed at the ceiling.

“Tell your heart I'm flattered.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, blushing in several different shades of red.

“Flattered and wondering if I should keep the spray by the bed.” I immediately tried to pull away, growling like an angry cat, but Zion held me tight in his arms, blocking any escape. “Okay! Okay! I'll shut up.”

“Arrogant jerk.”

He laughed, a husky, provocative sound.

“You're stunning when you're irritated.”

Once he was sure I wouldn't flee, his body relaxed, making room for me on his chest. I stayed motionless for a while, just feeling his breathing and his warm summer-night scent. I mentally begged my heart to slow down, but the stubborn thing wouldn't give me peace anytime soon. Zion seemed still too, as we got used to each other. There was electricity in the air, something dense and heavy that kept stretching tighter, waiting for a chance to snap. It was dangerous in a tempting way. It kept building, pulsing to the rhythm of my heart. There was an urgency in my body that was almost unbearable, and I didn't know what to do to relieve it. Either I did something about this, or I'd leave his room.

With my heart racing, I slid my hand up beside my head and let it hover over his skin, undecided what to do. My breathing grew heavy. I broke into a cold sweat, my stomach clenching. Damn! It was just a touch, an exploratory caress—it wasn't like I was harassing him. But with so much adrenaline coursing through me, it might as well have been.

Gathering all my courage, I touched my fingertips to that perfection of warm, well-worked pectoral muscles, right over the scar above his left nipple. His skin burned, hotter than it should have been, so I held still to keep from moving my fingers across it. I felt Zion stiffen and his breathing grow labored, matching my own uneven breaths. I waited to see if he would push me away, but he didn't. Seconds passed, and my hands couldn't stay in place—I was eager to explore more of Zion. I stared at the raised scar that stood out against his skin and slid my fingers gently over it. It was pink and misshapen, which was strange, because fae scarring didn't leave keloids. Whatever caused this must have cut him deep.

“What caused this scar?”

The question seemed to ease some of the tension in his posture. Zion looked at the spot where my fingers rested, then met my eyes again.

“I don't know. I've had it for as long as I can remember.”

For a moment too long, our eyes stayed locked on each other. I was the first to look away, turning back to where my hand was exploring. I trailed my fingers across his chest, passing over his nipple and down to the first ridge of his abs.

Suddenly, his hand caught mine in a tight grip and I heard Zion curse under his breath.

“What are you doing?” he asked, annoyed, trying to control his voice. I shrank back and tried to pull my hand away, but he held it. My throat tightened into a knot when I saw how displeased he was.

“I'm sorry, I don't know where my head was. I just wanted to know what it's like to touch...” I explained awkwardly, stumbling over the words. I felt like a child caught making mischief, and my face was flushed like a ripe persimmon. I think that was the stupidest thing I'd ever done in my life, after trying to help Adele, of course. “I just... I was wrong to think I could... I...”

The embarrassment was so overwhelming I couldn't even finish the sentence. When I managed to pull away enough to get out of bed, Zion grabbed my arm and pressed himself against me, pinning me to the mattress. His face appeared over mine, making me freeze. He still held my hand, but now his grip had loosened.

“I'm sorry,” he said, looking into my eyes. “I acted like a jerk, but it's not what you think. Don't feel insecure about this for even a second.”

I swallowed hard, staring at his mouth, just inches from mine.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I like it when you touch me,” he said, lifting my hand between our faces and pressing a kiss to my wrist. The gesture made my heart race as he dragged his soft lips across my skin. “Even when we hold hands, the touch feels surreal to me. The problem is I don’t know the limits of my self-control, and if things get intense, it could end very badly.”

The “end badly” probably involved the partnership bond snapping into place and Zion dying because of the agreement. I knew I couldn’t go too far, yet I reached out with my free hand and caressed the side of his face, then traced his lower lip with my thumb. This time, he didn’t stop me and closed his eyes to savor the touch. I continued carefully, not wanting to startle him.