Page 72 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I barely managed to shut the door behind me.
Water gleamed on every chiseled muscle. His tan skin caught the light from the hearth in gold and shadow,outlining every ridge of his abdomen, every sculpted line down to the deep ‘V’ disappearing under that damned towel.
I was exhausted. And now I was aching too, but not from fatigue. I blinked, trying to remember how to form words. “You’re… in my room.”
Zayn turned slightly and chuckled as his brow arched. “In case you forgot, this is my room.”
My lips parted to argue—but then I remembered that this was his room. I was simply just staying in it while he was gone.
Before I could respond, he turned his back to me, muscles rippling, as he dropped his towel. My breath audibly hitched.
I froze.
His body was carved like marble. His ass was nothing short of perfection. Sculpted. Firm. Smooth skin pulled taut over pure muscle. His thighs were thick, powerful, the kind that looked like they could break someone without effort. Heat flushed through me so fast it made me dizzy.
He bent slightly to grab trousers from the chaise. That slight shift was almost cruel—muscles rippling. I swallowed hard, torn between fleeing and walking into the fireplace.
“You planning to stare all day?” He said without turning. “Little privacy here. And perhaps you should clean the drool off the floor.”
I whipped around, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “You didn’t warn me!”
He chuckled, low and clearly amused at how flustered I was. “Didn’t know I had to.”
Heat flared to my face. “And I’m not drooling.”
I heard the smirk in his tone, “It’s fine. Most women do.”
“Most women,” I muttered, “probably have better taste.”
The sound of clothing being pulled on filled my senses. “Oh, you wound me,” Zayn said, voice teasing. “You can keep facing the wall. You look better that way. However, I’m sure the view’s not nearly as good.”
“Arrogant ass,” I grumbled.
When the rustling stopped, I risked turning around. He’d pulled on black trousers, though they still clung to him unfairly well. His hair was damp and tousled, giving him a freshly-ruined look that made something low in me twist.
I tried to ignore it.
Oh, great divine… There was onlyonebed.
I didn’t want to stay anywhere else. All my things were in this dark little room, and I grew to love it.
“So…” I crossed my arms. “Where exactly are you planning to sleep tonight?”
Zayn stretched lazily and walked toward the bed. “Well,” he said, “in my bed, obviously.”
My eyes narrowed. “And where exactly am I supposed to sleep?”
He stopped, turned slightly, and pointed to the floor in front of the hearth. “There’s a perfectly nice rug right there. Warm. Cozy.”
My jaw dropped. “You want me to sleep on the floor?”
Zayn gave a casual shrug, like this was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Unless you’d rather join me in bed.”
My stomach did a full flip.
Arrogant. Infuriating. Gorgeous.
I hated how much that last one mattered.
