“No.” Zeth chuckles quietly, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “I promise you, Sloane, there’ll be no more taking care of anyone. Not ever again. I made a deal with Lowell. I exchanged information in return for those get-out-of-jail-free cards she teased us with.”
I pull back so I can look him square in the eyes. Is he being serious? Though it’s tough to see much in the dark, I can make out the intense look in his eyes. The tight pull of his lips. He is. He’s being one hundred percent serious. “Oh my god. What happened?”
Zeth tells me about turning himself in to Lowell. About the seven hours of incessant questioning while Lowell tried to trip him up. About handing over information Rebel wanted Lowell to have in exchange for three sheets of A4 paper—one for me, one for Zeth, one for Michael—each clearing us of any criminal charges that may or may not have been brought against us.
“And so…that’s it. No more Charlie. No more Julio. No more Lowell.”
No more Lacey. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I ask, “No more nightmares?”
Zeth sighs, burying his nose into my neck. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“But none just now?”
“None just now,” he confirms.
“So…you want to go back to sleep?” I don’t want to go back to sleep. I want to do something else, and I think Zeth might just be on board. Even though I’m fully dressed, it hasn’t escaped me that he’s naked. And I can feel him growing harder, his erection digging into my stomach as he holds me close.
Zeth doesn’t say anything in response. He just looks down at me, those dark eyes considering me in a way I’m not entirely used to. I’m used to the dangerous spark in his eyes. It’s still there, but…I feel like the divide that was keeping us apart is now gone. It makes me catch my breath.
Zeth leans down and kisses me, and his mouth is gentle and soft. A low, bass sound rumbles in the back of his throat. His lips feel incredible on mine—demanding and slow, yet firm. He works his hands into my hair, and then brings them down to carefully cup my face. Everything about the moment is different. He’s not normally like this. Normally, I feel like I’m being swept along in an unstoppable tide, being pulled under and rolled by a force much greater than myself. Being with him has always reminded me of the only time I tried to surf when I was on vacation in California as a teenager. The instructor gave me some valuable advice that worked remarkably well: If you’re pulled under a wave, don’t fight it. You’ll never win. The ocean’s a hell of a lot stronger than you. It’s wild. All you have to do is hold your breath. Relax. Go with the wave, and eventually you’ll rise to the surface.
Zeth has always felt like that wave to me, wild and unstoppable, and that’s part of what’s thrilled me about being with him. But right now, it feels like we’re an equal force and we cancel each other out. As much as I love the freedom of letting go, of letting someone else have control over me, this is the most connected I’ve ever felt with him, and nothing can compete with that. Nothing in the world.
His hands work their way down to my neck, where his fingers trace the lines of my throat, across my collarbone, making me shiver. Slowly, carefully, Zeth reaches down and gathers my shirt, lifting it over my head. My pants and underwear go next, Zeth’s hands moving confidently and carefully, until I’m as naked as he is.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers. He’s told me to do that so many times before, but this time I’m not even remotely fazed by what he’ll do once I’ve shut out the world. I close my eyes, and Zeth rains kisses down onto my forehead, my eyelids, my temples, my cheeks, and down my neck. By the time he reaches my breasts, my head is spinning.
He rolls me onto my back, rolling with me so he’s hovering over me, and the kisses keep coming. With a demanding nudge from his knees, Zeth pushes my legs apart so he can settle himself between them. His cock is rigid and warm, so hard against me. His hands travel over me; he takes his time, mapping me out, kissing and licking and gently biting me all over, paying homage to my body.
I can’t keep quiet. I gasp each time I feel his teeth on me. Each time the heat of his tongue licks at me. Each time his fingers graze my sensitive skin.
“You wet for me, Sloane?” Zeth growls into the skin of my stomach. “If I go down on you, are you already going to be wet for me?”