Page 49 of Protecting Mr. Fine

Zane deserved better.

“It’s not a good idea,” I said, desperate for him to accept my weak attempt at stopping this before it became unstoppable.

“Yeah, no. You’re probably right.” He sighed and reached for the front of his onesie, pulling it in and out to fan himself. “Is it hot in here, or is it just you?” he murmured.

“Open it up,” I said with a laugh, reaching out to yank the zipper down an inch. “You’re obviously roasting.”

I’d assumed he had on a T-shirt and shorts or something underneath, but instead of a shirt, I only saw a small tuft of soft brown chest hair peeking up into the hollow of his throat.

“Oh,” I said, reaching out to yank it back up. The zipper caught a hair, making Zane yelp. I tried pulling the zip back down right as Zane reached up to do the same. I attempted to yank my hand away and let him deal with it, but instead, I somehow managed to knock him under his chin. He was so surprised, he lost his balance, which was when I realized he’d been leaning his chair partway back on only two feet. “Fuck!”

I lurched forward and grabbed for his chair, pulling it down until Zane himself spilled into my lap.

I was horrified. I’d tried to keep my distance, to do the right thing, and instead, I’d tried undressing him, punching him, and then nearly knocking him to the floor.

He must have seen my panic. “I’m fine,” Zane said quickly.

“Zane, fuck!” I drew in a jagged breath. My arms came around him to keep him from tumbling off my lap.

“Bear. I’m fine. I promise.”

“You’re not. I knocked you in the chin.” I reached out to tilt his chin up carefully so I could see the damage. Thankfully, there wasn’t any blood on his mouth, so he didn’t seem to have bitten his lip.

Zane’s hair spilled over my hand as I tilted his head. “I’mfine.”

The word reverberated between us, tweaking me likea discordant note, but worse. Like clock hands forcibly moved the wrong direction and then left out of rhythm, always a step out of time from then on.

His eyes flicked to mine as he realized what he’d said. As he remembered my warning about saying those words to me yesterday… and what had happened after that.

Zane dragged his tongue across his lower lip. “I’m fine,” he said again, this time speaking slowly and softly, like a caress.

Like adare.

I watched his brown eyes heat with challenge. He was a matador, and I was helpless against the flare of a red cape.

My thumb grazed his bottom lip, my eyes riveted on how plump it was. I remembered how it felt against mine. Even now, knowing his mouth was probably a toxic cauldron of horseradish like mine, I wanted another taste.

“Zane,” I warned, desperate for someone—anyone but me—to be mature enough to stop us from making a colossal mistake.

“Totally and completelyfine,” he said softly, eyes now on my own mouth.

He felt like perfection in my arms. Like he was made to sit pressed up against me like this, where I could hold him and feel him and gaze into his beautiful face.

“This is a mistake,” I pleaded.

“Probably.” He leaned in until the tip of his nose barely brushed against my cheek.

“I reek of horseradish.”

The edge of his lip quirked up. “Misery loves company.”

“Zane,” I breathed, turning my face just enough to feel the prickle of his whiskers against the tender skin of my lips.

“Please, Bear.” The broken words were so soft I barely heard them. But his plea carried years of need, the kind he’d never felt safe enough to reveal.

His need was nothing to mine because I needed Zane Hendley like I needed the Earth to keep spinning around the sun. Like Ineeded plants to keep producing oxygen. Like I needed winter’s snow to melt and fill the rivers and lakes so I could drink my fill.

“Tell me to stop,” I finally begged before pressing my lips against his cheek, his jaw, the tender skin under his ear.

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