Page 128 of Offside Devil

But then he grinds against me and I do feel him… long and hard against the base of my spine.

I slide our still-twined fingers down my stomach and cup the ache between my thighs so he can feel how much I want this, too.

He guides my hand deeper, working friction against my clit, fucking me with my own fingers. My eyes slip closed, but he tugs on my earlobe with his teeth.

“Open your eyes,” he orders.

I do and I meet his in the tall, ornate mirror. He’s looming behind me like a shadow. His dark clothes make my nakedness even more apparent.

“When you were touching yourself like this,” he says, holding my gaze in the mirror, “you were mine. Every time you fucked yourself, you belonged to me.”

I can only whimper. I should be embarrassed by how badly I want him and how obvious I’m being about it, but Zane doesn’t give me time. He lifts my leg onto the counter, spreading me open for him, and drags the hard bulge of his erection against my soaking wet panties.

“When you were wearing someone else’s jersey…” he growls. “When you were walking around my house, making tea and driving me fucking insane with wanting you… you were mine.”

Words I’ve never said to anyone sit just behind my lips, but I bite them back. I close my eyes and try to focus on the feel of Zane’s hands on my hips and his cock grinding against my opening, but my stupid heart won’t shut up.

I’m yours, it’s screaming. There’s no one else.

But this doesn’t need to mean anything, right? I can have this with Zane and still protect myself. I can let him ravage my body in unreal ways and walk away… because I have to.

There’s no other choice.

One way or another, this is going to end.

“I told you to keep your eyes on me,” he snarls.

Before I can blink my eyes open, Zane hooks me around the waist and yanks me backward. He presses me against the wall and pins my wrists over my head. The black tile is cold against my back, but Zane is scorching enough for both of us.

Heat radiates off of him as he kisses my neck, my chest. He flicks my aching nipples with his hot tongue, swirling them into his mouth and sucking until I’m arching for more.

Zane growls and picks me up. My legs wrap around his waist and he shoves the lace aside. I reach for the button of his pants and he helps, freeing himself.

He said he touched himself while thinking of me. I saw him do it. What does that mean?

Does he belong to me?

Do I even want that?

The answer is a terrified knot in my stomach, and I suddenly need to feel him inside of me as much as I need this to be over.

“Fuck, Mira,” he groans, pulling out of my hand and sliding between my legs. “You’re so wet for me.”

He fills me devastatingly slowly. I feel every inch of him working into me, splitting me open to my desperate, heartsick core.

He drops his face to my shoulder, stopping just to breathe.

His scruff scrapes over my skin and I want to feel it between my legs and against my neck. I want to hold his face in my hands and look in his eyes as he fucks me—which is precisely why I close them even tighter.

If the eyes are the windows to the soul, mine are nailed shut and barred.

Zane works out and back in before he grips my chin. “Look at me.”

I can’t.

He drives into me harder. “Open your eyes, Mira.”

This is just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I can have this and walk away. This won’t change me.

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