Page 217 of Seizing Control: Part One

I shouldn’t even be here tonight, yet I can’t go another moment without metukà shelì.

I need to breathe her in.

Steal a taste.

Indulge in a midnight rush.

Find a remedy to my loneliness.

The month that I’ve stayed away from her has been agonising. I’m a dead man walking. A zombie. Unable to function without a physical reminder of the reason why I’m putting myself through this pain. The ache in my soul drew me toward her like a moth to a flame, and I couldn’t resist for another second.

My bare feet land with soft thuds as I pad across the plush carpet. I gently lift the covers and slide into bed behind Lily. The mattress sways and bounces, I freeze, holding my breath as I wait to see if she’ll stir. My decision to break into Slash’s house tonight wasn’t well thought out. A spur of the moment endeavour. It never crossed my mind to formulate a way to handle things if I accidentally wake her up.

Because I never planned on climbing into bed with her...

Lily normally sleeps like a dead woman when she’s exhausted.

Nights and nights of insomnia, then she crashes. It was the cycle back when her PTSD was at its worst. A succession of nightmares that I held her through, followed by a night where she clung to me like I was her only peace.

As I snake my arm around her waist to pull her back to my chest, I encounter her small baby bump. The curve is unmistakeable. Filling my hand after I push her tank top up to caress it lightly. I marvel at the changes to her body. Bask in the idea that she’s carrying my child. Even the ambiguity in paternity, the reminder that Slash has also been inside of her, that he might have replaced the baby we lost with one of his own, doesn’t hurt as much now that I’ve seen them together. I understand Lily’s desperation. Know intimately the demons that drove her to ask him to break her. Can no longer begrudge Slash lapping up every drop of her affection that he can get.

I would do the same thing.

I am doing the same thing.

“Fuck, metukà shelì,” I murmur in her ear after I’ve inhaled her perfume like a dying man encountering an oasis in a desert. Her hips flex when I shove my hand inside her shorts to cup her bare mound. “Need you so bad, sweet thing.”

“Zeke.” When Lily rolls over to face me, I’m ready to throw caution to the wind. My cock is instantly hard. Nudging her heat as she hooks her leg over my hip and grinds against me, I hiss through the restraint it takes to hold back. I want inside her. To feel her pussy gripping me tight. “God, Zeke.”

My eyes are practically slits as I scan her face in the dark.

She’s still sleeping.

The peacefulness in her features.

Her fully relaxed body.

It would be so easy to slip inside her.

To thrust home for the first time in three months.

But I can’t take her like this, not while she’s asleep, caught between her dreams and the nightmare I’ve left her to deal with.

I’m not Alex.

“Please,” Lily whimpers. She grabs my wrist, and I let her tug my arm so she can press my fingers to her clit. “Make me feel good. Make me forget.” Again, I search her face for signs that she’s awake. I battle with my indecision. Taking advantage of her is wrong. Then, she begs sweetly once more, “Zeke. I need you.”

The neediness in her voice is my undoing.

I flick my fingertips over her clit.

Her hips buck.

Her thighs quake.

Drawing the figure eights that I know send her wild, I alternate the pressure and speed. Soft. Hard. Slow. Fast. I listen to Lily’s breathing. Cherish the sounds of her whimpers as my woman buries her face in the crook of my neck and inhales deep. There’s a moment where she holds her breath, her body stiff, and I think she’s awake, but it passes a heartbeat later.

“You smell the same,” she sobs.

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