Page 78 of Offside Devil

Zane strolls towards me, rolling his sleeves up a few times to reveal brawny forearms, as if the sight of his chest hair isn’t torture enough. “I never said there weren’t women who wanted to go with me; I said I never took one. Until you.”

I nervously toss my hair over my shoulder so maybe Zane won’t be able to see how hard I’m breathing, but my hair catches in the clasp of my necklace. I yelp and Zane is in front of me in a second.

I’m left staring at the sharp edge of his jaw as he works his fingers over my bare skin, unclasps my necklace, and coaxes it free.

Gently, he peels my hand from the countertop, twists my wrist until my palm is facing up, and pools the diamond choker there.

“It’s yours,” I breathe. “I couldn’t afford anything like that. You should keep it.”

“I think it will look better on you than me.”

I huff out a laugh. “You know what I mean. Sell it. Or… give it to the next woman.”

Because there will be a next woman and I shouldn’t get used to this. He isn’t mine to keep.

“I gave it to you. It’s yours.” He closes my fingers around the necklace. My skin tingles everywhere he touches me. “Seeing it around any other woman’s neck would be a downgrade.”

There are no cameras here. No witnesses.

No one is watching… yet Zane is putting on the performance of his fucking life.

“Don’t you worry what your friends will think about all of this when it’s…?” When it’s over. When we end things. When you carry on with your life and I never see you again.

“I already know what they’re thinking.” Zane brushes his knuckle over my exposed collarbone. “They're all thinking that I took you home early because feeling your body pressed against mine while we danced was fucking torture.”

I let out a harsh breath. There's no point trying to hide it. Zane’s hand is curved over my heart—I know he can feel it racing.

“They're thinking that, right about now, I'm peeling you out of this sinful dress—” He drags a finger down the zipper at my side and grips my hip with crushing force. “—and leaving it in a puddle on my bedroom floor. They're thinking that I'm kneeling between your legs to find out if you taste as good as you smell.”

I don't fit inside my skin anymore. Every word out of his mouth pushes me closer to some invisible breaking point, and I don’t care. I want to be broken.

Smash me to fucking pieces, Mr. Whitaker.

“Your friends have dirty minds,” I pant.

“The dirtiest.”

His blue eyes are black and I love knowing that he’s like this because of me. If nothing else, I know that he feels this, too.

“Well, are they right?” I run my tongue over my lips. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?”

He shoves his fingers through my hair and tilts my head back. When our bodies melt together, I feel the hard press of him against my stomach.

Neither of us are strong enough to stop this. We’re going to end up naked and panting and I don’t have the energy to care if it’s a bad idea.

I want him.

And literally not one millisecond after that thought surges across my mind like a freaking shooting star, Zane flies in the exact opposite direction.

In the blink of an eye, he’s halfway across the room.

I don’t understand what’s happening—until a sleepy four-year-old wrapped in a fleece blanket appears in the mouth of the hallway. Aiden is rubbing his eyes and blinking around.

I didn’t even hear him coming. I was so lost in Zane that nothing else mattered.

But that’s not true. So many other things matter. Zane is carrying one of them.

He scoops Aiden up and conveys him back to his room. I stand stupidly in place, skin still simmering, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to manage this latest twist on the ol’ emotional roller coaster.

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