Page 56

“Stay right here,” I command, my voice rough. “Leave Dan outside. Leave Ironside outside. This room belongs to us.”

Zane nods frantically. He pushes himself up and pulls the dark hoodie over his head. He tosses it onto the floor. His golden skin gleams in the dim light. Muscles bunch and flex as he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, stripping it off too.

He slides off the bed, kicks off his boots, and strips out of his jeans and underwear. I tug the towel loose from my waist and toss it onto the growing pile on the floor. He drops back down, bare chest to bare chest.

The contact is electric. The friction of his skin against mine grounds the frantic energy buzzing in the room. I wrap my arms around his wide back, tracing the thick ink of his tattoos.

“Four days,” Zane repeats, kissing the center of my chest.

“Then the cage door locks.” I run my thumb along his spine. “Then we show the world exactly who you are.”

“I have to hit you.” His voice drops, laden with guilt. “I have to try and break you.”

“You better.” A fierce grin stretches across my face. “If you pull a single punch, I will never forgive you. I want your best. I want the killer Dan thinks he built.”

Zane lifts his head. The terror recedes, replaced by a dark, predatory gleam. There he is. That smug bastard I wanted to fight in the first place.

“I will put you on the canvas.”

“I will put you to sleep.”

We hold the stare, competitive fire burning away the day’s suffocating anxiety. This is what we want from each other. We don’t need to soften for one another. We need to be honest.

Zane leans down. He captures my mouth again, a slow, deep kiss that seals the promise.

“I need you inside me.” He breaks the kiss, his amber eyes completely black with need.

The blunt request sends a rush of heat. My cock jerks against his thigh.

“You sure?” I ask, my breathing accelerating. “You are running on fumes.”

“I need to feel you.” He shifts his hips, grinding his heavy erection against mine. “I need you to anchor me down. Please.”

I don’t hesitate. I reach toward the nightstand and grab the bottle of lubricant.

Zane rolls onto his back, pulls his knees up, and opens himself completely to my gaze. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t hide. He looks right at me and waits.

I kneel between his muscular thighs. I coat my fingers in the slick fluid.

“Deep breaths,” I instruct, pressing my hand against his entrance.

He nods, clenching the pillows in his fists.

I slide two fingers inside him.

Zane arches his spine off the mattress. A sharp, breathless moan tears from his lips. He tosses his head back, exposing his throat.

I watch his face intently. I watch every twitch, every tightening of his jaw. I add a third finger, curling my hand upward to hit the cluster of nerves deep inside him.

“Fuck.” He bucks his hips into my hand. “Micah. Yes.”

I work him open. I use a slow, relentless pace, stretching the tight muscles until he whines, completely pliant and begging for more. The day’s heavy tension melts out of his body, replaced entirely by pleasure.

I position myself. I grip his narrow hips, my thumbs digging into his skin, and drive myself forward.

The tight, slick heat swallows me whole.

Zane lets out a guttural shout. His hands fly off the pillows, grabbing my shoulders, his nails digging crescent moons into my flesh. He squeezes his eyes shut, his chest heaving as he takes me.