Page 51 of Stone Cold Touch

Of course he’d notice my Hello Kitty shorts. “Can you not talk?”

He chuckled. “You’re in such a mood tonight. Was it the sugar-cookie dough?”

I rolled onto my side, facing him. There was little space between us and I closed my mouth, but the strangest thing happened when our eyes met. My breath caught as I stared at the face I knew like the back of my hand. I could close my eyes and still know every one of his expressions, except the one he wore right now. This one was something new, totally uncharted.

And it was scary—so incredibly terrifying, because I had never seriously considered Zayne returning any of my less than normal feelings for him. It was frightening because of what Iwantedto do to him—what Icoulddo to him. There was more—there was Roth and the stupid, irrational feeling that I was doing something wrong. He’d virtually sacrificed himself for me...and then told me that nothing he’d ever said or done mattered when it came to me.

Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling. My chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths. The scent of him invaded my senses. My fingers rested against my stomach, opening and closing.

“What’s going on, Layla-bug?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Bullshit.” Zayne shifted suddenly, levering up with one arm so quickly that the air left my lungs in a harsh rush. He stared down at me, lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he seemed to lose track of what he was going to say. That was okay. I had no idea what we were talking about either.

There was barely an inch or two separating our bodies. We were so close that the edges of his hair brushed my cheeks. His gaze dipped to the neckline of my tank top. It was pulled low, revealing more than I should’ve been comfortable with. Bambi’s head was resting on the swell of my right breast. Again.

“She really likes putting her head there, doesn’t she?” Zayne’s voice was rough.

“I guess it’s soft for her.” The moment those words came out of my mouth I wanted to kick myself in my soft boob. “God,” I groaned. “Sometimes I need to—”

Zayne placed a finger on my chin, silencing me. That slight touch packed a punch of sensations—hunger, need, a yearning so intense that it rattled me to the core. “That would make sense.” Pausing, he swallowed as his gaze traced the detail of the demonic tattoo. “I bet it is a...soft place.”

This conversation was...whoa. Really no words.

“Why do you keep this necklace?” he asked, lightly fingering the chain.

It was a struggle to speak. “I... I don’t know.”

His features tightened for a moment and then he seemed to let whatever he was feeling go. The truth about why I kept the necklace had nothing to do with my mother, but then his hand moved, trailing his finger down the center of my throat, over the rise of my collarbone and then straight to where Bambi rested, stopping a mere inch from her head.

Oh my God.

My heart fluttered so fast in my chest it was like a hummingbird about to take flight. A heaviness settled in my chest, the pressure demanding yet pleasant. Then his finger moved again, gliding across the edge of Bambi’s head.

She moved slightly, turning into the touch like a pet seeking more comfort. I dragged in a breath as I wet my bottom lip. Should I be more shocked that he was touching me so intimately or that he was touching Bambi? Or that Bambi wasn’t peeling off my skin and trying to eat him? It really didn’t matter because every nerve ending in my body was tingling.

He traced the delicate scales around Bambi’s nostrils, and when I shivered, his gaze lifted, snaring mine. There was so much heat and intensity in those cobalt eyes that there was no mistaking how he was looking at me.

Like he had the night he’d seen me in my bra.

One side of his lips tipped up, and my heart jumped in my chest. His gaze returned to where Bambi rested, to where his finger was idly tracing her scales in smooth strokes. “It doesn’t feel like I thought it would. The skin is just slightly raised, but it’s really like a tattoo.”

Mouth dry, I closed my eyes as his finger moved over her head, nearing the tiny lace that decorated the hem of my tank top. I wasn’t wearing anything under the tank and he was so, so close.

“Does she like it?” he asked, breath warm in the space between our lips.

I nodded, assuming she did, because she wasn’t trying to kill him.

“Do you?”

The question whipped through me with the force of a destructive hurricane. My eyes snapped open and my breath came in short little pants. He was still so close, his hair tickling my cheeks and his finger trailing farther south, following the curve of Bambi, under the lace of my tank top.

His lashes swept up again and his gaze collided with mine. I had no idea how we’d ended up here. His hand stilled and he waited, and there was no denying the driving force behind the question. If I said no, he would move away. And if I said yes, then... I couldn’t even wrap my head around those possibilities.

If I said yes, everything would change—change in ways I couldn’t even fathom, ways I never truly believed could happen between us. My heart was beating too fast, and a strange kind of heat pooled deep in my body.

“Yes.” The word came out barely a whisper, but Zayne heard it.

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