Page 123 of Hidden Echoes

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. Our silence.

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming in?” My voice was softer now, lower than I’d intended.

Zane didn’t move. But his hands curled into fists at his sides, as if he were restraining himself.

“Mia.” He said my name like a warning again, but this time, it made me want to push further.

To see just how far I could take this.

I took another step, closing the space between us. Zane still didn’t move, but I could feel the tension rolling off him, thick, hot, charged with something I didn’t have a name for yet.

Maybe I should provoke him more.

Maybe that’s exactly what he was waiting for.

“Fuck,” he muttered before grabbing me in one swift motion.

I gasped, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist, and the way I did it so naturally—so effortlessly—was a surprise even to me. We had spent a year sleeping in the same bed, being together. But our touch had never felt this urgent.

“What’s happening to us, Zane?” I whispered against his mouth.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, his grip tightening.

“I need you, Mia,” he murmured. The way he said it… It was so raw, so unfiltered, it made every cell in my body vibrate.

“You have me. You always have.”

“Do I?” His voice was low, rough. Almost like he was possessed by something deeper than desire. “Then if I slip your lingerie to the side, am I going to find you wet for me?”

“Zane.”

“Fuck, Mia,” he growled, pressing me tighter against him. I sighed, my forehead resting against his, our mouths mere inches apart. "I'm starting to realize that I hate sharing you."

And then he kissed me.

But this kiss—it was different from any other we had shared before.

He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, like he could pull me into him and make us one.

Before I knew it, I was grinding against him, desperate, my body chasing the heat of his touch.

Like a year without this had been his own personal hell—and he was finally unleashing it all on me.

“You wanted to touch me like this?” I asked, surprised.

His lips curled slightly.

“Before you, intimacy was a curse. An evil I had to endure. But after you? After feeling your touch? It’s like I finally could be satisfied.” He cupped my face, thumb brushing over my lips. “I’m hungry for your touch, for your smile, for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, wife. For you.” His voice was so certain, so absolute, it made my stomach twist into knots. “Do you think I took you away from the States for no reason? I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. From now on, wherever you go, I go.”

“You didn’t walk away from me because I killed your mother.”

“No. I don’t care about my mother.”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore, because…”

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