What We Can’t Take Back

CHAPTER SEVEN

POV: Zara

Ryan arrived at 6PM.

He came through the door with snow on his jacket and a wide smile, pulling her into a hug that was warm and solid. She hugged him back, holding on a second longer than usual, her body still carrying faint marks from Damon.

“I missed you,” he said into her hair.

“I missed you too.”

She meant it. That was what made everything worse.

Damon came in from the living room, hand extended. “Ryan. Good to see you, man.”

Ryan shook it firmly. “Damon. Hell of a weekend to get snowed in.”

“Tell me about it.”

Zara watched them shake hands and felt her stomach twist.

Camille arrived forty minutes later, pulling Damon into a long, claiming kiss at the door. Zara looked away. Ryan’s hand settled on the small of her back; she leaned into it, trying to steady herself.

Marcus called during dinner, loud on speaker. The four of them ate Damon’s pasta and talked about safe, normal things, work, the storm, a film, a restaurant. Under the table Ryan’s hand rested on her knee. She covered it with hers. Across the table, Damon went still for half a second. She didn’t look.

By 10PM, Ryan was exhausted. He showered, climbed into bed in Marcus’s room, and was asleep before she finished washing her face. She stood in the doorway watching him and felt that heavy, nameless weight in her chest again.

She went downstairs for water.

The kitchen was dark except for the stove light. She filled a glass and stood at the counter, telling herself to go back up.

She heard him first, bare feet, that familiar step.

She didn’t turn.

“Camille asleep?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.” His voice was low, rough. “Ryan too.”

Silence stretched.

She set the glass down.

He stepped beside her at the counter, not touching, both of them staring at their reflections in the dark window.

“Zara.” Her name sounded like a warning and a plea.

“Don’t say anything,” she whispered.

He looked at her for a long moment, then his hand rose. His thumb traced her jaw, slow and deliberate. Heat flashed through her body. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in.

He kissed her like he was starving, deep, urgent, years of restraint snapping at once. She moaned softly into his mouth, a desperate, relieved sound. His hands fisted in her hair as hers shoved under his shirt, palms sliding over his hard stomach and chest.

He backed her into the counter, lifting her onto it in one smooth motion. She wrapped her legs around his waist as his mouth moved to her neck, sucking and biting while his hands pushed under her shirt, palming her bare breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples until she whimpered.

“We have to be quiet,” she gasped, grinding against the hard ridge of his cock.

His low laugh vibrated against her throat. “Then stop moaning like that while I touch you.”

They barely made it to the hallway. Her back hit the wall, his body pinning her as he kissed her harder, hand sliding down to cup her between her legs, rubbing her through her thin pants until the fabric was soaked.

“Room,” she breathed.

“Yours,” he growled.

Inside her room, door locked, the rest of the world disappeared.

He stripped her slowly, eyes devouring every inch. Then he laid her on the bed and settled between her thighs. His mouth was everywhere, kissing down her body, sucking on her nipples, then lower, spreading her open and licking her pussy with long, hungry strokes until her hips bucked and she had to bite his shoulder to stay quiet. When he finally pushed two fingers inside her and curled them while sucking her clit, she came hard, thighs trembling around his head.

She pulled him up, desperate. “Inside me. Now.”

Damon shoved his pants down, cock thick and leaking. He rubbed the head along her slick folds, then thrust in deep in one smooth stroke. Zara’s back arched, a choked moan escaping as he filled her completely.

“Fuck, Zara…” he groaned, voice wrecked.

He fucked her with deep, steady strokes, grinding against her clit each time. She clung to him, nails digging into his back, legs locked around his waist as pleasure built again. He was everywhere, inside her, over her, consuming her. When she came a second time, pulsing hard around his cock, he followed right after, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside her with a low, broken groan of her name.

They lay tangled afterward, breathing hard. His arm around her, her head on his chest.

“Zara,” he whispered.

“Don’t.” She pressed closer. “Five more minutes.”

Five minutes became twenty. She fell asleep in his arms.

She woke at 4AM to movement upstairs, Ryan getting up. Heart pounding, she sat up. Damon was already awake, listening. They waited in tense silence until the house settled again.

He dressed quietly, then looked at her in the dark. “Go back to sleep.”

“Damon—”

“We’ll figure it out in the morning.” He kissed her forehead, checked the hall, and slipped out.

Zara sat alone in the dark, feeling his cum slowly leaking down her thighs, and pressed her hand to the warm spot on the sheets where he’d been. She wanted to touch herself so desperately, she reached out her hand to her clit, slowly stroking, before she could get her release….

Her phone lit up.

Unknown number.

“Time’s up.”